#Like I know it looks like this one side unexplored ship at first glance but once you give it a thought | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

merakiaes · 4 years ago

Text

A New Beginning - James Conrad

Pairing: James Conrad x reader

Requested: @jessiejunebug

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: This is waaay too long to be proofread so apologies in advance for any possible mistakes, I also don’t remember what I’ve written so I don’t know if it’s any good😭 Hope you like it though.

Wordcount: 11217 (Yup, it’s a long boi)

Summary: When you board a ship to go on a geological research trip, you’re on your own. When James Conrad boards the same ship for the same reason, he’s on his own, too. But when the two of you walk down that very same ramp after having been through literal hell together, neither of you are alone anymore.

“Can you explain to me, again, in small words, why I’m being assigned to this mission?” You asked for the second time in the past five minutes, staring flatly at the two men sitting in front of you.

The younger of the two cleared his throat, folding his hands in front of him on the table. “From what we’ve read in your files-“

“My files?” You interrupted, raising an eyebrow, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. “What files would those be?”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment in clear annoyance, before opening them again. “That doesn’t matter.” He said. “You’re exemplary intelligent and we need someone in your area of work to accompany us on this trip.”

You had to force yourself to keep back the laughter bubbling up in your throat, their growing frustration as you played with them all too amusing to you.

“A trip to an unexplored island in the Pacific Ocean, for geological research.” You replied in an amused tone, and they both nodded.

“That’s right.” The older one was the one to speak this time, confirming your unofficial question.

You let out an amused sound, leaning forward in your seat and clasping your hands in front of you on the table. “Okay.” You said, looking between them. “Let me walk you through all of the ways you could die-“

“No need.” The younger of the two interrupted you. “We’ve been lectured on the risks once already.”

You chuckled, leaning back into the chair. “Is that right?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow. “What did you say your names were again?”

“Bill Randa and Houston Brooks.” The older one, Randa, replied, and Brooks wasn’t far behind, obviously the more annoyed out of the two.

“Look, we’ve stalled long enough.” He stated, motioning for the stacks of money laying on the table. “Will you take the job or not?”

Your eyes flickered down at the green bills for a moment, but you quickly looked back up, giving them a deadpan look. “You know, I’d like to help you.” You said. “But I’m a little over-committed right now, I’m afraid.”

Your mood had switched from playful to, well, the opposite, in just a second, and Brooks wasted no time in pushing his chair back and standing up.

“Right. This was a waste of time.” He said, turning to his colleague. “Come on, Randa. Let’s go.”

Randa stood up, grabbing the money and putting it all back into his bag, and without another word, you watched them turn around and walk away from you, heading directly for the exit of the pub you were in.

You instantly turned your attention back to the drink in front of you, grabbing the glass and bringing it up to your lips to take a gulp.

When you put it back to the table, your friend slid into the seat next to you, giving you an unimpressed look. “Really, (Y/N)? You’re over-committed? To what? Being broke?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. “That was a pretty hefty stack of money they were offering you.”

Barely even sparing her a glance, you moved the tip of your finger along the rim of your glass casually. “It’s dangerous.” You replied simply, and listened as she scoffed beside you.

“Since when are you afraid of a little danger?” She asked. “You dive in unexplored caves and swim with sharks, for crying out loud. And you heard the man. They need you. They’ll probably die there if they go on their own.”

You turned your head to look at her slowly, watching her face grow serious.

“You need the money, (Y/N). You know no one will hire you.” She continued softly, reaching out to grab your hand in hers. “This could be your chance to get back on track.”

You could only sigh, bringing your hand up to pull it over your face in frustration. You didn’t like to admit it, but you knew she was right, so a few seconds later, you were up on your feet and rushing after Brooks and Randa, catching them just as they were about to get into their car outside.

“Wait!” You called out for them, watching as they both turned around to look at you.

You jogged up to them, nodding your head once you came to a stop in front of them. “I’ll take the job, if you throw in an extra five grand.”

Randa and Brooks exchanged a glance, before nodding. “Consider it done.” Randa said, turning to his partner. “Brooks, give her the paper.”

Brooks didn’t look the happiest that you had suddenly changed your mind, clearly annoyed with the way you had played their time away. But nonetheless, he reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of paper, holding it out for you.

“Be here tomorrow, at this time.” He said simply and you nodded, grabbing the paper from him and letting your eyes flicker over the address and time before moving them back up to look at him.

“I’ll be there.” You said, and shook their hands.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Randa smiled, and then they left, leaving you to go home and pack a bag in a hurry to be ready first thing in the morning.

Come nighttime the next day, you had been called to a briefing pretty much the same minute you stepped onto the ship, during which the scientists presented you with the purpose of the trip and the soldiers let you know how everything was going to go down.

When it came to the scientists, you immediately got the feeling that they weren’t giving you the entire story, but you didn’t get much time to sneak around and get any answers, as you were barely able to keep your eyes open when the meeting was done.

And the next morning, you didn’t get the chance either, as you were joined on deck by the soldiers of the Sky Devils the same second you set foot on deck, all of whom were very interested in your background; most so of all Reg Slivko who you had overheard making a bet with his fellow soldiers that he could woo you.

In any other case, you for sure would’ve had your fun, but right now, you weren’t there to play around.

“Where are you from?”

“Here and there.”

“What do you do?”

“This and that.”

“You ever-?”

“Now and then.”

Most of your answers were short, and for every reply the young soldier grew more and more discouraged, but he didn’t give up, and as you didn’t have the time nor patience to deal with him, your annoyance was growing by the second.

“Why are you here?” He attempted to ask again, and this time, you looked up from the geology book you were reading to look at him with a sigh.

“Because I can do things they can’t.” You replied simply, and he gave you a goofy smile, one that made the corner of your lips twitch upward slightly.

“Like what?” He questioned, and you raised your eyebrows at him playfully.

“Mind my own business, for one.”

He chuckled. “Boy, you’re just full of information, aren’t you?” He asked and you chuckled along, closing the book and standing up from where you were sitting at the edge of the ship, walking up to him and patting his cheek.

“Or maybe I’m just not interested.” You said, watching in amusement as his smile fell and his fellow soldiers broke into laughter behind him.

You left him at that, turning around and heading in the opposite direction. Luckily, he didn’t follow or bother you any further, instead getting distracted by Mason as she came over and began taking pictures of them.

Above you, you could just barely make out the tracker that had been hired to come along on the expedition, leaning against the railing and looking out over the platform of the ship.

Feeling your stare, his eyes flickered down to meet yours, and he adjusted his stance at that, grabbing a hold of the railing in front of him and straightening his back.

Without looking away from him, you moved toward the metal stairs to the side, only breaking your gaze when the wall came in the way of your line of sight.

You reached the top where he was standing in no time, the winds significantly harsher up there, pulling at your hair and shirt.

The tracker’s eyes were already on you when you appeared at the top of the stairs, looking at you sideways with his forearms still leaned on the metal rail.

You had seen him briefly during the briefing the night before but only now that you got a real look at him in the afternoon sun did you realize how incredibly good-looking he was. Almost inhumanly so, with cheekbones so sharp they could cut you and eyes as green as emeralds.

While you looked him over, he did the same to you, and once your eyes met each other’s again, you nodded to where he was standing, raising an eyebrow.

“Mind if I join you?” You asked, and watched as he simply took a step to the side, making room for you next to him.

As you joined his side, you looked down to the platform where you had just been, to find that they were now fooling around to music, passing beers around and posing in front of Mason’s camera, all but one soldier who was getting his hair cut.

But the man next to you wasn’t watching the soldiers, but rather the scientists standing on the other side of the platform looking over a giant map and talking among themselves.

“You don’t trust them either, do you?” You asked, taking note of his hard eyes and the tense muscles in his jaw.

When hearing you speak, his eyebrows shot up, but his eyes didn’t move away from the scientists below.

“Doesn’t matter if I do.” He replied. “They wouldn’t stand a chance if they went against me. And the list of hazards that could kill them out there without me there to guide them is too long for them to ignore.”

You raised an eyebrow, your eyes flickering away from the scientists to look at the profile of his face instead, a playful expression crossing over your face. “Awfully confident, aren’t you?” You asked, and watched as the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly.

“I can kill every person on this ship before most of them have a chance to get to their feet. Skills like that do wonders for a person’s self-confidence.” He replied simply, and you chuckled.

“Fair point.” You said, pushing your underarms off the rail and turning your body completely in his direction, sticking your hand out in front of you. “I’m (Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

His gaze left the scientist in just a second, flickering over to meet yours with a smile on his lips. “James Conrad. Pleasure.” He answered, taking your hand in his and giving it a firm, but at the same time soft, handshake.

“Likewise.” You returned the smile.

“So what is it you do?” He asked. “Other than mind your own business, that is.”

“You heard that?” You chuckled, raising a teasing eyebrow and playfully narrowing your eyes. “Were you spying on me, Mr. Conrad?”

He chuckled right back, leaning against the rail. “I wouldn’t call it spying.” He said. “Just listening in.”

“You must have pretty good hearing if you were able to hear us all the way from up here.” You gave him another playful look, one that he returned with an identical one.

“Or maybe you’re all just really loud.”

Another chuckle left your lips, and your eyes flickered away from him to look down at the platform again. “Maybe.” You replied softly, completely oblivious to his eyes still watching you.

“So, are you going to tell me what it is you do, or are you going to make me guess?” He asked again, and you hummed.

“Biologist, geomorphologist, geologist, physicist, ecologist, speleologist, sonar technologist. Take your pick.”

“How old did you say you were again?” He asked, and at that, you turned to look at him again, smiling.

“Twenty-eight.” You shrugged. “I learn quickly.”

“Clearly.” He replied, his eyebrows raising in an impressed manner. “So which one of those are you here for?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. They won’t tell me smack, just that they’re in need of my expertise. They won’t specify in which branch.”

“No, they’re not giving us an awful lot of information to go on, are they?”

“You can say that again.” You scoffed, letting your eyes flicker over to the scientists again. “You’re not buying their story about this being a geological research trip either, are you?”

The smile fell from his lips, his face turning serious again. “If it were true, they wouldn’t be dropping bombs.” He replied lowly, following your line of gaze. “They’re hiding something. I just haven’t figured out what yet.”

Humming, you watched with him as Randa finally felt your stares and turned around, looking caught off guard to a start and then raising his hand in a wave.

You waved back, plastering on fake smiles.

“I have a feeling we will.” You replied simply through your teeth as to not drop the smile, not being able to shake the suspicion that they were trying to wake something up.

Randa and Brooks were both way too adamant in making the mission happen for it to just be a trip to map out an unexplored island.

And you got your suspicions proven right when, come the next day, the bombs were dropped and did, in fact, wake something up; more specifically a giant fucking monkey, something you would’ve been very excited to discover in any other case, but not so much when said monkey was attacking the choppers.

One after one, they went crashing into the trees and to the ground at the giant hand of the monkey.

You didn’t blame him for reacting like he did. Anyone would get defensive if strangers just appeared and started dropping bombs in your territory, but you weren’t able to think of that at that moment; all you could think about was that your chopper was going to go down just like the rest of them sooner than later, and you weren’t the only one realizing that.

“Pull out now! Pull out!” James was screaming at Slivko over the loud wind and even louder sounds of the propellers above you, struggling to hold on just like the rest of you.

But Slivko was being his hardheaded self, looking back at the tracker with a stubborn glare. “I don’t take orders from you!”

You weren’t sure if it was his stubbornness in general or the fact that you were about to die that made you snap, but the second those words passed his lips, you whipped around in your seat next to James to glare at him.

“No? Well, I wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness?!” You yelled back, your glare only hardening when he barely even spared you a glance.

Instead, he simply turned back around, and your anger quickly malted off, being replaced by panic.

Squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as you possibly could, you held on to your seatbelt, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Oh my God, we’re gonna die.” You whispered to yourself. “We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die.”

“Hey, hey! Look at me!” The voice of James suddenly came from beside you, followed by a pair of hands on your cheeks.

Your eyes shot open, wide with stress and fear, to look into his warm, comforting ones.

“Now is not the right time to panic!” He told you, his voice rising to be able to overpower the loud noises. “You’re going to be just fine, alright? You’re going to be fine!”

“I’m going to be fine…” You whispered back and he nodded, agreeing with you.

For a moment, just for a moment, you began calming down, the sounds around you drowning away as you got lost in his stare of distraction, but the momentary calm was gone just as quickly as it got there, when James’ head suddenly whipped away from yours and his hands leaving your face to lean into the front.

“Watch out!” He called, and before you even had the time to process anything else, you could hear something crashing into the windshield, the chopper jerking violently as a result.

“Oh, God! Prepare to crash!”

The sound of Slivko’s words was enough to send you into a full panic again, your throat thickening and your chest tightening up, your heart feeling about ready to beat out of your chest. “Oh, shit, shit, shit.”

Mason was screaming from across of you, trying her hardest to hold on as your chopper lost altitude, but it was clear she wasn’t the one truly panicking.

James hurried to strap himself in beside you, before once again twisting his body in your direction to take your face in his hands. “Hey, hey!” He called out for a second time, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention when you didn’t respond.

When you looked up at him and into his eyes once again, he gave you a questioning gaze. “Do you trust me?” He asked, and your face instantly pulled into a confused and semi-annoyed expression.

“What? I- I don’t know.” You stuttered out.

“Do you trust me?” He asked again and you closed your eyes for a moment, processing the feeling of his warm hands on your wind-chilled cheeks.

After a few seconds, you opened them again. “Yes. Yes.” You corrected yourself, and he nodded.

“Okay, then just hold on to me.” He instructed, and only then, when he looked away from you again, did you come back to reality, just as he called out from beside you.

“Brace!”

He pulled you into his arms and you squeezed your eyes shut, holding onto him with all your might and pressing your face into his sturdy chest.

A few seconds passed of the chopper violently jerking from side to side, from left to right and then back again, with big leaves slapping into the open side of the flying vessel as you crashed through the tops of the trees.

Your head was safely tucked in under James’ chin and his arms were squeezing you so hard you would’ve lost your breath if you’d had one in the first place, but you found yourself unable to breathe, the panic swelling in your chest blocking your airways.

Luckily, it was all over quickly. Not so luckily, however, was the fashion of your landing, the chopper meeting with the ground roughly and causing everything to go dark.

But you weren’t out for a long time, coming back to your senses around the same time as everyone else by the looks of it.

When you tried to stretch your body, a groan left your lips as you realized you were uncomfortably stuck under a heavy piece of metal that had come loose as a result of the crash.

In turn, James heard your sound of discomfort and wasted no time in crawling over to you, leaving the others to get themselves out of the chopper as they weren’t stuck.

“Are you alright?” He asked, crouching down beside you and searching for your gaze.

Your eyes met for the briefest of moments, but you quickly averted them and moved them back to the metal rod when a sharp pain shot through your ankle, an aggressive jab in your head not being far behind.

You hissed, at the feeling, bringing your hand up to your head. “Apart from being trapped under here, and maybe suffering from broken bones, and a headache beyond what I’m capable of handling… I’m dandy.”

Glancing to the side to steal a glance of his face, you watched as it lit up in a small but sincere smile. “Good to see that almost dying haven’t killed your sense of humor.” He replied.

“Never.” You fired back quickly, offering him a sarcastic and very strained smile.

You brought your hand back down from your head when feeling the sudden stickiness on your fingers, realizing when they came into your field of view that they were now covered in bright red blood.

Momentarily distracted both by the sight of the blood and the feeling of your pulsating head, you barely even noticed James moving away from your side and positioning himself down by your foot, until you felt him gingerly place his hand on your knee.

Your eyes flickered over to him where he was now standing below you, his hands resting on the piece of metal. “I’m going to lift this up now, are you ready?” He asked, and you wasted no time in nodding.

“Alright.” He mumbled, moving his eyes away from yours to focus on his hands. “One, two, three.” He counted, and on three, used all of his strength to lift the heavy piece of metal, just enough for you to be able to pull your leg out.

Once he saw you were out, he dropped it back down and wasted no time in coming up to you to help you up, holding you steady while you tried balancing on your hurt foot.

“Can you walk?” He asked from above you, and after a few failed attempts, you finally managed to stand on your foot, nodding your head, looking up at him.

“Yeah.” You breathed out. “Thanks.”

He met you with a worried frown as his eyes flickered up to your head, keeping his hold on you with one of his hands and reaching the other into the pocket of his pants to pull out a handkerchief.

You stood there quietly, letting him press the soft fabric to the line of your hair, barely even wincing at the stinging sensation.

You didn’t know if it was just the lightheadedness ridding you of your common sense and playing a trick on you, or if the increase of your heartbeat when he touched you in a way so soft, like no one had done before him, was actually genuine, but whatever it was, you pulled yourself out of your daze rather quickly, suddenly getting defensive.

He was, no doubt, surprised by your sudden movements when you quickly reached up to take the handkerchief from his hand to press it to your head by yourself, then proceeding to step away from him and avert your gaze to the forest floor.

But he said nothing about it, knowing that you were all probably shook up right now.

“It’s nothing too severe but put pressure on it for a while. Just to be safe. I’m gonna go scope the area out. I’ll be right back.” He told you lowly, and you simply nodded, keeping your eyes on anything but him.

As he walked away, you moved back over to the crashed chopper, crawling into it on your knees in search of your backpack.

Rather coincidentally, you found it laying right in the middle, looking to be completely untouched, as if it hadn’t just been in a life-threatening crash.

When you came back out of the chopper, the strap of your bag now hanging from your hand, you found Slivko pacing back and forth in a frantic manner, a phone held to his ear and a radio held in his arms while Mason and Nieves kept to themselves, the former looking through her bag and checking over her camera while the latter was simply trying to regain his composure.

“Calling all units. Is anybody airborne? I repeat, is anybody airborne?” Slivko spoke into the phone, but you paid him no mind, going over to the small stream of water in the middle of the clearing and crouching down.

You instantly flinched when doing so, pressure being put on your foot and causing the pain to radiate all the way up your leg.

To relieve the pain, you sat down fully, putting your bag down to the side and dipping your hand into the cold water to clean it free from blood, doing the same to the handkerchief to give it some moisture.

The fabric was already soft like it was, but even then the dry material was rough against the open wound on your head, and the cold moisture would without a doubt make it better; something you got confirmed when you put it back to your forehead.

You stayed there on the ground, catching your breath and trying to get your head to stop spinning, until James appeared from the treeline and walked back into the clearing.

“They're all down. Every one of them.” He said the second he got close enough.

Your eyes had found his form the second he had appeared from the forest, but the others didn’t turn to look at him until they heard his voice.

When seeing he had everyone’s attention, he stopped, turning his body and pointing into the forest. “We're on the south side of the island. There's a river a couple of klicks from here. If we stick to its banks, we'll make it to the exfil site on the north shore.”

“And then what?” Nieves asked, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “All our choppers are down.”

James turned to him and gave him a look. “We'll find a way to signal the ship. They'll send a search party.” He said. “We just have to make it by the exit window.”

Nieves could only sigh and turn back around, plopping down on a tree trunk and looking out into the distance. “I should be sitting at a desk.” He whispered, and you would’ve found the look on his face awfully amusing, had you been in any other situation.

“So, wait, are we just not gonna talk about this?” Slivko suddenly joined in on the conversation, striding back into the clearing with his radio still in his arms.

Again, just like he had done Nieves, James did nothing but meet him with a stare. “My best guess is we're scattered over a four to five-mile radius. We should head north and join anyone we find.”

Slivko pulled a hand over his head, looking around, and James turned to Mason who was standing still in her spot, asking her: “Are you all right?”

Mason let out a dry, nervous laugh, shaking her head. “I don't know how to answer that question right now.”

“I don't know what that was either.” James answered, and Mason raised her eyebrows at him.

“All that money that they paid the two of you?” She said, her head peeking around his form to look at you to where you were sitting, before turning back to James with a tense smile. “I hope you're both worth it.”

She grabbed her bag and walked around him without another word, and again, James wasted no time in coming over to you where you sat.

Your eyes followed his every move, until he was standing right above you.

“Need a hand?” He asked, offering his hand, and you wordlessly took it, allowing him to help you back up to your feet.

You stumbled for a small moment, but you managed to stay on your feet, letting go of his hand and turning around to pick up your bag.

James, however, was quicker than you, coming around you and picking it up before you got the chance to do so yourself.

“I got it.” He said, and you wasted no time in shaking your head.

“No, it’s okay.”

“Please, I insist.” He fought back, already bringing the strap over his shoulder to carry and giving you a sincere look. “The last thing you need is extra weight to carry.”

You held his stare for a moment, but found no reason to fight back as you knew he was right, simply letting out a small breath and nodding your head. “Thanks.”

He flashed you a tight-lipped smile, before walking back to the others, leaving you to follow. Without another word, he began walking in the direction he had pointed earlier, and none of you were far behind.

Nieves went first, Mason and yourself side by side after him, and Slivko trailed behind you, still carrying the radio. “We're really not gonna talk about it? You know this is not normal, right? Stuff like that doesn't just happen!”

All of you ignored him, until eventually, Mason got annoyed and told him to be quiet when he had been complaining for ten minutes straight.

Thirty minutes into walking, you stumbled across a giant water buffalo hiding in a lake, which, if James hadn’t been there to stop him, Slivko would’ve shot dead on the spot in his momentary state of shock-madness.

After that, you kind of lost track of time, the four of you just following James as he led you through the thick and humid rain forest.

Eventually, you ended up in the front beside him, but neither of you said anything for a long time, James simply keeping an eye and ear out for possible dangers while you focused on your feet, not wanting to stumble and hurt your ankle even more.

It was only when you reached a downhill that James finally came to a stop, turning to you while the others walked ahead, now with Slivko in the lead.

“Careful. The ground is uneven.” He warned you, offering you his hand.

Annoyed by the heat, humidity and the entire situation in general, you ignored his hand, beginning to walk down on your own. “I’m fine.” You muttered, and as if on cue, your foot got caught in a tree root, causing your knees to give out under you.

A surprised yelp left your lips and your eyes widened, but luckily, James was right there by your side to catch you, his hand winding around your waist to hold you upright.

Your chest heaved up and down in a rapid motion and you clung to his side, feeling the rumble of his chest under your hand as he chuckled. “What did I tell you?” He said, and you grumbled, this time allowing him to help you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, turning serious and again, you grumbled in response.

“Yeah.” You answered simply, still clinging to his side and more or less being carried down the uneven hill.

“Good. Let me know if you need a break, and stay close to me.” He instructed, and you raised an eyebrow at the irony of his words; as if you could do anything else than that with the way his hand never left your waist.

But he didn’t even seem to notice, and at this point you couldn’t keep denying the fact that you needed the extra support in order to be able to stand on your hurt foot, so you let it slide, eventually getting so used to it you didn’t even think about it.

Not a long time later, you met up with Brooks and San, and only a while after that, you found yourself at spear-point of a dozen island natives.

For some reason, having a spear pointed at your head wasn’t half as scary as being in a helicopter crash, so you managed to keep your cool, unlike the scientists who were all whipping their guns back and forth in panic the entire time.

Luckily, “Lieutenant Hank Marlow of the 45th Pursuit Squadron of the 15th” to quote the man in question, showed up before anyone could get hurt, introducing himself with such enthusiasm you couldn’t help but feel second-hand happiness.

That was around five minutes ago, and you were currently on your way back to their village.

James had left your side to walk alongside Marlow, leaving you in the back with Slivko, Mason and, after a lot of protests from James who had insisted to keep carrying it, your bag, through which you were currently looking for something to eat.

Mason quickly claimed a granola bar when you presented it to her, and after that, you also brought out an apple and a banana.

Biting into the apple to free your hand, you closed the bag up and heaved it back up on your shoulder.

You then took a bite out of the apple and lowered it from your mouth. “Slivko.” You called out, holding up the banana when he turned to look at you.

“Uh, no thank you. I don’t eat bananas.” His face instantly turned into a semi-disgusted scowl, and you raised an eyebrow at the strong reaction.

Before you could question it, however, Mason beat you to it. “Are you allergic?” She asked, and both of you watched as he gave you a deadpan look.

“No, they’re radioactive.” He replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

In front of you, Marlow let out a loud laugh, now having tuned in on your conversation. “What? That’s ridiculous. Are you stupid?” He asked, and a deeply offended look instantly crossed over Slivko’s face.

You had to refrain from laughing, taking another bite of your apple to hide your smile and swallowing it before speaking.

“He’s not wrong. Bananas contain potassium and since potassium decays, that makes them slightly radioactive.”

“See?” Slivko raised his eyebrows at the old, stranded soldier, whose smile fell while a smug grin stretched out over the younger soldier’s lips.

You chuckled at the pair, shaking your head. “But to die from radiation poisoning you’d have to eat about ten million bananas at once.” You continued, and this time it was Slivko’s turn to lose his smile.

He turned to you, giving you a doubtful look. “Are you sure?” He asked. “Because-“

“How many cases in which someone has died of banana radiation poisoning have you heard of?” You interrupted him, raising an eyebrow. When receiving no answer, you gave him a nod and a small smirk. “Exactly.”

His eye narrowed and for a moment, he stilled in his walk, before marching up to your side and snatching the still outstretched banana from your hand.

“Fine. Give me that.” He said as he did so, unpeeling it and taking a bite before turning back to look at you again. “You’re a Know-It-All, you know.” He accused, and you simply raised your eyebrows.

“Is that meant to insult me?” You asked. “How do you think I got all of my degrees? By sitting silently at the back of the classroom and not participating?”

You gave him one last playful look, before speeding up to join the front of the group, ending up talking to Marlow the entire rest of the way.

He was very talkative, at least in comparison to the people you were used to, but right now, that’s exactly what you needed; first of all to distract you from the pain that was only getting worse the more you walked, but also from the flutter of butterflies that would erupt in your stomach and chest every time James would slow down to ask how you were doing, which was a lot.

You reached your destination after a long while of walking, when the sun was just beginning to set, and Marlow wasted no time in telling you about Kong and the Skull Crawlers, along with presenting you with his late friend’s plane that they had re-built into a boat back when he had still been alive.

Slivko followed him without a second thought, wasting no time in beginning to brag about his mechanical skills, but Mason and yourself lingered by the Iwi in the distance.

You were inspecting them in a discrete manner, wondering how in the hell they were able to stand so still, and that’s when you saw it; something that instantly sparked your interest and caused the kind of excitement only a scientist could feel to fill your entire body.

“No, it can’t be.” You mumbled to yourself, taking a small step closer and squinting your eyes to better be able to see the particular Iwi you had set your eyes on.

When seeing it wasn’t just a trick of the light, you turned to Marlow who was now walking back past you. “Can I go up to them?” You asked, motioning to the Iwi. “Or will they feel threatened?”

“Oh, sure. Go ahead.” He casually waved his hand. “They’re a peaceful people. They won’t hurt you unless you hurt them first.”

Your lips lit up in a smile. “Great, thanks.” You hurried out, before turning to the other woman beside you and holding your hand out. “Mason, can I borrow your camera?”

She gave you a strange look. “Uh, sure.” She said, removing the strap from around her neck and dropping the camera in your open hand.

You wasted no time in setting the right settings in, all while walking in the direction of your targeted Iwi, Mason trailing behind you to count for her camera’s safety.

When you stopped in front of the Iwi and raised the camera into her face, Mason squinted her eyes just like you had a few moments before. “What is that?” She wondered, coming closer.

The Iwi didn’t even bat an eye when you more or less shoved the camera into her face, zooming in on her left eye.

“Pupula Duplex, or Polycoria.” You answered. “It’s an extremely rare condition in which the victim has two irises and two pupils. It's so rare, in fact, that some believe that it is just a myth. Fascinating.”

Mason hummed beside you and you briefly lowered the camera down to be able to inspect the picture you had just taken that.

When doing so, you noticed James coming up behind you, and wasted no time in holding the camera up for him to see. “James. Come look at this.” You said, just as he joined your side.

You didn’t even notice you had called him by his first name, and either he didn’t either, or he just didn’t care, looking down at the camera and then up at the Iwi without even mentioning it.

“That is fascinating.” He agreed, having heard your earlier words, and you zoomed in on the picture.

“Isn’t it?” You replied, raising the camera again, motioning for the Iwi to open her eyes wide and she did as told, allowing you to take another, cleared picture.

“Oh, yeah. It’s cool, isn’t it?” Marlow joined in on the conversation, walking up to you and pointing to his own eye. “She’s had it since she was born. There are a few others who have it too.”

“Really?” You whipped around to face him. “Can you show me? I need to document this.”

He flashed you a big smile, nodding his head. “Sure thing, come on.” He said, and you wasted no time in following him, Mason, again, trailing after you, not wanting to leave her camera alone.

Slivko called James back to the boat a second later and he didn’t waste any time, keeping a watchful eye in your direction where you were enthusiastically talking about something, without a doubt about the condition you were currently so excited to discover.

Night fell and all of the Iwi returned inside, along with you, one by one, and soon enough, all but James was in the room Marlow and his late friend had made to be their own during their stay there.

Nieves was sitting by himself and so was Mason, the former just staring into a wall and the latter flicking through a book.

San and Brooks were talking quietly among themselves and Slivko was touching everything he could get his hands on, this currently being a spear that he was walking around the room with.

He was conversing with Marlow, but you couldn’t be bothered to listen in, too distracted by the beautiful Northern Lights swirling around in the night sky, lighting up the landscape outside the window.

In your hand, you were fiddling with an unlit, slightly crooked cigarette, and your other hand was tucked in under your arm, your back leaning against the edge of the opening you were currently standing in front of.

“How’s your foot?” A voice suddenly spoke from beside you, and only then did you notice that James had now joined you in the room.

You had been so lost in thought that you hadn’t even noticed him walk right up to you, hence your eyes widening in surprise at the sound of his voice.

But you quickly regained your composure, lifting your foot slightly, for him to see that it was now wrapped up.

“It’s all good.” You answered with a small smile. “The Iwi gave me some kind of root for the pain and swelling. I couldn’t identify it and neither them nor Marlow was to any help so I took a sample with me to test when we get back to the ship.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He returned your smile, and you nodded, widening your smile just a little bit.

Silence fell over you for a short moment, neither of you knowing what to say, but then he stepped up to the window, pointing towards the sky and by doing so causing you to look back outside, too.

“Isn’t it odd the most dangerous places are always the most beautiful?” He asked and you hummed, again finding yourself unable to look away.

“I was going to have a cigarette but I’m all out of matches.” You chuckled, looking away only briefly to show him the defected stick of tobacco between your fingers.

“Oh.” He said, his eyebrows creasing together as he reached into his pocket. “Try this.” He continued, holding out a small metal lighter and flicking the lid up to expose a flame.

You wasted no time in reaching out and taking it from him once he had let the lid fall back shut, your smile now wider than ever. “Thank you.”

After putting the cigarette between your lips, you brought the lighter up and lit the end, making sure it got lit before closing the lighter again.

You were about to hand it back, but stopped yourself to inspect the worn-out letters printed at the side, your eye flickering up to meet his.

“Royal Air Force?” You asked once you had brought the cigarette down from your lips, tilting your head with interest.

You watched as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, his eyes stuck to the lighter that was still clutched in your hand.

“It was my father’s.” He told you quietly, a slight crease being created between his eyebrows. “He threw it to me from the train as he rolled off to fight the Nazis. He was like John Wayne to me. Some kind of mythic hero.”

Your face grew serious, your head nodding as you blew out the smoke of the drag you had just taken. “Did he come back?” You asked, meeting his eyes when he looked back up.

“His plane went down near Hamburg. They searched for him for months but…” He paused, turning away from you to look up at the sky. “I suppose no man comes home from war. Not really.”

You watched the profile of his face sadly, taking in the way the Northern Lights reflected in his green eyes. “He would’ve been proud of you. I hope you know that.”

You had barely even been able to process the words you were going to say before they slipped past your lips, but still wasn’t fazed, as they seemed to have done more good than harm like you’d hoped, judging by the soft look overtaking his face when he turned to look at you again.

“Thank you.” He told you, to which you smiled. “What about you?” He continued then, and you raised an eyebrow.

“What about me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back on the edge of the opening and turning his body in your direction. “Do you have any family? Or is it just you?” He clarified his question.

You turned your head away from him, taking a final drag of your cigarette and holding your breath while you dropped it to the floor and stomped it out.

“I have a brother.” You answered as you released your breath and the smoke with it, turning your head back to look at him.

“Younger or older?”

“Six years older.” You replied, crossing your arms over your chest to match his stance, once again turning to look up into the sky when seeing the expecting look on his face, asking you to go on.

“Our mom got pregnant with my brother at fifteen and she kept him. When she gave birth to me, however, she suddenly decided she wasn’t ready to have children, dropped us both off at the stairs of a catholic orphanage. We got tossed around the system our entire lives, but not together. My brother only found me again when he turned eighteen and could go off and make a living on his own. I’d been placed in a total of eleven family homes at that point, but I just landed right back in the orphanage every time. I was a bit of an ass as a child, so no one wanted to keep me.” You chuckled to yourself. “But my brother wanted me back, even though I didn’t even remember him. And the nuns wanted me out of their hair so they signed the papers quicker than I’ve ever seen anyone sign anything before.”

You took a pause, reminiscing in the memories of your life, before turning to look at him with a small smile. “He raised me on his own, worked his ass off every day to provide for me, all while studying and chasing his dream of becoming a cave explorer.” You continued. “When I reached my later teenage years, I started working too, and when I eventually picked my studies back up, we realized that I was quite a Brainiac. I had several degrees by the time I was twenty and with the job offers pouring in on me, my brother could finally stop providing for me, take a break and go after his dreams. And I tagged along with him too, when I wasn’t working or studying.”

James matched your smile with one of his own, nodding his head once you were finished. “Sounds like you’ve had quite adventurous life.” He commented. “And he sounds like a good man. Your brother.”

“He is. Better than others, at least.” You shrugged. “Neither of us ever knew our fathers. Deadbeats. Both of them.”

“So you’re only half-siblings.”

“On paper? Yes.” You confirmed, then shaking your head. “But in heart? No.”

“That must be nice.” He smiled, and you leaned your head back against the wall behind you.

“Yeah, it is.”

He inspected you softly. “Do you have anyone else waiting for you back home? Other than your brother, I mean.”

“Are you asking if I’m romantically involved with anyone?” You asked playfully, raising an eyebrow.

In return, he chuckled, but not once did his gaze waver from yours. “Yes, I guess I am.”

You chuckled with him, shaking your head again. “No, it’s just us now. But-“ You paused, raising your eyebrows and holding up a finger. “I used to be engaged.”

“Used to?” His eyebrows shot up, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Mm. It didn’t work out.” You mused.

His interest was clearly piqued now, his body turning just slightly more your way to signify that he was completely involved in the conversation at hand.

“What happened?” He asked, crossing his feet and getting comfortable against the hard stone wall.

“My knight in shining armor turned out to be a loser in aluminum foil. A criminal, more specifically.” You replied, plastering on a sarcastic smile. “He was a dealer, in the art business. I’d never done as much as shoplift a piece of gum before I met him, but the more attached I got to him, the more I was willing to risk.”

You paused, wrapping your arms around yourself to provide your bare arms with some heat in contrast to the chilly air surrounding you.

“When someone got interested in a piece, I’d pose as another buyer and drive up the price. But one day, he asked me to pose as the seller, not the buyer. One signature, half a million dollars. He said it was simple. I’d hand them the documents and they’d slide me a check.” You continued. “The whole thing would take a couple of minutes tops. And he was right, it all happened very quickly. The buyers turned out to be undercover cops and with my signature being the one signed on the documents, I was the one to go down. He made sure of it.”

You were still smiling at the end of your story, at this point completely over the pain and suffering said engagement had caused you, even if it had ended you up in prison for several years and completely ruined your chance to a successful career.

And unbeknownst to you, James was more fascinated by you than ever, only wanting to know more about you the more you spoke.

“How much time did you get?” He asked, captivated by the fact that you could just keep smiling through it all.

“Originally five years, but I got out after two and a half on good behavior.” You replied casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

He raised his head slightly at that, realizing. “So that’s why you’re here.”

You hummed. “Scientists are very stuck-up and quick to judge, if you hadn’t already gathered that.” You spared Nieves, Brooks and San a glance, raising an eyebrow at the way they were squeezed together in the corner while Slivko and Marlow sang along to some music, staring at them with expressions all resembling distaste and annoyance.

James nodded as he watched them, getting your point, and only when your eyes met again did you continue. “Getting a job in this profession when you have a criminal record, and a pretty severe one at that, is just as hard as it sounds.”

“I can imagine.” He agreed.

A short moment of silence fell over the two of you again, but it was everything but uncomfortable or tense, as both of you knew, judging by the looks in your eyes, that it was going to be broken again.

“What about you?” You were the one to break the ice this time, your words causing his eyebrows to shoot up in a playful manner.

“What about me?” He repeated your earlier comeback, and you chuckled, glancing to the side before returning your gaze to his.

“Do you have anyone waiting for you? Have you ever been in love?” Your tone turned teasing at the second question, your eyes squinting as you smiled.

James snickered at your antics, his head shaking. “No, I’m on my own, and I can’t say that I have.” He replied, his chuckling fading into a simple smile as he continued. “But there’s still time.”

At that, your playful demeanor faded into a more serious one too, but your smile remained, the two of you holding each other’s eyes for a moment longer before simultaneously turning to look at the sky once more, staying there until it was time for everyone to go to sleep.

Come next morning, James, Marlow and Slivko were already up and at it when the rest of you woke up, the spots in which they had slept now empty.

The scientists kept keeping to themselves as they had the entire time you had been there, leaving you and Mason to spend some time with the Iwi and each other.

While she busied herself with taking pictures of the native people, you brought the woman you had spotted the day before, with the Pupula Duplex condition, to the side to take notes, something she didn’t seem to mind much with the way she was doing everything you told her.

Seeing as they didn’t speak, however, it was hard to get any more information than the one provided to you by the visuals, so you left sooner than you would’ve liked, heading out to where the others were crowded on the boat.

Even Nieves, San and Brooks had made it outside by then, but by the looks of it, they weren’t doing much to help.

You guessed they wouldn’t have been able to even if they wanted, though; scientists weren’t exactly known to be handy in the mechanical area. You were a good enough example of that.

So you stayed clear of the boat, only glancing over once in a while to meet James’ gaze when feeling his stare, but other than that distracting yourself with analyzing a carnivorous plant you had just happened to sit down next to.

You were so engrossed in studying it and drawing it in your sketchbook, in which you had already made countless of drawings during your time on the island, that you barely even noticed everyone else heading inside.

Only when they were coming back outside, James heading straight in your direction and by doing so blocking the sun, did you snap out of your little bubble, looking up at him just as he stopped.

“I brought you some food.” He said, holding out a plate looking to be made out of clay, like promised holding some kind of meat.

Your eyes squinted at the sight. “What is it?” You asked suspiciously, but nonetheless accepted the plate.

With his hands now free, he slowly bent down and sat down beside you. “Some kind of bird. It tastes just like chicken.” He informed you, and you hummed, starting to pick at it.

“What are you doing?” He asked, reaching his hand out toward your notebook and grazing his fingers over the drawing.

“Just… inspecting.” You replied, bringing a small piece of the bird-meat to your lips, the suspicion melting off once you realized that it did, in fact, taste just like chicken.

“You’re inspecting a flower?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “That hardly seems interesting.”

“Not just any flower.” You corrected him, putting the plate down in front of you and picking up a piece of the meat. “Watch.”

Slowly, you brought it out in front of the flower, and for a moment, you thought it wasn’t going to take it, but then its frog-like tongue slapped out and wrapped around your fingers, causing you to jump.

You quickly let go of the meat, letting the carnivorous plant bring it back into its mouth, and hurrying to bring you hand back, smiling and raising your eyebrows at James who was now looking at the plant with a disturbed look on his face.

“That’s… mildly terrifying.” He commented, bringing a chuckle from your lips.

“Yeah, nature has a tendency to be terrifying in the ways you least expect it.”

“So I’ve noticed.” He agreed with a chuckle of his own, averting his gaze from you to the boat.

When he did so, you did too, watching as Marlow and Slivko pulled at chains and other pieces of metal that you couldn’t identify to save your life; mechanics had always been your brother’s thing, you didn’t know shit about it.

“How’s it going with the boat? Any luck?” You asked after a moment of silence, sparing him a sideways glance.

“So far, not so much. But Slivko insists he’ll be able to fix it.” He answered without looking away from said boy.

You hummed. “Do you believe him?” You asked, turning to look at him again when catching him shrugging in the corner of your eye.

“It shouldn’t be impossible. We just have to work together.” He replied and, again, you hummed thoughtfully, pulling at a few strands of grass absentmindedly.

“I hope you’re right.” You mumbled. “I would very much like to get back home.”

His head turned in your direction, his eyes meeting yours when your head did the same.

“You will. I promise.” He told you, and you gave him a gentle smile.

“You should be careful with what you promise, Mr. Conrad.”

“James, please.” He corrected you, smiling softly at the memory of how good his name had sounded coming from your lips the day before.

“Alright, James.” You repeated, smiling and squinting against the sun.

You didn’t get the time to exchange any more words, Slivko yelling at James to come help him only a second later and cutting your moment short.

James stood up and headed off, leaving you to finish the meat you had completely forgotten up until then, having become so engrossed in the conversation.

Later that afternoon, when you were mindlessly walking around, trying to make time pass by quicker, you were fetched by Mason, who told you to grab your things and come to the boat, letting you know that it was time to go.

The boys had to give it a few tries but soon enough, the boat’s engine roared to life, and after that, everything happened so quickly.

Slivko had finally made contact with Packard and you had met up with him and the other survivors after they had fired a flare to give away their position; not before watching Nieves get ripped to shreds by some kind of carnivorous bird.

You barely made it out with your lives intact after stumbling upon the graveyard of Kong’s family, in which the Skull Crawlers also resided.

Even after that experience, Packard still insisted that Kong was the enemy, and it became apparent pretty quickly to you in that moment that he had completely lost it, something he came to pay for when he tried to blow Kong up and, in return, got stomped to death.

The next thing you knew, you were running for your lives with the Skull Crawlers hot on your trail, and as you reached the edge of the island, James came to a stop, turning to Mason and bringing a flare gun out of the hem of his pants.

“Weaver, get up on those rocks and fire a flare. With any luck, Brooks will see it.” He instructed her, and her eyes instantly widened.

“I- Wha-“

You rolled your eyes, marching forward. “I’ll do it. Give it here.” You stated, snatching the gun out of his hands and tucking it into your pants.

“No.” He wasted no time in shaking his head. “Not with your foot.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I just ran all the way here, my foot is fine. And even if it hadn’t been, it’s not your decision to make. I wasn’t asking for your permission.” You said, holding his gaze while you removed your bag from your back and shoved it into Slivko’s arms, only then turning to look at the younger boy. “Take my bag. Do not let my notebook get wet. I need my notes.”

He stared at you with disbelief, shaking his head. “Man, you have your priorities fucked up.” He said, but nonetheless slung it over his shoulder and ran off.

The others followed his example and you turned around to head to the rocks.

“Wait.” James' voice spoke from behind you, his hand coming out to catch your wrist, causing you to turn around to look at him with a questioning expression.

He was quiet for a moment, both of your chests heaving up and down from the intense running, but then his face softened, his head nodding slightly. “We'll buy you time.” He promised, and although you were confused about the unreadable expression on his face, you knew he was telling the truth.

“I know you will.” You replied with a nod, and after you had shared one final look, he took off after the others while you started climbing the rocks.

In retrospect, all of them were happy you had been the one to go and not Mason, remembering after the moment had passed that you were, in fact, a professional rock climber; something that came with the speleology.

You reached the top in no time and didn’t waste another second, raising the gun as high into the air that your arm would allow and firing the red flare, all while Kong and the Skull Crawler were fighting below you.

Before you knew it, Brooks and San turned up on the boat, firing at the Skull Crawler. But the guns on the boat were old and rusty, and jammed, with Kong momentarily knocked out, giving the Skull Crawler free passage to the boat.

So you did the only thing you could do from on top of the mountain, loading another bullet into the flare gun with shaking hands, pulling back the safety, and firing it, watching as it lodged itself into the big lizard’s ear.

This gave Kong enough time to get back up to his feet and swing a chain with a heavy propeller stuck to the end into the head of the Skull Crawler, and you watched with wide eyes as he then proceeded to wrap the chain around its neck and swing its entire body to the side.

It wasn’t until you felt the rough tremble under your feet that you realized he had thrown it right into the base of the mountain you were standing on, and you barely got the time to progress this realization in your brain before you were thrown off the rock.

You fell and for a moment, everything felt as if it was moving in slow motion around you, but then it all sped up again, the last thing you heard being a mighty roar, followed by the sound of your own named being yelled, before your back hit the cold water and everything turned black.

Everyone watched with horror as your body disappeared into the water, James more so than anyone, and as you slowly sank further and further away from the surface, he wasted no time in sprinting in your direction, not caring in the slightest if he would get hurt in the process.

Kong was distracted, changing his agenda and moving over to the water, lowering his fist into it and picking up your body.

This gave the Skull Crawler an open window to attack, but in the end, Kong persevered, ripping the entire spinal cord out of its body and at the same time, managing to do so without harming you.

James slid into a halt on the wet grass when Kong lowered you back onto the ground, wasting no time in cradling you into his arms.

“Come on.” He breathed out, panic tightening his chest and his hands frantically brushing the wet strands of hair out of your equally as wet face. “Come on.” He whispered again, and let out a sigh of relief when your face suddenly pulled into a frown, water spluttering out of your mouth a second later.

“Oh, thank God.” He breathed out, turning you over to your side in his arms to help you get all of the water out.

Once you stopped coughing, he turned you back into his chest, and slowly, you came back to your senses, your eyes fluttering open.

“James?” You mumbled, having to blink to get the water out of your eyes, squeezing them shut when he brought his thumbs up to wipe your eyelashes.

“I’m here.” He said, and finally, you were able to see him clearly, his green eyes staring down at you with worry unlike no other. “I thought I lost you.”

His hands were cradling your face, thumbs still gently stroking the hair away.

Your lip twitched slightly at the pain that suddenly became very apparent in the back of your head, but still, you couldn’t help but ask. “What? You in love with me or something?”

A moment passed, and then you watched as his face pulled into a large smile. “Or something.” He chuckled out in a relieved breath, and you only got the time to smile back before you were being hugged tightly against his chest.

Your eyes closed briefly at the feeling, your arms wrapping around his neck.

His hand held the back of your head protectively, his face buried in your neck, and as you opened your eyes again, you met the ones of Kong, who stayed to look at you just one last time, before turning around and walking away.

Some minutes later, you were all safely packed onto the boat, the wind drying your hair as you went. A blanket was wrapped around your shoulders, having been provided to you by Slivko and Marlow the second you had come aboard.

You were watching the scenery of the island go by in a flurry, your head heavy against James’ upper arm where he stood beside you, just lost in thought like everyone else.

“What are you going to do when we get back?” His voice reached your ears just then, and you looked up, finding him to already be looking at you.

“I have a job lined up in Papua New Guinea.” You said, smiling tiredly. “My brother and his team found an unexplored cavern and they believe it could contain an undiscovered ecosystem.”

“Sound interesting, right down your lane.” He replied, the corners of his lips tugging up, but the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

“It is.” You nodded, wrapping the blanket tighter around your body to shield your wet clothes from the winds. “What are you going to do?” You asked, watching as his shoulders shrugged.

“I don’t know. Just lay low for a while.” He replied, averting his gaze and adjusting his stance, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sounds like a good idea. An experience like this would make anyone want to retire.” You chuckled, moving your gaze forward too. “Have you ever tried it? Cave diving, I mean.”

“No.” He answered with a chuckle. “I’ve managed to stick to work on the surface this far.”

“You could come with me, if you’d like. Try something new.” You offered without as much of a doubt in your mind, turning your head to look back up at him.

At the feeling of your stare and the sound of your words, he turned his head back to you, too. And just like you, he didn’t hesitate for a second to answer, with a smile to match your own. “I don’t see why not.”

Your smile widened and you held his gaze for a moment, before slowly moving your hand on top of his, causing him to look down.

You watched him, awaiting his reaction, admittedly a bit anxiously so. But the stress and uncertainty melted right off at the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours, his other arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer into his side.

His lips met your temple and you shared a glance, before leaning in and meeting each other in the middle for a kiss, only pulling apart with smiles on your faces when the sound of propellers reached your ears, three choppers coming to take you back to the ship.

You had started the mission off a lone soul, and so had he. But now... now you had been through hell together, and you knew that no matter how far away from each other you ended up, you’d never be alone again.

Luckily for you, however, it didn’t end up being very far because come the next night, you stepped off the ship together, side by side and hand in hand, like agreed heading off to Papa New Guinea where your brother and his crew resided, both of you ready for a new beginning.

Like you had said, after an experience like this… anyone would be.

(Let me know in a comment, ask or private message if you want to be added to the Kong: Skull Island taglist)

#james conrad #james conrad x reader #james conrad imagine #kong skull island #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader

351 notes · View notes

thisbrokenmask · 4 years ago

Text

Thank God For Haunted Houses

pairing: female reader x jung hoseok

genre: fluff, romance, humour, best friends au, friends to lovers

word count: 5,219

rating: PG i think? there’s kissing but that’s about it

warnings: none, really, very brief mentions of the experience of a haunted house attraction

summary: you’ve had a crush on Hobi for a while but you never expected him to return your feelings. so, when your friends make it so that the two of you have to spend some time together, you’re not quite sure where the night will lead you...

a/n: hey look it’s me again! seems like I can’t stop writing these @btsholidaybingo prompts and I’m not sad about that at all. I’m quite enjoying having lots of ideas and being able to write them, too! today’s offering is a request from my best friend, who loves the idea of hobi venturing into a haunted house in order to please the girl he likes. so, here you go!

evidently, this fills my ‘Haunted House’ prompt ☆★

The rich smell of buttered popcorn and sugared doughnuts fresh from the fryer sits heavy in the air, so strong that you can taste them with every breath you take. Neon lights whizz and whirl against the dark blanket of the night sky above you while the bells, whistles and heavy beats of EDM music rings out from all of the rides around you.

Your adrenaline levels are still soaring high as you come bounding down the steps, fresh off of the pirate ship with Jungkook and Jin’s laughter following close behind you. You spot the rest of your group and bound over to them, dodging and ducking through the crowds despite Jin’s cries to wait for him and Jungkook. You spy your bag still over the same shoulder that was offered to you ten minutes earlier, before you dragged Jin and Jungkook onto your third go on your favourite ride of the night. They were the only two still willing to ride it again, the rest of the group having their various excuses. Yoongi and Hoseok especially had eyed the swinging boat incredibly skeptically, neither of them climbing aboard for even one of your multiple goes on the ride tonight, offering to look after the bags instead. Which was exactly the reason you would give for you making a beeline straight towards the latter of your friends.

“That was amazing!” you cheer as you fling your arms around Hoseok’s shoulders, your own bag knocking into your leg from where it hangs off of Hoseok’s shoulder. Your smaller height makes him stagger slightly as you beam over his shoulder to the rest of the group, but he quickly balances himself without letting you stumble even once. His left arm is closest to you and he reaches it across your front to curl around your waist, a toxic-looking blue slushie held in his right hand. You know it’s simply meant to help steady you but you can’t help the flutter that erupts in your chest at his touch, your still-rapid heart rate no longer anything to do with sitting at the very end of the pirate ship in order to experience the highest rise.

“Have fun?” Hoseok chuckles as he smiles at you over his shoulder, looking at you out of the corner of his eyes rather than turning his face towards you; you’d be nose to nose if he did, and you’re both perfectly aware of that. Swallowing the slight disappointment at Hoseok once again choosing the option that doesn’t bring his lips closer to yours, you let your arms slide from his shoulder to wrap around his arm instead, holding the limb close like a favourite teddy bear. You nod eagerly, though, pushing your smile wider as you answer him.

“Yeah! Would be much more fun with you, though, oppa.” You pout, reminding him of all of his vehement refusals to get on nearly any ride so far this evening, but he playfully rolls his eyes instead as he shakes his head.

“I don’t know how you ride that thing, let alone come off it looking so damn happy,” Yoongi mumbles from the other side of Hoseok, his dismissive, faux-uninterested tone one that only makes you grin even wider.

“I bet it’s not the only thing she enjoys riding so much,” Jungkook cuts off your response, teasing you in a low tone as he and Jin finally catch up, joining the circle. Jungkook puts his arm across your shoulder, his large hand gripping you and pulling you close, leading you to unintentionally let go of Hoseok’s arm.

As you turn to push Jungkook off by pressing your hands against his chest, you miss the way Hoseok’s gaze drops to the floor and a small frown creases his brow for just a moment. If you’d asked, he would have told you he was simply speculating Yoongi’s comment, wondering how you could in fact ride something like the huge pirate ship behind him and not faint from dizziness. He wouldn’t tell you he was finding it more and more difficult to see you and Jungkook becoming so close, even though your closeness in age made it logical that you two would get along. He wouldn’t say how he felt a spike of jealousy in his heart whenever Jungkook made inappropriate jokes with you, wondering whether you two were secretly more than friends.

Jin rolls his eyes at the youngest but fails to hide the smirk on his lips, the incredibly relaxed atmosphere of the evening so far letting him put down some of his usual walls without concern.

“So, where next?” the eldest asks as he accepts a sip from the drink Jimin offers him, a bright red yet slightly melted match to Hoseok’s. The question prompts as many different responses as there are people, everyone talking at the same time until Jin calls a hush over all of you with another roll of his eyes.

Jimin wrangles Jungkook into agreeing to join him on the waltzers, the two of them having quickly found out the ride operators are willing to spin their car incredibly fast and challenging each other to see who can last the longest.

Yoongi bemoans the fact that his hyung still hasn’t taken him up on his challenge to any of the fair games so far, yet shrugs when Jin asks if he’s ready to eat his words on any game of his choice.

Taehyung anxiously fiddles with the camera hanging from his neck, saying he wants to wander round and see if he can get any good pictures that capture the night’s atmosphere. Namjoon offers to accompany him, announcing his feeling that there are some lyrics to be found if he walks around long enough, his phone already open on a half-written notes page.

“What about you, Hobi-hyung?” you almost scowl at the mischievous smile on Jungkook’s lips, painfully aware of the fact that you’d trusted the maknae enough to tell him of your crush on Hobi now that it’s only the two of you left. As you look around the group, in fact, you realise everyone is watching the two of you a little too closely for friends simply deciding their next steps. You don’t hold back your glare this time as you round on Jungkook, and he has the decency to blush as he realises you now know he’s let your secret slip.

“Er, I don’t know, actually,” Hobi frowns as he mulls the question over, glancing around at all the stalls surrounding you. “What do you wanna do?” he asks, turning to you with a smile, your bag bumping against his hip as he still has it slung over his shoulder.

“Me?” you blink, surprised he’s asking you when he knows you both sit on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to rides and rollercoasters. You can’t deny the rush of joy, however, at the prospect that he’s choosing to spend the next portion of his evening with you.

“Well, everyone else already has plans,” he jokes, but you feel your bubble burst at the realisation he’s only asking because he’s been left with you. Everyone else has paired up; why else would you two?

You try not to let your disappointment show, instead answering him with a simple shrug. “I don’t mind.” Hobi frowns, concerned about your sudden dip in enthusiasm. He knows you love fairs and theme parks, practically anything that could give you an adrenaline rush; another reason why he assumes you and Jungkook would make an annoyingly good match. He always worries that you find him boring or childish for not wanting to go on the rides, yet he comes along anyway purely to see you in your element. Seeing you deflate so suddenly makes him want to do whatever he can to cheer you up, even briefly considering going on the pirate ship for the first time in years just to see you smile again. “Why don’t we just walk around?” you suddenly suggest, a small smile on your lips instead as you reach out to take your bag back from his shoulder. “See if anything jumps out at us?”

“Hopefully not literally,” he mumbles and you laugh, pulling your hair out of the way as you drop your bag onto your own shoulder.

“Right, meet back up in half an hour, then?” Jimin and Jungkook barely acknowledge Namjoon’s question before running off, already teasing each other about who will feel sick first and announcing what they want from the other if they win. Taehyung is still adjusting his camera settings as he starts walking in seemingly any direction that takes his fancy, Namjoon quickly throwing an arm around his shoulder to guide him through the bustling crowds.

“Which way are you guys headed?” Yoongi asks while Jin is already eyeing up a few of the nearby game stalls he believes he has a decent chance of winning. Yoongi’s cat-like eyes are watching you intently from where they’re nearly hidden under the black beanie he’s wearing, and you can’t help but feel like he’s almost daring you to follow him and ignore the chance to be alone with Hobi. His eyes briefly shift to glance over your shoulder towards a part of the fair you know you haven’t really explored yet, and you can’t help but smile at his subtle way of trying to help.

“Why don’t we explore a bit that way?” you ask Hobi, pointing towards the unexplored area, and Hobi easily agrees with a smile as he takes another sip of his drink. “We’ll see you guys later, then?” Jin nods with a wave before rapidly telling Yoongi which game he wants to try first, the younger silently following his hyung without a question.

It feels a little bit awkward at first, given that you and Hobi haven’t often spent much time together just the two of you, but the further you walk, the more at ease you begin to feel. You walk closely together, your arms brushing against each other every now and again and you silently curse Hobi for keeping his hand closest to you in his pocket. Part of you likes to think you’d be bold enough to try taking his hand as you walked, even getting ready with the excuse that it would stop you from getting parted in the crowds. But instead his hand sits snugly in his pocket and you fiddle with the strap of your bag as you walk instead. Still, you enjoy sharing Hobi’s drink, passing it between you every few sips, and even stop to watch a few people attempt to win at some of the games you come across.

There aren’t many rides in this part of the fair, mainly stalls for games, food, and even some small independent businesses selling handmade jewellery, some of which catches your eye. You hesitate over a beautifully intricate bracelet, a small silver chain with alternating purple and black gems hanging from it, but you end up walking away with the decision that you’ll come back when it’s time to meet back up with your group.

At one point you stand beside Hobi and watch from a distance as several overconfident guys slowly drain their pockets at a tin can shooting game, each of you taking bets at how many times each guy will slam more money on the table before he walks away. Hobi boldly assumes they must all be single and you immediately question his claims, to which he simply responds that if he’d seen something he’d wanted for his imaginary girlfriend, he’d keep going until he ran out of money. You tell him you’d be annoyed if your imaginary boyfriend did that, as you’d rather he spent his money on something you’d shown interest in rather than boosting his own ego for something you didn’t particularly care for. You eventually wander off after a large group blocks your view of the game, Hobi quietly following behind you a few seconds later. When you take a glance at him, he looks thoughtful, but you’re distracted by a group of kids running past before you can question him.

It’s only when you find yourself in a small clearing that you realise you’re on your own. You figure you must have accidentally separated from Hobi at some point during your browsing, which would have been easy enough given how many people were wandering around between the stalls. When you can’t spot him after a minute or two, however, you start to panic, especially considering the fact he’s in a bright yellow hoodie tonight and you still can’t spot him in the crowd.

You’re normally not too bothered about being by yourself in a crowd, especially when you know friends are nearby, but for some reason the idea of being lost from Hobi is almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. Your hand goes straight into your bag to pull out your phone and you try to ignore the slight shake in your fingers as you bring up your recent conversation with Hobi. It’s just as you’re about to press the call button that you feel a warm hand on your shoulder.

You spin on the spot to see Hobi standing before you in all his glory, bright lights in his dark eyes and a lazy smile on his lips that transforms into a worried frown as soon as he sees your wide eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I thought I’d lost you!” you scold him with a gentle shove to his chest before letting him pull you in for a hug.

“Sorry, y/n-ie,” he chuckles with a squeeze to your waist. Your ear is pressed to his chest, his laugh a rumble in your ear, until he lets you go again. “I just went to throw that drink away, I finished it while I was waiting for you.” His hand stays on your lower back, acting as a tether between you as the crowds continue to bustle around about you. You turn your face away to hide the blush that warms your cheeks at his teasing tone, but Hobi mistakes it for you being annoyed at him for wandering off. He turns your face back towards him with a gentle hold on your chin, then tucks your hair behind your ear as he gazes at you thoughtfully. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

The touch of his hand on your cheek makes your knees feel weak and wobbly, all words leaving you high and dry as you simply stare back at him, his dark eyes glittering in the flashing lights that surround you. All you can muster is a small “it’s okay” and a slight rise of one shoulder, barely even a shrug, but it’s still enough to make Hobi smile. Without thinking, your gaze drops to Hobi’s mouth, wondering whether he would lean in and press his lips to yours like you dream about if you asked him to. His tongue peeks out to swipe across his bottom lip and the brief flash of pink snaps you out of your stupor, drying out your mouth and hastening your heartbeat all in one go.

You look around you rapidly, desperate for a distraction from an impulsive and potentially friendship-ruining decision, anything to take your mind off the thought of finding a dark corner big enough for two.

“Hey, look!” you turn on the spot to point towards the sign that’s caught your eye, signposting an attraction that you haven’t seen before. “A haunted house! We should totally do it.” Hobi, however, isn’t so keen.

“I don’t know, y/n-ie,” he scratches the back of his neck, a pout on his lips when you turn back to him.

“But there’s no queue! We could go straight in!”

“You know I don’t like that kind of thing,” he looks at you, expression somewhere between pleading with you to change your mind and wanting to make you happy, his eyes full of affection for you. His pout gets more pronounced with each second that passes, clearly conflicted, and you can’t bring yourself to push any further. You know Hobi doesn’t like haunted houses or anything with actors that can jump out at him from the shadows, so it would be cruel of you to force him into something only you would enjoy. You check the time on your phone and work out that you could probably make it back in time for a walk through with Jungkook and Taehyung before you leave for the night, as long as everyone is back to meet up on time.

“Okay,” you turn to Hobi with a smile. “We won’t go in. I’ll see if JK and Tae will come back with me once we all meet up.” You put your phone back in your bag and look around you with a sigh, not because you’re disappointed but because you’re not sure what else there is around this part of the park. Hobi, however, once again misreads you and decides that if it’s the haunted house you want, it’s the haunted house you’ll get. He grabs hold of your wrist and starts walking towards the entrance, you floundering behind him.

“Oppa? What are you-?”

“Two please,” he says to the attendant, handing over his money while still keeping a firm hand on you.

“Hobi, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do,” he says as he guides you inside, still holding your wrist but his grasp has loosened slightly now.

“Why?”

“Because you want to,” he says, your faces barely inches apart when he turns to you. You see his eyes glance down and you subconsciously wet your lips, heart hammering with the sudden proximity. He rapidly blinks a few times before turning towards the door that leads to the entryway part of the house. “You might not have time later, so, it’s not fair for you to miss out. Come on.” With that, he lets go of your arm to open the door and ushers you to follow him with a nod of his head and a smile.

You’re pretty sure that if you weren’t already falling for your friend, you definitely would be now. His willingness to even step towards the haunted house just to make sure you wouldn’t miss out is enough to set a warmth blooming through your chest so intense it could bring you to tears. You’ve seen Hobi put aside his fears for his loved ones before, especially when it comes to his band members, but you’ve never seen him so determined to do something he knows he’ll still be scared by.

Of course, Hobi will do anything for his friends, you’ve seen it enough times in the ways he’ll join in with Jungkook’s games so that he can have two players, or the way he’ll help Jin and Yoongi cook in whatever way he can. Even for you, he’ll set aside his work when he can to keep you company, or let you sit in his studio when he can’t ignore his deadlines. Now that you think about it, this is not the first time he’s ever put aside his fears for you. You remember the time you were terrified by a moth that had made its way into the kitchen one night when the two of you were up late, you making the drinks and Hobi by your side making late night snacks for you both. Despite his own fear of bugs and creepy crawlies, he’d ushered the little creature back out through an open window and closed it for you, a proud smile on his face when you thanked him with a hug.

Multitudes of other similar cases flashed through your mind, including all of the little moments that didn’t require Hobi to put his own comfort on the line for you, whether it was offering you his seat during a crowded movie night or wordlessly putting your favourite foods on your plate for you during a meal.

You follow him into the darkened room, thankful that he wouldn’t be able to see the tears threatening to fall as you came to the realisation that maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren’t one-sided after all. Your emotions were quickly becoming overwhelming to the point that you felt like you couldn’t breathe, and you were sure your ribs were aching from how hard your heart was beating inside your chest. Closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you calmed yourself down enough to take in your surroundings.

Now that your eyes had adjusted, you could see the door on the other side of the small passageway that led into the first proper room, a few portraits hanging on the walls on either side. You eyed them carefully, assuming that at least two of them would have either moving eyes or little doors that would allow actors to pop their heads through.

“Watch out for the paintings,” you say to Hobi in warning, taking a few steps ahead of him to lead the way. You feel him follow closely behind you, a hand tentatively on your lower back, fingertips barely brushing over the small part of visible skin between your top and your jeans. You’re determined to protect him as much as you can to thank him for coming with you, so you focus on using all of your prior experience to help him out. You’ve been to haunted houses and a few horror mazes with Jungkook before, Taehyung coming along to some of the more recent ones, too, the three of you united in your love of adrenaline rushes and all things scary.

Just as you predicted, one portrait on either side bursts open, actors leaning through to scream and yell and make awful noises in your ears. It makes you jump, but poor Hobi screams out behind you and your hand shoots out behind you to grab onto his without thinking. His large hand engulfs yours, the other shooting out to grab onto your shoulder and you try not to laugh at the brief flash of surprise on one of the actor’s faces at the volume of Hobi’s yell.

You pull him through the next few rooms, struggling with trying not to laugh at how Hobi’s yells are louder than the actors and his refusal to let go of you even when he’s almost stumbling over you to get to the next room. You can’t even find it in you to be mad at how he uses you as a human shield when he panics, hiding behind your shoulders when the actors jump out of hidden doors or run out from behind a curtain. You barely even register the decor and props around the house, only having enough time to take in the dining table covered in cobwebs and the kitchen sink filled with lumpy fake blood before Hobi is pushing you forward, desperate to get to the other end as quickly as he can despite the rushed apologies he keeps muttering into your hair.

It’s only when you get to the final corridor that you realise how quickly you’ve gone through the house, half-running the whole way round thanks to Hobi, but you’re not even disappointed in the slightest. The experience of doing a haunted house with Hobi at your side is one you’ll not only never get again, but it’s made all the more special by knowing he would never willingly do this for anyone other than you. You’re sure of it.

“Oh my god, y/n, I’m so sorry,” Hobi’s holding your hand so tightly you fear it may turn purple but you can’t stop laughing at his desperate slew of apologies.

“Hobi-oppa, it’s okay!” you manage between wheezing breaths, barely able to stand up straight as you lean on your knee with your free hand. “Are you alright?”

Hobi’s pushing his hair back from his face when you look over to him, his skin pale with a sheen of sweat on his forehead that catches in the light. His grip on your hand is still tight but it’s as if he doesn’t realise he’s still holding onto you, deep breaths pushing at his chest as he tries to steady himself.

You straighten up and move closer to him, placing your hand on his chest and feeling his hammering heart beneath your palm.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you tell him, finally gaining his attention so that he looks down at you. “I appreciate it, really I do,” you continue, smiling gently as you push some of his hair away from where it’s close to falling in his eyes. “But I could have waited. I wouldn’t have even minded if I hadn’t gotten to go in.”

“Don’t tell me that now!” he whines dramatically and you laugh, squeezing his hand where he still holds you by his side.

“I’m sorry,” you grin, bringing your free hand back down to his chest. “I still enjoyed it, although I’m more worried about you.” You eye him curiously as you ask your next question. “Why did you do that?”

Hobi’s gaze is steady as he looks down at you, breath finally levelling out. There’s no smile this time, just pure, unadulterated sincerity as he says, “because you wanted to.”

You don’t even hesitate to lean up and press your lips against his, clutching the material of his shirt to pull him closer. His lips are soft and warm against yours and your mind is reeling with the realisation that you’re finally kissing him, here in the middle of a fair, both of you still high on adrenaline.

After the initial second passes and you don’t feel him kiss you back, you feel panic rising in your throat and you go to pull away, but a strong hand appears on the back of your neck and holds you close. You feel him kiss you back, a firm pressure on your lips, and a small whimper escapes your throat in relief, joy and lust for the man holding you. Feeling his fingers gently grip your hair threatens to buckle your knees and you feel him chuckle against your lips, the two of you finally pulling back to look at each other.

The widest grin lights up Hobi’s features as he takes in your blushing face before leaning his forehead against yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that,” he confesses quietly, only loud enough for you to hear amongst the hubbub of the fair around you.

“Really?” your voice is no more than a breathless whisper, a torrent of emotions flooding your body.

“Really,” he confirms, leaning back and bringing his hand from your hair back to your cheek. “The guys have been telling me to hurry up and make my move. I think they were getting sick of me pining over you,” he laughs, though the blush on his cheeks gives away his sudden bashfulness. “That’s why they made sure I was the last one so you’d pair up with me.”

“I thought they did that because Jungkook told them about me liking you!” you exclaim, your hand leaving Hobi’s shirt to point at yourself, your shock evident on your face. Several emotions flutter across Hobi’s features and you’re sure he wants to know more about you liking him, but right now he seems as content as you are to enjoy this moment of finally being honest with each other.

“Well, all that matters now is that we know,” he says with a smile, brushing your hair back and tucking it behind your ear before tracing your jaw with his fingertips.

“We do,” you confirm, returning your hand to his chest before pushing it up and over his shoulder, running your fingers through his dark hair at the nape of his neck. He leans in this time, taking your bottom lip gently between his own as his hand curls round the back of your neck, finally letting go of your hand only to hold you by the small of your back and pull your body close to his. Your now-free hand goes to his waist, bunching the material of his shirt between your fingers.

“Damn,” he breathes out as he pulls away. “This is even better than I imagined,” he grins, making you giggle and hide your face against his neck as you blush. “Does this mean I can give you this now?” he asks, keeping his hand on your back as he reaches into his back pocket and you look up, your curiosity piqued. He pulls out a small, folded paper bag with white and blue stripes, holding it out for you to take. You unfold it and tip out its contents to see the same silver bracelet you had been looking at earlier, its black and purple gems catching the lights around you.

You look up at him in surprise, your questions clear in your eyes but not able to make it past your lips. “How did you-?”

“I saw you looking at it earlier, and then you said about wanting your boyfriend to get you something you’d actually like, so I went back when I threw that drink away,” he tries to appear nonchalant as he shrugs, but he pulls at his ear nervously and you smile, catching his choice of words.

“So, you’re my boyfriend now?”

“Uh, I mean, I-” he’s flustered and you can’t help but laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist. “D-do you want me to be?” He looks down at you cautiously, hopeful but hesitant, and you nod.

“I do.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, considering I just kissed you twice in the middle of the fair, I’m not sure what more confirmation I can give you, Hobi.” He rolls his eyes playfully before wrapping both arms tightly around your waist and pressing numerous pecks to your face, from your nose to your cheeks to your forehead and finally your lips, although the last one is much more gentle and he takes his time with it.

Parting for the third time, he rubs his nose against yours, a wide smile on his lips and yours. You’re not sure how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, but you finally bring yourself to pull away from him.

“Put it on me?” you ask, holding out the bracelet, and he carefully clasps the jewellery around your wrist, running his thumb tenderly over the chain. “I think we have to head back now,” he says, though you can hear the reluctance in his voice.

“Do we really have to?” you ask, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck and you feel him inhale sharply. “Can’t we just… not? Head home just the two of us?” Hobi’s chest rumbles as he laughs but his arms tighten on your waist, holding you close for a few more seconds before letting you go. He takes your hand in his, though, and gently intertwines your fingers as he starts walking you back to the spot you’d departed from just half an hour earlier.

Half an hour, you think, that’s all it took for everything to change.

Thank God for haunted houses.

#bangtan fic #hobi #jung hoseok #j-hope #hoseok fic #hoseok fluff #hoseok x reader #hobi x reader #j-hope x reader #hobi fic #hobi fluff #j-hope fic #j-hope fluff #bangtan fluff #bts holiday bingo #sunshine hobi #scaredy cat hobi

45 notes · View notes

delimeful · 5 years ago

Text

WIBAR Intermission: Making Adjustments (3)

WIBAR INT Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

if you’re new to this AU, you can find the first story here and the ao3 story here!

warnings: panic attack, bad decisions, ptsd

For the next several hours, Virgil stayed tucked away in an exhausted, half-dozing half-delirious state, his dreams flickering between vivid nightmares and the solitary silence of his cell, back on the ship.

He wondered if maybe all this was the dream, and the empty cell was the reality he was ignoring. Figured even his theoretical hallucination coma dreams would end badly.

Roman and Logan were searching the ship for him. He could hear them every time they entered the storage room he was in, or the rooms adjacent, but they never seemed to look up. He softened his breathing to near-nonexistent whenever they showed up, his whole body tense with the anticipation of being found out.

“--searched the ship through several times by now, Roman. I believe that our only choices are to wake Patton or give up. Wherever he is, Virgil clearly doesn’t want to be found.” Logan’s voice was somewhat subdued, his consonants less sharp than normal.

There was a rough scoff. “Wrong, there are still plenty of places to look! You saw how he folded into that cabinet, there are all sorts of Human-accessible spaces that size on the Mindscape, such as this--!” Roman opened a compartment nearby with a dramatic click as though to emphasize his point. “... Well, he’s not in that one. But the point still stands! We can’t just give up.”

“Roman, you know as well as I that you are not built to remain awake past one of your normal sleep cycles, let alone two. Even if we did come across Virgil now, if he felt threatened enough to attack us as he did earlier, you would be unable to fight sufficiently,” Logan explained patiently.

“Threatened by what? You and your jam stains?” Roman bit back, but Virgil could hear the way the response lacked its usual vigor. “Fine, we’ll give it up for the night. It’d be safer to stick together and guard Patton anyhow, what am I even doing?” Footsteps hurried over to the door. “But really, tomorrow, I’m giving that guy a piece of my mind!”

The chill that traveled down Virgil’s spine was nothing when compared to the ice-cold terror that seized him at Logan’s response, his calm voice fading off as they finally left the room. “Yes, I wish to have a word with him as well...”

He bit into the meat of his palm and rode out the surge of joint-locking fear, forcing himself not to make a sound in case they hadn’t really left. It was fine. Everything was fine. Neither of them had noticed him, and they were going back to the room they slept in now. Logan wanted... something with him, but had decided it could wait until tomorrow.

That just meant he had to be off the ship by tomorrow. Easy.

Slowly, he forced his trembling limbs to lower himself off the top of the storage unit, wincing at every thump or creak it emitted as he clambered down. Socks would have been useful for softening the sound of his feet against the cool ship flooring, but he’d been barefoot for so long it had become his normal. It was strange, the things one got used to when they were forced to adapt or die. He almost felt grimier on the pristine spaceship than he did roughing it in hostile terrain. At least in the outdoors there were bodies of water he could use to rinse off.

Shaking the errant thought away, he crept through the halls, taking a few winding detours to avoid going anywhere near the others’ sleeping quarters. He paused briefly in front of the kitchen, knowing from experience that his shakiness and lack of hunger despite not having eaten anything substantial in… a while meant that he should break his impromptu fast soon, but...

It didn’t feel right, stealing from Patton, no matter how insignificant. The guy had already had enough taken from him.

He spotted the bread and jam he’d dropped earlier, overturned on the floor and forgotten, and quickly ducked down another hallway before he could think too hard about what might happen if he didn’t get off this ship before Logan found him.

Unfortunately, the ship itself was the problem. Even if he had been well-rested enough to read quickly, all the labels were still in written common. There was even a form of alien braille etched into the plaques, which was considerate if completely unhelpful to him. He really could have used some helpful symbols at this point. Too bad nobody would have ever predicted an illiterate human being on board.

He wasted at least an hour poking around in any room that seemed like it might have some sort of exit mechanism, coming up with nothing that he was willing to actually mess with, lest it activate an alarm or vaporize his brains or whatever. He was tired, he didn’t have the energy to properly imagine what fiddling with alien tools could do to him.

Wired as he was, adrenaline could only last so long, and so he almost missed the skitter of footsteps coming up behind him. He spun around, and Patton drew up short with a tiny trill of surprise, glowing a soft blue in the dim hallway.

“No touching?” he asked, intuitive as always to Virgil’s body language. Though he had no idea how he’d slipped past the others without waking them, Virgil could tell just by looking at the Ampen that he hadn’t been told what had happened. Well, he wasn’t about to change that.

“Just a little nervous,” he reassured him, reaching an arm out and holding still as Patton hauled himself up to nestle in the crook of his elbow. He scrambled for something to say, not ready to decide if he could tell Patton he was trying to leave. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“I could ask you the same,” Patton grumped, voice muffled slightly as he turned his face into Virgil’s arm. “... Had a nightmare. Needed to make sure you were safe. Why weren’t you in your room? I got all worried.”

He exhaled as though someone had reached into his chest and squeezed all the air from his lungs. Patton had been there at his side, in that cell. He’d suffered just like Virgil had. He hadn’t connected the dots, hadn’t realized that Patton might miss the security of sleeping as his side, too.

“I… I was just feeling restless,” he said, turning away from the unexplored rooms and beginning to walk back towards the one he’d been not-sleeping in for ages. “Patton, you said you trust your friends, right? They’d never hurt you?”

Patton tilted his head back to look at Virgil curiously, but answered nonetheless. “That’s right. Roman and Logan are good, Virgil. They won’t hurt us.”

He believed that Patton believed that. He believed that they were truly Patton’s friends, too; he’d seen the way they looked at him, caught glances of the softness between the three of them when they spent time together. The problem was that there was no way that extended to him, a human.

Patton cared about him though, he was pretty sure. And they cared about Patton, so they would have to behave in front of him. Maybe he’d be ‘persuaded’ to get some blood drawn, some samples taken, some tests performed, but with Patton there, things wouldn’t be as bad as the labs.

“Virge?” Patton called softly. “You’re shaking…”

“Just a little tired.” He forced his body into laxness, twisting his lips up in a wry smile to reassure his small friend. “No worries, Pat.”

He made his way into the room, curling up against the back corner behind the bed that would hide them from anyone passing by the door. Patton snuggled himself against the curve of his body, a tiny ball of feathers and fluff breathing quietly next to him.

“Soft sleep,” Patton cooed, one of the first phrases Virgil had properly learned in Ampen.

“Gentle rest,” he responded in a soft mumble. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend they were back out on the surface of some small, wild planet. Funny how that was more relaxing than the supposed safety of this ship.

Still, he had faith that Patton wouldn’t let anything like the labs happen to him. And if the other aliens refused to listen to Patton, then the two of them could leave, go back to roughing it and planet-drifting where things were simpler. He wouldn’t be trapped again.

Slowly, the tension leaked out of his frame as drowsiness finally overcame him, Patton’s presence like a balm on his weary mind. For the first time in days, Virgil slept a dreamless sleep.

“Patton!”

He woke to an angry bellow, something about it distinctly inhuman, and jolted upwards, automatically shifting to keep most of Patton concealed behind his arms. The guards— the ship’s inhabitants?— the Others were angry with Patton, why were they angry? Were they going to hurt him?

He wouldn’t let them.

His vision was hazy and spotted around the edges from his abrupt waking, but he could still tell when the larger of the two figures in the doorway began to move closer. He shuffled back slightly and bared his teeth, only catching fragments of the rumbling voice.

“-- let go of him right n--”

He hissed for good measure, mimicking the type of ‘come closer and you’ll regret it’ cadence that particularly furious cats used back home at the clinic. He was gratified to see the larger silhouette hesitate at the sound.

The Ampen in his arms finally stirred at all the ruckus, and the room seemed to go unnaturally quiet. Virgil didn’t even glance down as he woke, too nervous that one of the others would try to advance now that the target of their anger was awake.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” he mumbled, peeking out over the protective barrier Virgil’s arms made. “Guys? Is it morning already?”

Patton knew them. Virgil’s gaze flickered between the two, heart sinking. Not guards.

“Morning-- we woke up and you’d vanished!” the larger-- Roman cried, body rattling with his barely-contained intensity. “We thought something had happened! And we find you here--!”

“Roman--,” Patton tried.

“No! This can not stand!” Roman cut him off angrily, stepping forward. Virgil felt his vision almost white-out with panic, shoving himself back again and meeting ungiving wall. They were dangerous, he was afraid of them-- but they were Patton’s friends, he couldn’t fight them-- but they were mad.

Roman took another step forward, and Virgil quickly twisted around to face the corner, nudging Patton onto the ground and curving over him as a physical shield. If they wanted to hurt Patton, they’d have to go through him. Literally.

“Please,” he said, cutting off the beginning of a sentence from one of the others. He tried to inhale deeply, but he could only manage shallow gasps. “Don’t be mad at him. It was-- my fault, I brought him here, I’m-- I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. You can-- do whatever you want, just--” His voice cracked, throat contracting painfully.

White noise seemed to rise like a wave in his ears, and he curled in tighter around Patton as he felt someone get closer, steps vibrating on the cool floor. He made an upset noise, eyes scrunched shut in anticipation of the blow that was coming. “Get away. Don’t hurt him. Don’t-- Please.”

“Virgil,” a voice said, quiet and unobtrusive. “Virge, you’ve gotta breathe.”

A small hand patted his cheek lightly, a calming blue glow visible once he opened his eyes. He struggled to follow Patton’s instructions, still listening for the moment he would be attacked.

“Don’t worry about them, kiddo, I’m here. I’m right here, okay? Do you… um, do you remember the words for colors in Common?”

He did. Patton had taught him a few back in the cell, but there were only so many colors they could discern from themselves and their meager rations. Once they’d escaped, Patton had spent a whole day dragging Virgil around to every flower in the vicinity and sharing the names for each of their colors.

“What were your favorites again? I know you told me, I just can’t quite remember...”

Virgil struggled to speak for a few moments, and then pointed at the purple on his jacket, tapping it with shaky fingers.

“Purple! That’s right, that was one of them!” Patton beamed at him, his glow brightening, and Virgil managed a shaky but full inhale before touching the bags under his eyes with a wry smile. He’d used the same feature to share the color with Patton back in the cell. “Black!”

“Yeah,” he rasped quietly, and then tapped the feathers in the necklace around his neck last, eliciting a delighted chirp from Patton. “My blue!”

“Your blue,” he agreed, taking deep breaths. “I-- Are they--?”

Patton nodded sympathetically, which wasn’t helpful because Virgil had no idea what he was trying to ask. He straightened up slowly, and resisted the urge to let out a garbled protest when Patton took the opportunity to climb out of his lap. He quickly shifted back around to face the room at large, some irrational part of him still terrified that Patton would be hurt.

Roman was closer than he remembered, but he didn’t look angry anymore. In fact, he was looking at Virgil strangely, as though he’d never seen him before. Logan was in the doorway, face impassive, but all of his hands were clasped together in a tense knot.

“Okay, I think we need to have a talk,” Patton said sternly, and Virgil’s shoulders automatically rose up to his ears. Hilariously enough, Roman’s did the exact same thing. “Roman, Logan, why don’t you go get breakfast ready? Me and Virgil will be right there!”

Roman’s tail lashed. “But--!”

“No buts!” Patton shoved at Roman’s knee, corralling him towards the doorway. Despite being much larger, Roman allowed himself to be shoved into the hall, and narrowed his eyes at Virgil briefly before stalking away.

Patton brushed imaginary dust from his feathers, shooting Virgil a smile. “I love them, but they can be kinda stubborn and overbearing at times. I’m sorry everything was all overwhelming, kiddo.”

“You’re sorry?” Virgil asked, shifting to lean back against the wall. “I just freaked out on your friends and used you as a teddy bear, and you’re the one who’s sorry?”

“Yes!” Patton chirped, undeterred by his incredulous tone. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I think we all messed up this time, and now we’re all going to sit down and talk about it over breakfast.”

“...Do I have to?”

“Also yes! But I’ll be right there at your side the whole time, okay?” Patton patted his leg encouragingly.

After a long moment of entertaining stressful what-if scenarios, Virgil nodded slowly. “Okay.”

He followed the Ampen out to the kitchen area, and sat down in the unused seat he had used the day before with an odd sense of deja vu. This… was not how he’d thought the day would turn out.

The other two were content with pretending to be completely absorbed in setting the serving dishes out on the table, up until Patton decided it would be a good idea to climb right into Virgil’s lap and sit there, comfortable as anything. Virgil very carefully didn’t tense up as Roman and Patton both stared, choosing to instead look at a scratch on the table intently.

“Uh, Patton? Do you want to maybe sit with your friends?” So they stop looking at me like I’m about to take a bite out of you?

“Nope!” Patton answered cheerily. “As long as you’re okay with it, I want to sit over here with you! You’re my friend too, after all.”

Virgil got that weird breathless feeling again, and pressed his lips together to keep from making any strange expressions. “Yeah, that’s. That’s okay, then.” Patton beamed up at him, antennae brushing against the underside of his chin.

Once everyone was seated, there was a long stretch of silence, broken only by Roman and Patton beginning to spoon various foods onto their dishes. The awkwardness was thick enough to feel stifling, and Virgil didn’t dare reach out for anything lest he draw attention back to himself.

Surprisingly enough, Logan was the one to break the quiet, an odd throaty chirp serving as him clearing his throat to speak. “Virgil.” Virgil stiffened like a board, instantly sweating. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

What? “What?”

“For last night. I spoke without considering how your recent experience had affected you. I didn’t understand all of what you were saying, because you switched to what I assume is your native language, but what I did understand was enough for me to realize what I did wrong. I want to assure you that it won’t happen again,” Logan folded two of his hands on the table, bowing his head slightly. “To emphasize my point, I will refrain from taking notes without your explicit permission.”

Virgil scrambled for something to say other than, why do you people keep apologizing to me? “I thought you wanted to know about humans?”

“I do, but I believe in ethical science first and foremost, so causing someone distress in the process is never acceptable. If you ever want to speak to me about anything you’re confused or uncertain on in regards to alien culture, please know that my quarters are open to you.”

“Um… thank you,” Virgil said, still a bit off balance. Logan solemnly gave him four thumbs ups, and it startled a rasp of laughter out of him. Still perched on him, Patton returned the gesture with both hands.

“Well, I think you’re not the only one owed an apology,” Roman interjected, gesturing grandly with his fork. Virgil blinked at him, confused, and he shook his head like an agitated dog. “You threw a chair at me! I wasn’t even doing anything!”

He took a moment to recall, and yeah, he did vaguely remember tossing something in Roman’s direction to distract him while he bolted. “Oh. Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Of course you didn’t hurt me!” The spiky alien squinted at him, and then nodded once. “I suppose I can forgive it, so long as it doesn’t happen again.”

Huh. It was that easy? He’d kind of thought he’d be challenged to an alien duel for honor or something.

(Occupied as he was, he didn’t notice Patton send a meaningful look at Roman, and the way Roman pointedly turned his face away, stubborn as always.)

Patton sighed, shifting to stand so he could be seen fully over the edge of the table. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, I think you two owe me an explanation of what exactly happened last night, and why I wasn’t woken up.”

Roman and Logan traded panicked glances, and Virgil bit the inside of his cheek to keep his lips from twitching up. His humor didn’t last long though, not while listening to their description of how he’d freaked out over basically nothing, yelled at them, and ran away like a coward.

“I’m sorry,” he cut in once Roman finally finished trying to justify his decision not to tell Patton. He drew in on himself slightly as everyone’s eyes turned to him. “Look, I appreciate you guys even giving me a chance, but it’s obvious that I don’t belong here. I… It’s okay if you want me to leave.”

“Virgil—!” Patton started, but Logan beckoned for their attention.

“Am I correct in assuming that you believe you are a hazard to this ship due to your negative stress reactions from your experiences while captured?” he asked, and Virgil nodded hesitantly. Oddly, Roman only crossed his arms, choosing to stay silent for once.

“I’m afraid that if anyone who experienced flashbacks was banned from our ship, there wouldn’t be a single person left to operate it,” he continued dryly, “so by that logic, I must conclude that if you wish to stay, there is no reason you cannot do so.”

Virgil felt his face burn hot with embarrassment, and Logan’s eyes widened slightly, alarmed.

“I apologize, I did not mean to offend.”

Patton answered before he did, breaking into peals of bell-like laughter. “Don’t worry Lo! That’s just what humans do when they’re flustered!”

“Patton!” he complained, ducking his head to avoid showing the others his red face.

“You better get used to it, Virge, because you’re not getting rid of me that easy!” Patton scrunched his face up in a closed-eye smile, and handed him a plate of food he’d been piling up during the conversation. It had something that smelled like an omelet, and he couldn’t help but drool slightly at the sight.

Virgil looked up at the others, waiting for someone to object, but Logan looked satisfied and Roman simply turned his head away, content to stay mum on the subject.

“Okay,” he conceded, and the taste of the first real meal he’d had in days was sweet in his mouth.

#sanders sides #g/t #ts virgil #ts patton #ts roman #ts logan #FINALLY GOT THIS OUT #space au #wibar #watch it burn and rust #wibar intermission #wibar int: ma #writing #my writing #this is the final part of this intermission section yaaaay!

608 notes · View notes

capricornus-rex · 4 years ago

Text

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (11)

Chapter 11: Set in Motion | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: Hi guys, I’m slowly getting back on my feet mentally. I hope I didn’t disinterest you guys with how long I’ve taken to write stories. If you still stayed to tune in to the story despite the dramatic change in my posting schedule, A BIG THANK YOU TO YOU GUYS!! I’ll keep writing to make this story interesting.

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 | Previous: Part 10 | Next: Part 12 | Masterlist

12 of ?

17 BBY

A day after her full medical examination, the Anathema charted a course to the western arm of the Mustafar system.

For the first time in a near-month, Irele officially can wander around the ship. The first thing she did with the privilege was to find her way to the bridge, with HY-L33 by her side. Despite her plain-looking clothes, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

She approaches the viewing pane of the bridge, a spot that most officers were accustomed to seeing Vader instead, and watches the bluish-gray moon come into size as they pass through the Imperial blockade. She didn’t listen to the standard exchange between officers from each end, her gaze remained on the moon. She allowed herself to close her eyes to get a feel of the planet—she felt it cold and brooding, and yet it was brimming with life. She started to guess what kind of terrain it had too, probably volcanic rock, she thought; but the closer the ship got, she realizes that it was mostly water.

Unaware that she’s connecting with the planet’s essence through the Force, to her, it felt like frolicking around someplace new and unexplored; for this particular moon, she could feel the cold water seawater freeze the nerves under her skin, she could the faint light of the bioluminescent creatures thriving in the depth as if like starlight, and the strong current that nearly swept her off of her feet. Her eyelids shot up.

“What is this place?” she asked no one in particular.

“We are approaching the moon, Nur, Lady Irele.”

Irele turned her head to the side to see who answered: a young uniformed officer with black hair neatly cropped at the sides. He donned the exact same garbs as his colleagues, the only thing that differed was the badges pinned on his left chest—which was relatively fewer than the seasoned admiral.

The same officer didn’t go far from her; as the Anathema got into the moon’s exosphere, he escorted her—along with HY-L33, whom she insisted to be allowed to follow her—to the hangar where the shuttle Zenith awaits its passenger. Irele made herself comfortable in the main cabin, furnished with only a small round table surrounded by a booth, across it is a slab meant as a bench for other passengers.

The girl’s curiosity grew at the same time the moon scaled in size as they descended into the atmosphere. At first glance, she’d think the gray and black surface would be high cliffs; the Zenith cut through the clouds, revealing much of the land mass, she leaned in by the window to find that there was none. All of it was water. The only other terrain that existed there was the fortress that sat in the middle of the ocean, it was practically an artificial island in its own right.

“What is that?”

“That is Fortress Inquisitorius, Lady Irele.”

“What’s in there?”

“This is the standard lodge and training grounds for Inquisitors.”

It’s the first time she’s heard the word, though she’s absolutely sure that she is none of that.

“Why am I being brought here?”

A pause came upon the droid, HY-L33’s neck whirred as to bow her head.

“My apologies, neither captain nor crew have uploaded their ship manifest into my database.”

Irele made a mental note to request for HY-L33 to have special privileges if it involved her. That is, if she can even make one.

The fortress’s peak pierced through the sky like a spear, standing tall and as deep as the ocean floor. The pilot gently curbed around, allowing Irele a closer look and all of a sudden she felt weary.

–

Irele exited the Zenith and was then passed over to another officer, though much older and appearing to be perpetually vexed by this fool’s errand. Nevertheless, the escort officer walked Irele and HY-L33 through the fortress. It was a metal maze underwater.

The vibrant blue of the underwater life reflected a sheen over Irele’s widened eyes. Mouth agape, she had forgotten that she was in such a foreboding, ominous place. Never has she ever dreamed in her entire life that she’d see a place this blue, after living of seeing nothing but golden-brown sand that stretched up to the ridges where the twin suns hid.

The escort officer kept on blathering about where was what, schedules—her schedules, specifically—of her routines and training sessions. Irele was having none of it, she walked by the glass wall staring at the shoals that swam past her. Her distracted giggling caught the attention of the officer and he snapped.

“Lady Irele, did you hear what I just said?!”

The poor, startled girl’s shoulders jumped and her heels sprang. She froze in place.

“S-Sorry, I was looking at the water…”

The officer sighed and switched his tone, “Would you want me to arrange a tour in your own personal pod, young lady?”

It didn’t take a genius to see that the officer’s words were drawling with a harsh breed of sarcasm. Irele’s fists balled so tightly that her fingernails dug curves on the skin of her palms. She glowers at him, refusing to speak. The escort rolled his eyes and sighed, further irritated by this mundane task given to him.

“Puh! Children!” he scoffed under his breath as soon as he turned away from Irele and continued.

Eventually, they arrive to a viewing room with a wide window that spanned from left to right. Irele was reluctant to stand beside the escort, the latter thought likewise so he stepped back himself. Below the viewing deck, Irele witnessed something intense, brutal, and oddly fascinating.

Two individuals, armored head to foot in sleek black, both wielding weapons but each a different kind. One held a pair of rods, and the other a weapon in the same fashion as a hammer. Violet electricity crackling along the ends of the weapons sparked at every collision and strike each fighter made.

Irele pressed herself against the glass when the fight was getting good. She didn’t place her bet on anyone, she had never seen a graceful, calculated fight such as this—even though this is a normal sparring session, to keep these fighters’ wits and skills sharp. The dual wielder eventually wins after staggering his opponent with a flurry of attacks.

“Come now, young lady, it’s time I bring you to your quarters.”

She looks away from the viewing pane and then to the escort, her expression served enough as a question asking for elaboration, though he didn’t humor her with an answer—even if she actually asked.

Her room in Fortress Inquisitor was a bigger version of the one she had in the command ship; and so she had to adjust all over again, but seeing that it was no different either way, getting used to the room was somehow easy.

“Well, HY-L33, I guess we’ll be staying here for a while.”

“Indeed, Lady Irele. I will be here to assess you medically if you are fit for your regular training sessions assigned in your schedule.”

“Why am I going to be trained? Are they gonna make me an Inquisitor?”

“In a way, Lady Irele, yes. But you will not be named an Inquisitor.”

“Then what’s the point of training me? I get that I will need to learn how to fight but for what?”

HY-L33 stood silent and incapable of answering her master’s questions. Irele apologized for barraging the droid with questions that may not have been—as she now mockingly calls it—“not uploaded into her database.”

Irele took rest for the day, not knowing what’s in store for her in the coming days.

The pawn now moves.

14 notes · View notes

katerinawinters · 4 years ago

Text

Predator: Huntress Alpha ch 7

Walking back and forth across the large common area, Justice let out a ragged groan as Larsa's cries intensified. Casting a worried glance over her shoulder towards the bridge, she looked to see Jarak calmly sitting in his seat, occasionally adjusting the ship as they approached the oncoming planet. He didn't seem bothered by the noise, but Justice was sure it was an act. For nearly an hour, the sound of Larsa's hungry cries echoed off the ship's walls. Even she was starting to become undone by the constant crying.

Hugging the baby closer, Justice put a bit more bounce in her pacing as she rubbed her cheek against hers. It was hot, and her screams rang in Justice's ear, but she endured it.

"I know, I know," she soothed, her heartbreaking as she walked from one end of the room and turned on her heel. "Once I get something to eat, then you will be able to eat too."

Her milk was coming out only in tiny amounts. The last time Justice ate was three days ago back on LV549. She had eaten her last energy bar that morning as she hid in the desert, preparing herself to run to the dorm building.

Waking up from her first night of sleep on the ship, she had asked the hunter if he had any food onboard and received a quiet no in response. Justice wasn't surprised by the answer, oddly enough, the ship was immaculately clean. It made her wonder if the ship was new or if the hunter was just OCD or something. Besides the weapons on the wall and his precious sack containing what she was sure was a xenomorph head, there was nothing else in the ship.

After a few more laps of bouncing steps, Larsa settled her head sleepily against Justice's chest as her cries dropped into a constant mewling noise that tore at Justice's soul worse.

"Jarak?" she called quietly, knowing the hunter's keen hearing would pick up her voice.

Turning silently in his chair, he stared at her in answer. His orangish-red eyes that reminded her of solar flares were calm and patient. He really wasn't all that bothered by Larsa's crying, she realized. And for some reason, that made her think of last night, which was probably some of the best sleep she had ever had. Half naked, she had slept a good portion of the night in the yautja's arms. He had moved only once, early that morning, carefully shifting her so that she lay against the bed, allowing him to finally get up. And if she was really being honest with herself, she hated to see him go. For years she had slept with all of her senses open, with one hand on her gun and ready to react within a second, but last night for the first time, she entered a depth of sleep she had only ever read about, and it was glorious--and she hated herself for it.

Unaccustomed to asking for help, Justice forced the words out, wincing at how awkward she sounded. "Is their fish on your planet?"

Jarak just blinked.

"I only eat fish, vegetables, and fruit," she explained, knowing that Yautja were primarily red meat eaters--raw meat at that. "I need to eat in order to produce milk so that she can eat. Does your planet have an edible fish I can eat?"

Thinking, Jarak nodded before turning around. His black claws clacked at the console, pulling up a large holographic viewer, overlaying the window. Stepping closer, Justice looked at the images and smiled. Sorted into two groups were seemingly all the known fish on his planet.

"Ok," she breathed in relief. "That's good."

Exiting the screen, Jarak looked up to the encroaching planet, and she followed his gaze. It was beautiful. Covered in dark greens and deep blues and shrouded in a thin filmy white gaseous layers, the jungle planet floated proudly in the sea of glittering black space. Even their planets were foreboding, she thought with a smirk. How thick was their jungle if even from this distance, the planet shined like a dark emerald? How deep were their unexplored oceans? The scientist within her leaped at the excitement the new planet offered, but the bigger part of her, the soldier, stared at the planet with a cool appraisal.

"Sit," Jarak commanded over his massive shoulder.

Holding the now quiet Larsa higher against her chest, Justice stiffened and gave the yautja a deadly smile. "I think because you have seen my tits, you are under the impression that you are entitled to give me orders, yautja. Let me inform you that you're highly mistaken," her whispered words came out through clenched teeth. "I promise you this, once I have eaten, rested, and taken care of Larsa, you and I are going to have to have a talk about this giving me orders habit you have going."

Jarak turned in his chair, and she watched as his sunburst eyes brightened in response. "I will look forward to it, until then--sit," he pointed a black claw towards the bed.

For the longest moment, they stared at one another in silent combat. She wanted to break that finger, but she couldn't, not with Larsa in her arms. She wanted to shoot him, but not while she and Larsa were aboard this ship. She wanted to punch that satisfied glimmer he was staring at her with right out of those tiny beady eyes, but she couldn't--not right now at least.

Holding back the rest of her snarky words, she spun on her heel and marched back to the bed and sat, not daring to look back at the giant bastard.

It was dark out when the ship landed. With her backpack on and Larsa strapped back into her harness, Larsa grabbed her gun and stepped to Jarak on the bridge, who gave her a pointed stare.

Pushing some of her braids, which had fallen from her bun, out of her face, she gave the hunter a questioning look. "What?"

Jarak looked from her gun and back to her meaningfully.

"I truly hope you didn't expect me to leave my gun on this ship," she asked, one eyebrow lifting cynically. "I don't know this planet. For all, I know it's probably full of species evolved to match its primary occupants. Which endangers my child even more so. That’s-"

"Only endangering the child?" Jarak asked, and Justice resisted grabbing a handful of his spines and yanking them out of his big fat head.

He was purposely trying to bait her into an argument. The giant lunk wanted to fight her, she could feel the need for it vibrating off of him. She was sure it was the sole reason he saved her and Larsa. His "curiosity" was just a polite way of saying, "I have yautja hard-on to fight you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I would manage on my own," she said evenly, "but with her," she pointed to the baby in the harness. "I will take no chances."

Without a reply, Jarak walked towards the hatch and hit a button on the wall activating the pressure-sealed door. Warm swampy air hit her immediately, and Justice nearly groaned. She forgot about that aspect. Hot, humid, jungle planets were paradise for these creatures. Stepping onto the smooth metal surface, Justice looked around in silent surprise at the hangar. Parked in a line of ships that spanned at least eight kilometers, cutting a large strip out of the thick jungle, they walked out onto the path that sat between the row of ships. There had to be over fifty ships, not including the empty spaces she could see that were obviously reserved for other ships.

Walking down the quiet path, Jarak suddenly stopped and looked towards the jungle. Turning to her, he gave her a firm look and pointed to the ground. "Wait here, do not move," he growled.

Justice was opening her mouth to tell him to fuck-right-the-hell-off when the hunter turned and moved so quickly she just ended up standing there with her mouth open. Fucking hell, he moved fast. Pulling up her retinal interface, she replayed the last scene of him. In one fluid move, Jarak had turned on his heel and took one lunging step forward, his powerful thigh muscles bunching at the contracting movement before launching himself forward into the air and into the jungle.

A rustle in the trees tore her attention from her replaying footage, and she brought her gun up and angled her chest away, making herself a slimmer target as possible. With a small thud, Jarak burst through the tree line and landed back onto the metal hangar, holding something in his hands. Dropping her gun, Justice scowled at the hunter until he got close, and she realized what he had done.

Holding out both hands, he held the small red globes of fruit towards her. "Humans can eat these," he informed her, offering her the fruits.

Letting her gun hang by its strap, Justice carefully took the handfuls of fruit from his waiting hands. This was odd. She wasn't sure how to react or think at this. There was an inexplicable urge to scowl and smile at the same time. Nodding her thanks, she followed the hunter as she cradled the fruit in her arms. As her eyes passed over the array of ships, her mind focused on the hunter's odd actions trying to analyze them. He saved her because of what she was, she knew that. He wanted to bring his find back to his leader, no doubt. But he also wanted her to be appeased, she thought, remembering the way she woke up to find him holding Larsa to feed at her breast. She could not understand him. Wouldn't making her angry be the best way to incite a fight? Or did this yautja have so much honor he wanted her at her best when he did fight her? That was it, she nodded to herself, following the hunter down an ornate metal staircase, he wanted a good fight. That was why he was feeding her and appeasing her by looking after Larsa, he wanted her back in fighting shape. Shaking her head, she grinned at the thought of his reaction whenever she eventually got around to telling him the truth.

Looking over the curving stair's side, Justice stopped abruptly, letting the sight beyond her soak in. A few steps down, Jarak paused and turned back to her in silent question.

Down the large hill, the hangar sat on top of a city of mythical proportions lay before her. Justice could hardly move, she couldn't believe she was seeing this. Growing up and training with her sisters, they had been taught everything the company knew about the yautja, which was limited, to say the least: reptilian-like carnivores, honor system, blooded versus unblooded, male versus female hunters, advanced technology, different factions, some space-born and bound and some planet dwellers. But this in front of her was nowhere in their limited teachings about the yautja. Like something from old earth Egyptian history files, a great black pyramid stood in the center of the cleared jungle floor. In front of the entrance, made from the same black metal, the long narrow pathway was lined in shimmering, dark reflecting pools that moonlight shimmered off of. Excited to see more, Justice carefully and quickly took the stairs down to the bottom, standing between two great statues of hunters, each wearing their masks and both holding spears.

Reaching out, she touched the metal greaves of the statue. "This is amazing," she whispered.

Jarak stepped behind her with silent patience as she turned and stared out at the smaller pyramids in the distance.

"How many of you live here?" she eventually asked, her voice sounding loud in the still night air. Certainly, all the rest of them weren't asleep right now?"

"Many," Jarak stated, walking ahead of her.

Justice stared at the back of his head. His spines swayed slightly against his broad back as he moved. He certainly wasn't verbose, she thought dryly. Getting information from the lumbering hunter was like pulling teeth.

Looking around again, Justice tried to open her senses and broaden her retinal interface in an attempt to spot a cloaked hunter, but by gods of the galaxies, she was so fucking tired it was useless to even try. All she could do was follow Jarak as she stared in awe at her surroundings.

Sounds of her footsteps echoed off the metal floor as she followed Jarak across the empty pyramid's grand gallery. In the center, just below the point, sat a square reflecting pool filled with dark, still water. At the four corners of the pool were more of the giant statues that had guarded the entrance of the palace, but instead of male statues, these were beautiful depictions of huntresses standing tall, their mandibles flared out, and their bladed gauntlets crossed over their breasts. If she wasn't so tired, she would stand and stare at the statues longer.

Reluctantly, Justice pulled herself away from the statues and followed Jarak down empty corridors until they were passing one with numerous doors. This part of the pyramid reminded her of her dormitory building back on LV594, and for a moment, the unbidden memory of her black case came to mind. Pushing the painful thought away, she stopped as Jarak paused outside of a door and waved his gauntlet in front of the discreet data-pad on the wall to the right of the door. Witch a silent swish, the metal door parted, and Jarak walked inside.

Why in the hell did she follow him here? Why did she allow him to take him to his planet? Looking into the shadowed room, he stepped into Justice, glanced down at the plum-like fruits in the crook of her arms, and down to Larsa's sleeping face squished up against her breasts. A few kind acts, and you'll just follow anyone anywhere, huh? You're doing it again, Justice, she mentally admonished herself. You're getting yourself wrapped up in a guy again when you have bigger shit to be worrying about. But then again, she looked up to see Jarak's eyes glow faintly in the darkness as he stepped back towards her in silent question, this wasn't technically a guy. At least with him, unlike with Luke, there was no question if he was a monster or not.

Stepping forward, she followed him inside.

by Katerina Winters

#predator fanfiction #writings #yautja fanfiction #katerina winters

21 notes · View notes

snowbellewells · 4 years ago

Text

CSSNS: “A Cottage by the Sea” /// Part Four

I’m terribly sorry once again for the delay, but I can see the end in sight on this on now, and I have a good vision for where the rest of this story is going. I hope you will enjoy some of the happy developments in this installment, and (as always) I’d love to hear what you think!

~***~ Excessive thanks and flails once more to @searchingwardrobes for this lovely cover art! ~***~

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half. But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…

Previous installments, from the beginning, on TUMBLR and on AO3

Part Four

Princess Emma had not been alone at sea for long when self-doubt and questions began to gnaw at her confidence and left her wondering if she should really have set out on her own. She was keeping the small vessel afloat and on course (she couldn’t wait to show Killian she really had been listening to his scattered lessons in their moments alone, even if she had been trying to steal glancing touches and quick glimpses at his unknowing features at the same time), but all the same, once the sun was overhead, beating down hot and unmercifully and she could see only unbroken ocean as far as the horizon in any direction, some of her fearless resolve left her. Why had she not tried to convince or bribe someone who knew more about navigation to come along? What if she were sailing further away from her beloved, instead of closer to him? How would she even get them back if she did locate Killian? What if he were hurt and she didn’t know how to help? She should have brought a healer!

The plaguing worries circled round and round, wreathing her head like a swarm of gnats, and Emma was unable to bat them away. Though she felt the gentle rhythm of the waves beneath her small craft, and knew that they were moving, there was no sign that she was closer to land - or any living thing at all. If she hadn’t been so desperate, so swept up in her emotions and determined recklessness, she would have brought more food and fresh drinking water than the couple of jugs and the bread and cheese she had grabbed. She could be out here for days or weeks, unable to find her way back - or to locate where Killian might be.

By the time the sun had fully risen, and she was well out of sight of Misthaven’s shore, and any other in any direction, Emma had worked herself into enough of a state that the adrenaline which had propelled her down the side of the castle walls, to the docks, and out to sea, was flagging in earnest and she sunk to the rough planks of her vessel, finally feeling the need for rest which had completely eluded her all the previous night. Despite that, she fought valiantly to keep her eyes open and to stay alert. She was sure she couldn’t even imagine all the danger she might face if she didn’t remain on her guard. Still, as time crawled forward, the steady rise and fall of the calm waters served to nearly rock her gently closer to slumber, her eyelids continually growing more and more weighted, until they fell closed and she leaned against the boat’s side in a doze.

For some time, the princess was lost to her surroundings, regaining the peace she had lost upon the moment she learned Killian was missing. But, ever-so-slowly, then gaining speed and clarity, images began to swirl in her mind’s eye, even as she slept. At first there were only blurs of color and flashes of hazy light, then the pictures playing in her head sharpened, allowing her to focus and understand.

Stirring fitfully, Emma began to wake, brought back to awareness by her effort to take in the vision as it came to her. When she clearly saw Killian, his dearly beloved face caught at her breath and caused her to shoot upright in excitement, she was fully roused once more. It seemed she was receiving some message - both not to give up as he still lived, just as her heart had known, and also as some guide to where he might be.

This Killian in her mind’s eye looked distinctly more bedraggled than she had ever seen him willing to appear in his uniform before - the material ripped and stained, and his hair half-dried and standing up in salt-clumped tufts. He walked along a beach strewn at intervals with pieces of what Emma knew must be his ship, and inwardly she cringed, knowing it would pain him to see it destroyed, and also at the thought of all the other lives which must be utterly lost as they had believed. Killian seemd completely alone in his surroundings.

Emma noticed that the image before her was beginning to go hazy about the edges and fade, but she clung to it for every second she could, drinking in the view of him in a way she had never seen her straight-laced lieutenant before. A traitorous blush colored her cheeks as her eyes trailed along his bared collarbone from where he had removed his uniform jacket, and she itched to run her fingers along his forearms and feel the muscles she hadn’t been able to look at before on display from his rolled-up sleeves. She was almost ashamed to admit the way she was feasting on the view of his chest and the dark hair smattered generously across it. Emma had never seen his shirt fully opened like that since they had entered young adulthood; Killian was much too considerate of her station and sensibilities, plus self-conscious as well, to show off so much skin in her presence. Still, Emma could not seem to pull her gaze away, her palms sweating with the heat as she even imagined touching those unexplored planes of her sailor’s body.

When the image before her faded and re-formed, returning to her again in a slightly different setting, his reappearance nearly bowled her over. Killian wore no shirt at all; all tanned skin over strapping shoulders and darkly furred chest narrowing down to a trim waist. Though stained with dirt and sand, and ripped in places, Killian still wore the breeches and boots of his uniform as he fought his way through what looked like a jungle of island vegetation. Sweat trickled down his brow, and Emma wished desperately to be there at his side to wipe it away for him, to venture forward shoulder-to-shoulder toward whatever he was seeking.

Abruptly, he reached the end of the thick trees and undergrowth he had been fighting his way through, stumbling out of the dense tangle of leaves and vine into a large, quiet clearing, housing a calm, turquoise pool, green grass and a large rock near the water’s edge. It was a tranquil little oasis after the terrain Killian had just left behind, and Emma found herself wondering again just where this could be and how she might reach him there. In her vision, Killian hurried forward to the water’s edge, bringing hands up to splash his overheated face and neck then drinking greedily from his cupped hands as well.

As much as she wanted to linger there with him - in her mind, at least, if not in actual reality - this scene too began to disintegrate and vanish before Emma was ready. She strained her eyes to see him even a few seconds longer, or in hopes of another scene appearing, but soon all she could see was unending ocean and sky all around her once more. Rousing fully from the sort of trance she had entered at the vision’s arrival, Emma found that one thing did remain in the forefront of her awareness - as cearly and definitely as if it had been spelled out across her retinas. ‘Ogygia,’ a quiet, melodious voice seemed to whisper impossibly in her ear, ‘You may find him on Ogygia.’

Princess Emma’s brow furrowed, recognizing the name, but confused by the implication. She had studied folklore, legends, and mythology in her schooling - quite avidly in fact. It was was one of the few subjects that genuinely interested her, memory and understanding coming easily, and she remembered the place. But, Calypso’s island? It was real? And how was she to find it?

Even as she wondered this, the same voice which had whispered the name into her consciousness now spoke again, offering Emma direction she wordlessly followed, plotting her course as this unknown entity directed. Indeed, such impulsive trust might be folly. She might live to regret listening to the siren song that led her forward - if she lived at all and was not lost upon the rising waves. All the same, she had no other directions to follow, no other way of knowing how to seek her missing love, and, for good or ill, she sensed this being speaking to her so sweetly and with such gentle care, meant her no harm.

She carried on the way she had chosen; better to take action and face the resulting consequences than to simply bob along the surface indefinitely until hunger, thirst or exposure took her while she waited. That would do Killian no good, wherever this island was that he had landed upon, and it would bring her no closer to him. These efforts at steering in a fixed direction might. Keeping her gaze ever forward, searching the horizon hopefully as the surface glittered at the noonday touch of the blazing sun as though strewn by diamonds, Emma forced herself to calmly follow through, to listen and obey the continued calm voice, which now felt as though it lodged within her own chest, at home, a thrumming part of her, and welcome as such.

Though she knew thirst and exhaustion, and the heat that began to weigh on her head and shoulders like a heavy cloak, made the time seem longer, she still felt the strain. It seemed as though hours had passed when finally, at the furthest reach of her sight, Emma thought she could make out a piece of land, rising like a beautiful mirage from the ocean stretched before her. Blinking, she leaned forward, even as she slumped with relief against her vessel’s wooden side, praying she was not mistaken.

‘No, my dear,’ the soothing voice assured her, a subtle breath of cool air accompanying it as though the phantom blew by her ear on enchanted wings. ‘You’ve done it, Princess. Ogygia is straight ahead now.’

And with that, the mysterious presence which had served as her guiding companion was gone. As suddenly as it had appeared, Emma also knew in an instant it was with her no longer.

Grateful all the same, she didn’t have it in her to be troubled. As this new shore drew ever closer, she felt a burst of endurance. She had no doubt now; she was about to look upon her sailor’s face again.

~~***~~

Killian, meanwhile, had been far from idle since his reunion with his mother, his purging of his grief and loss, and the long talk and reacquaintance they’d had after. When she had left him, Calypso (It was still nigh impossible to fathom (the goddess Calypso - his mother!) had vowed to return that evening so they could speak further, and he had made his way back to the beach where he’d washed ashore.

Though admittedly, Killian no longer felt as shaken, alone, or desperate as he had when first awaking on the strange spit of land, seemingly its own little world in the surrounding deep, he still intended to make his way back to his adopted home and kingdom. Not only was it his duty as a lieutenant of the Royal Navy, but he was the only surviving member of his ill-fated crew. How else could Misthaven’s royals and his fellow sailors’ loved ones know what had befallen them and pay their sacrificial struggle due homage? Beyond the demands of his honor, however, Killian also knew that his adopted family - monarchs though they might be and unworthy as he had always somewhat felt himself - would be grieving him along with his lost ship and comrades. And Emma… though he had long marveled at how it could be true, she loved him. He could see the depth of her feelings in her eyes as soon as she had confessed it at his departure. Perhaps it had always been there - even as they had played tag and crawled under the hedge to hide huddled together in the Royal Gardens, as they had curried their ponies after a ride and sloshed buckets of cold water at each other before they helped in the animals’ bathing, when they had watched Granny at her baking in the kitchens and Emma had nicked bits of chocolate or minced dates and offered him part of her prize with a gleam in her lively green gaze. He knew she would be mourning; her heartbreak on his account was nearly unbearable to consider. He knew that were he in her place, and he believed her lost, there would be no recovery. And that knowledge lent urgency to his actions.

Upon returning to the sandy shoreline, it had taken no time at all to salvage various wooden pieces and parts of the ship that he began to stack in a pile. Always able to make do resourcefully, Killian used shoots and vines in the surrounding vegetation to begin binding the boards together as he needed - working swiftly. It wasn’t long until he had fashioned a sturdy raft with a reasonably straight mainsail near the water’s edge. It was certainly no vessel like the one which had been lost to the stormy deep when he had landed on this beach, but he was both determined and impatient enough to take his chances. He also knew enough of the sea and of sailing to recognize that the tempest which had sunk Misthaven’s finest ship had been unnaturally malevolent - as if summoned with evil intent for their specific destruction. The strength and size of the ship in a gale such as that would have made no difference, and if one blew again as he attempted to find his way home, he would be every bit as lost, regardless of his craft. All things remaining as they should though, his makeshift vessel ought to prove seaworthy, despite not being much to look at.

As Killian had focused on his task, the time had slipped away almost without his notice. He obviously would never have left his mother after finding her again without speaking to her more and saying goodbye, but at the same time, he was anxious to be starting, to reach his princess’ side once more. So, when he fastened the last slat of wood in place, tying off the knot as securely as he possibly could, and stood to mop his brow, Killian was rather surprised to realize that the bright sun had slipped toward evening and he had not even started on his way back toward the lagoon where he had met Calypso that morning.

Just as he was wondering how to make his way there with the most haste, he felt the brush of a light breeze and sensed her presence nearby. He would have guessed that she needed to stay within water, but clearly that was not a requirement, as soon, soft, gentle fingers brushed over his shoulder like a refreshing trickle of cool water, and his mother appeared, unassumingly human, beside him.

“You’re leaving me, aren’t you?” she murmured lightly, a tinge of melancholy in her sweetly hypnotic voice, but no judgement or condemnation, only the regret of one soon to be separated from her child.

Killian bobbed the briefest of stiff nods before turning his head to face her, reaching to take her hand in his own and press it tightly, only hoping he could make her understand. “I’m sorry, but… I must,” he replied huskily.

The unearthly grace bestowed her by her nature shone through in the benevolent smile she offered him, leaning in to brush a kiss upon his forehead, just as if he were still a little boy, a gesture barely remembered but immediately soothing. Her elegant fingertips caressed the faded scar running high across his cheekbone, as if having not been there to patch it when it happened, she wished to take it from him. “You love her,” she answered simply, “the Princess. And since you do, of course you wish to return to her.”

“Aye,” Killian confirmed, “I do.” He was grateful that she seemed to grasp his dilemma and did not blame him or begrudge him the choice he had to make. “And she loves me as well, wonder of wonders. I have no claim to court a Princess, but while she wants me, I will not fail her.”

“That is as it should be, my son,” Calypso assured, pulling him close to hug him once more to her chest. “But bear in mind that you are more worthy than you know - a sort of royalty in your own way…” She winked as she pulled back again to look him in the eyes with a mischeivous twinkle in her own. “You have never failed to be a man of honor, just as I would have wanted, just as your dear brother did all he knew to teach you, and so I knew you would desire to do no less. In fact, if you look out into the distance, you will see I have helped someone along on her way to you, making your raft rather unnecessary.”

Lightly placing her hands on his shoulders, his mother turned him to face out on the waves, where just at the horizon, he could see the sails of an oncoming ship appear. Still quite far out, it sailed closer with each passing moment - almost as if granted unnatural speed - but his heart genuinely leapt when the waning light caught the glint of gold atop the head of the form he could now see at the vessel’s wheel. Emma!

“Is that…?” he asked, gawking and struggling to believe it could be so. “Did you bring her?... But how…?” His curiosity and awe made the words trip over each other, but the grin that broke across his face unawares told Calypso all she needed to know.

Smiling back at her little boy, now a man grown, the sea nymph nodded sagely. “She was already on the water; I merely granted her eyes to see the way forward. This place is generally cloaked from outside discovery, to keep out Davy and his minions. But clearly, your Princess - this Emma of Misthaven - is bold and true and every bit as in love with you as you are her.”

Killian felt the warmth flooding his cheeks even beneath the growth of unshaven stubble as he dipped his head in slight embarrassment. Though it felt wonderful to hear confirmation from another of the glorious truth he had only very lately begun to accept, it was also a bit daunting to see that his feelings were so crystal clear, even to one he had just met. When he glanced back again, he could only smile at his mother, beaming from the joy in his heart at seeing his princess again and knowing she had not given in to despair. “Thank you,” he managed to croak through a throat tightly closing. “Truly. For saving me… and then for bringing her safely.”

As if allowing herself one last precious caress, Calypso brought her cooling hand to glide along her son’s forehead and brush aside the dark fringe of his hair. “You are most welcome, my love.” Her understanding smile barely wavered as she added quietly. “Now, go to her, as I know you wish to do.”

Killian caught his mother’s hand where it had come to rest at the side of his face, turning his head to kiss the center of her palm, squeezing it tightly in gratitude. Then, he gave her a bright, crooked smile before turning to dash down to the water’s edge, where Misthaven’s princess and her pilfered boat were drawing near.

~~***~~

Calypso lingered, looking on fondly as her son dashed into the tide when the boat reached the shallows. Despite the twinge in her own chest at the brief reunion she had been allowed drawing to a close, an indulgent smile still curved her full lips at how eagerly the Princess leaned over her little ship’s prow, trying to reach Killian sooner. She looked ready to dive in and swim to him if it would get her there faster.

Killian meanwhile had splashed into the gentle swells, nearly reaching the tiny craft where it bobbed on the waves. Water kicked up all around him, soaking his weathered clothing and flattening his hair to his skull, but none of that dampened his thrilled exuberance in the slightest. He was waist-deep when, lungeing forward, he caught the side of Emma’s boat, hauling it forward on the next rise, and then Emma was catapaulting over the edge and into his arms with a cry of delight that couldn’t help but warm the watching sea nymph’s weary soul.

Yes, all was as it should be again. Seeing the two reunited made their belonging to each other undeniable. Somehow, even in the ebb and flow around them, Killian kept his feet - barely - as Emma wrapped herself around him tightly, her hair whipping hin the breeze and hiding their faces behind its curtain as they placed frantic kisses all across each other’s cheeks and noses, and her royal gown trailed unheeded behind her in the water. Their lips broke from each other’s only to laugh in stunned joy and exclaim fragmented greetings, their voices overlapping each other front he soft echoes of the sound Calyps could catch on the wind from where she stood.

Joining hands, they began to tow the boat in the rest of the way to shore, each of their free hands holding to a side. However, about the time the water was only lapping at their calves, a larger swell swept up behind them, sending the boat knocking into them with force, and both Killian and Emma tumbling headlong into the water.

Coming up spluttering and laughing harder, they merely caught their tiny craft once more as it bobbed nearby, and carried on cavorting and splashing each other with more quick kisses and caresses stolen in youthful bliss at being together again. And in some ways, in that moment they were more free together than ever before; free of conventions, rules, propriety and disapproving stares. It was then, with that lovely, bone-deep happiness to remember on his face, that Calypso slipped away as well, leaving them to their well-earned privacy and celebration, darting and playing in the sand and foam.

She could give them this moment in her protected haven; wished truly that they could stay forever with her. But they could not remain hidden on Ogygia indefinitely; both had a destiny to fulfill back in Misthaven and too much sense of their duty to shirk it. The goddess could only hope fervently that their worst trial was now behind them - even if her better judgement warned her that Davy Jones would not yet be ready to admit that his second son had escaped his grasp.

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tornadoamy @xhookswenchx @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @thislassishooked @donteattheappleshook @revanmeetra87 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @ineffablecolors @let-it-raines @drowned-dreamer @kday426 @carpedzem @mayquita @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @xsajx

#cssns20 #cs au ff #cs au mc #a cottage by the sea #part four #cs ff #lieutenant duckling fic #EF AU fic

34 notes · View notes

itsoutrageouss · 4 years ago

Text

LOST MY MIND || KYLO REN

Summary: You’re working on the finalizer, suffering from cold and lonley nights- wishing for a special someone to be by your side. Maybe you’ll get one step further?

Word count: 2,2k

A.N: first imagine on here! Kinda nervous ngl. Also this is inspired by ‘lost my mind’ by FINNEAS

The nights were long. Too long.

Laying cold and empty in a black void, no light seeping from no windows.

No white noise.

And no body next to yours. No one to warm you. No one to make you feel whole.

At this point, you wouldn’t mind whoever was next to you. A stranger. An enemy.

Just someone to hold you when you’re scared.

And you’re often scared.

Because this is a big an cold galaxy. An unfair place where you don’t have that;. A place.

You want something more than this. Than working on a ship. You’re a nobody.

If you died, who’d know? Who’d care?

You know you can do something greater, but you have nowhere to show or prove it.

So you lay, cold and lonely every night. Crying for something to grasp and feel. Something to believe in.

This was another night like this.

But something changed. You weren’t just hoping for anyone next to you. You found yourself wishing for a special pair of arms. A special persons breath on your hair, and the slow risings of his chest.

You widened your eyes. Why him?

The sudden urge to have Kylo Ren’s arms around you, felt so exposing. Vulnerable.

You never thought of the Supreme Leader that way. But his face has flashed before your eyes before, and it was like you knew him in some way. Felt awfully comfortable with the otherwise intimidating man. This was a whole unexplored territory, and it felt so dangerous. Yet so comfortable.

The tears stopped.

The rest of the nights were harder. You saw him everyday. You needed him. You could never.

You were mad, that you couldn’t help him, because you knew. You knew he was torn, and breaking slowly. And maybe in some way, you understood him more than others. But he would never let you speak to him. How you were stuck in this awful place with the only person you needed to stay away from.

The tears started again.

You were walking down the long halls of the finalizer, a cold and empty eerie falling over it. That was because it was early. Earlier than early. Later than late. You didn’t know just how late or how early. But enough for the last generals to have gone to bed, and for the stormtroopers to not yet have woken up.

Your hair is disheveled, eyes bloodshot from terror. When you finally fell asleep the nightmares grasped. They seemed all to real. Kylo Ren. Snoke. He talked to you. To you. Told you that you were to be careful about Kylo. You asked him what he meant, and he just smiled a nasty smile.

He seemed all too friendly for what you’ve heard of him. But you’re sure it’s all a mask. Behind it he has a sneaky surprise. But it was just a dream right?

Yet it kept you up. Woke you sweating and anxious. So without thinking, you got dressed and left your chamber. Where you were going, you didn’t know. You needed light. Some kind of light source, brighter than the milky rays from the dim stars splattered across the galaxy. You kept walking, until you stumbled upon a room. A new kind of room. You felt something coming from inside it. Something strong. And dangerous.

Your curiosity gave in, but you immediately saw the code on the door. Dammit. You bit your lip, thinking of a way in. It was like you had to. It was urgent.

You were about to try to to randomly type, as the doors hiss open. Your eyes are met with another hall. Slick, white walls and doors on the side. You silently walk in, feet cold on the white floor. It was a contrast to the pitchblack finalizer halls, and the light was bright. Just like you needed it to be.

You felt it again. Pulling so urgently in your gut. The first door. It opened just like the first one. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you knew you were in dangerous waters. You shouldn’t be here.

A black, melted mask neatly placed on a pedestal.

“Darth Vader” you mutter with wide eyes. You were so far in this, you might as well look closer.

You glide down the few steps, and up close to the mask. The curled up material, matte yet shiny.

“Help me” you croaked, looking into the black holes.

“You were good once, weren’t you? What happened?” in hope, you place a hand on the cold mask. A force surges through your veins, shooting to your brain.

“What are you doing?” A sharp voice sounds behind you, and you jerk your hand away, turning around in a jump.

Kylo Ren.

“I-” You had no words. How could you explain how you ended up here. Had he heard what you just said? Was he gonna kill you?

“I’m not gonna kill you” No smile. Cold expression, as he walked down in the room. You stood frozen next to the mask, like another sculpture. He walked closer, yet stood far. Like a hunter observing his prey.

You better shut up your thoughts, because he could clearly hear them.

“Why are you down here?” he had many questions, but he limited himself.

“I couldn’t sleep- and- and something just lead me here” you hated how foolish it sounded, but you couldn't lie to him. His presence made your heart race rapidly, your nerves twitch and palms sweaty, like he saw right through you

“Lead you here, you say?” he made a curious grimace, pacing around the room.

“Yes” you peep, following his moves intently.

“You’re in my quarters” he stops to look at your reaction. Your eyes widen, heart jumping out of your chest. You walked into Kylo Ren's quarters like some kind of blind idiot.

“How did you get through the doors?” he was too tired to probe your mind, and he knew that you wouldn’t lie to him, somehow.

“They just opened for me. I’m sorry supreme leader, i’ll leave immediately” despite the questions burning in your throat, fear crippled over you. And respect for authority.

You look shamefully to your toes, walking with quick steps towards the door. But you take a halt in your exit, as his voice yet again seeps through your skin.

“No. Stay” his voice was low, whispering. Yet you heard it echoing in your body.

He knew why you were dragged here. He knew. But he wouldn’t tell you just yet. Not before he knew who he was talking to. Really knew. With a little intimidation game, like he was so good at.

You slowly turn your head, without moving you body. You weren’t completely sure he meant it, and you didn’t wanna be so foolish to think he didn’t want you to leave.

“You don’t think im serious?” he held the slightest of an amused tone, but not enough for you to believe it was true.

“I don’t understand is more like it’ you bit your tongue for not just staying shut.

‘What’s your name girl?’ The way he talked down to you made you feel even more petty, as you stood on the first step.

‘Harlow’ you meet his eyes, feeling a surging again, stronger than before. His lips part slightly, with a shaky jaw.

‘Harlow’ he ponders, furrowing his brows as he takes a few steps closer. You gulp, now looking anywhere other than at him.

‘Am I the reason you cry at night?’

The question took away the air in your lungs, and took you by utter surprise. How did he know?

He saw your clearly shocked reaction with slight amusement, but seriousness quickly fell over his features again, his eyes meeting yours as he awaits an answer.

You wanted to ask him what he meant- pretending dumb. But you knew he wasn’t just that.

“No” yet you couldn’t manage to utter the truth, even if you knew deep down that he knew the answer as well. He took in a breath, finally closing the gap between you deliberately.

Inches.

You looked at his feet. Black boots. Tried focusing on the black boots. Not his intense stare, or the heavy risings of his chest. Just the black boots.

“You’re afraid.” he stated with a slight head nod. It scared you how much he knew. Because you didn’t know just how much. You diverted your shameful stare to his.

Looking between each of his eyes. “I don’t know what to do.” you admitted, with the peek of a sheepish smile. How foolish you were. Idiotic even.

His face was still, but his eyes kept moving between yours. Searching them, as he looked down at you between heavy breaths.

“Am I in your head?” you asked due to the silence. And to the random boost of confidence you gained from absolutely nowhere.

You glanced over at the melted mask. Like he was watching the two of you.

“Like you’re in mine?” this moment was so intimate, and so exposing, why not make it worse already?

You could tell he was caught of guard by your sudden candid exterior, by the way his jaw trembled slightly as he shut it tight, and his head raised a little above yours, so did his eyes.

“I can hear you. At night. Your thoughts. You’re stuck in my head” he tried not to falter his confidence, but you felt the hint of vulnerability peek in his tone.

The answer was to your surprise. In some way you had felt it, but always thought it was your imagination. Because-

“-Why?” Now he was the one to avert his eyes, looking just above your head.

He pondered. Pondered if he should tell you now, or if it would all be to much. Because in some way he cared. In some way, he cared if you’d start crying again like he’d heard all those nights. And the truth was that his heart was aching at your sobs- because he understood just how you felt. Sometimes he didn’t even know if he just projected his feelings onto you- or you were just this similar.

“Come” he glanced at you, before leaving the room.

You hesitated, glancing back at the mask. You felt something so powerful radiate from it. Something so fearful and safe. And torn. It almost made you tear up.

You obeyed him finally, and followed him to the long hall again. White, clean walls.

He walked to the door at the end, slightly bigger than the others around. He waved his hand in a simple movement and the door opened. You were already in awe of his power.

You followed him into the room. Big.

Black, in contrary to the rest. A bed. Black silk sheets. A bookshelf. A dresser. Another door.

It was simple.

You wanted to ask him more questions, just like he wanted to ask you. But you both decided to hold them in- because something told you this wouldn’t be the last time you got to talk.

“You can sleep in here. I don’t want to hear you cry again” it may have sounded like a command. But his eyes told you it wasn’t. He really couldn’t stand hearing you scared or hurt anymore.

You stood in a wavering silence, as his eyes searched yours with that same look. Before he left you alone.

Your curiosity made your feet walk, and you tiptoed to the books. Sith books. None of the jedi. Your hands delicately stroked the covers, before you went to the dresser. Most of the clothes was black. Some heavy armor, some leather, some black shirts.

Closed it neatly again, and went to the door on the opposite side of the bed. It opened easily, and behind it was another white room. A refresher. Smelled clean, yet with the hint of a scent you couldn’t quite recall.

You didn’t want to seem foolish but.. did he just ask you to stay here? in his quarters? not that you mind, but why? He was a man you might never figure out. But you’d try.

Suddenly the lack of sleep wailed over you, and your legs could barely hold you. For a second you thought about just leaving. But the truth was, you really didn’t want to. He might not be beside you, but he’d be near, you knew. You felt it.

You crawled under the sheets, still in the clothes you quickly put on before leaving your chamber. They smelled like him, and you seeped into the soft mattress, the silk embracing your skin. This felt much warmer than your chamber, and a wholesomeness filled you. Safety. If you were to cry, it would be happy tears.

You finally let your shoulders ease, and the breath you’d been holding since you saw his face, out. You could feel him roaming your mind, and how close he was. Maybe just in the next room.

Thank you.

You thought. Loud and clear.

He didn’t reply, but it was almost as if you could see his face before you, a light smile forming on his lips. A soft smile.

But you might’ve lost your mind, because how much of this was real and what wasn’t?

#adam driver fanfiction #kylo ren fanfiction #ben solo #adam driver #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren ff #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren one shot #kylo ren oneshot #adam driver imagine #adam driver one shot #soft kylo #Spotify

88 notes · View notes

digitaldreams0801 · 4 years ago

Text

FU But Gay

In honor of this comment on Frontiers Unexplored that made me laugh my ass off, it’s time to talk about gay stuff in the Frontier rewrite. (Minor spoilers for chapters 15-17 and contains very over the top humor)

I mentioned this in an author’s note somewhere in some chapter (I don’t know which one, and it might be for a chapter that hasn’t been released yet; as of this post, I am writing chapter 49 but have only posted chapter 30), but everybody in this cast is queer in some way. Why? I’m gay, and I like writing about gay characters.

Also, a very good point that I’ve heard brought up within the fandom is that when the Frontier cast becomes Digimon, they become something that isn’t at all confined by the boundaries of humanity. Gender? Sexuality? What are those? I only know Digimon.

Bokomon stated earlier in the story that Digimon don’t have gender either since you know. they’re data. so I took that as an excuse to make everybody gay! You get to be gay, you get to be gay, and you get to be gay!

Without further ado, let’s get gay.

Takuya

Takuya is bisexual and a trans guy. That’s right, transphobes! I sucked you in under the preconceived notion that all goggleheads are cis! Funny enough (not really), I actually had somebody get mad at me for the trans rep in this story before Takuya was even revealed as trans. They stopped reading after getting mad that I included nonbinary characters, but I didn’t care and kept going out of spite. Also, I want to say that since bisexuality doesn’t exclude nonbinary identities contrary to popular misconception, Takuya could feasibly get with Chihiro, so worry not to the people who ship those two (since there are more than I thought there would be). Takuya could feasibly use he/him and them/they pronouns, but he doesn’t have ~ a second gender crisis ~ until after the events of the story. Shoutout to Aguni, Vritra, and Alda for making that happen since they hate gender (probably). As of the time of the story though, Takuya uses exclusively he/him pronouns.

Koji

Koji is pansexual and nonbinary. The main reason that this comment made me cackle so much is because it was right; Takuya and Koji are bi and pan respectively. Koji doesn’t really give a damn about gender; he just wants to be held and also to punch his father but that’s irrelevant. Koji uses he/him and them/they pronouns, but he doesn’t come to terms with that until after the story ends. He’s faster with it than Takuya, but it still takes a bit.

Tomoki

Tomoki is asexual and panromantic. He uses he/him and they/them pronouns. Tomoki is one of multiple asexual characters since I myself am ace and love expressing that through the characters I write. Tomoki is baby, and we should all look after him no matter what.

Izumi

Izumi is, much like Koji and Tomoki, pansexual. She comes out as nonbinary after the story, and it is definitely thanks to Zephyrmon’s influence. Zephyr would 10/10 cause that and not really give a shit about it. She uses she/her and they/them pronouns.

Junpei

Junpei is bisexual and nonbinary. He likes he/him and they/them pronouns though he admittedly prefers the former. His romantic type is Koji or Izumi; there’s basically no in between. He’s a disaster bi but I love him and you should too.

Koichi

Koichi is asexual and demiromantic. He doesn’t really mind much what the gender is of the person that he ends up with as long as they care a lot about each other. He’s also nonbinary like Koji and comes out as using he/him and they/them pronouns not long after the book ends.

Chihiro

Chihiro is pansexual and nonbinary. They’re neutral on the gender of their partner but would probably have a bias towards other trans people because of their experiences with being nonbinary. They may or may not make gay jokes about themselves and Takuya for the hell of it they do. Chihiro uses exclusively they/them pronouns, and you will wind up on their shit list for insinuating that they are particularly masculine or feminine when they pretty clearly hate that.

Yumiko

Yumiko is yet another asexual character, and she’s panromantic like Tomoki. She has a bias towards women, but she could still wind up with anyone who respected her. She uses she/her pronouns, but the Digimon sides of her don’t really care about gender (Fioremon in particular really doesn’t give a flying fuck), so that could easily change in the future.

Hinoka

Hinoka is a demisexual lesbian who loves women. It takes a while for her to connect with others, but when she does connect with a girl, chances are Hinoka will wind up head over heels sooner or later. You know, as soon as she can figure out her feelings, but that could take a while. Hinoka uses she/her pronouns, but much like with Yumiko, this could change.

Saki

Saki is pansexual and genderfluid. As of the time of the story, Saki is only out as pansexual and nonbinary, not having realized that they’re genderfluid yet. Like with a few others, the influence of the Digimon pushes them to realize that they’re genderfluid. During the story, they use they/them pronouns, though they wind up using any pronouns after the story ends. They laugh when people struggle to figure out their gender at a first glance to further feed their internalized chaos.

Mayumi

Mayumi is pansexual and nonbinary. She comes to terms with being nonbinary after the story ends and starts using they/them pronouns in addition to she/her. Mayumi doesn’t really mind about the gender of the person she ends up with, and she would probably flirt with anybody if she had the motivation and the love for it. She doesn’t feel that way about anyone in the group, but she totally would if she did.

Haroi

Haroi is simply demisexual, though much like Mayumi, he comes out as nonbinary after the story. He uses he/him pronouns during the story and later comes to start also using they/them. Haroi doesn’t mind the gender of the person he winds up with, but it takes a while for him to develop feelings. In conclusion, he’s baby.

Closing Thoughts

What have we learned here today, kids? Everybody is gay. When you’re a Digimon, straight people don’t exist. Also, cis people are minimal because of Digimon gender stuff. If you want to headcanon the two cis characters (Yumiko and Hinoka) as nonbinary, go for it. You have free reign over your headcanons, and I sure as hell will not going to stop you. Woo for the gays! We won!

Also if anybody is wondering about the influence of the Spirits since I brought that up I’m developing an AU focused around that and I’ll share the info about it as soon as the spoilers on it have been revealed in canon which will happen in chapter 39 the AU is called Spirit Fuse and it’s very interesting

Anyways, that’s about it from me this time. This post was pretty casual and goofy as far as my writing goes, but this stuff is all canon. Go gays! We win!

#digimon #digimon frontier #frontier #rewrite #digital's frontier rewrite bs #frontiers unexplored

7 notes · View notes

kofubisha · 4 years ago

Text

beheld chapter 1 / 2

i wrote this for the @noragamibigbang and because i think this ship is criminally unexplored. the amazing art for this chapter is by @rottenmatcha

at the beginning;

The young gods must listen to the old.

This is one of Bishamon’s earliest memories, and even now her guidepost repeats it ad nauseam. At the time, it is easy to believe. She likes the other gods well enough; she even admires some of them. She lets them teach her because she is still a newcomer, and because only they can help her learn the subtle laws of her own godhood.

But, despite their willingness, and despite her own guidepost’s instruction, Bishamon prefers to learn through experience.

That is how she meets the binbōgami.

: : :

At first, she thinks the shape is a common beggar crouching in the shadow of a fish market stall. As she watches, though, the shape does not move at all. In fact, it looks like it is trying to avoid drawing attention to itself.

Bishamon wonders at this. Why would a beggar lurk in the shadows?

The figure shifts. Its head snaps to the side, and Bishamon catches a flash of bright, wary eyes beneath the hood.

“Can you…see me?” Bishamon asks. Her voice is low and gentle, the same tone one would use to speak to a beaten animal.

The figure is still for a moment. It nods once: a tight, uncomfortable gesture that makes Bishamon think it is not used to being acknowledged directly.

“You are a being of the Far Shore,” she says in a soothing tone. “Just as I am.”

Bishamon is sure by now that this is a spirit of the dead. Her guidepost will be irritated, but she will not leave this creature in misery. It is not her way. It never will be.

Hand upraised, she summons the spirit’s new name to her fingers.

“You, who have nowhere to return—”

Without warning, the figure straightens to its full height. Although it is not tall, the sudden motion surprises Bishamon into silence. At the same time, the divine light of naming dies on her fingertips.

Something feels…wrong about this. Bishamon does not know what lurks within this robe, but it is far from human.

Before she can speak, the figure draws back its hood, and Bishamon stares in unabashed shock at the face it reveals: a face that is pale and delicate and heart-shaped. A face that belongs to a young woman.

Her hair is a shocking pink, and although tied back in a simple knot, wild curls escape around her ears and forehead in a rosy halo. She looks so alert, so alive, that for a moment, Bishamon wonders how she could have possibly mistaken her for a dead spirit.

But it is the girl’s eyes—startling, violet, with catlike pupils—that tells Bishamon what she truly is.

: : :

“You met a god on the Near Shore?”

Her guidepost is unhappy about this. Her guidepost is often unhappy about something.

“Yes,” says Bishamon.

“A god you have never seen before…?” her guidepost presses, and Bishamon’s eyes cloud with suspicion.

“Is that so unusual?”

“No,” her guidepost admits. “But the Near Shore…the fish market…”

Then, she stiffens. The seam of her lips tightens into a thread of disapproval.

“Ah.”

Bishamon gives her a curious look, and the older shinki sighs quietly.

“My lady,” she says, “Not all gods bring joy and victory as you do. Not all are so beloved.”

Bishamon nods. “I know this.”

Her guidepost leans in, eyes sharp and intense.

“Then know this too, Lady Bishamon: there are foul gods who roam the Near Shore. There are gods who leech the fortune from mortals, who take their sustenance from despair. These filthy creatures have a fittingly filthy name.”

Her lips peel back from her teeth, as though the word itself tastes bitter.

“Binbōgami.”

“Binbōgami,” Bishamon repeats thoughtfully, ignoring how her guidepost’s eyelid twitches.

“Do you understand me, my lady?”

Bishamon gives a single nod, apparently lost in her own reflection. Her guidepost sighs again, this time much louder.

“Did you speak to the binbōgami?” she asks impatiently.

Bishamon shakes her head, and her guidepost’s shoulders sink with relief.

“Very good. You must cleanse yourself now, Lady Bishamon. And if, Amaterasu forbid, you see that god again…”

She shudders as she leads Bishamon out of the room and toward the ceremonial bath.

“You must forget all about her,” she mutters, more to herself than her goddess. “The binbōgami’s curse must not touch Lady Bishamon.”

after some years;

“What is troubling you, Kazuma?”

Her new guidepost is still insecure in his duties, and Bishamon cannot blame him. She had spent so many months in a haze of grief, so inwardly focused on the pain of losing so much of herself, so violently. Her heart is scarred with hundreds of names—the names of her slaughtered children, her precious, dead family.

She has other shinki now: fewer than a dozen, and most of them too pitiful and blighted to serve a war god in battle. In the years following the devastation of the Ma clan, as the skies grow steadily stormier, Kazuma has been looking toward the the skyline for several silent minutes, eyes narrowed at the sunset.

“It looks peaceful enough now,” he says. “But we should return to one of your shrines, Lady Bishamon. Darkness is falling, and you are unarmed.”

Bishamon clenches her jaw in frustration. She should not be as weak as this. She should not have to run from the darkness.

Kazuma watches the muscles working in her jaw, and something flashes across his face. She cannot read the expression before he looks away.

“Lady Bishamon,” he says quietly. “There are rumors of certain gods, who can predict the arrival of vents.”

Something in his voice makes Bishamon think there is more to these “rumors” he isn’t telling her, but she stops herself from pushing him. She waits. But instead of explaining, Kazuma merely squares his shoulders and looks at her.

“Would you like to meet one?”

: : :

Of all the places Kazuma could lead her, Bishamon never expected a Near Shore fish market. She glances around, squinting through the soupy fog at the stalls and their stinking contents. But something about the whole scene seems…familiar.

It can’t be, naturally. That was so many years ago. Before—

Bishamon’s eyes catch something in the crowd that derails her train of thought. A flash of lurid pink, distinctly out of place amid the slimy browns and greens of the fish market stalls.

“Leave, Kazuma,” Bishamon orders, quietly.

“But, my lady—”

“Now.”

The authoritative bite in her tone silences him, and he melts into the fog. Bishamon’s eyes lock again onto that flash of pink bobbing toward her.

Its owner—unforgettable, even after so many years—strides directly up to her with purpose. Her eyes are sparkling, as though she expects this conversation to be a great deal of fun. Bishamon responds with a cold glare, and the binbōgami pouts.

“Fine,” she says, in a casual, peachy-sweet tone that raises Bishamon’s hackles. “We can get straight to business, if you insist.”

Bishamon lifts her chin, and suddenly the two of them are no longer in the fish market. They are at one of her smallest shrines, deep in the freezing countryside. Nothing breaks the solitude for miles, save for a few lonely houses dotting the snowy fields like black burn marks. The binbōgami acknowledges their sudden shift in setting with only a raised eyebrow.

“Your powers are overwhelming,” she says, somehow managing to sound both sickeningly sweet and bitterly mocking.

Bishamon’s nostrils flare.

“Clearly I have done something to offend you,” she says, keeping her voice low despite the fact that there is no one around for miles.

“Believe me, that was not my intention. I merely wanted to take this discussion somewhere more discreet than a fish market.”

The binbōgami’s frown deepens.

“I like that fish market!”

Bishamon wrinkles her nose. The smell of the place has not completely dissipated, likely due to the undeniably fishy state of the binbōgami’s clothing.

“What is your name?” Bishamon asks.

The binbōgami’s eyes widen momentarily. Her gaze measures Bishamon up and down before she answers.

“Deal first,” she says firmly. “Then introductions.”

Bishamon sighs. She can almost hear Kazuma telling her to back out of this before she promises something she cannot fulfill. But this is too important. Without an ally like this, she cannot fulfill her duties.

She needs to be strategic, as well as powerful. She needs to make this bargain work.

“What are your terms?” she asks. The binbōgami grins like a shark smelling blood.

“I want…”

She steeples her fingers villainously. Bishamon braces herself.

“I want…a shop!”

In the dead silence following the words, snow begins to drift down.

“A shop?” Bishamon finally asks.

“Yes! But not anything large,” the binbōgami says, shifting seamlessly into haggling mode. “Just a little place where I can sleep and sell a few things. I can make good oden, but it’s hard without a stall of my own.”

Bishamon can hardly believe the humility of the request. Where was the malicious, grasping creature of which her elders had spoken so often? This girl is certainly strange, but she seems nothing if not sincere. She has listened to gods lie before, and nothing of this binbōgami hints at deceit.

“You want a shop to sell oden?” Bishamon clarifies.

“Yes.”

“And in exchange, you will provide me the auguries I request?”

The binbōgami’s smile widens, impossibly.

“You’ll receive my best work.”

She extends her hand, and Bishamon takes it without hesitation.

“My name is Bishamonten, also called Vaisravana,” she says. “You may call me Bishamon.”

“Mine is Kofuku Ebisu,” the binbōgami states with pride, and Bishamon cannot help but laugh.

“Ebisu…” She chuckles. “You have a great deal of nerve.”

“I think of it as aspirational,” says Kofuku Ebisu, inclining her head slightly. Bishamon is correct to assume that this is all she will receive in way of a bow.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Bishamon,” says the binbōgami. “You can call me Kofuku. No, wait—” The corner of her mouth pulls down for a moment as she considers.

“Miss Kofuku, to start with,” she says. “Then we can re-evaluate.”

Her smile is wide, crinkling at the corners of her purple eyes. Bishamon thinks it would be a very hard smile to dislike.

“You are not like the rest of the gods, Miss Kofuku,” she says.

To her surprise, the binbōgami’s smile wavers as a ripple of uncertainty passes over her face. But it is gone as soon as it appears, and the look of roguish confidence is back in place.

“The rest of the gods are pretty boring,” she says, shrugging. “Except, maybe, for you.”

“Do I want to know what that means?” Bishamon asks, and Kofuku shrugs again.

“Probably not,” she says happily. “But right now, it just means you get to build me an oden shop.”

#noragamibigbang2020 #kofubisha #noragami #noragami fanfiction #bishamon #kofuku #scarfwrites

23 notes · View notes

merakiaes · 4 years ago

Text

The Tracker’s Sister - Reg Slivko

Pairing: Reg Slivko x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: The title is horrible but I really couldn’t think of a better one so I hope you’ll be willing to ignore it hahah😭 Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes, I hope you like it. Let me know what you think xx

Wordcount: 4377

Summary: Captain James Conrad’s younger sister comes along on the ship for the mission on Skull Island, and catches the eye of a certain brown-eyed soldier.

Somewhere in Saigon, district Quảng Nam, you were sitting in a club and casually reading a book, completely uncaring about the fact that you were the only woman there who wasn’t a stripper or an escort, and also about the fact that your brother’s harmless game of pool had turned into a full-blown fight and that he was now beating on his opponent and his friends with a broken pool stick.

You were used to this kind of behavior at this point. You weren’t very bothered by his aggressive habits, knowing he could hold his own more than well enough – much to the dismay of anyone who happened to land themselves on the receiving end of his temper.

You simply sat there at your table, wetting the tip of your fingers in order to flip the page of your book while James flipped one of the guys to the floor and hit another in the face, declaring himself the winner in well under a minute.

And that’s when they approached him, two men you had never seen in your life before, finally causing your attention to leave the book.

“An uncharted island?” Your brother’s eyebrows shot up in an unimpressed manner as the man who had introduced himself as Bill Randa explained the mission for him, and so did yours, before you moved your eyes back to your book.

“Let me list all the ways you're gonna die.” He continued, raising his hands and beginning to count off his fingers. “Rain, heat, mud, disease-carrying flies and mosquitos. Sure, you could load up on the atabrine for the malaria... But what about the other bacteria?”

“And don’t forget the things that will try to eat you alive.” You spoke up flatly, without looking up from your book.

The two scientists turned to look at you, and the youngest of the two, Brooks, gave you a look. “Who are you, again?” He asked, and you simply spared him a glance and a raised eyebrow.

However, you immediately went back to the book in your hands, letting your brother do the talking.

At the question sent your way, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into his seat, setting his stern gaze on the young scientist. “She’s my sister.” He replied. “So I would watch that tone if I were you.”

A look of realization crossed over his face, and Randa cleared his throat, motioning for the money laid out on the table. “We'll double that.” He said.

“You have no idea how dangerous this is.” James wasted no time in replying. “I want five times that. Plus, a bonus if we make it back.”

“If?”

“Pay him.” Randa said, waving his hand. “I mean, I think Mr. Conrad should be fairly compensated.”

Brooks nodded, and Randa gave your brother an expectant look.

“So that’s it then?” He asked. “You’ll come along?”

“I’ll agree to it.” James nodded. “But my sister is coming.”

The two scientists instantly exchanged a doubtful look. “I don’t think-“

“If she doesn’t come, I don’t either.” James quickly interrupted him, giving him a stern look.

This time, it was returned, their demeanors turning sour. “If you bring her along, she’s your responsibility.” Randa said. “We’re not going to let inexperience jeopardize this mission, let’s make that clear.”

At this, you finally had enough of just sitting by and listening in, closing the book in your hands and looking up at him with a heavy sigh. “With all due respect, sir, the only thing I’m good at is reading. I have no interest in going to an unexplored island.” You told him in a flat tone, your face equally as neutral.

“Do you take me for a fool?” James joined in. “You really thing I would bring my nineteen-year-old sister along on a life-threatening mission? She’s staying on the ship.”

“Obviously.” You added, watching as Randa’s face pulled into a tense and awkward smile.

“Of course.” He nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal then. We look forward to seeing the two of you again soon.”

With that said, the two of them stood up and left, and come the next evening, James and yourselves were boarding the ship with your bags slung over your shoulders, ready for a new adventure.

Or, well, James was. You weren’t really the adventurous type, but rather more of a sit in silence and read kind of girl, something you’d inherited from your late mother.

When James joined the army and went out into the world to follow in your father’s footsteps and honor his name, you stayed behind in your hometown with your mom, and you remained there until she passed away when you were sixteen and James became your only living relative and therefore also your legal guardian.

You’d been on the move with him ever since. You wished he would settle down somewhere and stop accepting missions that put his life in danger, but that was more so for his sake than for yours because you didn’t really mind moving around, and at the end of the day, it was your only source of income.

So you made the best of the situation every time, this time being no different.

You happily greeted anyone you came across on the ship, and you also took it upon yourself to introduce your brother seeing as he was too distrusting to do so himself.

Other than a dozen scientists, you got to meet with Preston Packard and Jack Chapman, who both greeted you with respect even though you would be doing nothing to contribute to the mission, something that instantly brought your mood up.

After that, James and the rest of the scientists and soldiers who would be coming along to the island were called to a briefing, leaving you to get settled in yours and James’ shared room on your own.

In the briefing room, everyone of significance were gathered and divided into their respective groups, soldiers on one side and the scientists on the other, the latter sitting quietly and awkwardly, but the former chatting away like it was just any other day.

And right now, you were the topic, and Reg Slivko being the victim of his fellow soldiers’ torment.

“I heard he brought his sister.” Cole said, pushing on Reg’s shoulder lightly and flashing him a playful grin. “She’s supposed to be your age.”

“Oh, I met her just a few minutes ago.” Jack joined in, smiling. “A fine looking young lass, good manners, and funny too.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively at the youngest soldier, and Reg was all in on it to a start, laughing along with them.

“You hear that, eh?” Mills said, smirking mischievously. “Maybe this is the time where you finally meet your match, get lucky and lose your V-card.”

At that, everyone but the boy on the receiving end of the jokes broke into loud laughs, his face pulling into an angry, offended glare. “How many times to I have to tell you? I’m not a virgin!” He exclaimed, which only made them laugh louder.

“Keep telling yourself that, man.” Mills slapped his back, not at all fazed by the glare he got in return.

None of them got the time to say anything else as Jack was called to the front and the subject was changed, all of them turning serious – as serious as Reg Slivko could get, that is.

About half an hour later, the briefing was all over and done with, and you were still in yours and James’ room, the latter not yet having returned.

You had made it a habit a long time ago to not fall asleep until he was there to sleep too, so you occupied yourself with the cassette player you had brought with you.

It was an old and worn-out player, however. It tended to stop working every once in a while, one of those times being right now, of course when James wasn’t there to help you fix it, leaving you to annoyedly fiddle with it yourselves.

You had no idea what you were doing, though, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you did, strings of curses leaving your lips.

Reg Slivko was in a mood as good as ever, whistling a happy tune as he walked through one of the many corridors of the ship, heading in no particular direction.

It was then that his ears picked up on the light, gentle voice from one of the open doors ahead, and more specifically the colorful language said voice was spilling out.

The contrast caused his eyebrow to raise in surprise and mild interest, his whistling coming to a stop and his pace slowing down.

He instantly realized who the voice had to belong to and when he reached the open doorway and peeked his head inside, he got it confirmed when his eyes found your form sitting cross-legged in one of the two beds, cursing and roughly handling a cassette player.

His face instantly pulled into a wide grin, at first because he realized you were extremely attractive, and then because he, for some reason, found your frustration and the accompanying pout on your lips extremely cute.

He stayed right there for a moment, amused at the fact that you hadn’t noticed him yet, but when he noticed you becoming too aggravated, he raised his hand to the doorframe and gently knocked on it, watching as your head whipped around to face him.

Your eyes were wide with surprise and your heart beating hard and quick in your chest, but when you regained your composure, your face instantly pulled into a smile to match his own.

“Oh, hi.” You greeted him, and he wasted no time in pushing himself off the doorframe to step inside your room.

“Do you need help?” He chuckled, motioning for the cassette player in your hands with an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Your smiled turned shy, your eyes flickering down to the device. “Would you mind?” You asked carefully, looking back up with a sheepish chuckle. “I'm afraid I’m not nearly as handy as my brother. I’ve been trying to get it to work for an hour but can’t seem to figure out what the problem is.”

He chuckled right back, coming over to you. “I don’t mind at all.” He said, motioning for the bed. “May I?”

You wasted no time in scooting over to make room for him, and in turn, he wasted no time in sitting down.

You wordlessly handed him the cassette player and he immediately started working on it, pressing and twisting all of the buttons first, and when getting no response from the device, he turned it around and peeled off the plastic piece at the back.

From then on forward, you had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but not even a minute later, the cassette player released a rustling noise, and not long after that, music filled the room.

A proud grin overcame his features, and your lips pulled into a wide smile too.

“Wow, that was quick.” You said, taking the player back from him when he held it out for you, looking up to meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

He casually shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t mention it.” He said, holding your gaze for a moment before nodding to the player in your hands. "You've got good taste in music." He complimented, and you chuckled.

“James isn’t too fond of it.” You replied, eyes squinting playfully. “Would you believe me of I told you he likes classical?”

“It’s always the ones you least expect who do.” He snickered, before sticking out his hand. “I’m Reg. Reg Slivko.”

You turned off the music and put the cassette player to the side, and took his outstretched hand in yours, giving his a soft shake. ”I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you Reg Slivko.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. It’s not every day a guy meets a girl as pretty as you.” He answered smoothly, his demeanor taking a more flirtatious turn.

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Does that usually work on girls?” You asked, tilting your head and squinting your eyes.

“I wouldn’t know.” He only shrugged, his smile softening. “I signed up for the army the second I graduated and I wasn’t very popular in school.”

You hummed, the playfulness melting off and being replaced with sincerity. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” You said softly. “I was something of an outcast myself.”

“Really? I find that very hard to believe.” He said, his flirty smile returning. “Pretty, funny, polite. You don’t strike me as an outcast.”

Your entire body turned warm at the compliments that never stopped coming, and you hoped to God that he couldn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. “Tell that to Theresa Jackson.” You chuckled, back, and before either of you could say anything else, James walked in.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, slowly walking into the room and causing the two of you to turn to look at him.

“Oh, James.” You instantly smiled at the sight of your brother, holding a hand out to the boy next to you. “This is Reg.”

“Slivko, sir.” Reg quickly added, clearing his throat and the humorous, flirtatious demeanor melting right off.

James hummed, obviously not impressed, and raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what business do you have in my sister’s bed, Reg Slivko?” He asked, and you rolled your eyes at that, the smile falling from your lips.

“He was just helping me fix my cassette player.” You said, giving your brother a pointed look.

In return, he raised his eyebrows at you, silently asking you “are you sure that’s all there’s to it?”, but before either of you could say anything else, Reg got up to his feet, standing up from your bed with a shrug.

“I was just about to leave.” He said, and James didn’t miss a beat, giving him a nod and a narrow-eyes look.

“I’m sure you were.” He agreed, lips pulled into a tense and sarcastic smile.

Reg nodded, and after sparing you one last glance, he walked right past your brother without another word, taking a right in the corridor outside and disappearing from your view.

The second he was gone, James closed the door to the room and flicked off the light in the roof, instead moving over to his bed where he turned on the table lamp standing beside it.

Falling back on the bed, you clasped your hands over your stomach and heaved a heavy, over-dramatic sigh. “You’re the worst.” You told your older brother in a grumble, and all he did was chuckle in response, the two of you going to bed shortly after.

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you wanted to do was to find Reg and talk to him again, but your brother had other plans, dragging you along for the entire first half of the day.

By the time he finally let you go off on your own, you couldn’t find Reg anywhere, and when you did some time later, he was out on deck joking around with all of his soldier-friends, drinking beer, listening to music and playing around shirtless in the afternoon sun.

You weren’t a very big people-person, hence the foul mood you had been in when in the club with James two night prior, so you weren’t very keen on approaching him when he was surrounded by people.

Unfortunately for you, that was pretty much all of the time for the rest of the journey, so eventually you just gave up and stuck to your brother’s side.

You reached your destination in what felt like no time, and soon, the morning on which your brother and the others would be flying to the island was upon you.

You were going to be staying on the ship with most of the scientists and didn’t really have to get up early, but you were still up and at it at the crack of dawn to help your brother prepare and to see him off, the two of you currently standing out by the choppers where everyone were pulling their own weight to get everything packed up.

“Go talk to her already.” Mills told his fellow soldier where they stood on the other side of the deck, sparing him a glance while he packed the record player into its briefcase. “You’ve been standing here staring at her for ten minutes now and it’s starting to get weird.”

Reg’s head instantly whipped around, his eyes leaving your form to meet his friend’s gaze. “What? I’m not staring.” He denied his accusations, glaring.

But Mills obviously saw right through him. “Uh-huh.” He said, giving him a deadpan look and raising his hand to his chin. “Is that drool I see?”

“What? No.” Reg hurried to bring his hand up to his chin to wipe it, finding that there was, in fact, no drool there.

His reaction brought a laugh from Mills, who shook his head at him in amusement. “Idiot.” He said simply. “We leave in less than an hour and you’re going to regret it if you don’t go talk to her, so go say goodbye. Go.”

He shoved at his shoulder and Reg held his hands up, backing away. “Fine, fine! I’m going!” He said while glaring, turning around with another word and approaching you where you were leaning against the side of one of the choppers, your brother luckily occupied with talking to a scientist.

You noticed him approaching instantly, your back straightening, your arms uncrossing from over your face and your lips pulling into a smile.

“Hi.” He was the first one to speak once he reached you, and you wasted no time in replying.

“Hey. You ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He smiled back widely, and then his confidence took a sudden turn, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. “Hey, listen, I was wondering if, maybe, when we get back to the mainland, we could go out for a movie, or dinner, or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, the smile playing on your lips widening. “Like a date?” You asked, and he shrugged.

“Yeah. I mean, if it’s- if you want to. And if it’s okay with your brother.” He trailed off towards the end, his eyes flickering to something over your shoulder

It was only then, when you turned your head around to see what he was looking at, that you noticed James had now abandoned the conversation he had previously been having to listen in to yours instead, his pointed stare never wavering from the boy in front of you.

“You know what? I don’t-“ He started, but you immediately cut him off by throwing your hand out to slap his chest.

His eyes flickered down to meet yours at that and you glared. “Don’t you have someone else to bother? Go away, please.” You told him, and with a long look at Reg, he did as told, picking up his bag and leaving you alone.

Once he was out of earshot, you turned back to Reg with a smile, your head nodding. “Dinner and a movie both sound nice.” You agreed. “But for now, your main focus should be coming back in one piece.”

His entire face was lit up in a huge grin, and a chuckle left his lips at your words. “I can promise you that I will.” He said, and you snickered back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’ll hold you to that.” You said, the two of you then walking over to where the others were getting ready to board their assigned choppers.

You said goodbye to both Reg and your brother, the latter of the two goodbyes being a bit more sentimental, James hugging you close and kissing the top of your head, making you promise to be good, as if you were ever anything but.

Once they had left, you were on your own with literally no one to talk to, and you found yourself at wit’s end trying to find something to occupy yourself with.

You’d brought books with you but only three, and you were a quick reader, all of them being finished within two days. And just your luck, your cassette player chose the most horrible timing to stop working again, and no one on board knew how to fix it.

But just when you thought you were going to die from boredom, they returned, and you wasted no time in running outside and sprinting straight into your brother’s arms, only then realizing how worried you had been.

When you came back apart, you looked up at him with a worried gaze, taking note of how roughed up and exhausted he looked.

“Are you okay?” You asked, and watched as his lips pulled into a tight smile.

“I’m alright, don’t you worry.” He assured you and you smiled back, nodding your head.

Your smile faltered as soon as it appeared, however, when you spotted another familiar face behind him, and James instantly noticed, stepping to the side to give you free passage.

“Go.” He said, and you gave him a doubtful look.

“Are you sure?” You asked, and he simply nodded.

“I have some business to take care of. We can talk more later.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, your feet moving you in the direction of Reg just a second later.

Mills was the first one who noticed you approaching and slapped his friend’s shoulder, causing him to look up.

He barely even got the time to process your face, before you had reached him and pulled him into a careful embrace.

“Oh.” He mumbled into your neck, eyes widening in surprise. But he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you back, melting into it. “Wow. I could get used to this… You smell really good, has anyone ever told you that?”

You chuckled at his words and much to his dismay, the warmth of your embrace was gone too quickly, the two of you stepping away from each other again.

You immediately began looking him over for injuries, and you instantly spotted the torn up fabric of his pant-leg, or more specifically the wound peeking out from underneath.

Your eyes flickered back up to his, and you raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the promise of coming back in one piece?” You asked, and he shrugged, giving you a small smile.

“My leg is still attached to my body, isn’t it?” He pointed out, bringing a chuckle from your lips.

“Yes, I guess it is.” You agreed. “Can you walk?”

His face turned serious at the question. “I’ve just spent the last twenty-four hours running from a lizard with teeth the size of my head. Pretty sure that proves that there’s nothing wrong with my leg. Just a scratch on the surface.”

At the sound of his words, your interest was immediately piqued, but you knew it was neither the time nor place to ask about it.

“Well, we should still get it cleaned up.” You told him, reaching out and taking his hand in yours. “Come on.”

He did nothing to protest, limping slightly in his step as he followed you into the ship where you brought him to your room.

You instructed him to sit down on your bed and left him alone for a few minutes, heading off to the medbay where the other survivors were being checked over, to retrieve a medkit.

Once you had everything you needed, you returned to your room and wasted no time in getting to work, starting off with cutting off the lower part of his pant-leg and then moving on to clean the wound.

“You don’t have to do that, you know. I’m very well capable of patching myself up.” Reg told you as he watched your hands work, leaning back on his palms to be able to keep his leg straight out in front of him.

You glanced up at him at that, raising an eyebrow. “Are you complaining?” You asked, your lips pulling into a smile when he immediately shook his head.

“No. Definitely not.” He said, and you chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.” You said, turning your attention back to his leg with a shrug. “And besides, you owe me a date. Can’t have you dying on me from an infected wound.”

In the corner of your eye, you noticed him nodding his head. “A very valid point.” He agreed, and you smiled, finishing up bandaging his ankle.

“Exactly, now turn around. I need to clean the cut on your shoulder, too.” You instructed him, making a “turn around” motion with your finger.

He wasted no time in obliging, bringing his leg down from the bed and turning around. “Yes, ma’am.” He said, grabbing ahold of the upper hem of his shirt and tugging it up to expose his back to you.

In turn, you wasted no time in soaking a fresh cloth with alcohol, preparing to clean the cut stretched out over his shoulder blade.

“So, where are you from?” You asked, trying to make some light conversation.

“Detroit, born and raised.” He replied without missing a beat and you hummed, reality coming crashing down on you and dampening your mood significantly.

“I’m from London, if you hadn’t already gathered that from the accent.” You told him lowly. “I guess that date is going to be harder than we thought, huh?”

But much to your surprise, he only shook his head. “That won’t be a problem. I’d-“ He cut himself short for a moment, a hiss leaving his lips when you pressed the cold, alcohol-soaked rag to the cut.

But he regained his composure rather quickly, glancing over his shoulder to meet your eyes. “I’d follow you anywhere.” He finished, giving you a crooked, goofy smile.

You automatically smiled back, the two of you holding eye-contact for another moment before he turned back around to allow you to finish patching him up, both of you knowing you would continue the conversation later.

(If you want to be tagged when I post Reg Slivko stories, let me know in a comment, ask or private message)

#reg slivko #reg slivko x reader #reg slivko imagine #slivko x reader #slivko #thomas mann #james conrad #james conrad x reader #james conrad imagine #kong skull island

269 notes · View notes

loveafterthefact · 4 years ago

Text

Love After the Fact Chapter 50: The Dust in my Lungs Stings Like Home

Home is where your heart is.

First Previous Next

They leave for Daibazaal in the morning instead of the afternoon, Keith’s mounting distress prompting quicker action than the princes had originally planned. Lance’s fussing and fretting only make Keith irritated, the combination of concern and coddling grating on his nerves. He’s in pain, and his instincts tell him to keep others at a distance because he’s vulnerable.

At least Lance is busy for a moment, he and his fathers trading a slew of last minute instructions as Adam tries in vain to pull him onto the shuttle. Pidge is sitting on the floor with a couple of datapads and a bag full of tablets.

“He’s just worried about you.” They’re inspecting a blue crystal with microscopic lens. “And the kingdom, of course, but mostly you.”

“I know. I’m just-”

“In pain. I know. I can hear it in your heartbeat and breathing.” Pidge’s feelers creep up his arm, trying their best to explore his internal transformations. Their ability to 'interface with biological hardware’ is still developing, but- “Keith, you’re in a lot of pain.”

“Yes, thank you. I noticed.” A little clipped, but like the Olkari kit said, he’s in tremendous pain.

Pidge is untroubled by his attitude. “Used to it, huh?”

“Pretty much.” He strains his ears to hear what Lance and the Kings are discussing...

“If you do not call us, I will track you down and drag you home by the point of your ear, do you hear me?” Coran drags his son into yet another hug. “And you take good care of that boy. He needs you right now.”

“I know. I’ll be good. I promise.”

To Lance’s surprise, Alfor embraces him too. “You’re a good man, son. That’s a hard thing for a royal to be. Be careful.”

“I will.” Lance releases his father, pulls back with squared shoulders, graceful poise. “I’d best be going. We’re expected.”

“Farewell, son,” Coran says, smiling at his son.

“Farewell, and take care.” Alfor inclines his head.

“Love you too!" Lance runs onto the shuttle, cloak flying behind him, before Coran can fuss over him and Alfor can drill him any more than they already have. He turns to whisper to Adam, “Get us in the air before they start throwing extra socks at me!”

“Yes, your Majesty. Did you say goodbye to Hunk?” Adam starts up the shuttle, more than capable of flying, though he rarely does it. As the ground pulls away, Lance sighs with relief. A bit of separation from his parents might do him some good, no matter the love between them.

“This morning, before breakfast. I said goodbye for you too, beloved.”

“Thanks.” Keith hadn't been able to make the trip into town in the early morning vargas. It hurts when he moves. He hisses as a spasm of pain shoots up one of his legs. Quite suddenly, he does want Lance.

And, because he’s wonderful, Lance delivers. One thing about Lance is that he knows the difference between want and need. He’s been here since yesterday, keeping his distance, because he knows he’s needed, but not wanted. And he’s here now, bringing Keith up front to the window, pulling him close, soothing his pain as best as possible, even if there’s only so much his limited alchemy can do.

Adam tried, but it didn't take as well as Lance's. Even Alfor made an attempt to help, but only got so far despite the power and skill behind his efforts.

Lance takes him up front and to a seat, which means that Keith has the perfect opportunity to watch his spouse experience space for the first time. His eyes are wide, lips parted in an awed smile. Those pointed ears twitch with excitement, scales glowing ever so faintly.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

“Do you know how much of space is still unexplored?”

“Almost all of it. At least by us,” Keith whispers. “My father was an explorer. My name… it comes from a planet he discovered.”

“Which planet?”

“The people simply called it ‘Earth’. At least, in Common. Dad never documented it. The people were weak and primitive. They hadn’t even discovered electricity. He was worried about what might happen to them if he reported the discovery. But still, he named me after a friend he made while there.

“He was going to take me to meet them. He’d always tell me about it, how one day we’d explore the stars together… He’s the only one who knew where ‘Earth’ is. Now, nobody knows.”

“Keith…”

“I know. Parents tell stories. But-”

“I’m sure he was-” Lance sits up straight. “Telling the… truth… Oh.”

Daibazaal. Daibazaal is bigger than Altea, and it doesn’t have rings. Lance can see mountains and stone, red earth, a vast forest of deep green, and a massive body of water. Lance isn’t even sure what to compare it to; he’s never seen so much water!

“What are those wispy things?”

“Clouds,” Keith whispers, settling against Lance’s side as another spasm creeps up his legs and spine. “Evaporated water. Like fog, but up in the sky.”

“Wow.” A quick glance revealed a sort of wonder on Adam’s face as well. "I've never seen clouds before. Only studied them."

The Imperial Compound comes into view, the Great House and Hall carved into a crater in the very peak of the mountaintop. Warrens and buildings are carved from a mountain, layers upon layers of red rock covered in carvings and paintings creeping up the mountain in terraced levels, villages wrapped around like a layered skirt.

“Holy fucking quiznak,” Lance breathes. Keith’s keens, a soft, longing sound constricting his throat. He feels Lance’s lips brush the shell of his ear. “Welcome home, beloved.”

“Welcome-” Keith breaks off. This isn’t home for Lance. “Welcome.”

Touching down on a landing pad of the compound, Keith hesitates before getting up. Adam and Pidge march off like visiting their neighbors means nothing to them. Or rather, it means something less profound.

“Do you need help?” Lance whispers, still holding him close.

“No, I just-”

“I want to see everything. Everything we can, while we’re here.” Lance’s lips brush against Keith’s temple. “Not the most impressive things, but the most beloved. The things that fill your heart.”

“Promise you won’t hate it?” Keith studies their hands, which are still joined more often than not. “Lance, this is my home. It’s rarely been kind to me, but I love it more than anything.”

“Daibazaal made you. I think I will like it just fine.”

Keith shoves his husband away, scoffing. “Suck-up.”

Lance laughs as his spouse stalks down the ship. “But it worked!” He follows, catches Keith around the waist, kisses him soundly. “It worked and I-” A pause. “I will continue to flatter you whenever possible.”

Close. So close. Too close. Lance’s tongue has never been quite this prone to tripping.

“Come on. The first thing I want to see is the medical center. Let's go before I have to spend the rest of my life shorter than you.”

“A time will come when you’ll miss me being bigger than you.” Lance keeps a supportive hand around his waist, chuckling at his spouse's skeptical hum.

The warm sun breaks over the cloaked and furred princes, and red dust plumes up beneath their feet. The courtyard is mostly deserted, just the two of them, Adam, and Pidge.

So when red dust gets in Keith’s eyes, and chokes him in his throat, and tears are slipping into his fur, it’s perfectly safe. He only has a brief moment to wonder whether Lance planned it like that, before he’s falling to that red stone kissed by the sun- Oh gods, he’s missed that feeling so much. He lays his palms upon it, feeling the grit that the winds are always scattering, the polished stone of an ancient monument beneath. The warmth soaks into his hands, something so simple, so precious.

All Keith wants to do in this moment is curl up right there and let his skin absorb the gentle heat his ancestors sang of to chase away the fear of new moons.

“Shh, beloved. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Lance never lets him go.

It’s only after a few doboshes that Keith’s able to look up. He stiffens, wide-eyed, at a familiar-faced, slightly-built figure in front of him. Sharp, wide-arcing curls fight against a knot at the base of her neck, lithe, gracile body lighter-hued and less furry than Keith, but unmistakable. The glint in her eyes could mean only one thing.

Lance’s head turns too, and his arms slowly drop, though they pause to unclasp Keith’s cloak for him, letting it fall to the ground. Because what does it matter? What do silks and furs matter when he’s standing on a red planet beneath a golden sun? The Altean helps Keith to his feet, steadies him, then steps away with a gentle word.

It’s all Keith needs. Even on the cusp of adulthood, he still desperately wants one thing more than anything else. And he finally has it, if only for a phoeb.

His mother.

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

13 notes · View notes

hefellfordean · 5 years ago

Text

guys i did a third (!!!) part to my berlermo fic, it’s called “To bathe you in the light of day”

it’s super fluffy and I apologise in advance for blindsiding people with an until now unexplored palermo ship that seems to make people just keysmash at me

Words: 10334

Read it on AO3

Martín wakes to find almost the entire contents of Andrés’ closet on top of him. He sits up with a yawn, careful not to wrinkle the linen trousers that are piled on his chest.

“Good you’re awake,” Andrés says, when he turns to look at Martín from where he is crouched over his suitcase in nothing but his underwear. “Quick, which do you think is better, the light blue shirt or the lavender?”

He pulls the two shirts off the bed somewhere by Martín’s feet.

“Um,” Martín blinks, still half asleep. “I like you in the lavender one.”

Andrés nods and starts folding the lavender shirt into his suitcase.

“Andrés, mi amor, why are you packing at,” Martín glances at the clock on his nightstand. “half past six in the morning?”

Andrés frowns at him as if he’d just asked whether the Pope is a catholic. “For our trip. That farce you insist on calling a reunion.”

Martín nods. “No, I know that we’re going to the reunion, but it’s not for another three days.”

“I just want to be prepared,” Andrés scowls. “No doubt everyone will be dressed like the farmers and low-lifes they are, but I for one do not intend to be mistaken for some polyester-wearing tourist.”

“Okay,” Martín says slowly. “And this has nothing to do with the fact that this is the first time you’ll be seeing everyone in over a year?” Martín sighs when Andrés just shoots him a filthy look. “Okay, well, I’m going back to sleep. If and when you decide to dig me out of the pile of clothes you’ve buried me under, feel free to join.”

He hears Andrés muttering under his breath, but it really is far too early for this so Martín just rolls onto his side and pulls the duvet over his head.

He actually manages to go back to sleep and when he wakes again, there’s bright sunlight filtering in between the curtains and Andrés is in bed next to him. There aren’t any ridiculously expensive clothes piled on top of him and the suitcase is nowhere to be seen. He sits up and wriggles closer to Andrés, whom Martín suspects isn’t actually asleep, though his eyes are closed.

He rolls so he’s on his back, with his head resting on Andrés’ stomach and his legs hanging off the side of the bed. One of Andrés’ hands immediately comes to rest in Martín’s hair, confirming his suspicions. For a moment, Martín just lies there in silence, enjoying the feeling of Andrés’ fingers running through his hair.

“What’s wrong?” he asks eventually, when Andrés hasn’t spoken either. He hears Andrés sigh and Martín turns onto his side so he can look at him, cheek pressed to the warm skin of Andrés’ stomach.

“Nothing,” Andrés says and Martín frowns.

“Let’s try that again,” he says. “Andrés, mi amor, mi vida, mi cielo. What is wrong?”

Andrés looks like he wants to frown and laugh at the same time, so he settles for a look of disgruntlement, his hand moving so his thumb can rub tiny circles between Martín’s eyebrows. “I’m not sure we should go to the reunion.”

“Why?” Martín asks, trying not to look perturbed at Andrés’ sudden change in heart.

“It’s a long journey. And we’re safe here, hidden. Should we really risk that just to reunite with the people we did a heist with?”

It disturbs Martín just how serious Andrés seems. “A few hours ago, you were packing. How did you get from that to this?” he asks, trying to sound calm and understanding.

Andrés hesitates and Martín turns his head just enough to be able to press a kiss to his bed-warm skin. “Because you were asleep,” Andrés begins. “And you were all curled up under the covers and I couldn’t see any part of you and I thought just for a moment, about how I left you.” Martín’s breath catches in his throat. “And I thought about how you nearly left me,” Andrés continues, his free hand tangling with Martín’s, long fingers gently stroking over the scar on his forearm. “Going to this reunion is a risk for all of us. We risk losing our freedom, the lives we’ve built, the peace we’ve found. But I… I risk losing you. I’m just not sure it’s worth it.”

The words hang in the warm air between them for a moment and then Martín sits up, Andrés’ hand falling away from his face. He crawls up the bed, planting a knee on either side of Andrés’ chest so he’s straddling him. Andrés’ hands automatically come to rest on Martín’s hips, an echo of a similar position from the very different situation they were in last night.

“Andrés, cariño, you are the most ridiculous, romantic man I’ve ever met and if Tokyo were here right now, I’d slap her for ever suggesting you don’t have feelings,” Martín says sincerely and a tiny laugh escapes Andrés.

“I never want to hear you mention her name when we’re sitting in bed like this,” Andrés jokes and Martín smiles, but quickly sobers.

“I’ve thought about the same thing you know,” he tells Andrés, who looks surprised. “Of course I have, how could I not? But Sergio has assured us it’s safe, hasn’t he? And he hasn’t been wrong lately, has he?” Andrés shakes his head.

“No, but Rio…” he trails off and Martín brings a hand up to grip his chin.

“Rio was stupid,” Martín says harshly and Andrés grins a little. “He was stupid and he broke the rules. No one broke the rules this time. Our transport is private and secure. The island we’re going to is at the arse-end of nowhere, and Sergio rented the house under a fake name and has already payed off the local authorities to ignore us. So the question is whether you trust Sergio?” Martín asks and Andrés hesitates, but nods eventually. “Good,” Martín says, settling himself more firmly on the other man’s thighs, making Andrés groan and tighten his grip on Martín’s hips. “The other question is of course whether you trust me to do everything in my power to stop us from being separated, the same way I trust you.”

Andrés shuffles up the bed with Martín still on top of him so that he can sit up, leaning back against the headboard. One hand leaves Martín’s hips to grip the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss. “Of course, I trust you,” Andrés says into the scant inches between them once they’ve separated. “Only you,” he confirms, before surging forward and somehow Martín ends up flat on his back with Andrés above him, arms braced on either side of his head.

“You should do that more often,” Martín pants and Andrés grins.

“But then how will I impress you when I really need to?” he asks, making Martín laugh.

He reaches a hand up, his thumb stroking the corner of Andrés mouth. “So we’ll go?” he asks.

Andrés purses his lips and nods. “Yes, but if anything looks even close to dodgy we’re gone, alright?”

Martín nods. “I suppose that means you’ll need to pack again.”

“It does,” Andrés grins wickedly. “But after,” he says, grinding his hips down.

After means Martín is ready to sleep again when Andrés rolls out of bed and produces his suitcase from the corner of the walk-in closet he insisted on having.

“You’re not going to bury me in clothes again, are you?” Martín teases when Andrés reappears.

Andrés laughs. “I might, although I quite prefer you like this,” he says, gesturing to Martín’s naked body.

“You’re ridiculous, cariño. I’m going to make breakfast; do you want anything?”

Andrés shrugs, already half absorbed in his outfit planning. “I’ll just have whatever you have. But hurry back, I need your opinion on how best to outshine everyone at this reunion.”

“Like you’ll have any trouble with that anyway,” Martín says fondly, going to make breakfast.

The transport was as safe as Sergio could make it, Andrés knows this, but he’s still wary when the private helicopter lands on the island off the coast of Australia. It was a long journey, with nearly two days spent on an extremely slow boat before they switched to air travel.

Andrés takes Martín’s hand as they walk to the car that was left for them near the landing site. The keys were handed to them by the pilot of the helicopter, a distinctly shady looking man whom Sergio had assured him was entirely trustworthy.

The car is nondescript, entirely forgettable and Andrés hates it. Almost as if he can sense his thoughts, Martín says: “It’s ugly, but it’s only for a few days, right?”

Andrés nods and puts their bags into the boot. Martín detests being treated like a woman, but this is the sort of small thing Andrés can get away with every now and then.

When they get into the car, they find an envelope with directions on the dashboard.

“I hope Sergio picked a big house,” Martín says when they pull away from the helipad and onto a red dirt road. “Can you imagine if we end up having to share a room with someone?”

The image of having to share with Tokyo or, god-forbid, Helsinki flashes before Andrés’ eyes and he scowls. “Don’t worry corazón, if my brother knows what’s good for him we’ll have our own room, even if no one else does.”

Martín laughs. “I love that you sound willing to kill your little brother over a room.”

“I don’t know why you’re so blasé about it. If we have to share a room that means we can’t do anything fun for three nights,” Andrés says, perhaps a little viciously.

“Oh god, don’t say things like that,” Martín groans, finally comprehending Andrés’ horror.

As it turns out, the drive is quite short and soon they’re pulling off the road and driving towards a pair of massive gates. Andrés notes a camera turning in their direction when they stop in front of the gates, which soon swing open, allowing them in.

Martín whistles. “Seems like we won’t have to share rooms,” he says, sounding begrudgingly impressed as they drive towards what can only be described as a mansion.

“My monastery was nicer,” Andrés grumbles and Martín puts a consoling hand on his knee.

“Of course it was, mi amor. Sergio has money now, but no taste.”

Andrés smiles at him, a little more indulgently than he would if anyone else were around, before parking the car next to the others, in front of the tacky marble pillars that adorn the house.

The massive front door opens and Denver runs out, Cincinnati tucked under one arm like a rugby ball.

“Berlin, Palermo,” he says with that stupid laugh of his. “You guys are the last ones here!” Denver carefully puts Cincinnati down who looks a lot taller than the last time Andrés saw him and walks over to give them both a handshake, that turns into a one-armed hug.

“How are you, Denver?” Andrés asks cordially and Denver grins.

“Good, I’m good. So good. Wait until you come inside and I’ll tell you,” he says before running off inside after Cincinnati who had quietly disappeared while the adults were talking.

“Rude,” Andrés mutters and Martín grins, the still visible scarring on his face making the lines around his eyes seem deeper.

“Don’t get upset about such little things now, you’ll never last the weekend,” he says, gesturing for Andrés to open the boot. They get their bags unloaded and make it halfway into the hallway when they are suddenly swamped by people, the entire gang seemingly having decided to come and greet them at once – belatedly, Andrés thinks.

Helsinki, his beard wilder than ever, immediately pounces on Martín lifting him off his feet with the force of his hug.

Andrés very briefly considers pulling his gun until he is distracted by both Lisbon and Rio trying to say hi to him at the same time.

The following minutes are a mix of general confusion and heartfelt welcomes. By the time Andrés manages to make it through everyone and to Sergio, who – true to form – is standing off to one side, his slightly more violent tendencies have died down a little.

He pulls Sergio into a hug, which his brother thankfully returns. “Hermanito,” Andrés says with a smile. “How have you been?”

Sergio smiles and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Good, and you? How are things with Martín?”

“Things with me are good,” Martín says, materialising at Andrés’ side as if he’d been summoned. Andrés slides an arm around Martín’s waist, keeping his grip reassuringly tight.

“Yes, they are, querido,” Andrés agrees.

“Good,” Sergio says, a little nervous at the intensity of Martín’s gaze. “I’m glad for you both.”

Martín smiles a little insincerely and Andrés pinches his waist just enough to tell him off for being a brat. Martín simply smacks his hand away and walks pointedly over to Helsinki, who still looks overjoyed to see him.

“What did you do to Palermo?” Lisbon asks, joining them and Andrés sighs.

“Don’t ask, hermanita,” he says, enjoying the way she colours at the term of endearment and Sergio narrows his eyes as if trying to work out Andrés’ game.

“He’s still angry with me,” Sergio mutters and Andrés shrugs.

“What do you want me to say? Some days I’m still not convinced he’s forgiven me.”

Lisbon looks between the two of them and sighs, clearly deciding not to get involved. “Well, why don’t you two go and get Palermo and we can all have dinner. Denver has some news to share and he’s been driving everyone crazy because he won’t say what it is until we’re all together.”

Sergio jerks his chin towards Martín. “Well, I’m not getting him,” he says and Andrés rolls his eyes.

“You two used to get along,” Andrés mutters but decides to go remove Martín from Helsinki’s general vicinity.

He walks over to where Martín is standing with Helsinki and Stockholm and smoothly inserts himself into the conversation. “Martín, cariño,” he says, not bothering with the code name. “Lisbon wants everyone to come to dinner. Apparently, Denver has some news.”

“We’ll finish talking later,” Martín says, winking at Helsinki and Andrés is 95 percent sure he only did it to wind him up, but he grabs Martín’s hand and begins dragging him away rather aggressively anyway.

When they’re all gathered at the ridiculously large dining table and Andrés has managed to ensure that Martín is sitting next to him and Nairobi, but not Helsinki, Denver gets to his feet.

“So, I’m glad we could all make it, because I have something to say and I wanted to wait until all of you were here,” he says, grinning from ear to ear.

Andrés glances at Stockholm who is smiling gently and wishes he had placed money, because it’s obvious what Denver’s going to announce.

“I’m going to be a father again,” Denver says and everyone breaks into applause. “Stockholm and I are expecting another baby.”

“To Stockholm and Denver,” Lisbon toasts and everyone raises their glasses.

“To Stockholm and Denver!” they all repeat.

When Denver sits down, still looking giddy at his announcement, Nairobi gets up.

“Not to steal anyone’s thunder,” she says loudly. “But Bogota and I are expecting too!”

There’s uproar as Tokyo and Stockholm both shriek and rush to embrace Nairobi who is currently being wrestled into a hug by an overenthusiastic Denver. Across the table, Bogota looks far too pleased with himself and Sergio looks a little lost at how out of control things have gotten.

“Is there anyone who’s not having a baby?” Martín asks, leaning sideways out of his chair so he’s half resting against Andrés’ chest, head tucked under his chin.

“Why?” Tokyo asks from beside them. “Upset that Andrés hasn’t been able to knock you up yet?”

Andrés throws an arm over Martín’s chest to stop him jumping up and possibly murdering Tokyo. “Don’t give her the satisfaction, mi amor,” he murmurs into Martín’s ear, stroking his hair with his free hand.

Tokyo makes a disturbingly convincing retching sound. “You two are disgusting,” she says and Andrés grins.

“Don’t be bitter Tokyo, it doesn’t suit you,” he says smugly as Martín finally relaxes against him again.

“Helsinki, tell us about you,” Nairobi says, when she's managed to sit down again and everyone has served themselves some food. “What have you been up to since we all left?”

“Well,” Helsinki says, flushing a little as all the attention turns to him. “Rio and I got a cat. His name is Copenhagen.”

Lisbon and Manila coo and Helsinki pulls a rumpled picture of a huge ginger cat out of his shirt pocket, which is then passed around.

“Tell them about Marven,” Rio prompts, his smile a little shy, not as wide as it used to be.

“Marven?” Nairobi asks, repeating the name salaciously. “Who is Marven?”

Helsinki blushes even darker. “He’s… well, he’s my boyfriend. He’s German and we met when Rio and I went to Buenos Aires.”

Both Nairobi and Tokyo make juvenile catcall noises and Andrés doesn’t miss how Helsinki’s eyes flick to Martín.

“Do you have a picture of this Marven?” Andrés asks, keeping his tone level. Helsinki nods and produces another battered photograph. Nairobi grabs for it and then starts giggling with Stockholm, which Andrés takes to mean Marven is good looking. The photo goes around the table until it eventually makes it to Andrés and Martín.

The picture shows Helsinki and a short, olive-skinned man on a beach, wide smiles on each of their faces. Marven really is very attractive, not that Andrés would ever voice that thought – he quite likes living after all.

Martín looks at the photo and then hands it back to Helsinki. “I don’t like him,” Martín says calmly and conversation around the table stops abruptly. Helsinki looks upset and Andrés briefly fears for Martín’s safety when both Nairobi and Manila grip their knives a little too tightly. “I’m sorry,” Martín continues. “But it’s unacceptable that you’re dating someone better looking than me. Think of my ego, Helsi, it will never recover.”

Andrés relaxes and Helsinki breaks into helpless, relieved laughter. “You’re an asshole, Palermo,” Helsinki says and Martín shrugs, looking extremely pleased with himself. Under the table, his hand finds Andrés’, fingers immediately interlocking and Andrés squeezes his hand comfortingly.

The rest of the table seems to relax after that and the dinner finishes without any more drama, apart from Tokyo “accidentally” flicking a spoonful of peas at Denver when he laughs at the red streak in her now chin-length hair.

Rio and Stockholm offer to clean up, a transparent attempt to spend some time together, but Denver agrees easily enough and the others move outside to the garden where Cincinnati and Lisbon’s daughter Paula start some sort of bastardised version of football with Denver, Tokyo, Bogota, and Manila. Marseille is drafted as referee and looks extremely unhappy about it.

Andrés and Martín settle in chairs on the patio and are quickly joined by Helsinki, Nairobi, Sergio, and Lisbon.

“So how have you guys been?” Lisbon asks, nodding at the two of them. “How is Vietnam?”

Andrés shrugs. “It’s nice, quiet where we are. Enough culture to keep me entertained.” Martín snorts and Andrés rolls his eyes. “Fine, I get a little bored from time to time, but I’m not about to do anything stupid and jeopardise… everything.” Martín looks at him, their conversation from a few days ago, clearly on his mind as it is Andrés’.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t killed each other yet,” Lisbon says, half teasingly, half serious. “But you look like you’re on your honeymoon.” She nods at their joined hands, which Andrés hadn’t even been aware of until she pointed it out, so used to being in contact with Martín.

“We have our moments,” Martín acknowledges, a little more honestly than Andrés would like. “I only threatened to burn the house down once, so I’d say we’re fine.”

Andrés frowns. “You threatened that twice. Once when I tried to hire a maid –“

“Prostitute,” Martín interjects. “She turned out to be a prostitute.”

“And the second time,” Andrés says sharply. “Was literally the day before we left to come here.”

Martín waves a hand dismissively. “I didn’t threaten to burn down the house that time. I said I would burn all your clothes, if you didn’t finish packing.”

Sergio casts Martín a commiserating look. “How many suitcases did he bring?”

“Two,” Martín says, like the traitor he is. “And half of mine is full of his clothes too.”

Nairobi laughs, as do Lisbon and Sergio, but Helsinki looks a little concerned, which Andrés decidedly doesn’t like.

“So, is this the longest you’ve dated someone without proposing?” Nairobi says teasingly.

Martín goes very still and Andrés gives Nairobi a glare that has everyone around them looking down at their feet.

“I’m… I’m going to get some beers for everyone,” Martín says, getting to his feet and half-running away from them.

Before Andrés can say or do anything, Helsinki is following Martín. He wants to go after them, stop whatever emotional bonding is about to happen, but Sergio shakes his head and for once Andrés heeds his advice, going back to glaring at Nairobi.

“Sorry?” she offers and Andrés rolls his eyes.

Martín doesn’t want to be upset. In fact, he desperately wishes he could have ignored Nairobi and her stupid, thoughtless comment. But the fact remained that she had a point. The longest Andrés had ever gone without proposing to a woman he dated was six months. He and Martín had been together for twenty-one months and still, Andrés hadn’t even mentioned marriage.

Maybe he’d just had enough of being married, Martín tried to rationalise. Five weddings would be enough for anyone and yet… Yet Andrés had always liked being married – just not the women whom he married.

Rio and Stockholm are no longer in the kitchen when Martín goes in, which he is grateful for. He sits down at the marble breakfast bar, head in his hands, so he doesn’t realise Helsinki has followed him until he speaks.

“Are you okay, Palermo?”

Martín raises his head as Helsinki takes a seat opposite him, his face openly displaying his concern. “Of course, I was just getting a bit hot outside,” Martín says as cheerfully as he can.

“You said you were getting beer,” Helsinki corrects gently and Martín’s smile falters.

“Right, I should… I should probably go do that.”

“Wait,” Helsinki says, hands held up in front of him, like he did when Martín was getting ready to blow up the hostages just to leave the bank. “Are you okay? With Andrés. You don’t have to stay if he isn’t good to you, you know.” He says it so openly, so sincerely that Martín almost laughs.

“Even if I wanted to leave Andrés – which I don’t, just to be clear – I don’t think I could. I wouldn’t survive it,” he admits, determinedly not thinking about last time.

Helsinki nods. “If it helps, I don’t think he would either. Not any more.”

“You know, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Martín says with a laugh.

“It shouldn’t be,” Helsinki says with a frown and Martín shrugs.

He hops down from his tool and gestures to the fridge. “I don’t think I fancy beer any more. How about we see if the Professor was smart and stocked up on booze, huh?”

Helsinki looks like he wants to argue, but then shrugs too. “Why not, it’s four o’clock somewhere.”

Martín claps a hand on his shoulder and laughs. “Yeah, but it’s nearly eight here. We’re overdue.”

As it turns out, someone – even if it wasn’t Sergio – did buy in a fair amount of alcohol and when they return to the garden with bottles of tequila and a bowl of lime wedges there’s a general cheer from the rest of the gang.

“Shots!” Helsinki announces and Nairobi groans.

“Not fair, Stockholm and I can’t take part!” she complains and Martín briefly feels vindictively pleased.

From beside her, Andrés – who even in a wooden garden chair looks like he’s in the middle of a GQ shoot – shrugs. “Maybe you shouldn’t have let Bogota knock you up if you still wanted to have fun.”

“Enough,” Sergio says sternly before Nairobi can start arguing with him. “Can’t we just have… a quiet night together?”

There’s silence for all of five seconds before everyone – including Lisbon – starts laughing at him and he waves them all away.

“Oh Sergio,” Lisbon says fondly. “Let’s get you a drink.”

Martín is so, so drunk. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he drank this much, but he thinks the last time was before the heist. He’s lying flat on his back on the grass between Marseille and Stockholm, staring up at the stars which are disconcertingly moving above his head.

“Are the stars spinning or am I just drunk?” he asks and Stockholm laughs.

She pats the top of his chest in a friendly way. “You are very, very drunk Palermo.”

“You’re right,” he says, sitting up and staggering to his feet. Across the patio, he can see Sergio and Andrés sitting together, a bottle of very expensive wine on the table in front of them. The same table that Tokyo is trying to lie on.

“Body shots,” she yells, taking her shirt off, leaving her in just her shorts and bikini top.

Martín groans as he stumbles over to where Helsinki and Bogota are sitting. “No please, if we’re doing body shots can’t someone hot like Denver do it?”

Denver giggles from where he’s slumped against Nairobi on the other side of the table and Martín winks dramatically at him as he finally manages to fall onto the bench next to Helsinki.

“Hey,” Stockholm reprimands playfully as she joins them at the table, Marseille following her. “I think you’ve slept with enough people at this table without having to go after my husband.”

Martín lazily gives her the finger as Tokyo finally gets off the table and puts her shirt back on.

“That’s true,” she says, grinning wickedly. “You’ve slept with more members of the gang than anyone else.”

Martín scowls at her. “Really, you didn’t do the rounds before you settled on Rio?”

At the other end of the table, Andrés and Sergio have paused their conversation and Martín is very aware of Andrés’ eyes on him.

Tokyo shakes her head. “Nope, but you’ve fucked two people here, whereas everyone else has only done one – at most.”

There’s silence as everyone waits for Martín’s response and then Marseille says: “Three.”

Martín goes red and slides further down in his seat as everyone gapes.

“You’ve slept with three people here?” Nairobi asks Marseille incredulously.

Marseille shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything, apparently having fulfilled his syllable quota for the day. As one, everyone turns to look at Martín.

Martín groans and closes his eyes. “It was a very long time ago?” he offers, opening one eye to see Andrés’ gaze fixed on him, eyes cold.

“How long ago?” Rio questions.

Martín shrugs. “Nearly seven years ago now,” he says and he knows that both Sergio and Andrés have done the mental maths and worked out exactly when his encounter with Marseille would have been when they exchange a knowing look.

Tokyo laughs. “Palermo, I can’t believe you. And you have the audacity to call me a slut.”

Denver giggles, but everyone else remains quiet, until Stockholm breaks the silence. “Well, I think I might go to bed. It’s been a long day. Good night everyone.”

She gets to her feet, taking Denver by the hand, dragging him with her. Marseille follows soon after without a word.

“I might go for a swim,” Tokyo says, pointing at the pool at the far end of the ridiculously large garden. “Who’s coming?”

Nairobi, Manila and Bogota join her, as does Rio and the five of them quickly disappear out of Martín’s hearing. Andrés is still staring at him, but when Martín offers him an apologetic smile, he just turns back to Sergio and Lisbon, picking up their conversation as if nothing had happened.

Martín sighs and reaches for the whiskey, which Bogota had brought out earlier. Helsinki watches him, but doesn’t say anything. He does however, follow Martín when he goes to sit on the grass again.

“Do you want some?” Martín asks, offering him the whiskey. When Helsinki shakes his head, Martín just shrugs and takes a swig. They sit in silence for a while. “You know, we didn’t even fuck,” he says eventually.

“You and Marseille?” Helsinki clarifies and Martín nods.

“Yeah it was just…” he makes a crude hand gesture and Helsinki nods his understanding. Martín takes another hard swig of the whiskey. “Do you think I’ve ruined everything again?” he asks, quietly enough that Helsinki could pretend not to have heard if he wanted to.

Of course, Helsinki is far too nice for that, instead he puts his arm around Martín and pats his shoulder. “I don’t think you have.”

Martín nods. “Thank you. You should go join the others in the pool. I know you want to.”

“I don’t mind staying,” Helsinki says and Martín smiles.

“I know you don’t. But you should go have fun. Spend time with Nairobi, you must have missed her.”

Helsinki nods, getting to his feet. “If you’re sure.”

“Of course I am. Go, have fun,” Martín says, nonchalantly flapping a hand and Helsinki does, stripping off his shirt and joining the others in the pool with a huge splash which makes both Nairobi and Tokyo shriek.

Martín sighs and drinks more of his whiskey.

Behind him, he can still hear Andrés talking to Sergio and Lisbon, although he can’t quite make out the words. He lies back on the grass, trying to make out the constellations in the sky, but the stars have gone back to spinning above him, making him dizzy.

He closes his eyes against the nausea and he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, someone is shaking him awake.

His eyes open to see Andrés crouching above him. “Come on, Martín, you should go to bed. Sleeping on the ground isn’t good for you.”

Martín nods and accepts the hand he’s offered. Andrés pulls him to his feet and helps Martín brush himself off.

Martín makes towards the house, but stops when Andrés doesn’t follow. “Are you coming?”

“Later,” Andrés says, nodding to the patio where Sergio is still sitting, talking to Lisbon who’s standing in the door to the kitchen. Everyone else seems to have disappeared already. “I still have some catching up to do.”

“Right,” Martín says quietly. “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

Andrés makes a noncommittal gesture. “Don’t feel like you need to stay up.”

Ice floods Martín’s stomach and he turns without saying anything else. When he gets to the door where Lisbon is standing he hesitates, unwilling to push past her.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping,” she says kindly, giving Sergio a look over Martín’s shoulder.

Martín nods silently. He’d completely forgotten that they hadn’t even been to their room yet.

He follows Lisbon inside, briefly veering off to the entrance hall to collect their bags. Lisbon lends a hand, picking up Andrés’ second suitcase, before leading him up the ridiculous double staircase.

“We thought you might prefer some privacy, to be away from the noise,” Lisbon says when they reach the end of a very long hallway where his and Andrés’ room is situated.

The corners of Martín’s mouth twitch into an attempt at a smile. “Thank you.”

She opens the door and steps in just enough to be able to deposit Andrés’ suitcase.

“Sleep well, Palermo,” she says, returning to the hallway.

“You too,” he responds, shutting the door when she turns and walks away.

He’s ridiculously tired, but his stomach is tying itself into nervous knots and his whole body feels jittery so he decides to unpack instead of trying to sleep.

Like the rest of the house, the room is atrociously decorated in baby pink and mint green, with a large gilded wardrobe opposite the bed. Martín opens the first of Andrés’ suitcases and carefully begins hanging up Andrés’ suits – all nine of them – making sure the fabric isn’t too rumbled. He folds away his own clothes in the chest of drawers in the other side of the room. He only brought one thing nice enough to warrant hanging up, the linen suit Andrés insisted he bring, which is hanging next to the others a little forlornly. Somehow, it’s that, the separation of their things that makes him cry. It just hits him like never before how much more elegant, how flawless Andrés is in comparison to him and once the tears start, it’s hard for him to get them to stop.

When he does eventually manage to calm himself down, he finds that he's been crying into a pair of Andrés’ ridiculous silk boxers. It’s a little pathetic, even for him, so he finishes putting away the last of their things before stripping down to his underwear, leaving his clothes on the floor beside the bed.

A glance at his watch when he takes it off, shows that it’s nearly three in the morning and Andrés still hasn’t come to bed. A part of him wonders whether Andrés just decided to sleep somewhere else. The house is sure to have a spare room.

He crawls into bed, trying to work out how it had all managed to go so wrong when just a few days ago, Andrés was telling him that he couldn’t live without him.

Martín wakes with a pounding head and a dry mouth. He rolls over and his heart sinks when he sees the space next to him is still empty. He pushes himself into a sitting position, trying to decide whether to go downstairs to look for Andrés, or just spend the next few hours crying in the shower. Just as he’s decided on the shower, the door to the en-suite bathroom opens and Andrés walks out, impeccably dressed in a light-coloured suit and the lavender shirt Martín had helped him pick out before they left.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Andrés says before climbing onto the bed. Martín starts to back away until he realises that he’s propped up against the headboard and has nowhere to go. Andrés just crawls up the bed until he’s practically on top of Martín, knees either side of his thighs.

“Andrés, what –“ Martín starts, but is quickly cut off by Andrés putting a hand over his mouth. He’s entirely confused as to what’s going on and although he wouldn’t put it past Andrés to break up with him like this, he doesn’t think that’s what’s going on.

“Let me speak, Martín, alright?” Andrés asks and when Martín nods, he removes his hand. Andrés sits back on his heels, takes a deep breath and pulls something from his pocket. “Will you marry me?” he asks, holding out a golden ring and Martín’s mouth drops open.

He’s fairly sure his brain has stopped working. Maybe he fell out of bed in the middle of the night and hit his head and is now experiencing vivid hallucinations. Andrés is still holding the ring out, and the smile has slid from his face.

“Martín?” he prompts. “Are you going to answer me?”

“I…” Martín begins. “I don’t understand.”

Andrés laughs. “I’m asking you to marry me, I thought that was obvious.”

Martín nods. “No, that part is clear. But… why?”

“Why?” Andrés asks and Martín nods slowly. “Because I love you.”

“But you… last night. You were angry. You didn’t come to bed. I thought… Well I didn’t think this.”

Andrés sighs. “Was I angry? Of course I was. I found out you hooked up with Marseille – at my wedding to Tatiana – and never told me. I needed time to react. But I talked to Sergio and he told me I was being stupid.”

“He did?” Martín half whispers and Andrés nods, a smile playing on his lips.

“Yes. He also said that I’d waited long enough and I should marry you.”

Martín frowns. “So you’re only doing this because Sergio told you to?”

“No,” Andrés shakes his head. “Of course not. I’m doing this because I love you and I spent far too long getting married to the wrong people instead of being with you.”

“So why now? Why not earlier, in Vietnam?” Martín asks, his heart still unable to trust that this is real.

Andrés reaches out to stroke his cheek, thumb rubbing just under his eye which Martín is sure must be puffy from his crying last night. “I didn’t earlier because I didn’t want you to worry that you were going to be just another marriage. But I’m doing it now because I’ve already waited far too long and I want to see you happy as soon as possible.”

“But why like this? You proposed to Tatiana in a Michelin starred restaurant. You proposed to Marietta in the Louvre,” Martín says, a little bitterly. “I’m hungover as shit, I haven’t showered or brushed my teeth. I’m a mess.”

Andrés leans forward until their noses are brushing. “But that’s how you know I mean it. Grand gestures are for when you only see the person as part of a performance to hide who you really are. But you, Martín, you’re so integrally a part of me that I couldn’t even try to hide from you. I wouldn’t want to either, not any more.” He pauses for a moment. “Of course, if you want a big gesture I’ll wake everyone in this tacky, ugly mansion and gather them together and propose in front of them all.”

Martín blinks, swallowing a couple of times. Andrés strokes under his eye again. “You’ve been crying,” he says with a frown.

Martín lets out a laugh that’s half a sob. “Of course I have, you were an asshole last night. I was half convinced you were going to leave me, not fucking propose!”

Andrés actually has the audacity to look surprised. “I wouldn’t!” he protests. “I’ve told you before, we’re soulmates.”

“Soulmates don’t always end up together,” Martín says with a shrug and Andrés gently brushes his hair out of his eyes.

“We did. Right?” he asks and Martín nods. Andrés grins and holds the ring out again. “So, once more: Martín, mi amor, will you marry me?” Martín nods and Andrés laughs. “Is that a yes?”

Martín scowls. “Shut the fuck up, of course it’s a yes,” he says, before wrapping a hand around the back of Andrés’ neck and yanking him into a kiss. Andrés immediately responds, licking into his mouth, both hands winding themselves into Martín’s hair.

“Do you want your ring?” Andrés asks, when they eventually part. Martín nods and holds out his hand. Very carefully, Andrés slides the gold band onto his finger. It’s plain, not even a stone set into it, but flawlessly crafted.

“Where did you even get this?” Martín asks as he looks at it.

Andrés grins. “Well we did have rather a lot of gold on hand, so I had a jeweller make it out of what we took from the bank.”

“So you’ve been planning this for a while?” Martín asks.

“I wanted to have the option,” Andrés says with a shrug that’s far too casual for the situation. “I’ve got one too. Thought it would be nice for us to match.”

“But I unpacked your stuff for you, where did you keep them?”

Andrés grins wickedly. “In an empty tub of the pomade you hate.”

“Really?” Martín laughs. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Martín nods and drags Andrés into another kiss that quickly turns heated. He strips Andrés of his jacket and starts working on his shirt buttons. “Fuck, why are you wearing a suit?”

“I wanted to look my best,” Andrés says as he shrugs out of the shirt, throwing it onto the floor with his jacket.

“Great, and I’m just sat here in my underwear,” Martín says. “You’re so fucking vain, cariño.”

Andrés rolls his eyes, briefly climbing off the bed to step out of his trousers and pants.

“Socks,” Martín reminds him, when he tries to get back in bed. Andrés pouts as he pulls off his socks, so Martín removes his own underwear to put them on equal footing.

“You’re very mean, mi amor,” Andrés tells him as he crawls on top of him.

Martín just laughs until Andrés shuts him up with a kiss.

When they eventually stumble out of their room, Andrés can still feel the scratches from Martín’s nails on his back. He’s dressed in another suit, but Martín is just in shorts and a t-shirt with a neckline that’s too low to hide most of the marks Andrés made.

Andrés smiles to himself and grabs Martín’s hand, enjoying the way he can feel the body-warm ring against his skin.

Martín shoots him a look. “Why do you look so smug?” he asks and Andrés grins, making sure there’s no one else about before pressing Martín up against the nearest wall.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks, enjoying the way Martín only half-heartedly tries to push him off.

“Because you’ve been engaged before,” Martín starts and Andrés knows he’s about to follow it up with something self-deprecating so he cuts him off.

“Very true, I have been engaged before. But I’ve never been engaged to you, have I?” he asks and Martín shakes his head. “Then trust me when I say that everything is different now and no matter how much of an asshole you think I am, never doubt that here, with you, is exactly where I want to be.”

Martín blinks, a little shocked, and then pulls Andrés in for a hungry kiss that almost makes him want to drag Martín straight back to bed.

“Breakfast?” Andrés eventually gasps and Martín nods.

They head downstairs hand in hand, and find everyone already seated out on the patio.

“Finally,” Bogota says when they walk outside. “We were about to send out a search party.”

“Yeah except we couldn’t get anyone to volunteer,” Tokyo says into her coffee as Andrés pulls Martín to the table with him.

They take seats opposite Marseille and Sergio, who raises his eyebrows at Andrés. Andrés give a slight nod and a self-satisfied grin and Sergio smiles at him.

“Did you save us any food? I’m starving,” Andrés says and Nairobi snorts.

“I bet you are,” she says, eyeing Martín’s neck which Andrés has admittedly ravaged a little. Martín goes red, but doesn’t say anything for once.

“There’s still eggs and sausages,” Lisbon says, handing him a bowl of scrambled eggs. “If you want toast you’ll have to go make your own.”

“This will be fine, thank you,” Andrés says, serving both himself and Martín.

Martín looks down the table. “Pass the coffee, Tokyo?” he asks, accepting a mug from Stockholm, as Tokyo hands him the coffee pot.

He pours himself a cup and then ends up nearly spilling it on himself when Nairobi suddenly yells: “What is that on your hand?”

Martín flushes again as all eyes at the table turn to his left hand and the gold ring on it. “Um,” he says eloquently as everyone starts talking over each other.

“Are you two engaged?” Manila asks with a grin as Denver laughs beside her.

Tokyo looks a little sick. “Ew is that why you were so late? Because you were having engagement sex?”, she asks and Rio chokes on his orange juice.

“Oh my god,” Nairobi says, her hands flying to her mouth. “Is this because of what I said last night?”

Andrés scowls. “No it isn’t. Do you think I had a ring made overnight?”

“So you are engaged!” Lisbon says and Andrés smiles, draping an arm around Martín.

“We are, rest assured, you’ll all be invited to the wedding,” he says, enjoying how Martín seems dumbstruck.

Across from them, Sergio rolls his eyes at his theatrics, but he looks pleased nevertheless.

“Champagne,” Bogota cries. “We need to celebrate this with champagne!”

Denver pouts. “We didn’t get champagne for announcing our pregnancies.”

“You’re not the one who’s pregnant, Denver,” Martín says, finally seeming to have found his voice. “Besides, the girls can’t drink and you and Bogota have been fathers before.”

Denver goes red. “Andrés has been married like twenty times!”

Martín smiles. “Yes, but never to me. Bogota, I’ll help you with the champagne.” He get to his feet, planting a kiss on Andrés’ cheek as he leaves, and follows Bogota into the kitchen.

“Congratulations,” Lisbon tells him sincerely and he nods graciously.

Opposite him, Marseille cracks a rare smile. “It will be nice to attend a wedding where Martín isn’t plotting a homicide.”

Everyone else only half laughs, unsure whether he’s joking or not. Andrés is sure he’s only joking about the last wedding. With the others he might have been right on the target.

Martín and Bogota return and Stockholm rushes to her feet to take some of the precariously balanced glasses off them.

When everyone has a glass of champagne, or an adequate substitute, Sergio gets to his feet.

“Berlin, I’ve listened to you tell me many times over the years that you’ve found the love of your life and that you’re getting married. I’ve also seen you realise each time that you’ve made a mistake. The one thing you’ve always been sure of, even when I wasn’t, is Palermo. I’m glad that, just this once, you’ve proved me wrong about something and I know you two will have a lifetime of happiness together,” he smiles, blinking behind his thick glasses, then raises his glass. “To Berlin and Palermo,” he toasts.

“To Berlin and Palermo,” the others repeat and Andrés smiles, his hand finding Martín’s easily.

They finally get to start on their food and Andrés is halfway through serving Martín more when Nairobi and Stockholm, who have been whispering down one end of the table suddenly stop and Nairobi clears her throat.

“We’ve had an idea,” Nairobi announces.

“Oh god,” Rio groans. “It’s not another heist, is it?”

Everyone laughs as the women shake their heads. “No,” Stockholm says. “But we realised we don’t know if or when we’ll all be able to be together again. So we thought, why don’t Berlin and Palermo get married here? Tomorrow evening?”

Andrés looks at Martín, who is frowning. “I don’t know,” Martín says slowly. “I just… well, I didn’t think you guys would really want to be there? It’s not like we can have a proper wedding, with our real names or anything anyway. It would just be a ceremonial. Just for us.”

There’s silence after he speaks and Andrés rests a comforting hand on the back of Martín’s neck.

“Well,” Nairobi says. “We’re a family, aren’t we? So as long as you want us there, we will be,” she says firmly and Stockholm nods in agreement.

“Do you want us there?” Tokyo asks, but for once there’s no edge in her voice.

Martín nods, blinking in a way that Andrés knows means he’s holding back tears. Andrés squeezes the back of his neck and Martín nods. “Well, like you said, we’re a family. God knows I don’t have a real one to speak of,” he says.

“So we’re doing this?” Denver asks. “We’re having a wedding?”

Andrés nods and Denver cheers. Beside him, Bogota groans. “You’re not going to sing again are you?” he asks and Andrés scowls as both Tokyo and Denver look like it’s Christmas morning.

“You sang at your wedding?” Tokyo asks, grinning wickedly.

Andrés sniffs. “It was very romantic,” he insists and the table bursts into laughter again. “Martín back me up, cariño,” Andrés protests and Martín shrugs.

“Don’t ask me, I don’t remember. Bogota brought absinthe and we drank it before the ceremony.”

Andrés groans, pressing his face to Martín’s neck, who just pats his head rather unsympathetically.

After breakfast, Nairobi drags Andrés off to start planning.

“Why can’t you get Martín to do this?” he asks, as they head to his bedroom.

Nairobi scowls. “Because you’ve been married five times so you know what you’re doing. Also because you know what Martín likes and we are going to make this special for him.” She takes a moment to think. “And also because you dress better. Really, I should have known a long time ago that you were gay or whatever.”

“That’s a stereotype,” Andrés sighs as they enter the bedroom. Nairobi flops onto the bed, which Andrés wouldn’t have recommended considering he and Martín definitely hadn’t had time to change the sheets, but he decides not to say anything. “By the way,” he says when she seems to come to that realisation by herself and moves to the armchair in the corner. “Do you and Martín actually like each other? I was never able to work it out in the bank. Or after.”

She shrugs. “He’s an asshole. He was an asshole to Helsinki – and to everyone else as well, really. But, he’s brave too. Gandia would have killed me if it wasn’t for Palermo. And I know a lot of the things he did were because he was hurting. I was hurting in the same way and I managed to cause him pain. I don’t think we’ll ever be best friends, but I care about him.”

Andrés nods, thinking about the vicious words Martín and Nairobi had hurled at each other. “Well, either way, thank you for doing this. He might not show it – he certainly didn’t at breakfast – but he cares about you all too.”

Nairobi grins. “Oh I know,” she says. “He’s not like you, his feelings are all over his face, all the time.” She gets to her feet and goes to the wardrobe. “Okay, show me. Which ones are his?”

“That one on the left,” Andrés says. Nairobi pulls out the light-green linen suit that Martín had only brought at Andrés’ insistence.

She nods. “Nice. Are all the others yours?” she asks, a little incredulously.

Andrés frowns. “What, I’m supposed to dress like an American tourist just because it’s only us here?”

Nairobi rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Pick something to wear that will go with Palermo’s.”

Andrés waves a hand. “Consider it taken care of. What else do we need to do?”

“Vows,” Nairobi says. “And you need to pick someone to officiate. This may not be a legally binding wedding, but we can pretend it is anyway. What about the Professor?”

Andrés sighs. “Don’t you think my brother should be my best man?”

“Right,” Nairobi nods. “Then who? Marseille? But he doesn’t talk. Denver?”

Andrés shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

She grins. “That’s fair. Helsinki?”

“I have the terrible suspicion that he might be Martín’s best man,” Andrés sighs.

“Well who do you want then?” Nairobi asks, looking frustrated.

Andrés rolls his eyes. “Who cares. Why don’t you do it?”

“Me?”

“Why not? You seem the most competent.”

“Fair enough,” she says. “I accept. Now what are the chances I can get Martín to walk down an aisle while carrying some flowers?”

Andrés snorts. “Slim to none, but ask him if you want.”

“I think I’ll pass, i think he brought a gun with him. Shall we go back downstairs? I’m sure you’re itching to be back with your fiancée,” Nairobi teases and Andrés would argue if there weren’t some truth to it.

“Shut up,” he says and Nairobi grins as she leads the way out.

“Would you say this is your shortest engagement?” she asks and Andrés scowls.

“If you weren’t pregnant, I’d push you down the stairs,” he says and she laughs.

“No you wouldn’t.”

Martín watches Andrés and Nairobi disappear with only a little trepidation. He and Helsinki have somehow found themselves alone in the kitchen again and he can tell the other man has something on his mind.

“What’s up, big guy?” he asks and Helsinki shakes his head.

“It’s nothing, I just… You’re sure, right?” he asks Martín. “Cause last night you seemed pretty upset with each other, but now you’re engaged.”

Martín sighs. “I know, and I do wish it were less complicated sometimes. But neither of us are easy people. Andrés is possessive and I’m insecure, it should be a terrible mix but it does work. Even though things occasionally veer off course,” he admits.

Helsinki smiles. “I am happy for you, you know? I just don’t want you to think that this is something you have to do. Even the Professor would understand if you didn’t want to.”

Something warm blooms in Martín’s stomach. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve a friend like Helsinki. “I appreciate that, I do. But I do want this. Sometimes it seems that I’ve wanted it for so long, I don’t know what to do now that I have it. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” Helsinki nods.

“I’m happy for you too, by the way,” Martín says. “I hope what I said at dinner yesterday didn’t make you think otherwise. You deserve to have someone.” Helsinki smiles and Martín pats his hand. “But if it turns out that he doesn’t deserve you, let me know. I’m pretty handy with a claymore.”

Helsinki laughs. “I appreciate that. So are you looking forward to the wedding? It’s pretty short notice.”

“I am actually, and I am glad you guys will be there. I’ve never really had, well, a family before so it means a lot that everyone would do this. I know I’m kind of an asshole.”

“You and Berlin are both assholes,” Helsinki snorts. “That’s why you work together.”

Martín laughs. “That’s probably true. But you know, despite being an asshole, I’ll need a best man. I can’t exactly ask Andrés or Sergio so… would you do the honours?”

“Of course,” Helsinki nods, pulling Martín into a rough hug. “I’d love to.”

The day seems to fly by with Nairobi and Stockholm roping everyone into preparations. Rio and Manila are put in charge of the cake, which Martín hadn’t even thought about having, Bogota and Marseille are sent off to search the house for every candle they can find, and everyone else – including Paula and Cincinnati – is either set to prepping food or stripping the garden of flowers to make into garlands.

By the time evening comes and they’ve eaten dinner and had some wine, Martín is ready for bed. He didn’t exactly have the best sleep the night before and the day’s ups and downs have taken their toll.

By ten he’s already struggling to keep his eyes open so Andrés drags him away from the poker game he’s currently magnificently losing at and up to bed.

He just about manages to stay awake for a quick shower, although he isn’t entirely sure he doesn’t nod off for just a moment in the warm steam.

When he returns to the bedroom, Andrés is already in bed, looking half asleep himself. He just lifts an arm when he sees Martín, who quickly crawls into bed and Andrés’ embrace.

Andrés flicks the bedside light off and Martín curls further into him, head tucked between his neck and shoulder.

“I’m sorry, corazón,” Andrés murmurs into his still damp hair.

Martín frowns against his neck. “What for?”

“Last night. I shouldn’t have let you think such bad things about us, or yourself.”

“It’s okay,” Martín says quietly. “You made up for it. We just need to get a little better at communicating.”

“It’s never been our strong suit,” Andrés admits, pulling Martín closer. “But I do love you, that’s the only thing that matters.

“I love you too, cariño. Now sleep, or you’ll fall asleep during the wedding tomorrow and I'll have to kill you.”

The next day is even more hectic than the one before and Andrés hardly sees Martín after breakfast. Nairobi had deemed Andrés too incompetent to help with stringing the garlands up between trees and banished him to the kitchen to chop vegetables with Stockholm, Manila, and Lisbon.

By the time he was told he could leave to shower and change, his hands felt unpleasantly starchy and he’s in a distinctly bad mood.

“I thought people were supposed to look happy when they’re about to get married to devilishly handsome Argentinians,” Martín quips when Andrés walks into their room with a face like thunder.

Andrés can’t help but smile when he sees him. “You do look very handsome, mi amor,” he says, giving Martín an appreciative look. He’s not in his suit yet, but clearly fresh out of the shower with just a towel around his waist. “You should go to the ceremony dressed like that,” Andrés says lasciviously, tugging the towel away.

Martín rolls his eyes. “You’re a pervert and I’m not into voyeurism. Now go shower. I’m not marrying someone who smells like the busboy in a Parisian kitchen.”

Andrés grins, giving Martín his towel back, but stealing a kiss before he does as he’s told.

By the time he’s showered, shaved, and done his hair, Martín is gone.

Andrés has just finished dressing when there’s a knock on the door and Sergio walks in without waiting for an answer. “Rude,” Andrés says and his brother just rolls his eyes.

“Are you ready? We want to start and Martín is getting antsy.”

Andrés smiles. “Of course. Shall we?”

They make their way downstairs together and just before they reach the kitchen, Sergio stops him.

Andrés frowns. “What is it, hermanito?”

Sergio pushes his glasses up his nose, looking nervous. “I just… I’ve spoken to Martín about it before, but, well… I wanted to apologise. I didn’t just hurt Martín when I told you to leave him. Although I didn’t see it at the time, I hurt you as well and… I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Andrés says. He knows that it’s hard for Sergio to admit when he's wrong and he honestly hadn’t ever expected a sincere apology. He pulls his brother into a hug. “Now, let’s go and get me married one final time.”

When Andrés follows Sergio out into the garden, he hardly notices how the chairs and benches have been rearranged to form an aisle, or how Nairobi had managed to get Denver and Bogota to artistically hang the flower garlands between the trees. All he sees is Martín, standing next to Helsinki, looking both more nervous and happier than Andrés has ever seen him.

When Andrés makes it to where Martín is, he can’t help but reach out to hold his hand, unable to be apart from him even for a few moments.

Nairobi steps forward and begins to speak, but Andrés can honestly say that he doesn’t hear a word she says. Martín is smiling at him with tears in his eyes and Andrés fights the urge to just pull him close and not let go.

He manages to get himself together enough to say ‘I do’ after Martín and to put the ring on him that Martín had been almost unwilling to part with earlier.

Andrés has his hands on Martín before Nairobi even tells them they can kiss, and he vaguely registers her swearing, but he’s far too focussed on putting everything he has into kissing Martín to care.

There’s applause when they finally pull apart and Nairobi laughs. “I think I just got pregnant again just from watching that,” she says and Martín pulls her into a hug.

The others take that as a signal to get up and they’re quickly swamped by everyone trying to congratulate them at once. Andrés accepts the hugs and the kisses, but makes sure never to let go of Martín’s hand.

Later, when they’ve had the insane amount of food that was prepared and Andrés has avoided Tokyo trying to convince him to squish cake into Martín’s face, when it gets dark enough that they can light the candles that were scrounged up, Rio sets up the speakers.

Andrés pulls Martín onto the makeshift dancefloor to Nairobi’s announcement of Mister and Mister de Fonollosa-Berrote having their first dance.

The others quickly pair off and join them and for once, Andrés could care less about the break in tradition, because he finally knows what was always missing from his other weddings. It was having Martín here, in his arms. Instead of off in a corner sulking or drinking with Bogota, Martín is swaying from side to side with him, arms tight around Andrés’ waist.

“Did you ever think we’d end up here?” Andrés asks and Martín shakes his head. “Really? You never thought about it?”

Martín laughs. “No, I tried not to think about it. I barely even hoped, even though it’s all I'd ever wanted. How could someone like me deserve all this?”

Andrés’ hands reflexively tighten. “You do deserve it though. This and much more.”

Martín smiles and kisses him, gentle and sure. “I know, but what more do I need now? I have money and a family and you. I even melted gold in the Bank of Spain. I think I’m satisfied for now.”

“For now?” Andrés asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Well,” Martín laughs. “I can’t promise anything. I don’t know what the future holds – apart from you of course.”

Andrés kisses him again for that, just because he wants to and he can. Around them there are catcalls and Martín is definitely giving someone the finger, but Andrés laughs because he’s finally found what he’d spent far too long looking for.

#pure cheese i swear #fluff #weddings #jealous!berlin #reunion #berlermo #berlin x palermo #la casa de papel #money heist #not spn #fanfic

16 notes · View notes

randomfandomfamily · 5 years ago

Note

Idk if your currently doing requests or not, but... Sheryl comforting Little Cato??? Can be from a nightmare, panic attack, whatever your up for. :) 🧡🍪

---

Not gonna lie, this one was fun to write. I love writing Sheryl slowly getting better at people-ing, whether she knows it or not.

“So we just left Clarence there because he’s a total crapwad,” Little Cato said, in the process of catching Sheryl up on what had happened with Clarence, “And then we remembered that we never actually returned Chucky and he was still just hanging out on the ship.”

Sheryl raised an eyebrow. “So...what happened to Chucky?” She took a screwdriver and started replacing the metal plating they had taken off. They were making great strides with the repairs, and she was getting caught up on things she missed between her betrayals.

Little Cato shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. We kinda just… let him go? He probably flew back to his owner. Maybe. I hope.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys managed to ditch Clarence, anyway.” Sheryl frowned. “Disgusting little man, wasn’t he?”

Little Cato hummed. “That’s a nice word for him, I guess. I’ve got about a thousand others I’d like to-"

‘Promximity alert!’ AVA’s voice boomed, ‘Unidentifiable debris is headed for the ship!’

Sheryl and Little Cato were, luckily, already on the bridge with their repairs. “What do you mean ‘unidentifiable debris’?!” Sheryl asked while Little Cato headed for the controls.

‘We’re in an unexplored nightmare dimension,’ AVA said snidely, ‘Everything in here is unidentifiable.’

“Thank you, AVA!” Little Cato said, gripping the back of the captain’s chair. “Where is everyone else?”

‘On their way to the bridge to meet you,’ AVA replied, ‘But they won’t make it before we reach the debris.’

Little Cato exhaled slowly, jumping into the pilot’s seat. “Alright… I got this.”

Sheryl merely stood at Little Cato’s side. Yeah, she was probably the better pilot of the two of them, but only by a slim margin. She prepared to assist where she could, but she knew the kid could handle it.

She had been doing repairs with this kid for weeks. They’d grown… close? Which was almost foreign to her. She wasn’t sure if there was anyone else on the ship she trusted this much, aside from maybe Gary, and even that trust was a little touch-and-go. But she’d spent enough time with Little Cato to know he was honest about his abilities. If he said he could do it, then he could.

So Sheryl watched as Little Cato reached for the controls, gripping them tightly. She held the back of the chair, prepared for the sharp turns he was going to have to take to avoid the hazardous obstacles outisde.

Then she realized the ship wasn’t turning, still heading directly for the ominous black masses in the distance. “What are you doing?” She looked down and saw Little Cato staring down at the controls. “Kid, you have to steer the ship.”

“I… I can’t…” He sounded almost as shocked as she felt.

“What?” Sheryl asked. “Why-” She halted mid-sentence when he noticed Little Cato’s hands start to shake. “Whoa whoa whoa, hey.” Sheryl put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “What’s goin’ on with ya?”

Little Cato shook his head. “I can’t do this. Not again, I can’t. It’s…” The shock was starting to sound a lot like fear the more he talked. “I- no. I can’t do it, I can’t…”

They were getting close to hitting those things. Much closer than Sheryl was comfortable with. “Kid, tell me what’s wrong.” They just barely glided past a dark mass. “Little Cato!” Sheryl put her hands over his and turned the ship away from another incoming threat. “Come on, talk to me!”

She took a moment to scoop the young Ventrexian out of the pilot’s seat. He didn’t protest, but he didn’t exactly make it easy either, his hands practically glued to the controls.

But she managed to get him detached, setting him beside her. “Alright, now just stand here and-” The ship jerked violently, alarms blaring and red lights flashing. “Crikey!”

Little Cato seemed to momentarily snap out of his trance. “W-what happened?”

“We hit one of the damn things.” Sheryl hopped into the pilot’s seat and turned the ship. “AVA! Status update on the ship!”

‘There are no major damages to the ship, but the impact has triggered a lockdown sequence.’

“What?” Little Cato asked. “Lock… lockdown?” Sheryl spared a glance at him. It was a normal protocol. The ship hits a thing, the ship has to make sure no one goes flying about, so the ship locks the doors. Why was he freaking out so bad? The doors would open up again just as soon as the ship was out of danger.

Her two seconds of distraction cost her, the side of the ship clipping another black mass. “Ah, shit!” A startled shout from Little Cato made her panic momentarily. “Kid, are you alright?” The lack of an answer made her worry. “Say somethin’, mate!” Another long string of curses left her mouth as she steered. She didn’t have eyes on the kid, but he was quiet, wherever he was.

“Bloody hell, will these buggers never end?!” She pulled up to avoid the last of the strange debris. “AVA, is that the last of it?”

‘All clear.’ AVA confirmed.

Sheryl sighed. “Thank Christ.” She stood and glanced around. “Oi, kid! Where’d you go?”

A faint sound made her look to the weapons’ control panel. She walked over and knocked on the top of it. “You alright there? I know it was a bumpy ride, but-” The sound of crying made her pause. “Oh… um…”

She knelt on the floor and peered under the control panel. Little Cato, if at all possible, seemed to scramble back farther into the small space. “Don’t-”

“Whoa, easy there mate, I’m not gonna do nothing.” Sheryl sat back, scooting away from Little Cato a bit to give him space.

She didn’t know what to do about this. Little Cato was always so upbeat. Optimistic. He took on anything, and he had the drive to see it through. This, however, was a very different side of Little Cato. This was unfamiliar territory, and almost kind of scary. It made her wish somebody else was here to help him.

But nobody else was there. Which meant she was going to have to try. “Um… the ship’s safe now. We’re gonna be on lockdown for just a few more minutes, though. But we can find your dads when the doors open up, yeah?”

Little Cato shook his head. “But I- the… the shards.”

Sheryl frowned. “What shards?”

“The time shards! I-I saw…” Little Cato shook his head violently, like he was trying to erase something. “No, nothing. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

He certainly wasn’t fine. Sheryl was pretty sure he was very far away from fine. “There’s no time shards,” she said, “I dunno what they were exactly, but they weren’t time shards.” She held out a hand. “Come on outta there, alright? We’re in the clear now.”

Little Cato took her hand shakily, slowly emerging out from under the panel. “Is it… really all clear?”

“AVA said it was.”

“That’s what she said last time too,” Little Cato whispered.

Sheryl put an arm around his shoulders. That was a reassuring thing, right? “Last time? What do you mean ‘last time’?” She started putting pieces together slowly. “Did you… have a run in with some time shards?”

Little Cato’s breathing picked up and he started shaking. “Hey, whoa, calm down there, mate. I’m sorry I asked.”

He scrubbed at his eyes. “We’re gonna get out of here, right?”

She was a little taken aback. The kid knew the lockdown protocol would time out in a few minutes. Was he really that scared? “‘Course we are,” Sheryl said, “Just a few minutes.”

“I don’t wanna be stuck in here. I can’t… I can’t do this again…” Little Cato pulled his knees up to his chest. “I want my dads.”

Sheryl sometimes forgot that Little Cato was just a kid. In fact, she was sure damn near everyone on the ship forgot it at some point. It was easy to forget, what with him running around doing repairs and fighting Titans.

“I hope this won’t send ya panickin’ again, but I am kinda curious about this last time you keep going on about.” Little Cato stiffened. “It’s okay if you can’t talk about it. I’m not gonna make ya.”

Little Cato took a breath. “It’s not… it’s not much to talk about, really. I was steering the ship through some time shards. AVA said I missed them all. But I didn’t.”

“You hit one of ‘em?”

“Yeah… I got stuck.” Little Cato hugged his knees tighter. “A-and I guess I should just be thankful Gary didn’t get stuck in there with me, but it still kinda sucked… being all by myself.”

Sheryl was almost afraid to ask but, “Do you remember any of it?”

“All sixty years of it,” Little Cato muttered. He tugged at his hair anxiously. “Kinda stupid, huh? You’d figure after sixty years of being alone, I’d be used to it. I should be able to handle a few minutes of being locked in here.”

“Well, I think that’s just dumb.” Sheryl pulled the kid closer to her. “I don’t think anyone should have to be used to being alone. Hell, I was drifting about for ages trying to get John back. All because I couldn’t stand the thought of being by myself.”

He sighed. “That’s different.”

“Well, of course it’s bloody different,” Sheryl said, “I’m a grown woman who was dumb enough to believe a Titan could give me my husband back. I made my own loneliness, you never asked for yours.”

“I guess.” He rested his forehead against his knees. “Still feels like- I don’t know… like I should be better.”

That’s when it really hit Sheryl for the first time. Literally everyone on the ship forgot Little Cato was a kid. Even Little Cato. No, especially Little Cato.

Everyone else had the luxury of giving Little Cato a good long look and remembering that, despite his capability, the spunky small fry was a kid. Little Cato didn’t have that luxury. Because unlike everyone else aboard the Crimson Light, he had the memories.

“I think you should be a little easier on yourself,” Sheryl said, “I know your dads wouldn’t want to hear you talking like this.”

Little Cato laughed half-heartedly. “You’re probably right.” He dragged his hands down his face. “Okay, I can do this. Everything is fine.”

Sheryl ruffled his hair. “You can be fine when Gary and Avocato get here. You can be not fine for another minute or two, alright? There’s no rush.”

He smiled reluctantly and leaned into her side. “Okay… but only for a minute or two.”

“Only for a minute or two,” Sheryl agreed. Though she would have gladly sat with him longer if he needed her to.

#ha ha grandma sheryl #final space #sheryl goodspeed #little cato #random disaster writes

75 notes · View notes

cliban · 5 years ago

Text

Stitches: chapter 1

Title page||Map||Pronunciation guide||Character sheets

‘Subject 17 was easily one of the most dangerous experiments in the lab, they’d been told.’

Subject 17 was easily one of the most dangerous experiments in the lab, they’d been told. G-13’s hands were shaking as he followed his fellow guards down a familiar, brightly-lit hallway. The walls were white and pristine, like the rest of the lab. The air smelled of disinfectant. Their footsteps echoed loudly within the chamber and G-13 prayed to whatever deity was around that the noise wouldn’t spook the monster. G-11 opened the shiny metal door with a quiet click, and it swung open smoothly, to reveal a room with dark gray walls, one covered with machinery. The rest of the room was featureless, save a large metal table tucked into a northern corner. But it was the object in the middle of the room that made G-13’s blood run cold.

A clear tube stood in the middle of the room, filled with a translucent, stained blue, liquid, emitting a white brilliance, the only source of light in the room, apart from the soft glow of machinery. There was pure silence as G-13 stood to attention and trembled. Inside the tank floated the shape of a feminine teenager, head down. Of course, this wasn’t a teenager at all. The skin, which was pale and cloth-like, was just a little bit of the wrong colour. Light blue patches were sewn on, resembling gloves, a shoulderpad, knee-high-socks, and a chest plate. Stitches also connected most of the joints. A bright blue tail wrapped around one leg. Long hair covered most of 017’s face, leaving only the mouth, curved into a gentle smile around the stitches, visible. G-11 walked quietly around to the back of the tube, and 0-17 dropped down as the liquid which held it was sucked away. There was silence once more for a few seconds. Then 0-17 lifted its head.

Seventeen lifted her head and yawned, fluffing out her small layer of fur so she wasn’t as soaking wet as she was before. One of the guards touched a layer of the the glass of her tube and the glass simply retracted away. Seventeen stepped out and straightened her normal hunched position. “Hello!” she greeted the guards brightly. “How are you?” Of course, there was no response. “Haha, yeah. I know you’re the silent type.” Again, no response. Two guards circled behind her and pulled her arms behind her back, fitting handcuffs over her wrists. “Yeah, I’m great, thanks! You know me, always a stay-at-home!” She laughed, and the guards took her by the elbows and forced her forward.

Humming was not acceptable in these cold white walls that Seventeen had called her home since she gained awareness, so she simply admired the rhythm that the footsteps made. The once sharp smell had dulled after her first year. The harsh brightness had always affected her though, and she was mildly relieved when she was shoved into a slightly duller room.

“Subject oh-seventeen!” The door was closed behind her and the man standing in the the corner stepped forward. He was tall and slender, wearing a simple outfit of a black tank top and pants, covered by a white coat. “Doctor Jala.” Seventeen nodded politely. “Today is a mental capacity experiment,” Jala began, and Seventeen breathed a sigh of relief. No physicals today. She reflexively brushed the stitches by her hip. “You’ll be doing some picture puzzles, and…” Jala was cut off as he looked at his watch, frowning. After a brief hesitation, he spoke again. “Nothing to worry about. Let’s get started.” His gloved hand dipped into his coat pocket, bringing out a stopwatch. Seventeen was just glad it wasn’t a scalpel.

Seventeen was bored. She didn’t show it, of course, but the brightly coloured puzzle was just… boring to her. But being bored was punishable, so she shut up. Anyway, she had no emotions. As Jala had said, many times, “Your ‘emotions’ are a direct result of something unknown. In other words, they aren’t real. You don’t have a soul, and we aren’t even sure you have a proper consciousness. Until we can prove that you have any sort of humanity, you’re simply a new unexplored object.” The words had made her sad, but that must have been fake.

Jala was jumpy today. Seventeen could tell that much. He kept looking at his watch thingy and glancing out the window. ...Focus, Seventeen. The colours and shapes made no sense to her. Were these supposed to fit? Seventeen pushed gently at a red piece, and then straightened up as she saw the solution. With whirring hands, she put the puzzle together in just a few seconds. Jala nodded approvingly and Seventeen’s heart soared.

Then the alarm wailed for a heartbeat through the corridors, and everything started to run in slow motion. A droning noise started to hum. A part of the wall turned see-through, revealing little but brightness outside. Seventeen looked away; The light hurt her face. It was so awfully bright… Jala cursed and whipped out a syringe. “Back to the tube for a while.” Seventeen froze up. Jala was plunging the syringe towards her, and now she was begging for him to stop, stop!

Then the wall to the outside was ripped off and the room was filled with blinding brightness. Seventeen’s vision went a little fuzzy. Jala faltered, and there was a great crashing noise as the wall was dragged off the edge of the floating island the lab was situated on, revealing a bowl of wooden planks, graceful, elegant. A carved woman spread her arms at one end, and sheets and ropes were tied to some upright planks. At the very top, a flag rippled in the wind. A blue butterfly was emblazoned across it, and a stitch ran through the middle of it. A ship! That’s what it was called. The woman - a figure head. And masts and sails….

Seventeen looked back just in time to see two browned hands tipped with long, sharp green nails close around Jala’s mouth and haul him back. Then someone tapped her tail and she turned to see a flash of red and brown and white and gray. “Come on, kid.” A voice, surprisingly warm and masculine, but edged with good humour, came from the blur, and it took off towards the ship, followed by another blur of aqua and purple and brown. The two blurs leaped onto the ship just as Seventeen’s vision cleared. “Kid! Come on!” The red figure roared, and Seventeen didn’t think about it, she just ran, and the ship was lifting and she wasn’t going to make it, but then a figure in a purple coat was hanging by their legs upside down from the bottom of the ship.

“Over here!” They called in a clear voice. Seventeen hesitated, nearly lost her momentum, and then she jumped. The gap was too far, she’d never make it- She screamed as she began to plunge downwards, but a hand grabbed her, warm and firm and strong around her wrist. “Gotcha. Don’t be scared now.” The pale hand belonged to the figure with the purple coat, and then they grabbed Seventeen’s other hand and swung her upwards, far, far, upwards, and over the ship’s railing. Seventeen hit the deck and rolled, coming to a sprawling stop at the feet of yet another unfamiliar figure.

The wind was knocked out of her. She was dizzy. There was a roaring in her ears. Seventeen hadn’t breathed in a while. She should probably do that, but her lungs wouldn’t respond. Then she took in a gasping breath and several things happened at once.

First, pain flooded her shoulder. That was understandable. She’d smacked the deck with it. Second, the purple figure flipped onto the deck and shouted, exhilarated. “We did it, guys!” They showed off a grin and the aqua figure presented them with a hat. Third, the figure Seventeen had stopped at bent down and lifted her into a sitting position. Fourth, Seventeen took several shuddering breaths and… when had she started crying?

The purple figure knelt by her side. “Hey hey... Are you okay?” The red figure snickered. “That rhymes, captain!” The aqua figure standing beside him elbowed him in the shoulder harshly. “Yes, thank you, Lox, for stating the obvious.” The figure who had helped her sit up sighed. “I’m sorry. This must be very confusing. I’m Mara. My partner,” he gestured at the purple figure, who grinned with all their teeth, “Is Narali, the captain of this ship, the Licentia. Our crew consists of Glinn-” the aqua figure waved, “- and Lox, which you probably figured out.” The red figure gave her a slightly guilty smile.

Now that they were introduced, Seventeen took some time to examine her surroundings. No hurry. Narali was slim and curved, wearing a bright purple coat with lilac lapels and cufflinks unbuttoned but for one, exposing their torso from their chest to their belt. It reached all the way to the ground. Their hat was simple, brown and shaped, with a crimson feather waving from it. They balanced perfectly on high-heeled boots that stopped just past the knee, over assumedly long gray pants. A small lilac satchel was held at the waist by the belt. Their long hair was dark brown with a single gray streak at the front side bang. Their skin was pale and their eyes were green, matched with some eyeliner and purple lipstick.

Mara, on the other hand, was calmer, and dressed as such. Their outfit, while still outlandish, was a light blue-gray, with darker lapels and rolled sleeves. A gap stretched across their chest, and the coat was slightly shorter than Narali’s. Long gray pants, same as his partner’s, cut off at the ankle. Mara also wore high-heels, though shorter, silver, and had an exposed area at the back of the heel. Their hair was black, although covered by a purple beanie, and their skin was dark. One eye was gray, and the other completely covered by a metal plate. In the center of the plate, a small ring of bright turquoise blinked, surrounded by smaller lights.

Glinn was immaculate. Her blue-green hair was done up in a small braid, and her bangs covered one eye. Her red lipstick was neat, and so was her blue eyeshadow, bright against tan skin. That eye was green. Seventeen noted, with growing horror, that her nails were long and sharp, green and shiny. Two panels of purple cloth hooked across her bust, and up to her neck was covered by a fishnet pattern, cut off at the shoulders. A dark gray skirt trailed off to two symmetrical ends, fastened in the middle by a light purple buckle. She wore stockings and gray leather boots.

Lox was very much more casual. He wore a simple cropped red Haiwaiian shirt, and light gray pants that snaked up to curl around his torso. His dark glasses were rimmed with purple, and he had… good lord. That was a lot of earrings. His blue gloves stopped at the elbow with a wavy pattern, and his dark gray boots did the same at the knee. His skin was a shade lighter than Glinn’s, with a white mark running vertically through his lips. His white hair was cropped very short. He was also the only member that noticed the staring, and he snuck her a wink and a reassuring smile.

“H….Hello.” Think, think! What did Jala tell you? “I-It’s nice to meet y-y-you all….” This isn’t what Jala taught you at all! Where’s this coming from?! “M-May I ask w-w-w-what I’m doing here?” Narali clapped a hand to their forehead. “Oh! My bad. Mara, you steer the ship. We’ll take care of….” They looked down at Seventeen. “What’s your name?” Seventeen took a deep breath. “My title is Subject Zero One Seven. I belong to the Jala-Felo association. Please return me there as soon as possible.” Lox and Glinn exchanged uncomfortable glances, but Narali’s sharp eyes never left Seventeen. “Not anymore. You don’t belong to anyone. Nobody belongs to anybody on the Licentia.” They extended a hand and Seventeen hesitated, then placed her hand on top of Narali’s. Narali pulled her up to a standing position. “You don’t know it yet, but you’re free. Welcome aboard.”

Seventeen frowned. “What do you mean, free?” Narali released her wrist and Seventeen rubbed it. “That lab is an awful, awful place. Human experimentation, humanoid experimentation… That Jala is well-known across the solar system for being a huge scientific leader. What he’s not well-known for is his…. Methods.” Narali looked away. “Either way, you’re with us now.” A chill ran down Seventeen’s spine and she felt her jaw open, almost unhinge. “No… no, no!” She stumbled back. “You can’t take me away!” Tears spilled down to her mouth, getting caught in the stitches. “Don’t! Please take me back!” she cried. Narali’s face went stony. “Shh. Shh. It’s okay.” They didn’t make a move to touch her, which Seventeen was almost grateful for. But the tears still spilled down and wet the deck until Jala’s voice invaded her mind. No feelings. And she stopped crying and straightened calmly. “Very well. I will await your decision to return me.”

Narali pursed their lips and nodded. “Get Glinn to look at that shoulder of yours.” Lox snorted and whispered something to Glinn, whose face changed from neutral to seriously annoyed in a fraction of a second. She turned and slammed a fist into Lox’s gut, who doubled over, wheezing and clutching his stomach. “Stop thinking with your crotch, Laynes!” She turned to Seventeen with a friendly smile. “Please ignore my associate, he’s an idiot. You may ignore him.” Seventeen nodded quickly. She really didn’t want to mess with Glinn, so she came quickly over when beckoned. Glinn shot a final glare at Lox and took Seventeen by the hand, leading her below deck.

It was quieter down there, and there was a soothing rocking motion as the ship floated through the air, catching the currents. Several portholes let in plenty of light. At one end, there were a few hammocks, with a gap in between them leading to a door. Around the stairs were various books and activities, including a flute, guitar, and a fishtank. Towards the bow of the ship was a table with a map spread across it. Before that were two benches facing each other. Glinn tugged Seventeen over and sat her down, taking out a box with a red cross on it. Glinn brushed Seventeen’s hair off her shoulder and bit her lip before taking out a vial of something. “How are you not screaming right now? Your pain tolerance is incredible…” Glinn sounded impressed. “The skin’s split right down.”

Seventeen shrugged. “Just stitch it back together. That’s what we always did.” Glinn gave her a curious look, mixed with disgust. “What the hell? No anesthetic? Numbing?” Seventeen shook her head and Glinn shrugged, grabbed another vial of some cloudy liquid. “You’re incredible.” Seventeen smiled faintly. “It’s not the tail that tipped you off?” Glinn snorted. “I’ve seen weirder.” She tipped the contents of the vial onto Seventeen’s shoulder. It was cold, but not unpleasant.

Glinn took out a needle and thread and started to sew Seventeen’s shoulder back together. There was no pain, just a small warmth where the stitches were. “So how long had you been at the lab?” she asked, and Seventeen stiffened. “Ever since I could remember.” Glinn shook her head. “I’m sorry…” She made an elaborate twirl with the needle and started to tie it off. “Why?” Seventeen asked and Glinn frowned. “What do you mean?” Seventeen shrugged with her uninjured shoulder. “Why would you be sorry? I’m a huge contribution to science, and the lab. Where you’re going to return me.” Glinn’s expression turned stony and she snapped off the end of the thread. “It’ll take you a while.” She said through gritted teeth. Seventeen didn’t press it; Questions were bad and besides, it didn’t have to matter to her.

There were some quiet footsteps, and Lox jumped down the stairs. His glasses were rimmed with blue now. “Hi, Calamity.” Glinn said, and started to put the first aid kit away. “Hi, Glinn!” Seventeen made a noise of confusion - Lox’s voice was much higher pitched now, with an unfamiliar accent. Glinn side eyed her and nodded. “Lox is the host of a system. That is to say, he has several alters - Calamity is fronting right now. Scientifically, we call it dissociative identity disorder, or DiD.” Seventeen nodded. Jala had taught her about that. “So I should stay away from them?” Glinn stood up, with an incredulous look on her face. “Why would you have to stay away from Lox? Or Calamity, or Vrin, or Aquis, or Misty Drighton?” Seventeen returned her frown. “I’ve been told humans suffering from neurodivergence are unpredictable and volatile. They’re dangerous.”

Glinn stiffened, and twitched her fingers. Calamity hurried over. “Hey. Glinn, calm down. It’s just how the newbie’s been taught. You’re angry at Jala, not her. Calm down.” Glinn took a deep breath, and just like that, the tension drained from her body and she sagged. “You’ve been lied to. It’s just too many people to one body. Trust me on that.” Calamity’s glasses blinked back to purple. “I’ll front for a little bit, Calamity. You head back to the headspace.”

Lox crouched. “I’m not planning to hurt anyone here. I’ll do most things within reason to prove myself.” Seventeen stood up, looming over even Glinn. “I don’t associate with people like you.” Lox winced. “That kinda hurts, man.” He stood, raising his hands. “I’ll wait in the crow’s till y’ calm down.” He backed up the stairs, darting off above deck. Glinn looked coldly at Seventeen. “You stay there.” She said, her voice icy and terrible, and when she left, Seventeen sat down, pulling her knees to her chest. She had no idea what she had done, but there was something telling her that something was wrong. She didn’t know what. It was all so confusing… Seventeen’s head tilted down and she began to cry.

#I'll upload some illustrations #and some pronunciations and a map later #stitches

12 notes · View notes