#also...it's been 27 chapters since these two made out...which far too long | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

d1xonss · 11 months ago

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Desert Rose

Chapter 27 ~ New Beginnings

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 3

✧ Word Count : 6.1k

In this chapter ~ Months had passed as the group had found no real sanctuary, wandering around aimlessly together and bouncing from place to place just trying to stay alive. Although, just when they were close to losing hope, they found something that was only proven to be some kind of miracle. Their safe haven.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ROSE POV *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eight months. That's how long we've been trying to find a place to stay. Eight long months.

We had been close to all over the place since we began to travel east, picking apart houses we came across and staying there for only a night or two before we were on the move again. It wasn't easy and ever since Rick's big, ruthless speech; things haven't been the same. Everyone only grew closer with one another as we seemed to spend nearly every waking minute together in close quarters. But it always seemed different whenever Rick was also present in the room. It's as if they were all too uneasy to breathe a word around him, only speaking if it was absolutely necessary.

I continuously tried to talk to him a few times at first after the whole incident, attempting to speak with him like we used to, but he would either get irritable with me or just plain ignore me. There was never an in between. So after a while, I stopped trying. I didn't want to give up the idea that someday he would be okay, but watching him slowly slip away and ignore the people he once cared so much for, it was hard to keep that idea alive.

Winter was rough this year and if I was being completely honest with myself, sometimes I questioned if we would even make it through. You could easily tell just by looking at us just how much of our spirits had crumbled since our time on the farm. Which now seemed like a lifetime ago. But somehow, we always found a way to keep pushing on.

Though throughout the cold and harsh weather, Daryl somehow got very sick at one point and that lasted far much longer than I would've ever liked. But I stayed by his side at all times, getting him anything he needed as he slowly recovered. It nearly made me laugh at how needy he became when he finally admitted he wasn't feeling good, he never seemed to want me to leave. But lucky for him, I never wanted to.

And Lori alone had her many ups and downs through the long season. She was dealing with a pretty rough pregnancy and was constantly feeling tired and sick even now when she's about to pop. I had gotten a little closer with her than I would've guessed in the past, reassuring her that I would be there if she ever needed something, and she was always grateful for that. I also helped her and Rick out by keeping an extra eye on Carl every once in a while, though I knew he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

He had changed a lot more than the rest of us, more than I ever could've imagined. He had gotten colder. He still liked to joke around with me every once and a while, but he was mostly quiet and was in a constant mood.

It was a lot to get comfortable with, the different things we had to adjust to. But again, that's how we managed to get by.

Currently, we were making our way towards a house that he hadn't checked out yet in a somewhat new area, following behind a few of the guys while the rest stayed outside until we gave the okay that it was safe. I pulled out my bow and loaded an arrow in place, aiming it as we approached closer to the door. Oh yeah that's another thing that happened.

Within the first month of being on the road, I had come across a store filled to the brim with weapons, spotting a bow and arrows sitting in the corner and I thanked my lucky stars. I loved my throwing knives, but I thought it was time for a change. Of course, I let Daryl show me how to shoot it and he was a pretty good teacher...well, when we were actually focused on practicing.

We slowly made our way into the house, opening the front door quietly as I started heading upstairs with Carl to check out the bedrooms. He nodded at me, letting me know that he was going to look in the first door on the right as he slowly stepped towards the entrance. I went towards the left, swinging the door open somewhat loudly with my weapon raised and my eyes scanning the space. I was met with only a lone walker in the corner of the room, and I didn't hesitate to pull back and shoot it quickly before it even turned around to face me.

I walked in further and took a glance around for anything that could be useful but was left with nothing as per usual. Sighing quietly to myself, I pulled my arrow out of its head and placed it in the quiver on my back with the others. I slowly made my way back downstairs and by the time I got there, everyone else was gathered in the living room sitting down and getting settled for however long we planned to stay.

I spotted Daryl sitting in the corner of the room, walking over to sit next to him on the floor as he plucked feathers from a dead owl, and my brows furrowed slightly as I eyed the thing. I wasn't going to ask. My eyes simply lingered on the others, watching them talk quietly to themselves even though the house was completely clear. My mind wandered involuntarily when I suddenly felt something fluffy touch my face.

I glanced over and Daryl was smirking at me with feathers flying around my face, tickling my nose as he threw more at me. I gave him a playful glare and pushed his arm lightly as he chuckled to himself, thinking he was absolutely hilarious. He then pulled me closer to him with one hand and kissed the top of my head, before turning back to defeathering the owl.

Carl's fast footsteps rushed back into the room seconds later with an excited look on his face, glancing down in his arms to see that he had found some canned food. I leaned in closer to look at the label, before quickly realizing that it was dog food. My heart sank at the thought of him being that hungry, he was willing to eat practically anything.

Rick noticed this as well from across the room and before Carl could even do anything, he took one of the cans and threw it against the wall without a word. We all stayed silent as we watched the scene in front of us, not muttering a single word like usual.

But T-Dog giving out a single whistle from where he sat by the window, made us all jump up fast, knowing now that there were walkers making their way towards us. We all quickly gathered our things and made our way out of the back door towards the vehicles parked near the trees. I rushed over and placed my stuff in the trunk of one of the cars along with my bow and arrows with Hershel slamming it right behind me.

I then quickly jogged towards Daryl's bike and hopped on behind him, taking his crossbow to slip on my back while I wrapped my arms around his waist. After he knew I was on safely he started it up and took off with the rest of them following close behind, the dead slowly trailing behind us.

After we drove for a few minutes, the house now long gone in the distance, we eventually pulled over to look at our map, planning on where to hit next. It remained quiet as all of us scanned the areas to see where the next best stop was, with Carl and Beth standing watch in front and behind us for anything in the trees around the area. I noticed pretty much right away that there was hardly anything new that we hadn't already been through, but I wasn't going to lose hope. We were all tired of running around, but that didn't mean we were going to give up anytime soon.

"We got no place left to go." Hershel was the first to state out loud.

"When this herd meets up with this one, we'll be cut off. We'll never make it south." Maggie said.

Daryl came up next to me, pointing to the map as he asked, "What would you say? That was about one hundred-fifty head?"

"That was last week," Glenn confirmed, "It could be twice that by now."

"This river could've delayed them. If we move fast, we might have a shot to tear right through here."Hershel pointed.

I nodded, "Yeah but if this group joins with that one, they could spill out this way." I muttered as I drew a line from the nearby herd, to right where we were moving towards.

"So, we're blocked." Maggie concluded.

"The only thing to do is double back at 27 and swing towards Greenville." Rick said.

T-Dog shook his head with a click of his tongue, "Yeah, we picked through that already. It's like we spent the winter going in circles."

My eyes almost rolled to the back of my head in frustration, "We did spend the whole winter going in circles." I said, feeling him place a hand on my shoulder in agreement.

"Yeah, I know, I know. At Newnan we'll push west. Haven't been through there yet. We can't keep going house to house, need to find somewhere to hole up for a couple weeks." Rick said, glancing back at Lori who was still sitting in one of the cars.

"Alright," T-Dog nodded, "Is it cool if we get to the creek before we head out? It won't take long, gotta fill up on water we can boil later."

"Knock yourself out." Rick replied.

Everyone dispersed after that to do their own thing while I continued to stare at the map for a few more seconds. We'd be stuck here for a little while as we filled up the waters and searched nearby for some food, I hoped the herd wouldn't catch up to us as we didn't have a choice but to stay here for a few hours at least. With where we were at, we had to think through every decision thoughtfully, otherwise shit could hit the fan.

Pushing myself off the hood of the car after a few seconds, I felt an arm gently wrap around my waist and I looked up to see Daryl smiling down at me sweetly, "Hi." I greeted.

"Hi." he muttered while quickly kissing my cheek, "M' gonna go scope the area quick, you wanna come with?"

I shook my head, "No, I'm going to keep an eye on Lori. But maybe take Rick with you? Maybe it'll help ease his mind."

We both seemed to turn at the same time to see the man anxiously pacing back and forth, unsure of where we had parked ourselves for a little while. "Alright," Daryl agreed quickly, "I'll see ya in a bit." he promised while squeezing my hip lightly.

I nodded and watched him walk off towards Rick, subtly glancing down at his ass for a few seconds before heading over to the car Lori was in. In my defense, it was hard to miss and I'm not a saint.

I walked right up to the passenger side door knocked on the window a few times to bring her attention towards me, glancing up as she rolled down the window so we could talk.

"How're you feeling?" I asked her.

She sighed, "I don't know, physically right now I feel fine. But I'm just-" she stopped for a minute, "What if we don't find a place?"

My eyes softened as soon as I heard the slight crack to her voice, "We will. And anyway, that's for us to worry about. You just worry about keeping you and that little peanut safe."

She smiled at the nickname, rubbing a hand over her stomach before her smile turned sour once again, "I can't help but worry Ro. I'm scared for this baby and what's going to happen if we don't find a safe place before..." she trailed off, not wanting to finish her thought.

"We will," I reassured her, "We'll find it soon, I can feel it."

Just as those final words left my mouth, we heard rustling coming from the bushes in front of us and I instantly took out my knife, only to see it was Daryl and Rick already returning. They carried nothing more in their hands, and I was beyond surprised to see Rick with a huge unreal smile on his face, looking the most hopeful he had in months.

"...What's up?" I asked cautiously.

Daryl smiled small before nodding back to where they had just came from, "Yer gonna want to see this."

Seeing their sudden happiness the two seemed to bring back with them, it caused the others to anxiously gather their things and move to follow them to whatever they seemed to find. I didn't know what to really expect, but I can genuinely say I never in a million years expected this.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of large gates that led to an overrun prison, instantly seeing why the guys were so excited about this. It needed a lot of work, but this could be the perfect place for Lori to safely have her baby without drawing attention to ourselves. The perfect place where we could actually start building a life behind the safe and sturdy walls. I felt a smile creep onto my face at the possibilities as Rick was cutting the fence so we could easily sneak in. I didn't know what the plan was, but I would do whatever it took to guarantee a safe place for us to stay for a long, long time.

All of us made it through the hole in the gate and were now running down towards another, noting the number of walkers that filled the grassy field just on the other side. I knew someone would have to go in there blindly to kill as many as possible to make it to the other side, leading us one step closer to the main building. We needed to get the farthest gate closed that led to the cell blocks so more walkers wouldn't spill in, leaving us to take one small herd at a time instead of all at once. There were many of them scattered across the land, but in my mind we could easily take them all on. We just had to be careful.

"It's perfect," Rick breathed, "If we can shut that gate, prevent more from filling the yard, we can pick off these walkers and be in the field by tonight."

"So how do we shut the gate?" Hershel asked.

I was about to speak up, but Glenn quickly beat me to it, "I'll do it you guys cover me." he said.

But Maggie shook her head and protested quickly, "No, it's a suicide run."

"I'm the fastest." he argued.

"In your dreams." I stepped in with a scoff, "I'm definitely the fastest and you know it."

An annoyed look crossed his features as he turned towards me, "It's not a competition Ro."

"I never said it was," I replied, "I'm saying if anyone should go in there to close the gate it's me."

"Nah, ya ain't going alone." Daryl protested immediately.

"She's not," Rick stepped in, "I'll go with her."

I glanced up at him with narrowed eyes, "I don't need a babysitter."

"I know Ro, but we'll help cover you. It's the safest way, just let me help you." Rick nearly pleaded in a softer voice than before.

His just his tone by itself made me stop and look at him seriously. This was the first time in a very long time Rick had actually shown that he cared about me, or anything for that matter. Seeing him be so sure of something, the light slowly coming back into his eyes, I felt I couldn't argue further. So I nodded my head once as he quickly began telling the others what to do, while I looked back out to the many walkers, counting how many I would have to take down.

"Be safe." Daryl's voice whispered as he gently turned me around to face him.

I smirked, "Always am." I replied, repeating his own words back to him.

He gave me a small smile before turning around to go back to one of the watchtowers with Carol, having an advantage from higher up. I watched everyone else spread out, heading towards the gates to bang on the metal fence and distract them while Rick and I slowly made our way into the lions den. While others headed up into the watchtowers, taking out their guns to kill the ones in the distance.

"You ready?" Rick asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I nodded my head and pulled my gun out to have at my side. We opened the main gate slowly and tried to quietly make our way up the gravel path without drawing too much attention, though the small rocks crunched heavily under our feet. I ran a little ways ahead of him and shot the walkers that were getting too close to me while he covered me, making sure none of them were sneaking up on us from behind.

I heard gunshots come from the towers where our people were slowly picking them off, but the noise began to draw more their attention towards us faster than I would've liked. I started to notice more of the walkers were making their way over to us, now not caring about the people behind the gates. The two of us then booked it towards the main gate that led to the prison, now not caring about being silent, but wanting to be fast.

I rushed up to it first, attempting to shut it while kicking a walker back in the chest that was trying to make its way out. Rick came up right behind me as I held it shut, taking clamps to hook it onto the fence, bonding them tightly to close it. We then shot at a few more walkers piling up behind us before making a break for it towards the watchtower to our right just before they could reach us as we slammed the door shut.

We rushed towards the top in a flash, hearing Daryl yell, "Light it up!" the second he noticed we were safe.

The group then didn't hesitate to shoot the rest of the walkers scattered across the field, Rick and I aiming our weapons to help out with the side that we had. And before we knew it, the last walker dropped dead to the ground, and we had the whole field cleared. I turned to Rick with a smile on my face and to my surprise, he was smiling too, amazed at what we had just accomplished. I held up my hand to him and he gladly took it in his own, while looking out at the progress we just made.

The two of us then made our way back down as the rest entered through the gates, amazing positive energy filling the entire now empty space.

"We haven't had this much space since the farm!" Carol yelled as she held her arms out running further into the field with a delirious laugh.

I watched slightly further back from everyone as they carried their things tightly to their backs, finding a good place to set up for the night. The gates being built up around us just gave us all this new sense of hope that I couldn't quite describe, a feeling that we would finally be safe after all this time of running constantly. Finally, being able to breathe.

Darkness now coated the sky as a few hours had passed since we got settled. The group sat around the big fire we had built, having something to eat while Rick and Daryl kept watch on either end of the large field. Small, hushed chatter filled the air around us, the most we had talked in a very long time, and genuine laughter that followed.

Glenn finished eating from beside me and tossed the can to the ground, "Mmm just like mom used to make." he muttered sarcastically.

I laughed quietly to myself before turning towards Lori as if it was a routine, and offered her the rest of the food still on my plate. She immediately declined, like she did every single time, but I didn't budge or move my hand away until she finally took the food away from me with a sigh. I couldn't help but worry that the woman wasn't eating enough along with everyone else, occasionally taking turns in giving her more food each night.

After finally finishing up, I stood to my feet and grabbed a spare plate, piling on the remaining food on it for Daryl who was standing tall on a bus that laid on its side on the far side of the grass. Walking over there was a workout within itself, but the man noticed rather quickly as he placed his weapon down beside him. He held out a hand for me once I was close enough, pulling me up with ease so I could stand with him alone for a while as he ate.

"What's for dinner tonight?" he asked as he glanced down at the food, now looking more like mush.

"Well," I sighed, "The options were either ravioli or ravioli...tough choice but I went with ravioli." I said as I handed him the plate.

"Ah." he muttered as he took it from me, "You eat yet?" he asked before even taking a bite.

I nodded my head, "Yeah."

He narrowed his eyes a little at me, taking a bite silently before muttering, "Yer a liar." I tilted my head in confusion, "I ain't blind, I saw ya give the rest of your food to Lori." he stated.

I rolled my eyes, "Well, she needs it more than I do right now."

He stared at me silently before finishing only half of his food before handing the rest over to me, "No." I immediately declined.

"Yes." he said with a crooked grin on his face.

"Daryl." I warned.

"Rosie." he mocked my tone, "Eat. Ya need it more than I do right now." he repeated back to me with knowing eyes.

I sighed, "Fine. We'll split it." I caved as I ate half of the half and handed it right back over to him.

"Nah." he said immediately.

"Look, it's called a compromise, I know you're not familiar. But everyone wins in this scenario." I stated while placing the plate in his hands.

He scoffed, "I ain't winnin, I wanted ya to eat all of it."

"I ate some of it, now you eat the rest. You're not getting exactly what you want, but kind of at the same time," I explained as if he were a child. Though he didn't respond to me, only giving me a blank stare, "If you want me to eat that you'll have to shove it down my throat." I finished.

He smirked a little, before finally eating what was left on the plate, "Kinky." he muttered.

"Oh my God." I huffed, slightly laughing as I looked down at my shoes, though I could feel his eyes on me. I eventually glanced up and leaned into him as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, kissing his lips softly and pulled back to watch his cheeks tint a deep red.

"So, how are you feeling, love?" I asked him.

He shrugged, "Hopeful I guess... considerin we found this place. How you doin?"

"I'm good, I'm just kind of worried." he raised an eyebrow at me, so I continued, "What if this place is too good to be true? I just don't want to get my hopes up." I said, looking back towards the small group.

He lifted his hand and placed it on my cheek to get me to look back at him when he spoke, "Ya don't gotta worry bout that. I think this place is safe and if it isn't, I'll protect ya. You know that." he finished, kissing my forehead.

I sighed and took his hand that was holding my face and kissed his palm, before holding it down at my side, "I know you will, I just... can't help but overthink, you know?"

He nodded in response and we both seemed to turn back to look at our group in front of us, huddled close together by the fire. My eyes then wandered up to Rick for a moment who was still pacing back and forth by the fence as if something would suddenly pop out of the woods, and I furrowed my eyebrows in concern. He hadn't stopped by to eat something or even give us an update on how things looked on the north side of the fence that he had been guarding.

He still wasn't okay by any means, but I was hoping since we found this place, it would lift his spirits a bit. Maybe give him some peace of mind for Lori, even if things between them weren't the best. He still loved her more than she even realized.

My shoulder then twitched involuntarily from the pain it was constantly in, causing me to roll it back and forth a little in an attempt to ease the soreness.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, just my shoulder, I don't know it's been hurting recently. Probably from sleeping on hardwood floors for God only knows how long." I joked.

His brows furrowed, "Why didn't ya say somethin?" he asked.

I looked at him confused, "I don't know?"

He chuckled, "Turn around." he muttered with a nod of his head.

I did what he asked and then felt his hands go to my shoulders and rubbed them, not too hard but just the perfect amount of pressure and I sighed in content as my eyes fluttered closed.

"Am I hurtin ya?" he asked softly.

"God no." I said as I let my head lean to the side.

I heard a deep chuckle escape him as he continued to work his fingers into my sore muscles. His hands then slowly moved towards the sides of my neck, traveling his way all the way down my back before landing back up on my shoulders again. I felt chills run down my spine at the feeling of relief washing over me, but then he stopped after only a few minutes much to my dismay. I groaned at the loss of contact the second he took his hands away, hearing him chuckle again to himself.

"Better?" he asked.

"No," I muttered, shaking my head, "I think you need to keep doing that for like...a few hours at least." I said as I turned back around to face him again.

He smiled a bit with a tilt of his head, "Don't worry, we'll get some alone time and then I'll do whatever ya want." he winked.

I raised my eyebrows at him, "Really? Okay, but I am definitely not having sex up against a tree again." I joked.

He smiled and shrugged, "Hey, we can check it off the bucket list."

"You have a bucket list for our sex life?" I asked with furrowed brows.

"Nah but I should." he said, before I felt him reach down to pinch my ass. I gasped and hit him playfully in the chest as he just laughed at his own actions.

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't help but smile a little at his more positive demeanor. "We should be getting back." I reminded.

"Yeah, yer probably right." he agreed as he turned to grab his crossbow, before cautiously jumping off of the bus.

My eyes followed him before glancing back down to the ground nervously, watching him turn around and see my hesitation, "Don't worry, I'll catch ya." he assured.

"It looks so much higher up from right here." I voiced, and he held out his arms in response.

I felt myself smile before carefully slipping off the bus, feeling him catching me around my waist to bring me back down on my feet slowly. His hands stayed firmly on my waist for a moment, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on my cheek before turning around and picking his weapon up off the ground.

We then walked back to the others hand in hand, overhearing Beth say something when we got close enough.

"No one wants to hear." she muttered with a shy shake of her head.

"No one wants to hear what?" I asked her while Daryl and I sat down on the grass.

Glenn looked over at me, "Hershel wants her to sing, set the mood, but she thinks no one wants to listen."

I looked back over at Beth, "That's not true, hon we want to hear, sing us something."

She glanced up at me with a small smile on her face, "I'll sing...if you sing with me." she suggested.

I felt my cheeks get hot from embarrassment as everyone around me looked towards me with a certain glint in their eyes. I couldn't even bring myself to look over at the man next to me as I groaned internally. Why? I swallowed the lump that seemed to form in my throat, waving the girl off as I laughed nervously, the group expecting me to say something.

"I don't know." I muttered.

"I didn't know you could sing." Carol said with a smile on her face.

I shrugged, "I don't really...I haven't much the past few years."

"Oh, are you kidding? You sounded spectacular the last time I heard you." Hershel complimented.

I could feel the anxiety slowly creeping back up as Glenn prodded me again, "Come on, just one song. I've been wanting to hear you sing." he tried to convince.

I closed my eyes momentarily as I tried to keep my cool. None of them realized the severity I had behind this whole thing, they had no idea that singing just brought back horrible memories of the past. To them it was all in good fun, a talent that perhaps I shouldn't keep hidden just for myself, but the truth was it wasn't a talent. It was a coping mechanism. Something to distract me while my mother was on her fifth rampage of the day. Some trauma that was still built up and tucked away from when I was young.

"Ya don't have to if ya don't want to." Daryl said suddenly, whispering close to my ear so only I would hear, "Just say the word and I'll yell at em to stop." he joked, though I knew he was completely serious.

I huffed out a laugh as I shook my head, silently telling him that it was okay. I could tell how much the young girl didn't want to do this alone, and at some point I had to get it through my thick head that these people weren't here to hurt me. They weren't here to degrade me or mistreat me like my mother did, they were here to support me and applaud me for even the smallest accomplishments.

I sighed to myself with almost regret in my tone as I asked, "What song are we singing?"

Beth smiled wide, "You pick." she said in excitement.

I thought to myself for a moment before deciding on a Tom Petty song, Free Fallin. That specific song offered me some type of comfort that I couldn't exactly describe, but I knew it would help at least a little when it came to singing in front of everyone. It felt odd, having all those eyes on you as you tried desperately not to think about it, but I was only really doing it for Beth. With the day that we just had after all those hard months, I felt like I couldn't let her down.

Although it got better towards the end, Beth signaling for everyone to join in at the last part so we would all come in together. Our voices all mixed together softly and quietly, still somewhat aware of the things outside the fences, but laughing softly and enjoying it nonetheless. In the end it turned out to be a sweet moment, and one that we would all surely remember.

As it came to a close, soft applause came from everywhere, "Beautiful." Hershel complimented once we were done.

Everyone else muttered something in agreement, filling the silence with compliments about how great it was, especially hearing it on such a calm quiet night. One that we hadn't had in a long time.

Beth reached over to squeeze my hand as they continued to chat in the background, "I'm proud of you." she whispered with a smile.

I squeezed her hand, "Thanks, hon." I said genuinely, knowing that she had no clue how much those words truly meant to me.

She nodded and opened her mouth to say something else, but Rick's presence suddenly came back to join the rest of us, "Better all turn in, I'll take watch over there. Got a big day tomorrow." he announced.

He then continued when nobody spoke up, "I know we're all exhausted, this was a great win. But we have to push just a little bit more. Most of the walkers are dressed as guards and prisoners, looks like this place fell pretty early. It could mean the supplies may be intact, they would have an infirmary, a commissary."

"An armory?" Daryl questioned.

"That would be outside the prison itself but not too far away. Warden's office would have info on the location. Weapons, food, medicine. This place could be a gold mine."

Hershel then voiced his worry, "We're dangerously low on ammo. We'd run out before we could make a dent."

"That's why we go in there, hand to hand. After all we've been through, we can handle it. I know it. These assholes don't stand a chance." Rick said with a nod of his head, turning back to check the perimeter one last time.

I sighed quietly to myself before standing up to find my backpack, to try and get some sleep before tomorrow came quicker than I wanted. I laid down flat on my back in the soft grass, resting my arms behind my head as I looked up at the stars, hearing the others get situated as they too got ready to sleep. I felt someone come and lay down slightly next to me, looking over to see Carl resting on his stomach as he sent me a small smile.

"You sounded good." he said quietly.

I playfully rolled my eyes as I scoffed, "Yeah, thanks kid," I muttered before reaching up to tip his hat down so it would cover his eyes, "Try and get some sleep, okay?"

He nodded and laid down on his back, pulling his hat completely over his eyes to block out anything else as he tried to fall asleep. I followed his actions, seeing as I was barely able to keep my eyes open from the exhaustion, before I felt someone's arm wrap around me and pull me in closer. Smiling in content, I leaned in closer to rest my head on his chest, feeling him breathe in and out deeply.

"You amaze me every day, darlin." he suddenly spoke softly.

I peeled my eyes open and looked up at him, "What do you mean?" I asked in confusion.

He shook his head, "Had no idea ya could sing like that." he said, tracing circles on my back lightly.

My face flushed as his words left a tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach, thinking back to how his gaze was burning into me the whole time I sang softly with Beth. I had noticed it almost instantly, but tried not to let my mind linger too much on it as I focused on the lyrics. Though the feeling rushed back to me in an instant, thinking how no one had ever looked at me like that before him. But I liked it, maybe even a little more than I let on.

But I didn't say anything in response to him as I buried my face in his chest from slight embarrassment, hearing him chuckle before placing his hand on the side of my face to get me to look at him.

"Nah, don't try and escape from it now." he joked, "How come ya never told me?" he asked, lightly rubbing my cheek with his thumb.

"To be fair, I only told Glenn and then his big mouth told everyone else," I said to which he nodded, "And I don't know...it's kind of hard to explain. More like something from my past that I just...want to ignore forever."

His face dropped slightly upon hearing that, somewhat knowing what I meant and didn't say anything else, but only brought me closer to him. I sighed in content as I scooted closer, hearing the steady sound of his heart beating, and feeling him place a kiss on top of my head.

I knew I never needed to explain myself to him, because somehow, he always knew. He always knew without me having to say a single word, and I loved that about him. He didn't pry, he didn't assume, he just held me close as if he wanted to take away the painful memories it brought me.

~ Thanks for reading!

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sweetzsuprise · 11 months ago

Text

TBHK CHAPTER 109 SPOILERS (ENDING)

Analysis + mini theory

don’t click if you don’t want to be spoiled !!

I’m the self proclaimed #1 Akane fan and like this chapter has destroyed me. It’s sent me PACING around my room just thinking about it.

This going to be all over the place, very long and probably a bit hard to read but I’ll keep it together as best as I can.

The Yorishoro situation. Akane human with human insides and obviously if ripped open he’ll die but as a clock keeper does he have similar insides to Mirai and Kako? They easily were defeated as that. Being the only clock keeper left and everywhere else checked it makes sense that he’s the one with the yorishoro. However it feels so weird for that to even be an option.

Kako and Mirai have been No.1 longer than Hanako has been No.7 as stated here,

(chapter 58)

so why hide it inside Akane? They had somewhere else to hide it so why didn’t they keep it there? (unless there was a repeating cycle of getting a new student to be the Present). She still has yet to have that talk with him as well. *

(chapter 25)

I feel it’s important to address this in relation. Akane states that the Clock Keepers tricked him into accepting his role by attempting to harm Aoi (and accuses Hanako of forcing Yashiro into working for him through trickery). He was only starting out middle school at the time of the incident, so it’s potentially been inside of him since then. Did they want him specifically to hide the yorishoro? What would it even be? My immediate thought was it would be Aoi related, but this is the yorishoro for all of them, and precedes Akane.

There is the potential it is maybe the pocket watch he carries which is a likely option. It allows him to stop time, and each yorishoro are deeply connected to the mysteries. Being able to protect/watch Aoi with it is important to him. And similar reasons may be for Kako and Mirai. I also question how he could even see the supernaturals prior to becoming one and it made sense to me; he’s going to die.

Death. Now onto my main reason for this entire post. I’m 100% certain at this point someone is going to die. Akane is a high contender and here’s my reasoning. He needs special glasses to allow him to continue going on as a student without seeing supernaturals. Yashiro can only see supernaturals because she is set to die within the following year.

(chapter 27)

Akane goes on to explain that the supernaturals aren’t like them and don’t care what happens to them, a hint at that he knows that he’d potentially die in the future or that I’m reading too much into it. Of course he could have that sixth sense, without being an exorcist, like Teru or Kou but with how high the stakes are for the next chapter it is very likely he’s going to die, in my opinion. But he’s only one of my two options.

My second option is Teru, and it’s mainly because of these panels back during the semester finals.

(chapter 59)

why would he feel the need to say this? As far as I know, the near future he talks about hasn’t happened yet even though we’re 50+ chapters and I believe more than 5 arcs in). Teru assumes Kou will come to Akane, but why him and not his older brother? Unless Teru knew he was going to die. He’s been pretty unphased for most of this current arc despite the circumstances. So, here are my two options for how the next chapter goes. 1. tsukasa gets to akane

2. akane is protected again tsukasa

And who better to protect Akane than the exorcist himself? Those two are much closer to each other than the others with them being Student Council and often seen together. And despite any grudge towards Akane Teru might have, I’m certain he’d still jump in to protect him. He’s human before he’s supernatural. In the above photos Teru mentions that Kou will ask for Akane’s aid but then says that in a more specific way, to protect Kou with ‘all of your powers’. There’s the possibility Teru does die and Kou goes to Akane to try and bring him back but is in danger OR it has something to do with Yashiro.

What’s weird to me is how he specifies all of Akane’s powers. As far as reader knowledge, his power only affects the present by stopping time for 5-10 minutes, as well as enhanced physical strength. Either he has more powers up his sleeve that we’ve yet to see or he takes the role of No.1 entirely and inherits the other two Clock Keeper’s powers if they’re gone for good. It just feels very weird for someone to say that out of the blue if they don’t have even a tiny idea of their fate.

Also read that there could be a dark backstory/history reveal and god I want it to be one of them so bad I need more Akane content 🙏

* This could become a plot point with how the current arc is going (and if he survives)

Anyways thats my too many cents! I probably missed some points out or need to elaborate so if that’s needed I will.

#tbhk #tbhk manga #tbhk spoilers #tbhk chapter 109 #toilet bound hanako kun #tbhk akane #tbhk teru

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thousand-winters · 2 months ago

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Pal, I hope the cats are doing well!! I have fanfic questions for you! 5, 7, 20, 27, 36, 48, ok I gotta stop there's too many good questions haha

Hi, friend!!! They're very good, they have been cuddling on my bed these past week because it has been so incredibly cold, so they're living their best lives haha. I hope you and your cats have been doing as well as you possibly can, given the circumstances 💖

It does have some amazing questions, it's hard to decide what to pick when it comes to asking. But let's get into that haha.

5. How many wips do you have? What fandoms/pairings are they for?

... Oh, boy. Let me count them, haha. There's...

4 I have pending for Dadrius week (crying, by the time I'm done with that, it's going to be the next Dadrius week, surely). Do I count the two multichapters I have going on? I'm not going to, just to give myself some grace ahaha.

For MP100 I have one silly little idea for Reigen's birthday, one Dimple centric fic that I'm struggling for my life with because his interactions with Reigen keep coming out flirty, one silly Terumob inspired in a Mean Girls song, and the "Reigen pulls an Eda" fic. I technically have more but shhhh, only picking the ones I have faith in. So that's another 4.

And then finally for Saiki K I have vampire Kaido that I need to finish for Halloween but we'll see what the gods say about it, the Aren intervention™️ that I might turn shippy out of spite, and then Hairo getting burnt out. So 3, surprisingly not that much yet. I'm refraining from any Teruhashi ideas because I know I'm not gonna shut up with her.

That gives me a total of 11 things without counting multichapters I have to update. Not too bad. I think. Help me LMAO.

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

Reigen pauses all of his movements and looks up from his game, one eyebrow raised. “Unless… you really like my company, I guess.” Dimple huffs. As if. “In your dreams.” “More like my nightmares.” “You would be lucky to have me in your nightmares.”

Why does it sound flirty. Am I going crazy. Help.

20. Do you prefer writing AUs or canon fics?

Canon fics, I think. I like exploring the possibilities and it's honestly less of a headache to have certain things about the characters already established rather than to have to think about how a new background has shaped their life haha.

I really, really enjoy AUs, but in terms of what's easier, canon is always good to play with, especially when it's a fandom in which there's a lot to explore and usually that's the case.

27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

Mmmm... the sequence of events, if that makes sense? Like I'm generally good at picturing how one thing gets from one point to the other, which might not say much about the way in which I actually write it when it comes down to it, but I do think it's important to have a grasp on how you get from point A to point B, and I think I'm good at that. If it ever feels rushed, that's a problem of my descriptions and redaction, not the plan in my head, I believe haha.

36. What fic are you proudest of?

The stars too, they tell of spring returning continues being my baby. I've been re-reading it in the hopes I can get back to it soon and oof. I went off with that one, it has a good amount of tension and it doesn't stall too long in unnecessary bits in my opinion? I don't know, I just like it. I did start writing the next chapter, it's just a matter of time, we'll get there!!!

48. Who is your favorite character to write for? Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?

Darius Deamonne my beloved. I do think I need to make him a bit bitchier haha, I have made him far too soft lately, and while I do believe he's a sucker for his loved ones, he's also a bitch in the best of ways. But anyway, this says your favorite and not the one you write the best so I stand by the fact it's Darius, he's just fun in all of his little complexities, his snarkiness and his softness and his vulnerability. I love him madly.

My favorite to write for used to be Hunter, for sure. Now with him I think it was in part because he's easy. He's so terribly traumatized that I always joke with my friends that you can project some things on him and chances are it'll stick because he has all the issues in the world, poor tang haha.

Thanks for the questions, friend!!! From this ask game

#ask games

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dolly-on-the-dotted-line · 3 years ago

Text

Laredo, Summer, Age 27: Cousin Stella’s Wedding

Javi's been AWOL for nearly twelve months. Coming home for a family wedding isn’t exactly fun for the town runaway.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: General Angst, Smut, Drinking

A/N: Series debut of Grumpy Javi and also Serious Adult Javi. There’s a big time jump between the last main chapter and this one, the important events of which (Javi and Lorraine's engagement, leaving her at the altar, etc) will be filled in throughout the Interludes for Changes. More of those coming up shortly. A lot can happen in three years, and it certainly has. The tone of this chapter is quite different to the rest so far, so I hope I hit it right.

Laredo, Summer, Age 27: Cousin Stella's Wedding

Chucho is full of nervous energy. It’s the best of him, this excitement, fed entirely by the warm potential of being around the people he loves and seeing them happy.

For that reason alone, a family wedding is his idea of Shangri-La, and he’s alight with the joy of it; having everyone in one place, celebrating something as simple as being in love and promising to stick with it for as long as you can manage.

It makes your heart ache, how much happiness he derives from that of others, how easily that selfless part of his nature comes to the fore and, in turn, has just become an extension of himself.

It’s for that very reason his energy is nervous at all.

Family or not, today’s ceremony is also the first since his son’s own ill-fated wedding day, or lack thereof. While Chucho Peña doesn’t care for canards or local chit-chat, he does care deeply for Javier. And it had been a rough twelve months for the prodigal son.

Javi’s full of nervous energy too, but a completely different kind. His is the self-destructive stuff, that starts a fight in a bar or a break-up if someone asks the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Where Chucho is on edge, Javi is indignant, and for every one of his Father’s concerned glances, gentle pats, and unanswered observations about the weather, Javi’s dishing from an unending stockpile of grunts, grumbles, and deafening silences.

Between the two of them, and with the addition of your own watchful eye, the house is practically thrumming with anticipation, all three of you sitting on the cusp of an explosion, patiently waiting for the pin to be pulled.

You and Pa had been amazed and concerned in equal measure when Javi announced he’d be coming back for the ceremony. You had mentioned it in passing during your monthly phone call, a toe in the water, a gentle reminder that the world was still turning back in Laredo, but intended as nothing more than that.

The speed of his turnaround had been astonishing, and to your complete surprise, he was crossing state lines for home not two days later. He’d rolled up, bag in hand and best suit in tow, and sat down for Saturday night dinner as if nothing had changed.

Except it had. No one had seen him for nearly a year.

The three of you knew he couldn’t stay away forever, but the timing of it all seemed like it was going to be a sink-or-swim situation - a prediction that had been making itself increasingly apparent since the morning began.

In lieu of his objectively pleasant homecoming last night, he’d been in a foul mood from the moment he woke up, flip-flopping between abject silence and resentful commentary, before eventually settling for a variety of murmurs and raised eyebrows in response to anyone that dared talk to him directly.

Breakfast had been a painful face-off as the three of you scratched forks, poured coffee, and made three-way eye contact that said everything any of you needed to.

By the time he stalked off to get ready, the tension in the room was unbearable.

Chucho let out a nervous laugh when he heard the bedroom door close upstairs, finally allowing himself to speak freely for the first time this morning without the fear of instigating nuclear warfare in his own kitchen.

“Ay, Niña, it’s going to be a long day.”

“These cursed wedding breakfasts are becoming a tradition of ours, eh Pa?”

“Apparently so.”

“I wondered when the bad mood would hit, I just didn’t expect it to be daybreak. I knew last night had gone too well.”

Chucho had revelled in having his little family back together again, if only for a few days.

You’d only been back for a day or two before Javi arrived, also making the trip especially for Stella’s big day, and not planning to stay longer than you needed to. But you’d been almost as absent as him this year, and having you back in Peña territory was the only excuse Chucho needed to make a fuss.

The food was en-masse, the ice tea cold, and the conversation golden as you spent two dutiful evenings catching your Pa up on every detail of your life in New York (with a notably discreet summary of your work there).

But as the two of you sat out on the porch watching the summer sun go down, you both felt the loss of your other favourite person.

Javier had always been the glue holding the constituent parts of your life together, and it was more than evident when he wasn’t there.

Especially in the one place you always expected to find him.

Come Sunday, with Javier’s jacket restored on the hook, having all three of you back around the table in the time-tested kitchen Javier’s grandfather had built was everything Chucho could have wished for. As you ate, drank, sat, and talked, the sense of normality was immense, rolling over all of you in waves of sincere affection and unavoidable familiarity. You clung to one another in the only way you knew how.

And, if a little sheepish, Javi had been good, great even.

The space for the unfamiliar diffidence you’d expect after such a long period of absence was ushered out at Chucho’s command, refused at the door. He’d hovered for a second, clearly considering bolting, but the moment he found himself clasped tightly in his father’s arms he gave it all up.

For one simple evening, everything was fine. The shock of seeing him didn't even register, the emotional no-mans-land of the past three years made irrelevant for just a moment as you sat in the incomparable aura of his company.

For Javi, it was like he had been caught off guard, as if he'd forgotten he was supposed to be hating it and didn't want to be here.

For five minutes he had forgotten why it was so hard to be home. But by this morning, having sobered distinctly in the cold light of day, he had certainly remembered.

“It’s too soon,” he coos, bringing you back to the moment as he clatters the dishes in the sink and stares out listlessly into the backyard.

“Far too soon. In this house, he’s safe. He knows that. That’s what we got last night. But out there… and a wedding, no less. I hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Your father was right. It was too soon. You both knew it and, from the look of it, so did Javi.

The sliver of carefree enjoyment you’d seen of him last night had been folded up and packed away, likely the moment his head had hit the pillow and he had the chance to think. It was all too familiar; the process, the place, even the occasion itself. Too close to home in the most literal sense.

It had only been a year, give or take a few weeks, since he was standing here sweating about his own big day.

The sight of him storming into this kitchen, bleary-eyed and running riot - now that was a memory that still plagued you when you couldn’t sleep at night. And if you could remember it, clear as a bell, you could only imagine what the anamnesis is like for him.

If the last time you’d been home involved making the most devastating decision of your adult life, you likely wouldn’t be too keen on being back, either. Stepping out on your fiancée was one thing, but living the rest of your marriage knowing the whole thing was based on a half-truth was another challenge entirely.

You all know he chose right. By the time the midday ceremony had rolled around, there was no more talk of a shotgun than the one that would supposedly be pointed at Javi by Lorraine’s father if he ever came back to town.

Pellets in his backside or not, and knowing the other side of the story, the whole ordeal was enough to see Javi two feet into his future at the DEA, with Lorraine’s distaste for the profession no longer a factor.

He’d left for DC full-time the very next day, and hadn’t been back since as far as the rest of the town was concerned. Christmas had been quiet without him. Pa had been lonelier than usual this year.

But, despite it all, despite the fact that no one who knew the half of it would have thought anything less of him if he’d stayed right where he was, he was here instead. Shitty attitude aside, he was here.

“Do you think he has something to prove?” you can’t help but ask, joining Pop at the window to start drying the dishes.

“Doesn’t he always?” He laughs, unable to help the affection creeping through.

“By the end of tomorrow, he’ll either be homesick, or good as gone. He’s never been one for halves.”

“I don’t know which one I’m rooting for,” you sigh, addressing the statement more to yourself than to him.

When you head upstairs to finish getting ready you find Javi sitting on the edge of your bed, finally in his suit and tie.

If there was one thing he had going for him this year, it’s that he looks as good as ever. His hair is longer, rugged, but combed back into what you assume must be his usual style for work, miles away from his annual summertime curls. Even sitting as he is, he holds himself firmly, upright, with the air of someone who wants to be listened to and makes damn sure it happens.

Any sign of boyish charm has been replaced with handsome professionalism, three nightly double whiskeys, and something deeper and darker that's both bordering sexy and edging on dangerous.

Heartbreak didn’t suit him, but adulthood did, and while you feel the strong nostalgic pull for the boy you once knew, you were undeniably interested in the man sitting in front of you.

He’s different. It’s gorgeous.

You hover in the doorway and take in the sight of him, shirtsleeves rolled roughly to the elbow, suit trousers hitching up to reveal the pattern at the top of his socks. His favourite pair.

“I’m surprised those don’t have holes in, you know,” you say, risking the comedic lilt in your tone as you nod down to his feet.

“They do,” he huffs back, revealing the exposed skin at his heel. “I’m hoping they’re still lucky.”

Deciding the mood is better than expected, and that he’s had all morning to wallow, you cross the threshold into the room and decide business as usual is the best approach. Just because things are different now doesn’t mean the same methods won’t apply, and he'd always responded well to you refusing to give a shit.

You pull the dress you’d chosen from its place in your closet and, without even having to ask, hear the familiar sound of him turning around to avert his gaze as you get dressed. You smile softly at the gesture. He could have assumed, could have watched as you took one thing off and replaced it with another. You don’t think you’d have stopped him if he’d kept his eyes forward - at this point, it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.

But this, him watching his mark and respecting your space, was more familiar than anything; one of a hundred comforting rituals that had taken shape in this house and in this room. He hadn’t tried his luck then, and he certainly wasn’t going to now. That little fragment was still sacred.

Despite the familiarity of it, when you drop your bathrobe you wonder if the tension in the small space feels the same to him as it does for you: thick, almost syrupy, as if everything has slowed just a little.

Outside of the conversation over dinner last night, you hadn’t really said a word directly to one another. Usually, when you both came back here, there was a moment of reconciliation, a brief interaction where you ever-so-quickly got reacquainted and then proceeded to pick up exactly where you left off.

This time, in spite of being in the same place, that hadn’t happened yet. Everything was blurry around the edges, the usual intimacy of you falling into one another stunted, lacking.

But, despite the disruption, you still felt it; something like magnetism was trying to bring everything back into place, the same way it always did when the two of you were side by side. It wasn't something you could fight.

Knowing you’re finished, he swings his legs back around to resume his original position and runs his eyes over you with no discernible reaction. The only part that gives anything away is the speed at which they travel. He takes his time, and you feel the way his gaze drags over you, absorbing all the constituent parts. You’re different too, you suppose. It’s been a long time since he’s let himself look at you.

“Five minutes, kids!” yells Chucho from downstairs, and you see patently the way Javi snaps out of it, righting his state of mind, resolving to resume his original loathing for this day that he had already decided he would not enjoy at all.

If he’d been on the cusp of something, it was gone now.

Oh well, you think to yourself, and move to rummage under your bed for the shoebox containing your heels.

Bad attitude decidedly back in place after its brief hiatus, Javi returns to being no help at all, remaining in place on the edge of the mattress as you scoop your arm around the dead space on either side of his legs to no avail.

His mood swings back in the day had been few and far between, but when they came about, they were infamous. Today was no exception.

His lashing out had come in just about every form since morning coffee was served, and you knew he was currently settling on a sweet spot between ‘unhelpful’ and ‘difficult’.

Previous iterations today had included refusing to get dressed, taking over an hour in the shower, and pouring himself a neat whiskey at 7:30am.

As you reach further under the bed to finally grab hold of what you hope is the required box, you give up entirely when it’s kicked out of your grasp with the back of Javi’s foot, sending it sailing out of reach entirely, hand in hand with an unapologetically sour look from the rest of the man attached.

“Bastard,” you exhale under your breath, forfeiting the endeavour entirely as you sit back on your haunches and look up at him from your position on the floor.

Managing to catch the eye that’s reluctant to meet yours after his deliberately childish movements, you realise he’s entering the penultimate stage of his emotional process: surly. It’s the only word for when he’s like this.

Standing from the bed, he assumes the standard position, hands glued to his hips, stance wide, one palm to his forehead, the other patting aggressively for another cigarette that he knew he didn’t have.

“Just when I thought you were coming around,” you mutter to yourself.

“Frank’s here!” Chucho calls, again, this time from the stairs.

“Fuck,” grumbles Javi, rubbing the palms of his hands over his face for the umpteenth time that morning, as if he can erase himself from existence.

Seeing him like this, unsettled, out of touch, makes you aware of something so confounding that even you were struggling to get your head around it: home doesn't feel the same for him anymore.

This sacred place that could do no harm was suddenly an emotional death trap, teeming with beady-eyed acquaintances and a trail of tedious questions a mile long about where he’s been and why he left.

Deep down, he’s still the same person he always was, the golden boy with a heart to match, but it’s tarnished for him now, that title. The glue trap snags another unwitting victim, and you know he’s felt nothing less than a bug under a lens since he set foot on the tarmac.

“Babies, come on!” Chucho calls again, and Javi is pacing the small bedroom, taking off his suit jacket and swinging it under his arm, running his hands through his hair and then frustratedly fixing it.

“Fucking fuck.”

Standing in your childhood bedroom, he looks both too big and too small. Overgrown but malnourished. The place itself fits him just fine, but it’s like he’s not the same shape anymore. He’s harder, prickly, more of a man now than he’s ever been. It must sting, like coming to find your favourite clothes are no longer your size.

You all knew it was going to take some work to carve him right again, heal the wounds, rub the salt. But he won’t stay long enough for that, at least not right now, and in the meantime, the experience was akin to trapping a tiger.

Home would be there for him whenever he was ready for it, but that time wasn’t now.

Not only that, you contemplate, but he's tired. You can see it in the way he holds himself, as if he's permanently waiting for a quiet moment to turn his back and fold in half.

Work has been gearing up big time, and as much as he tries to keep things light over the phone, normally by saying nothing much as all, there's only so much you can read in the news and not let your mind wander. The DEA might be firm-footed, but anyone can see it's been shaken by the way things are escalating, and it was starting to show on their people, too.

“Babies,” Chucho announces, now standing at the top of the landing, framed by your doorway. “We need to go. The car’s running and Frank is waiting-”

“-Alright, Dad,” snaps Javi, voice roaring in contrast to his previous silence. “We heard you the first fucking time.”

Chucho’s head snaps up immediately, first with a look of shock, and then quickly replaced with a furrowed brow of concern. He’s not hurt, he knew this was coming today. You all did. Plus, Chucho Peña wasn’t one ruffled so easily by something so simple as a harsh word from his son.

Shooting Javi a scowl before you can catch it, one that says ‘you don’t speak for me’, you point him a finger of warning before turning to your father. “It’s okay, Pa. I’ll drive us. We’ll meet you at the church.”

Chucho looks at you deeply, reminding you of where Javi gets his ability to say a hundred things with a single glance. This one is pleading 'let’s just hold this together as best we can.' He gives one parting nod in Javi’s direction that goes entirely unnoticed and heads back down the stairs without another word.

When you hear the back door slam and the engine of Frank’s car start, the two of you are left alone, truly alone, for the first time in over a year.

“Well done,” you sigh, quickly making haste to finally gather your shoes from the other side of the room, and then reaching up to the top of your dresser to retrieve your purse from where you’d stashed it after last time.

The last wedding you’d been home for.

In the process Javi catches your hand in his, enveloping it, and easily reaches over you with the other to grab the clutch and pass it down to you, presenting it on a flat palm. His thumb runs along the crest of your knuckles, worrying the bruises and split skin that hadn't managed to heal in time for your trip back.

“What kind of business have they got you up to at that distillery then, hm?” he asks, his tone still sour, his concern riling it even further.

“Manual labouring, heavy lifting. You know the drill.”

You can barely look up at him, standing so close. You hadn’t seen this much of him for a long time. The knowledge that you haven’t had a sincere conversation since his wedding day suddenly feels incredibly relevant, weighing heavily on your ability to just speak to him. He was the last person on earth you expected to find yourself tongue-tied around, but you couldn’t get the words out now even if you wanted to.

Instead of trying to talk, you focus on needlessly smoothing out his tie, retying the already perfect knot in some kind of attempt to keep him in your space. In spite of his ruffled energy, he was always immaculately dressed when the moment called for it, and this occasion was no exception.

The facade went up in more ways than one, but if you stood just close enough, the cracks still shone through: the hole in his sock, the misplaced curl that would never lay flat.

This is the second most difficult thing he’s ever done, you recon, coming back to a place that had turned its back on him, and had forced him to do the same. Being here wasn’t quite an act of redemption, but you had a feeling it was the start of something not so far from it.

He didn’t know when to quit, but when it came to this place, neither did you.

He’s here for a reason, you can’t help but contemplate, refusing to finish the rest of the consideration. Refusing to question if the reason, for once, might just be you.

Using the smallest movement possible, he brings the back of his hand to brush up against you, catching the fabric of your dress between his knuckles and worrying the slinky fabric between them satisfyingly.

His movements are a natural conduit for everything he’s feeling, they always have been. While you might wear your emotions plain on your face with him, everything he wants to say comes from his movements: the way he lays his hands or taps his feet or keeps his distance.

The closeness of his frame is telling you just that. His inability to stay less than five feet away from you all day, despite his shit attitude, is everything you need to know. He’s at war in his own head, and you take comfort in the fact he’s struggling against his temper simply by standing so close to you.

He’s on the cusp of breaking through, teetering on the edge of the final stage of his process, and as he moves into your space for a second you think he might have tipped over, out the other side of his emotional grievance and back to being a normal, functioning human being.

Acceptance was always his final step. And then he’d talk.

But when he glances down at his watch and sees the time, it’s all for nought. Instead of letting you in, he huffs in frustration and pulls himself sternly from the viscid traction between the two of you.

“Let’s just go.”

While he stops briefly in the kitchen to check himself in the mirror at the door, you rest yourself on the back of the kitchen chair and just watch him. He might be all restless energy and pent-up emotions but, beneath all of that, it’s just deep, deep, sadness. A sadness he doesn’t know where to put when he’s in the one place that usually keeps it at bay.

“What are you staring at?” he grouses when he catches you looking, but his tone is softer than before.

His energy for conflict was burning out.

“You. You look hot as fuck, Javier,” you state plainly.

He hesitates but doesn’t laugh, instead throwing the keys to the truck at you across the kitchen, landing them square in your chest with a thump.

“Let’s just get this fucking over with,” he mutters as he stalks out of the kitchen.

You flip him off in return as you follow him out to start the engine.

Chucho was right, it was going to be a long day.

“So this partner of yours,” he asks eventually after a few moments of stagnant silence, “he’s not coming?”

“To the wedding? No,” you scoff, imagining the look on Jack Daniel’s face if you asked him to be your plus one for anything related to your personal life. “He’s on a date tonight, actually. Always on a date, the dirty dog.”

“And how often do you go on dates these days?”

Surprised by his chosen topic, you risk a steady glance at him in the passenger seat.

His body language is still all over the place, non-commital in his reluctance to stay any further away from you than he has to, but refusing to give in so easily.

“I haven’t exactly had time for dates lately. Work’s been very busy. I’ve been promoted, again.”

No reply.

He instinctively pats down his jacket to pull out a cigarette only to be reminded, once again, that there are none in his best suit.

To avoid any further conflict, you reach over to hit the glove compartment with your fist, and he lurches forward when it opens and reveals the pack of straights, immediately taking one in hand and putting it between his lips.

“In case you felt like asking how I’ve been doing,” you add, with a defined full-stop at the end.

He still doesn’t answer, this time for a different reason, instead opting for sliding his aviators up his nose and staring out of the open window, puffing away. You consider just how close the next ten minutes are going to feel to standing in wet concrete. You decide to stir the pot regardless.

“I can understand being angry at the world, but if you’re just going to be angry at me too, what was the point in coming?”

He looks across at you then, opening just a crack, taking half a step out of his unending misery. You knew that would hit the spot, playing the ‘come on, it’s me’ card. It’s not one you’d had the chance to use in a while, the exceptional nature of your friendship having lost its special touch in the wake of, well, everything.

“I’m not angry at you,” he grumbles, sincere in his delivery but lacking in enthusiasm.

“I’m never angry at you. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been-,”

“Horrible? Yeah, pretty much Jav.”

You can’t help but jump at the chance to fill in the gap, immediately regretting it when you see him close right back up, lean out of the window and attempt to disappear in the cloud of smoke.

Reaching the end of your patience with his up and down attitude, you risk the words that are on the tip of your tongue.

“I know it’s hard being here. I know, okay, more than anyone what it’s like to come back here and get looked at that way. But I’m not your enemy, especially not in this situation. And especially not when I got hurt too.”

That last sentence stings a little when you hear the emotion in your own voice. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged yourself as part of the fallout, or as anything to do with Javi at all for the past year.

“At least do me the courtesy of acting like I’m on your side.”

Speaking to him like this feels foreign, alien even. You’ve never had to be so guarded with the way you talk, so aware of where the words are going to land and how he’s going to react.

Things hadn’t exactly been bad between the two of you. It would never be as simple as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ or ‘fine’. But there was a lot that had gone unsaid since last spring, and before that still.

He had, at times, made the effort to carry on as painlessly as possible after the engagement, but the rift had been there from the moment that phone call happened.

Eventually, you guessed, he took your silence as needing time to yourself, and he wasn’t entirely wrong. Never in your life had you found yourself in a situation where the one person you always turned to was exactly who you were trying to avoid.

But after the wedding day, you definitely felt like the roles had been reversed somehow. It was you walking on eggshells now, along with everyone else.

You understood he needed time to lick his wounds, but twelve months passed with the blink of an eye and you were still right where he left you. You weren’t the one that left that altar empty, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel as though you were punished for it just the same. You’d been there for him until the very end, even cleaned up the mess, and then he was just gone. And in no number of monthly phone calls had he ever even told you why you were on the outside with everyone else.

Admittedly you weren’t one to get lonely. Jack’s arms had been open, you’d stepped right in. But a few good times didn’t leave a mark on a love that’s lasted a lifetime. Losing him had hurt, and seeing him here, like this, reminded you that it still did.

“It’s hard for me too,” you continue, deciding to set the tone for an honest conversation that was long overdue, even if it was going to take all day to finish it.

“And it’s even harder seeing you like this. I hope you realise that.”

You hesitate, breathe, and resolve that now is the start of it, no matter what.

“But we’re going to have to talk about it eventually, whether you like it or not. And we’ll get through today, together, like we always do.”

Deciding that’s good enough for a head start, you wait to see where what his next move is. They’re your first honest words since he ran away. You breathe a sigh of relief when he gives you honesty right back.

“I really don’t want to be here,” he murmurs, pushing his hair back for the hundredth time and not bothering to right it as he finally relaxes back into the seat and crosses into the final stage of his grief.

He reaches across, places his hand over yours on the gearstick, and cradles it there.

“I know, Javi. I know.”

If there’s one benefit to Javi’s presence, it’s the fact you aren’t the only one who hates hometown weddings.

Sitting at the back of the church, heads down, sunglasses on, the two of you are a picture of veritable social disgrace; the ones that got away, and had supposedly been dragged back by the scruff of their necks. And you hadn’t even done anything wrong, this time.

You know the conversation in the car had pushed the mood forward a bit, but the moment he found himself in church, let alone surrounded by a crowd not dissimilar to the ones that likely showed up for his own nuptials, he was back to making a face like he’d just swallowed sour milk.

“Jav, if you sigh one more time before this thing kicks off I’m going to fucking lose my shi-,”

“Don’t you count as some kind of bad omen?” interrupts Maria, leaning over the back of the pew to kiss you and Javi on the cheek.

“I was at your wedding wasn’t I?” grumbles Javi, offering her a halfhearted wink as you both turn to talk to her.

“Touché, Peña. I suppose you’re hiding at the back on purpose then. Not that Bug’s done anything to disgrace the family name.”

“Yet,” you retort sweetly, smiling up at her lovingly.

Maria is a dream, your favourite cousin by miles, sharp as a tack and sweet as a nut. She had been the last one to get hitched, and you take a moment to consider that if it hadn’t been for the leftover supply from the open bar, your one-time fling with Javi might have remained exactly that.

You wonder if that solidifies her as your absolute favourite, or if she’s inadvertently caused you more trouble than it’s worth.

She snorts at you and affectionately rests her head on top of yours, cradling you into her with a tight squeeze.

“Well it’s nice that you’re both here, Stella will be very happy. I can’t imagine it was an easy decision, but I didn’t expect to find one without the other. We missed you, Javi.”

Javi hmphs for what must be the hundredth time today already, but offers her an affectionate squeeze before she makes her way to the front of the church to join her parents.

“And I won’t snitch if you’re already missing by 3pm!” she calls over her shoulder, shooting you both another wink.

“Sounds like a get out of jail free card if I ever heard one,” he smirks, almost following it up with a laugh.

It’s the first show of good humour you’ve heard from him, and you feel yourself latch onto it without hesitation. His rough edges are new, but they wouldn’t come without the smooth. He was in there somewhere.

“And from the sister of the bride no less,” you confirm.

“Maybe this won’t be such a long day after all.”

In contrast to local expectations, the ceremony goes off without a single hitch. The weighty silence that followed ‘speak now’ was a loaded gun followed by a knowing laugh from the congregation, teeming with exaggerated sighs and sharp laughter. It was the worst in-joke you’d ever been a part of; as if Javi and Lorraine had even got that far.

They kissed, you clapped, and everyone clambered out of the church and into the afternoon sun to make their way over to the reception. All things considered, it was turning out to be a pretty harmless affair.

They’d got a good deal on a function room at a local hotel, and with the money they’d saved it meant that the bar was stocked, the food was plentiful, and the band was at the very least bearable. You wonder if you could ever put yourself through the process of organising something like this, knowing full well how much it costs to feed at least twenty people you didn’t like alongside the forty that you actually did.

Weddings really weren’t your thing. Marriage, on the other hand, you weren’t so dramatically opposed to.

You watch the room, teeming with people, from your seat at the bar, having found yourself a quiet spot to retreat to as soon as you’d arrived. Small talk at a family event like this was your idea of purgatory. It wasn’t fun or seasonal like the Christmas party, it was just hard work, a perpetual stream of narky distant relatives and friends of friends that just wanted to know how and why you weren’t living up to their expectations. Everyone knows everyone, and you conclude that it must get tiring keeping up with the Jones’.

On the plus side, for all the foibles of the local attendance - gossip-hungry, waiting with bated breath for a slip-up to talk about hungrily at Sunday service - you couldn’t find a single bad word to say against your family.

Your family, the ones that had made you their own.

It had always surprised you how easily the Peña clan had welcomed you into their fold.

With the way talk flew in this place, you had always been on tenterhooks for the unspoken truth to come out; your position as an outsider, the less-than-happy circumstances of your unofficial adoption, the fact they only kept you around because they pitied you.

You’d run and re-run every scenario in your head, all of them ending with the quiet confession from the people who took you in that, in fact, the rumours were true, and they, too, didn’t really want you either.

You couldn’t have been more wrong. At the hands of the Peña family’s veritable influence, it was second-hand news. And the Peña’s came in large numbers.

Your situation had fallen on exactly the right side of consolation, and the way these people had pulled you into their lives head over haunches was something you could barely think of without your eyes feeling tight. There was no sympathy about it, it was a deep understanding and an obvious solution that came to them all as quickly as it had done Chucho.

You had needed a home, and they had one to give.

It was your own parents that had been on the other side of things, for once. You were no longer a ‘difficult’ child, complicated to raise and the direct cause of their frequent absences, extended work trips, and compensatory time off for what they’d given up to raise you.

Instead, you were sought after, cared for, knowingly in need of the simple things like a home-cooked meal, a cake on your birthday and a pat on the back every now and then. They wanted you there, everywhere they went, without exception. What the rest of the town said hadn’t mattered after that. They could think what they wanted, the reasons didn’t matter anymore. You were the Peña’s now, in everything but name, and you’d made peace with not being wanted by your own parents in the wake of being told it to your face, time and time again, by every single member of this family.

Being here had always been hard, but they’d done everything they could to make it better.

In that same vein, the scorn that followed Javi’s disappearance wasn’t familial, it was local. Not showing up at the altar wasn’t a generational scandal, it was a sign that something wasn’t right. Whatever story Lorraine’s family had spun didn’t matter to your family, because they knew, whatever it was, Javi had done the right thing.

The wound of that failed marriage wasn’t the family’s, it was Javi’s. Instead, what everyone else had felt was the loss of him. He just needed time to see that.

You can spot him starting to open up to the idea of that, the notion that he was missed. Even now, his cousins are clinging to him in droves. Despite his own lack of siblings, there was no shortage of people that loved him, looked up to him, and wanted to see him succeed. The fact he had put that into question was another reminder that the place was the same, but what had changed was him.

You know Chucho is right, the outcome will be one of two options.

Beginning to find the whole thing overwhelming, you turn in your seat to order another drink, only to find your cousin Danny behind the bar instead of the bartender.

“Hey, Love Bug,”

“Danny, are you old enough to be serving that stuff yourself?”

“Pshh, you know they got this place booked as a family favour. Management has been looking the other way since Stell’ signed the contract.”

You’re sure the confidence must be genetic, or there’s something in the water at the Peña BBQs. You hold your hands up in mock surrender, an impressed pout on your face.

“In that case, I’ll have another of… whatever you’re currently pouring. I’m done driving for the day.”

He serves you up what appears to be bourbon, and you squint when the sharp smell burns your eyes before your tongue. You forget how different drinking at home is from drinking at work. You resolve it’s more fun when it’s free. However, at the office, you do get to avoid the friendly interrogation.

“Is he okay?” asks Danny, to your surprise, gesturing over your shoulder to you-know-who.

“I don’t know, kid,” you reply slowly. “This is a big thing for him.”

“Mom said he wasn’t going to come back. That he thought we didn’t love him anymore.”

Your heart breaks at the description because you know, in a way, it’s accurate.

“He was always going to come back. I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”

You hope you’ve offered enough exposition without speaking on anyone’s behalf, but you see the way Danny is itching to ask, to know more.

“I’m glad he didn’t get married,” he pushes, “if it was going to make him miserable, I mean.”

He’s looking for an adult explanation, confirmation that his hunch is correct, something he clearly hasn’t gotten in the wake of being the baby brother. He knocks back the drink as if it’s a means to seek that approval, to show that he’s old enough to be part of the conversation.

“It was a big deal, I know that, but I don’t suppose it’s the kind of thing you do without thinking about it a lot, right?”

“Right,” you confirm, throwing your drink back alongside him in response.

“I know it might look like he’s ready to strangle someone right now, but it’s nothing personal. I think he’s just really missed his family.”

“Our family,” he corrects with emphasis.

“Right, kid. And how can we blame him? We’re fucking great.”

He comes to perch on the stool next to you, and you pull him under your arm to give him a tight squeeze and plant a firm kiss on the top of his head.

“Sometimes the one place you want to be is the last place you can bring yourself to go. And sometimes it’s the same with people, too.”

“I get that,” he replies simply, and you feel as though he’s satisfied with the answers he’s got.

“You’re a smart kid, Danny. Besides, you’ll probably be getting married next,” you tag on, winking at him before you can even finish the sentence.

He pushes away from you immediately, and despite his mature aura, sticks his tongue out at you without hesitation.

Spotting the solace of your gentle conversation, you see Javi make a B-line away from his aunties and over to the two of you. He claps Danny hard on the back before coming to stand at your side, sandwiched between the two of you, so close he’s nearly flush against the length of you. He’s coming around, you can feel it.

“Looks like you two are having way more fun than me,” he grouses, but his tone is definitely improved from this morning.

“It’s not hard,” you reply, reaching behind the bar to find the bottle Danny was pouring from to top up the glasses all round.

“Danny was actually just saying he was worried he wasn’t going to see you again,” you offer, earnestly, avoiding the look of embarrassed betrayal from your younger cousin.

Javi schools the ripple of emotion that passes over his face, immediately replacing it with a gentle smile.

“Come on kid, you think I’d leave for good without saying goodbye to you?”

“I don’t know.” he shrugs. “We’ve missed you, Jav. It’s not the same when you’re away, that’s all.”

“I just needed some time. The same way Bug did, remember? It just takes a while.”

You hold back the frown when he brings that up, your going away last year while the wedding was planned, and then unplanned. Part of you is surprised to hear him acknowledge that time at all, to admit that he knows you ran away, too, in a way.

“Yeah, I get that,” he repeats and nods solemnly at Javi. “I’m just really glad you’re back. We all are. I'll catch you guys later.”

Danny waves you both off as he’s summoned by his mother, and you see Javi let out the breath he was holding. You reckon he’s had a lot of that today, or at least a lot more than he was anticipating; affection, acceptance, the welcome home he didn’t think he required nor deserved.

He’s a melting pot of emotional conflict- add twenty or so members of your extended family and your own personal group of censurers, and it makes for an intense afternoon.

“How’s it going?”

“Better than I thought, but just as hard as I expected. Half the crowd are the best people I’ve ever met, the other hate my guts. It’s a weird one, on balance.”

“Well, you always were the star of the show.”

He goes to comment but hesitates. He’s going to have to break eventually, and he’s seconds away now, you can see it.

“I didn’t know what to expect. I just didn’t think the two options would be open arms or knives.”

“With you, it’s usually one or the other, Javi. You just haven’t taken any notice before.”

So close now, you can feel that he’s on the cusp of letting go, letting it all out and finally finding some peace. That’s why he’s here. You’ve worked it out now; to kickstart the process. But you don’t want to force it.

“Want to ditch?” You suggest instead, feeling the anxiety rolling off him.

“More than anything.”

He grabs his jacket from the back of a chair, makes brief eye contact with Chucho, and sidesteps out the door without a second guess. The fact he was seeking permission to leave is hilarious to you in a way, as if he’s not a full-grown man, but it's proof again that he’s here because he has a job to do. Bridges to build, foundations to re-lay.

As you both make your way nonchalantly through the hotel foyer, you’re pulled sharply to the side by Javi grabbing your hand and dragging you down a narrow corridor.

Breezing along until he reaches the alcove with the payphone, he pushes you gently inside, pulls the curtain across the doorframe, turns back to you, and without hesitation lifts you into his arms to place you on the small ledge that holds the pen and paper for taking messages down.

The action isn’t rushed or even overly physical, but precise and well-intended. He holds you there in the close space while you regain your breath, hands placed on either side of you before he can even bring himself to look up at you.

“Please,” he says plainly, “please don’t think badly of me for this, I don’t mean it like that at all. I’m just going to kiss you now, for five minutes, if you’ll let me.”

Still taken aback by the position you now find yourself in, you steady yourself by bringing your arms up and around his neck, and settle into the familiar position of his body around yours.

“Yeah, okay,” you reply quietly, after a moment of silent contemplation, “I’ll let you.”

When his lips meet yours, you feel the way he’s pushing himself into you: all his concerns, his anxieties, his emotions. All at once, he’s giving everything over, as humbly as he can. He hasn’t kissed you like this for - you realise he hasn’t kissed you at all for nearly three years.

And it hits you like a freight train.

The familiarity of the motion is immense. Three years? It was equally a lifetime and no time at all. It was nothing in the grand scheme of things, but also a very sore reminder of time lost, just when things had been on their way to something.

The way he presses his mouth against yours, calculated and precise and knowing, isn’t a flight of passion, it’s just the only way he can show you how, and what, and why.

It tells you everything he’s been unable to say since the moment he opened the back door and walked into the kitchen, strolling in as if he’d just been to the store. It’s time passing, and time lost, and time he’s trying to recapture in the way he references moments long gone with kisses that feel entirely the same.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he says eventually, transitioning from his deep, open, movements to small and gentle touches of his lips to yours, to your cheeks, your jaw, your neck.

“I’ve missed my family, I’ve missed this place, but it, fuck, it really-”

“Hurts?”

“Yeah. It hurts like a bitch. This is a life I could have had, and I don’t even know if it’s one I wanted. It’s like a bad trip. Maybe worse.”

Placing one final kiss, he releases his hold on you just a bit, enough to show you that he’s no longer wound so tight.

Just like Fairfax, you see him take a deep breath and resolve to wade his way through the vat of complex emotions and hard truths that he’s been holding on to for too long.

“No matter what I did, I was going to let someone down. Leaving, staying, saying yes or saying no. It was going to be myself, my family, her, or you. And somehow, I’ve still managed to disappoint all four.”

“Javi-”

“I thought leaving was the best thing. I still think it is. I don’t belong here anymore. And I don’t think I deserve to just come back. But then I see you, the way you breeze around this place in spite of everything it’s done to you and Jesus Christ, I feel the loss of you more than anything. Anything. More than I’ve lost myself.”

His hand finds yours the way it did in the truck, and he rubs his thumb hard and strong into the dip of your palm, steadying himself with the repeated motion.

“I don’t know how it ended up like this. Losing you, what we had built, was the last thing I wanted. It was the worst-case scenario, Ladybug. And I never even said sorry. But I am. You’ll never know how damn sorry I am.”

“You haven’t lost me,” is all you can muster, but your words are bouncing off him in the wake of his onslaught.

“Yes, I have. I know I have, and I should have. You should be furious at me, and I’m sure you are, you’re just too close to say it. But I want to find you again, in whatever shape you may be for me to find.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” you whisper, but it’s fraught and shallow.

“I did. I could have done things differently. I should have taken you with me. I shouldn’t have just left you there to clean up my mess. And I definitely shouldn’t have run away for so long. You deserved more than that. But I couldn’t, talk, for so long. Not even to you. Not even this morning. But you always called, no matter what. You called and listened to me just say nothing. How can you ever forgive me?”

“Javi, there’s nothing to forgive.”

“Yes, there is,” he insists, firmer this time, frustrated that you’re not hearing him the way he wants.

“There is and you know it. I know it. It’s shitty and it’s complicated. There is nothing simple about any of it and there is so much to forgive.”

You know he’s right, but nothing in the world could have convinced you to have it out with him right now. Nothing in the world could have convinced you to do anything other than sit here and listen to every word that comes out of this man’s mouth.

“You know,” he continues, pushing on hard and fast now the walls are down, three years' worth of honest conversation pouring out into the tiny space, “it hurts more when I see what I lost from my past over what I gained back for my future. I don’t know if it was worth it. I feel like I left that version of myself with you. I killed a version of our life together on that phone call the moment I told you what I was going to do.”

And, again, he’s right. How he can relay the truth to you in a way that you’ve been unable to for over a year makes you want to yell. Your way of processing has been to not process at all.

“You’re the same to me, Javi,” you whisper, “always. You've been as predictable as anything today. Did you honestly expect this wasn’t going to hurt?”

Ignoring your question, he kisses you once more, chastely, stopping himself from taking what he wants.

“I’ll never be the same, Bug. I can’t be.”

His words are teeming with the understanding that, while none of this had been his fault, it had happened regardless. It’s a privilege that he’s got this far in life without it happening sooner. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I’m glad,” you quip, finding a cathartic feeling of ease in his own revelation.

“I hope you’re never stupid enough to try and get married again.”

You both pause in the silence there and, eventually, he laughs. Really laughs. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s done that.

“I just had to tell you that. I should have told you that. I’m sorry. For everything.”

Pulling you from the ledge to help you to the floor, he presses a small kiss to your split knuckle and straightens his tie.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here. I need a drink.”

The bar is the same. Exactly the same.

You realise in your youth you’d never appreciated the atmosphere of the place. The red cast of the neon strip lights give the whole room a uniquely comfortable feeling, in a way that only half-light can manage.

The music is authentic, the clientele considerate, and even you weren’t opposed to the sight of a familiar face behind the bar. Not when the one thing you were both looking for is something that feels like home.

After settling your things in one of the wooden booths, Javi brings over two tumblers of god-knows-what and places them on the table, but stops you before you can take a seat.

“Come on,” he sighs, pulling you after him toward the worn wooden dancefloor.

The last time you had danced together must have been Christmastime, the final stint of your ‘together’ year. It was new years eve, you think. Everyone had left the small get together you’d thrown and instead of washing up glasses at 3am, you’d stood in the kitchen and swayed listlessly, bone-weary and half sober listening to Eric Carmen.

You don’t think you can recall ever being as happy as you were at that moment. It was the end of the best year of your life. That time seems like such a distinct thing to you now, clearly defined and, with that, so obviously a thing of the past. Over.

For a long moment, the two of you stand just like that, swaying back and forth, your feet barely leaving the ground as you just hold one another up. But you know he’s thinking of it, too, when you feel the way he pulls you closer. The conversation had been rolling around the topic since he first mentioned it in the truck. It seemed so menial by comparison to everything else he’d said since.

“So you haven’t met anyone?”

This time it’s you who sighs and rolls your eyes.

His more cantankerous nature had worn thin since you left the hotel, obviously feeling the relief of having it out. But, in that same vein, it could only be Javier who could be grumpy with you for dating off the back of him trying to marry someone else. You know the situation is complicated, to say the least, but as far as audacity went, he was certainly toeing the line.

“I’ve met plenty of people, Jav. If you mean ‘am I seeing anyone?’ No, not right now”

“Hmm,” he grunts, clearly unsatisfied with your response. “What about your partner?”

“That’s exactly what he is: my partner. We spend a lot of time together. He makes me feel nice, sometimes. But he’s not the man for me. A quiet indulgence on the side of a very good friendship.”

“That sounds all too familiar,” he grouses, letting you spin under his arm to avoid meeting your eye for a moment.

“You really think you have anything to compare? To us?”

“Never,” he replies plainly, his tone of surprise aimed more toward himself than at you.

“Well, then there’s your answer. What reunion are we on by now?”

“Hopefully whatever your definition of ‘one more’ was,” he quips, so quick to the joke it almost shocks you.

The simplicity of his thought process is endearing. The fact that, in spite of it all, he’s absolutely willing, without hesitation, to pick up where you left off. As if everything hadn’t changed all over again.

“Funnily enough, I think your own wedding was fair game for ‘interference’,” you snipe back, not one to be taken for a ride.

Still, despite his cheek, you can’t help but giggle at his spikey disposition.

The whole day had been a stark reminder of how damn soft you were for him. Of how you always would be. The gaping hole his engagement had left was still there, ragged and a little bit raw as you feel the way he pulls your body against his, moving you around him without a second thought, but you can’t ignore the feeling that’s blooming in your chest with so little encouragement.

He was right, you were angry, you are still, but you decide, for just one night, even, that you don’t have to be so valiant about it.

“It’s hard seeing you, Javi. I thought I would be able to just put the whole thing aside. First with you actually getting married, and then with the rest.”

“-not getting married, you mean.”

“In a way, it might have been easier to just let that part of you go. But now it’s just there. Waiting.”

He turns you around to face him and looks down at you then, knowing you’re on the verge of saying something important, and that you’ll only risk saying it once.

“I feel like I’m waiting. For something. I don’t know what anymore. Maybe an excuse to not be with someone else. That’s exactly what this always was, right? It was something until it wasn’t.”

You think he’s reading your tone for harsh, letting the validity of your frustrations take precedence. But he’s wrong. You are soft for him. You always are.

“But here we are again. Without even the slightest encouragement, on the cusp of being something. All you’ve done today is yell at me and here I am, ready to run away with you.”

“You said we’d try, before,” he says, quietly, barely a whisper under his breath. “That you wanted to try.”

“I’d like to try, if you want to.”

“Really?”

“Really. Does that surprise you, honestly?”

“Yes, in a way. I’m surprised by how calm you are. Isn’t this a big deal?”

“Picking up where we left off? We had an arrangement, didn't we? For this exact thing. Admittedly I didn’t expect you to get engaged, but the point still stands.”

You sound calmer than you really are, but if the last year has taught you anything, it’s that now is the time to be honest, while you can.

“One more reunion.”

“Bug, I-”

“I mean it. I’m due some time off. Next time, we’ll try. We can try. For real.”

His hands are gripping your hips now, thumbs digging in, catching at the overlay of your dress. He’s on the cusp of opening a present he’s been waiting a very long time for.

“We’re grown-ups. We can sort this out, right? Plus nothing can be worse than last time.”

Just as you’re leaning into it, feeling the weight of him, catching his familiar scent, you feel your pager beep in your purse. Reflexes kicking in immediately, you’re quickly drawn from the reverie of the moment, and reach to check who’s trying to contact you from work at this time.

To your utter surprise, it’s Jack Daniels.

You hear Javi grunt unceremoniously as you excuse yourself to head toward the payphone in the back. The phone rings once, and you hear his familiar greeting.

“What’s wrong?” you inquire, concern clear, a smile tugging at your cheek as you hear his familiar southern drawl.

Being away from him was strange, too. Like you said, you’d never really been lonely.

“Everything okay over there?”

“Everything’s… fine. What’s going on, Jack?”

“Ahh…” he croaks, “ I just miss you is all, got used to having you around on my birthday.”

“Are you drunk?” You can’t help the affectionate lilt of your voice, the laugh that follows ninety per cent of the words you say to him.

“A little.”

You hear him smirk back, and in a fraction of a second you can conjure up the image of him, rosy-cheeked, smirking like a bastard, leant against the console table that holds his landline.

“You with that boy?”

“Something like that. I thought you were on a date?”

“I was, she just left.”

“At this hour? That’s not like you at all.”

“Well, let’s just say it sounds like your night is going better than mine.”

“I don’t know about that,” you whisper quietly.

“Oh? Something happen?”

“It’s complicated, I suppose. Or maybe the fact that it’s not is what makes it so hard.”

“Just be happy, you stubborn girl. And come back soon. My record player’s getting dusty without you.”

“I’ll be back this weekend. Don’t stay up too late.”

Standing in the alcove of the payphone, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. If that wasn’t some kind of challenge, you don’t know what is. Placing the phone carefully into the receiver, you listen for the dime to drop, and make a surprisingly easy decision in your mind.

The two of you were here again, like you always were.

The difference was, for the first time in a long time, there wasn’t a single thing stopping it.

When you come back to the dancefloor, you find Javi in the booth, finishing off what looks like his drink and your own, before nursing a third.

You place yourself in the space next to him, immediately taking the glass from his hand, and downing the contents without letting it touch the sides. Then, you take his face in yours, running your thumb along the impeccable line of his jaw, brushing it over his sculpted cheek, and place your mouth on his with unapologetic simplicity.

For the first time today, you feel him let his mood completely sweeten. He looks bone-weary, eyes crinkling at the edges as he gives you a weak smile, the kind that says I’m sorry, let’s not fight.

“I love you. I’m tired. Let’s go home,” you say.

And you do.

That night, he lets barely an inch of space between you as he presses himself into you again and again. Like everything else about his movements with you today, he takes his time.

His lips don’t leave your skin, his fingertips are rooted to your hips, his crotch barely ever leaving the smooth swell of your backside against him. You’re tied to him, in some unspeakable way, physically or otherwise, and you’re reminded of it with blinding clarity as he makes love to you for the first time in too long.

You consider the different ways you’ve known him like this, in and out of bed. You would like to think you’ve had him in every way imaginable, but time and time again he shows you something new.

The way he’s fucking you now is immeasurably emotional and unspeakably adult. The juvenile fun of your yearly reunions is totally lost in the fervour of his movements against you, pressing into you with such seriousness that you’d ask him if he’s okay, if you had the room to come up for air.

“Want you so badly,” he groans sweetly over your shoulder, as he reaches to grab your thigh and pull your legs apart, placing his hand smoothly between them to slip against you without a single interruption to his thrusts.

“You don’t understand how much- how much.”

You always loved it when he ran his mouth, but even this was different. It wasn’t his usual filth. These were confessions, deep deep secrets he’s kept strapped down since the moment he let you go.

“There’s no one else I want like this. No one I have ever wanted like this. Fuck- you were the last thing I expected and the one thing I want more than anything. Anything.”

His fingers caress you so softly, totally unrushed in the way he wants to build you up and make you feel good. Combined with the heady pressure of his deep thrusts from behind, you find yourself in that space that feels akin to an out-of-body experience.

Where the building pleasure is the only thing you can focus on as your extremities feel increasingly irrelevant.

Where all you can focus on is you and him and the hot, wet, point where your bodies are meeting, again, and again, and again.

It’s such a contrast from the way you know he can fuck. You’ve seen him sweet, revelling in the repeated surprise of having access to the parts of yourself that you let only him see, but so infrequently, so much less than he’d like to see them. You’ve seen him sharp, too, taking you unrelentingly until you keen for him, pressing his thumb into the soft flesh of the inside of your cheek and pushing until you’re a garbled, withering mess. You’ve seen him tired, and angry, and even unrelenting, turning you over in his hands two, three, four times in a night.

But right now, he’s savouring you. He’s fucking you like you’re his wife.

The reverence of every movement is new and different and totally overwhelming. You compare it to the first time he ever touched you, to how grown up and alive it had made you feel, and you smile keenly at how far away this is from that. This is art. This is a fucking masterpiece.

You contemplate the way his form has changed, too. He’s so broad, so strong. His profession hangs on him in more ways than one, and the sun and sweat and physical demands of doing what he does display themselves in the firmness of his hands, the swell of his arms, and the irresistible stretch of his long, hot body. You could scream with the way you want to give yourself over to him.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do, fuck- nothing I wouldn’t say-”

“Javier-”

“Anything. I’d do anything you wanted me to.”

“Javi-”

“Turn over.”

It’s not really a request, it’s a warning as he grasps your hip and flips you onto your front.

He places a hand firmly on the small of your lower back to steady himself as he hovers over you and arranges himself with his legs on either side of your own, squeezing yours firmly together.

You feel the friction immediately as your thighs rub, but also the exposure as your sex is pushed clear to view, plush and ripe. Without hesitation Javi splits it tenderly with two fingers, pressing down, hard. It’s your favourite thing, being had this way. Everything feels so much more genuine when you know he’s pushing you as far as you can go.

“So good, too good for me,” he whispers, awestruck as he holds you entirely still between the points of his fingers inside you and the unyielding restriction of his thighs on either side of your own.

After pushing himself to the knuckle, and then some, he pulls his fingers all the way out to the tip and then begins his motion of thrusting back into you, achingly slow but devastatingly hard.

“Use it,” he commands when he feels you squirm against the mattress, directing the involuntary movement of your hips against the bedsheets, encouraging just the slightest motion that you can manage while pinned underneath him.

As you start to build momentum together, him pushing into you, you dragging against the cotton, he relaxes his grip on you and uses the hand on your hip to make your movements longer, harder, firmer.

In moments, you’re totally plaint and throwing yourself back into him, catching the most sensitive part of yourself on the sheet while he buries his knuckles in deep. The combination is immense, and as he holds you firm so you never stutter, you’re on the brink.

“Fuck,” you say simply as the feeling overtakes you, and you pour.

You feel it bubble over, wet, spilling over his hand, and you revel in how different it always feels to come like this. It’s something you reserve especially for him, because only he can get you to the place where you completely let go and unashamedly indulge in exactly what’s best for you.

And when you’re at your highest, riding the crest of it and revelling in the feeling of the warmth spreading down your legs, instead of bringing you down gently that’s when he pushes himself into you, hard and fast, resuming his earlier design to hold you so close, so tight, that you feel like the same person.

The oversensitivity, still throbbing, is set alight by the drag of him against you, so much more insistent than his fingers, and now so heightened after the way he just finished you off.

He pushes you over the edge again without hesitation, the ragged edge of the last one bleeding into another, and only then does he finally let himself follow, only when he knows he’s shown you exactly what he wants you to know.

As he collapses his body against your own, you pray that speaking the words aloud, confessing your love so directly, has solidified this unspoken thing between the two of you, a promise of something more that had never come to fruition, always just a touch outside of your collective grasp.

You sleep better than you have in months, your legs tangled in his, his breath only a fraction away from yours as you feel, for the first time in a while, whole again.

You’re forced to laugh when you discover just how wrong you are about everything.

Javi gets the call the next morning: Colombia, internal secondment, immediate promotion, indefinite timeframe.

It’s an order rather than a request. Things are heating up, and he’s one of the best they have. You don’t even discuss it.

You didn't know it then, but it would be six years before the two of you are home together again.

And just like that, everything had changed again.

Playlist Recommendations

Taglist

@furious-rogue-stuff

@athalien

@sara-alonso

@vanemando15

#narcos #pedro pascal #javier peña #young!javier peña #javi #pedrito #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #reader insert #female reader #javier peña x you #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #changes #javi x bug fanclub #bug x javi #javi peña #javi x bug #Spotify

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keisurin · 4 years ago

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swipe left! smau - ♡︎the wedding

suna rintarou x y/n l/n

masterlist

27 // 28 // 29

a/n: super long writing, take a drink and have a seat☺️

(for the people on the taglist, all chapters are already up, use the masterlist or next button to find the new chapters)

“y/n. y/n. Y/N DROP THE BET DROP THE BET YOU DONT HAVE TO PAY ME ILL PAY YOU OH MY,” tendou screeched into his microphone. you just explained how you ended up in this situation where you’re going to a wedding as suna’s plus one to shiratorizawa and everyone, more like just tendou was in a sort of panic state.

“tendou-san, sweetie, CHILL IM JUST ACCOMPANYING HIM,” you screech back. you were currently at a hotel near the wedding venue getting ready for the wedding that was sort of last minute having it just 2 days after suna asked. while getting ready you decided to call the shiratorizawa squad but it went downhill quickly with tendou’s undying dislike for suna.

“accompanying him, what does he also need to be accompanied when he goes to the bathroom?” you could feel the aura of tendou rolling his eyes through the phone. despite his saltiness you couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

“tendou-senpai! why are you freaking out so much? it’s not like y/n-senpai ever falls for anyone, nothing will happen right?” goshiki tried to calm down the fuming red head. tendou wasn’t actually angry he just likes to provoke a bit. you on the other hand, would rather die than admit how you feel for suna.

“pft, yea,” you replied.

“oi y/n you didn’t say anything about you and suna sharing a whole ass couple hotel room,” semi said. you and suna were given a hotel room to share, you were sort of shocked but the suna’s seemed to be richer than expected and the wedding must’ve been a big thing.

“hoi there’s two beds it’s just like a sleepover sem-chan.”

“a wedding, y/n are you wearing a wedding gown?” ushijima asked confused on the situation. “BWHAHAHA SHE WOULD THO,” tendou shouted. “y/n would wear the maid outfit tendou got her, she has no morale,” shirabu coldly said.

“when y/n and i were younger she wore crocs to one of the weddings we went to,” semi brought up. “i did and USHIJIMA-SENPAI, I DONT HAVE ANYTHING ON RIGHT NOW, YOU CAN PICK THE COLOUR OF THE DRESS IM GOING TO WEAR” you excitedly spoke.

“y/n are you naked-“ “hey y/n you said suna would provide a dress, don’t forget that,” semi cuts ushijima off but reminded, what would you do without him. and you were actually wearing a temporary dress just waiting for suna to come back with the dress you’re meant to wear.

“put the circumstances aside, i would say you should wear a green dress, the colour of my crops at home.”

you were holding in your laugh as there was silence as ushijima continued “you can camouflage yourself in the crops.”

“ushijima-senpai, i’ll keep that in mind thank you so much.”

after awhile you heard knocks at the door and the familiar voice of suna spoke “y/n, may i come inside?”

“sHIT I THINK SUNA IS HERE.”

“tell him fuck you,” tendou says. “hey this is a no curse convo, goshiki is here.” you spat back. “what did he even do to you,” shirabu asked.

you ended the call and opened the door for suna.

“what’s up,” you smile.

“hey, sorry did i interrupt something?” suna asks.

“nope, no, this is your hotel room anyways, come inside.”

suna handed you your dress and told once you’re done you’ll go to the wedding venue. you followed through and went into the bathroom for privacy. you were already ready from earlier and just had to slip on the dress. you asked suna if you could go out and he gave you the okay.

there you saw him standing there, his body was muscular from volleyball and that showed through the fitted suit. this was the most tidy you’ve ever seen suna, minus the undone tie around his neck, he looked like this could’ve been his wedding.

“don’t know how to tie a tie now do you?” you softly chuckled. he jokingly pouted, “guessing you do?”

you gave the offer to tie it for him and when that was done you made your way to the venue. the venue was near the hotel so it was a small stroll.

the wedding went by quickly, you sat in the row that suna’s family was on. the wedding itself looking beautiful in the theme of light blue. unfortunately you and suna didn’t pay too much attention to what was happening since the two of you honestly just played imessage games the whole time.

towards the end at the reception, the people started the dancing. first came the hip music for the kids where they all just played around. suna’s sister asked you to join her after her brother told her no. you kindly obliged and joined her and just jumped and had fun, you’ve never felt so young. you didn’t see it but suna was covering his smile from how cute the two of you were.

in the end they had the having the typical slow dance for the people with dates to come. suna’s sister suddenly speaking and saying “nii-chan, y/n! please dance?” rintarou rolled his eyes and shook his head, you on the other hand wasn’t able to say no to her, so you pulled rintarou off his seat and and got on the dance floor.

you both didn’t really know what to do except place your arms around his neck. “you really had to pull me into this?” suna said as he placed his hands on your hips. you looked down and bit your lips trying to hold in your laugh since he didn’t seem to hesitant about this. his relatives started to tease and watch as the two of you sort of just awkwardly swayed together. “suna?” “yea?”

you wanted to have this conversation over the phone, it would’ve been less stressful but you couldn’t wait. “suna what do you think of me?” you asked. “eh? did i insult you or something?”

“what? no i just wondered, are you going to leave me once this is done?”

suna was speechless. he didn’t think you’d ask something like that. especially in the moment. “why would you ask something like that?” suna sounded almost offended.

“you said you needed a date for the wedding and that’s it, exams are coming close so our tutoring sessions would end, you don’t really need me anymore right?”

suna at the moment just felt sort of hurt but he gets the idea of you overthinking what your relationship is with him. he pulled you into a hug and spoke “y/n, you’re not this much of a dumbass, wedding, tutoring session or whatever, even if that wasn’t there i want you in my life. i’m into you, you know that?”

rintarou isn’t good with words. if he had to he could reply to anything with one worded answers but he knows what he wants with you. and for you, his say and do anything.

his words fell lightly into your ears, suddenly it felt like your surroundings disappeared and it was just the two of you. you moved a bit to face rintarou’s face, “you’re into me?” you needed to hear it again.

“so into you.”

you leaned your head into his chest and confessed, “me too.”

suna held your chin and made you face him, “putting all of the dumb bets we made aside, will you be my girlfriend?” you giggled and answered “fuck the bets i’m yours.”

funfact(s):

-the wedding was at a resort a bit far from the hyogo mainland which is why suna recommended that y/n stays at the hotel.

-the miya twins kept teasing suna that he purposely asked to share a room with y/n but no it was completed an accident.

-suna planned on asking y/n to be his girlfriend the night they were in the hotel together but already passed out from the fact he had to share a room with y/n.

-the day before, y/n met suna’s family and they all love her, especially suna’s sister.

-they’re official<3

taglist status: CLOSED

taglist: @02hhsailor @blana @heyheysey @elianetsantana @kritiiiii @dae-kirei @honeydrip @bbymilkbread @cece-lives-here @tsum-tsxmus @sbaepsae @shyroadloverslime @amberalisa @peteunderoos @definitelynotbianca @omibaby @angrylittleriri @good-girlinhell @anngelllla @simpletype @todaysnotmyday @rintarhoes @volleybloop @sunaluver @ssuna @shioriaigasaki @alienvarmint @witcherydotcom @babyshoyo @sickofyourbull @rint4rous @fi-chanwrites @wjsuna @pastel-babes @kellesvt @kathya420 @kiyobbie @vhskenma @yumaryko @420-uwu @kiraakaashi @navymacaroons @icedberrytea @vicassa @euphorin @mint-mai @its-babybitch

#swipe left! smau #s.r swipe left!#haikyuu smau #suna rintarou smau #suna rintarou #hq smau #suna rintarō #suna x y/n #suna smau #hq suna #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro smau

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shiroganeryo · 4 years ago

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Komui's Discussion Room content (DGM 27)

Volume 27 has been released recently here in Brazil and I realized the remaining of Komui’s Discussion Room were nowhere to be found in English, but after reading all of it, I thought there are very interesting things hence why I wanted to share!

Please bear in mind this is not a direct translation, but a summary.

I have a lot of criticism when it comes to Viz Media’s release (official English), but I’m quite content with the work Panini, the distributor of D.Gray-Man in Brazil, has done so far with the official Portuguese release. If there are any mistakes, please bear in mind I translated the information directly from their version.

There are 11 questions covered in this summary. For the others, please check Jeidafei’s translations on them (totally recommend it!): Part 1 | Part 2 | Author's note & Thanks Corner | Extra

Without further ado, let’s get into it! This got very long.

≫ Kanda hasn’t reached the “critical point” in synchronization yet (+ why Allen isn’t a General)

In the question “How did Kanda hide having gone past the critical point”, Tiedoll answers that he actually has the potential it takes to do it but hasn’t done it yet. Still on the same question, they answer a related question about Allen’s critical point: “If Allen has reached the critical point, why wasn’t he appointed to become a general during the Order’s reconstruction?”

Allen replies that it was impossible at that time since Central was keeping watch over him. Tiedoll adds that he’s also too young and the only one able to operate the Ark, the latter making Central even more suspicious of him. General Cross’s reputation also seems to have played a part in this, having the higher-ups deem Allen as someone they couldn’t trust enough.

Ryo’s note: Allen thanks Tiedoll for putting his thoughts about Cross into words and Cross simply laughs it off. XD

≫ Sleeping positions

They get asked about their sleeping positions. Tiedoll describes how Kanda sleeps with detail (when younger, in fetal position; nowadays, he sleeps lying on his side, preferentially the right side).

Allen comments that Johnny sleeps sprawled on the floor or the desk and that everyone in the Science Division sleeps like this; when he first saw it, he got concerned thinking something tragic had happened. Johnny says it’s comfortable to sleep like this, but Allen isn’t so sure.

Cross comments on how Allen sleeps; he mentions he likes to sleep hugging something and when he can’t do it, he complains until falling asleep. Allen gets flustered and claims that he got used to sleeping with Tim because he used to be big, but is over it nowadays. Johnny remembers Link used to tell him not to sleep with the piggy-bank, to which Allen replies that it was “not a sleeping position, but survival instincts”.

Kanda comments on how he brought a ton of food to the infirmary one time and says it was annoying to listen to him eating nonstop. Allen replies with sarcasm (“sorry for needing to eat to recover my energies”).

Cross sleeps naked, with his arms open (according to Allen).

Tiedoll sleeps on his stomach, blanket over his face.

Ryo’s note: The time Kanda is referring to is in Chapter 135 (135th Night: Repose, Partly Cloudly).

≫ The symbol on the CROWs' foreheads

Cross replies that it’s probably the compulsory mark of the procedure that transforms regular people in CROWs. Tiedoll says that Cross knows a lot, as expected of someone who’s able to use magic –he shrugs off the compliment – and Kanda asks when and how exactly someone like him learned it. He angrily says he didn’t learn it anywhere and ends the question at Allen’s remark that he always gets angry when people ask.

Ryo’s note: This is interesting. Could imply he was the one to teach magic to Nea (and the Earl himself?), and not the other way around. But, it’s also possible he just didn’t want to answer.

≫ “What is something you find impressive on the other, but have never admitted?”

Johnny decides to start with Kanda and Allen, and the two exchange insults for several lines.

Johnny then passes the baton to the Generals, who do the exact same as their apprentices.

Johnny ends the question with a thank you and sweating nervously.

Ryo’s note: By “insults”, I mean things like Kanda calling Allen a crybaby, and Allen saying Kanda’s dumb. Tiedoll calls Cross a delinquent; Cross calls him “doting dad”. The list goes on…

≫ The time Kanda spent with General Tiedoll right after becoming his apprentice (+ Allen’s time with Cross)

They are asked what was the most outstanding episode from such a time, and Kanda absentmindedly says he forgot. Tiedoll seems disappointed, stating they had made so many marvelous memories together, to which Kanda replies “please stop talking in this weird way”.

Allen asks how the travels were, and Tiedoll says the most important at that time was to take care of mending Kanda’s heart. They spent much time talking about amenities, having contact with plants and animals and admiring beautiful landscapes. Tiedoll believes that getting in touch with beautiful things can help to connect with the world, despite carrying the burden of being a Second; he wanted Kanda to feel like regular people feel about the world.

Johnny and Allen are touched, and the latter comments how jealous he is. Cross then reminds Allen of how many bedsheets he had to wash because of him, making him flustered. He then goes on to remind how not only he did that but also had to feed him – Tiedoll comments on how it seems impossible to imagine Cross doing all that – and even help him change many times.

Allen’s embarrassment reaches the maximum and he threatens to beat Cross if he keeps talking about that.

≫ Stories of when Kanda and Lenalee were little

Kanda tries to shrug the question off, but Johnny insists they answer. Tiedoll says that the two of them were really cute, just like two lilies that bloomed inside the gray scenery of the Order; Kanda tells him to stop.

Allen is uninterested in Kanda, but wants to hear about Lenalee. Cross asks him if he likes her, and says he thought he had a girlfriend in the Asian Branch already. Allen denies it and says both LouFa and Lenalee are his friends; Cross laughs, saying he doesn’t judge, and Allen nearly snaps in irritation (again).

Johnny moves on to answer the question; Kanda is against it, but Tiedoll holds him in place. Johnny tells that Jiji told him that at first, Kanda would be asked if Lenalee could train with him, but he would shrug her off saying he didn’t want to train with a girl, which would make her cry.

Every time Kanda made Lenalee cry, she would run off to Reever. In reality, Johnny thinks she wanted to talk to Komui instead, but she thought he was busy and didn’t want to bother him, resulting in her crying at Reever’s desk. Tiedoll and Allen are weeping at it (they thought it’s cute).

While Reever comforted Lenalee, Marie would appear bringing Kanda along, who had no idea how to apologize, while Lenalee would bashfully hide inside Reever’s lab coat. This kept happening until he eventually accepted to train with her.

Johnny starts telling another story involving Kanda’s meditation and Lenalee coming back tired from a mission, but Kanda interrupts him. Allen says it’s being fun and tells him not to bother.

Kanda tells him to shut up, calling him a bedwetter. Allen snaps (again).

Ryo’s note: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

≫ “Who amongst the Noah would Allen best go along with? Hypothetically speaking.”

Allen and Kanda are worn out from fighting (see the previous question); Johnny is giving them calming tea. Tiedoll says that it seems Allen and Tyki Mikk looked friendly when talking to each other, and Allen interjects saying they’re not friends and that Tyki doesn’t respect the notion of personal space.

He then goes on to say he doesn’t imagine himself being friends with any Noah because they lack common sense. Cross mentions Road and how she’s always being flirty with him, which makes Allen tell him to stop implying things, while sounding unsure about being friends with her or not.

Johnny asks if Allen is embarrassed and reminds Road kissed him. He denies being embarrassed and says that kissing is just a form of greeting for her (he’s sweating nervously while saying so). He adds that, on top of that, he feels like Road sees someone else when she looks at him.

Cross seems amused.

Ryo’s note: This answer is very interesting. It seems to confirm the theory that Road had some kind of connection with past!Allen. We won’t know for sure until it’s revealed, but it does seem to imply such a thing.

≫ The taste of Innocence + the Crystal Type Innocence + Exorcist supplies + Cross suspiciously knowing about the Bookman clan

A reader asks how did Innocence taste like when liquefied; Kanda says it tastes like nothing, similar to water.

Johnny points out the wounds that formed after their Innocence became Crystal types and if they don’t hurt. Kanda says that at the time they don’t, but such wounds won’t heal even with his healing ability – which he concludes makes sense since it’s from where the blood comes out to form the weapons.

Johnny mentions that the Science Division (Komui, more specifically) made Lenalee pills that will prevent anemia. Still on that subject, Allen remembers people had asked what goes inside the bags the Exorcists carry on their uniforms. Johnny says they carry first-aid kits, disinfectants, anti-hemorrhagic meds, and things of the sort. Miranda and Timothy carry sweets with a high intake of calories, Krory carries Akuma blood sweets and Lavi and Bookman asked for migraine meds.

Tiedoll says they are nothing without the support of the Science Division and thanks them. Allen asks about Lavi and Bookman getting migraines. Cross mentions it’s probably from an occupational disease because storing that much information and memories can wreck your head over time.

Allen comments again that he seems to know a lot about the Bookman Clan, and that it’s very suspicious. Cross magnificently shrugs off the question.

≫ Allen’s cheating

Allen gets asked if he becomes bad at luck games (i.e gambling) in case he doesn’t cheat. He says that a bet on luck always rewards something even if gains are small, but Johnny says he’s really bad at things like rock-paper-scissors. Kanda thinks he was just in denial about admitting he’s unlucky.

When scolded by Kanda, Allen says it was a matter of survival and that he never cheated good people on; just bad people.

Johnny says living like this is dangerous and that he should stop; Allen apologizes and says he needs money, and if anything, he can use his Innocence.

Cross is amused and sounds proud. Tiedoll regrets Cross’s influence on Allen.

≫ About Link

Allen gets asked if he has ever seen Link smile, to which he responds he has tried making him laugh/smile, but never could do it. Johnny says that everyone from Central is very serious, especially Link. Tiedoll thinks that it might be forbidden to smile when their superior is Director Lvellie.

Allen goes on to ramble about how Link complained about everything: when he had food on his face after or during eating, asking him to redo reports because they were illegible despite Reever being able to read, scolding him for not drying his hair after going out of the bath because he could get a cold, and how he was a shame for not folding his uniform properly before putting it away.

Cross asks him, “what was he? Your mother?” and Allen says he didn’t get annoyed at him. He wonders if all moms are like this.

Johnny says people were worried when he was assigned to watch Allen, but in the end, Link went along well with everyone and confirms that Allen liked him as well. He also states that Allen’s reports became a lot easier to read thanks to him.

Ryo’s note: Ladies, gentlemen, and non-binary folks: it’s Link appreciation time! *tips hat* Also Allen wondering about how mothers treat their children was just precious, even if it’s a throwaway comment.

≫ The vibe at the Black Order

In the question “Who runs faster, Komui or Reever?”, Johnny says that he thinks Reever is faster; Allen adds that Komui cheats by using Komurin, though. Kanda gets annoyed and tells them they (at the Science Division) should make Komui behave accordingly to his role. Johnny sniffs and says that they try.

Tiedoll says that it’s actually good that Komui is cheerful because the Order used to be a very different place until he took over the post, and that he (Tiedoll) disliked the gloomy aura it used to have. Allen remembers Lenalee commented about it once and asks if the Order was really this different back then. Tiedoll says that even if it’s been built with a noble purpose, human beings aren’t perfect and a lot of things get distorted over a hundred years. He recommends Allen to ask For about it, as she has existed ever since the Order was founded and protects it to this day.

Allen is sad and comments he wants to visit the Asian Branch again someday. Johnny says he’ll go with Allen, but the latter says he would want to eat Jeryy’s food again before that. Cross sneers and wishes good luck.

They wrap it up at this, and both Kanda and Allen look very happy about being done with the Discussion Corner (as noted by Johnny). Tiedoll bids Cross adieu, and says “rest in peace, Marian” – to which he replies “don’t treat me like a ghost”.

Allen says he knows Cross is an illusion created by his weakness, but that he was happy to see him (in reference to the 222nd Night: Searching for A.W - Hypokrisis). Cross tells him not to exaggerate.

Johnny is content that they could finally keep it to the ideal number of pages – something the Discussion Corner is known to usually have trouble with. Tiedoll says that if they had gone overboard, the next issue’s Discussion Corner would be canceled, and wraps up thanking everyone who has cared about Yu so far and asks that people keep cheering for him.

Johnny thanks the readers for sending their questions. Allen and Kanda are relieved it’s over.

Ryo’s note: And that’s it! Man, this got LONG. Thank you very much for reading until the end. Can’t wait for the next Discussion Room, the way Tiedoll worded it makes it seem like it’ll be on the next volume, 28. I’m excited!

If you're interested in seeing more DGM content from me, feel free to check my masterlist here.

#d.gray-man #d.gray man #komui's discussion corner #komui's lounge #Allen Walker #Johnny Gill #Kanda Yuu #Cross Marian #Froi Tiedoll #DGM #I sure hope I didn't count wrong the number of questions #math isn't my forte at all #as for the palette requests: I'm currently working on them!

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

Text

Out Of Time ~ 136

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,000ish

Summary: The pregnancy continues. Y/N spends time with Steve. (Read the note at the end of the chapter.)

Warning: car accident

Week 22 was full of compliments from Tony about how Y/N had never looked more beautiful. Her stomach began to get dry and irritated. This led to Tony spending a lot of time rubbing lotion on the baby bump while talking to Morgan.

Week 23 came with worsening symptoms: leg cramps, pregnancy brain, backaches, constipation, and headaches. Y/N was very grateful that Tony was a constant and so very caring. She honestly didn’t know what she would have done without him.

Weeks 24 and 25: Y/N’s sex drive had died, which disappointed the both of them. Tony knew and respected Y/N to know not to push. Her hands also began tingling, which apparently was normal.

Week 26: sleep was definitely not Y/N’s friend. Leg cramps, frequent urination, anxiety, and Morgan’s kicking made it nearly impossible. Tony felt awful, unable to find anyway for Y/N to get rest. A few times, late night drives worked or Tony taking to the bump, but that was few and far between. This left Y/N exhausted and crabby.

Week 27 began with an exhausted Y/N and an intensely worried Tony. They were in the city for Tony to go to a few Stark Industry meetings and so that Y/N could spend some time with Steve.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay down here alone until Rogers comes and picks you up?” Tony was worrying over Y/N. But he was also worried that, if he was any later to the meeting, Pepper would literally murder him.

“I’ll be fine,” Y/N replied, swatting away Tony from the chair she was in. “I love you. Now go.”

Tony pecked her lips. “Love you girls too.” He started hurrying away. “Make sure to take it easy! Let me know if you need anything!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N muttered, waving at Tony.

As Y/N tried to find a comfortable position in the chair, she could feel something was off. Looking around, no one appeared off. She checked around a few more times before just chalking it up to that half the world had disappeared. Steve arrived lot long later and went inside to meet her.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” he greeted with a smile. “Wow.” He checked her over. “That baby’s really growing.”

“She is,” Y/N responded, smiling softly as she rubbed her belly. “Somedays I can’t believe it and others I just want her out.”

Steve reached his hands out to help his sister out of the chair. She put her hands in his. “My favorite niece giving my sister trouble?”

“Your favorite niece doesn’t let me sleep.” Steve pulled her up, keeping a hold of her while she tried to balance. “It’s kind of getting on my nerves.”

“Maybe her uncle can talk some sense into her today.”

“Please, she’s stopped listening to her father.”

Steve led her out and helped her into the car. Getting in himself, he began the drive to Brooklyn.

“So, I was thinking that we could eat lunch at this diner that’s opened back up in Brooklyn,” Steve suggested. “Then maybe visit the cemetery, visit the parents and AJ?”

“That all sounds wonderful, Stevie,” Y/N responded. “Morgan makes me hungry all the time, so sorry if I spend all your money.”

“Whatever makes my niece, and my sister, happy.”

~~~

Y/N was so picky yet ordered most of the menu. Steve ordered one small thing, thinking to himself that he’d finish up whatever Y/N didn’t. As they waited for their food, Y/N couldn’t help but feel something was off again. She looked around again. Y/N could tell that the other people in there were trying not to stare at the former Avengers, trying not to glare. Studying her surroundings like she was taught, her fingers were anxiously tapping against the table.

“Hey,” Steve called out to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine,” Y/N said, swallowing. “It’s just… People hate us. And I don’t blame them. We didn’t protect them like we always sworn to do.”

“Y/N,” Steve reached across and grabbed her hand. “We can’t control them and their thoughts and actions. Only our own.”

“And if they don’t move on?”

Steve sighed. “Then we don’t either.”

~~~

“So, how’s wedding planning coming?” Steve asked once the food arrived.

“Currently, it’s not moving much,” Y/N answered. “I just am exhausted all the time and I can’t even think about trying on a dress right now. I’ve mainly just created several Pinterest boards and such.”

“Well, you two are not in any rush, especially since you’re waiting for little Mo to come.”

“Little Mo?” Y/N giggled. “Is that what you’re going to call her?”

“I figured that, as the uncle, I needed a nickname for my niece.”

“You and Tony can’t just wait for her to come?”

“But it’s still too long of a wait. Like, how many more weeks?”

“I’m week 27 currently, so… I think I technically have 15 more weeks. Ugh, that’s too long! Don’t get me wrong, I have loved growing my daughter inside of me, but I’m tired of it and just want her here.”

“She’ll be here so enough and causing all sorts of problems then too.”

“I guess you’re right… She’s not going to let me sleep for years.”

“Good thing you won’t be doing this alone. You have Tony, Happy, Rhodey, Nat, Pepper, and, like always, you’ll have me.”

“Thanks Stevie. Means a lot.”

~~~

“I bought some flowers, they’re at my place,” Steve stated as they drove away from the diner. “Can we stop there and I can run in and grab them?”

“Of course, Stevie,” Y/N answered. “You mind if I just stay in the car? I’m getting tired.”

“It’s no problem. I’ll be quick.”

“It’s too bad though. I’ve never seen your new place.”

“And I haven’t seen yours.”

“I’ll convince Tony and we’ll have you over soon. Or I’ll convince him to leave and sneak you over. That probably won’t happen until Morgan’s here though. He barely let me do this.”

“He’s just scared and he cares. It’s who Tony is.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s one of the reasons why I love him.”

“I am happy for you. Even after all that’s happened.”

“Thanks, Stevie. I hope that one day you can find something that makes you happy as well.”

Steve shot a tight-lipped smile at his sister before pulling off to the side and parking. He rolled down the windows a bit, pulled out his keys, and opened his door.

“I won’t be long,” he said, heading out the door.

“And I’ll just me here,” Y/N responded.

She sighed, leaning back the seat. Taking off her seatbelt, Y/N closed her eyes and rubbed her baby bump. She was so tired and just wanted to rest, though nothing was allowing her to. Then again, Y/N felt like something was off. Her eyes opened and she began to scan the area. Something was not right, and hadn’t been all day. Sitting up straighter, as much as she could, her breath started quickening. Not able to see anything in front of her, Y/N checked the review mirror. She gasped just before a black suv came barreling into Steve’s car.

Y/N was thrown into the dashboard, causing her to cry out. Steve’s car crashed into the car in front of it. The black suv backed up slightly before ramming into Steve’s car again. This time Y/N’s head it the windshield, cracking it. She screamed.

“P-Pl-Please!” She screamed. “My baby!”

As the black suv backed up again, another one barreled in from the side. This crashed Steve’s car into a lamppost. The window next to Y/N shattered all over her. Her vision was fuzzy from her head’s impact with the windshield and she could tell she had begun bleeding in placed because of the shattered windows.

“Because of you, my family is gone!” She heard someone shout from outside the car. “Because of you have the world is gone!”

“Please! Stop!” Y/N screamed. “Please! I’m pregnant!”

“I’m sure others were as well when they turned to ash!”

Tears were soaking Y/N’s cheeks as she tired to get out of the car. But her door was crushed into the lamppost. Her heart and head were pounding as both cars came at her again. She screamed in agony as something impaled her leg.

“More of you should have died after failing to protect us!” The voice outside the car continued.

The black suv to her side rammed into Steve’s car again, effectively knocking her out cold.

~~~

Steve was whistling as he hurried down the stairs with the flowers. There were two boutiques, one for his parents and one for his nephew. As he exited his building, he froze. His car was totaled and two black suv’s were speeding away.

“Y/N,” he gasped. “Y/N!”

He ran to the car. Y/N was clearly unconscious, leaning against her crushed door. Steve quickly looked over her. She was bleeding, everywhere. Which was terrifying him. Looking for a way to get his sister out, he realized her door was crushed shut and stuck because of the lamppost.

“Y/N, Y/N,” Steve called. “Please answer me. Wake up and answer me.”

When he didn’t get a response, he began to tear things off the car. He needed to get to Y/N, needed to get her out of there before it was too late.

“Mr. Rogers!” An old woman came rushing out of no where. “I’ve called 911! They’re on their way.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He ripped away the back door, finally.

“They said to wait for them to get her out.”

“Can’t do that. She’s my sister and she’s pregnant.” The sirens were then heard coming towards them.

“Please, Mr. Rogers, they’re almost here. You don’t know what damage you can cause.”

Huffing Steve reached through the shattered window to touch Y/N’s skin. “Stay with me, Y/N. Stay with me.”

~~~

“Where is Y/N?! WHERE IS SHE?!” Steve was sure that Tony’s panic could be heard throughout the whole city. Steve was sitting in the waiting room, head in his hands, as Tony, Happy, and Pepper came running in. “Rogers! Where is Y/N?”

Steve looked up, revealing his puffy red eyes and tear stained cheeks. “She’s—Y/N’s in surgery,” he replied, voice breaking.

“What?! How is she? How’s the baby?”

“She’s— they— I’m so sorry, Tony…”

“Rogers,” Tony growled. “Tell me what—“

“Mr. Stark,” a man called, coming out in scrubs. “I was told you’d arrived. I’m one of the doctors on your fiancé’s case.”

“How is she?” Tony turned to the doctor. “How’s the baby?”

“I’m afraid Miss Rogers was brought in with serious injuries. She was bleeding, quite a lot, and had a serious head injury. The baby was also in clear distress.”

“Clear distress?”

“We had to do an emergency c-section to deliver your baby. She’s currently in surgery as well.” Tony stumbled back, Happy steadying him. “They’re both in critical condition and still have quite a few hours of surgery ahead of us. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you,” Pepper said, as the doctor left.

“Tony, let’s sit you down,” Happy said, guiding Tony down into a seat across from Steve.

“What… happened…?” Tony panted. “I thought you were with her?”

“I needed to grab something, Tony,” Steve responded, clearly feeling all the guilt. “I didn’t think that it would be an issue… I came down from my apartment to see my car completely wrecked against the car in front of it and the lamppost beside it… two black suv’s were speeding away. I didn’t get a good look at them.”

“I can’t— I can’t lose them…”

“I know.”

“If I do… I’m blaming you.”

“Don’t worry, Tony. I’m already blaming myself.”

next chapter >

I leave for Disney World this week. It is the last big family vacation that I will be on for a while. Because of that, I will not be on tumblr March 19th through March 24th. I will actually be deleting the app so that it’s not a distraction.

Most likely, nothing will be posted during that time. If something is, it will have been queued up. Things that are posted while I’m out of town will not have tag lists attached. I will put this note in all the fic posts until then.

So do not come at me for spending time with my family instead of including the tag list. (I say that knowing that people won’t care and still come at me…. be respectful and get over yourself.)

Check out the 2 ending chapter titles and possible banners here.

Also, I will be taking all of April off for job hunting and such. Please be kind and understanding. This is important to me.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #iron man x reader #tony stark imagine #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #avengers endgame #endgame #tony stark #Tony Stark fanfiction #avengers imagine #Iron Man #iron man fanfiction #iron man imagine

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skiyoosmi · 4 years ago

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– caramel frappucino ch. 27

marga’s notes. AHHH hello my loveliest readers; i cannot believe we have finally reached this end (well, not really the last chap ‘cause we still have two epilogue-like chaps coming up but yeah)… i hope you enjoy this part!! PLUS LISTEN TO THE SONGS CAUSE AHHHHH THE. MOOD. FITS.

♪ CHAPTER THEME ♪

on the train ride home by the paper kites | quiet eyes by axel flóvent

previous | masterlist | next

“Do I look okay?” you asked, head turning to your cousin who was casually lounging around your room. For the umpteenth time of the day, Tetsurou released an exasperated sigh, looking away from the game he was playing on his mobile phone and glaring at you while lying on your neatly-folded bed.

“That’s what you’ve been asking for the past hour and I keep telling you yes,” he grumbled as he adjusted his body so he now laid on his stomach, continuing to scroll through his phone and at the same time, muttering some stuff about how he hopes you miss the fireworks show. Seconds later, he let out a loud yelp as he felt something hit him right on the back of his head. He scowled in your direction upon noticing the missing pink hairbrush that was previously in your hand, now on the floor.

“You brought me into this situation so don’t curse on me now. This… is your ship sailing,” you gestured to your face that was fancily styled for the night out. You only rolled your eyes when he childishly stuck his tongue out as a reply, going back to fixing whatever still needs to be fixed.

A few more minutes of doing unnecessary things passed before a knock resonated through your apartment’s front door. Tetsurou immediately jumped up from his position on your bed, giggling when he passed by your form before skipping his way downstairs to open the door for your guest.

To say that your heart was beating loud is an understatement – hell, you could almost swear it’s about to burst out of your chest from its pounding. Stop sweating, doofus! You’ll ruin your makeup, you silently screamed at yourself, feeling the dampness slowly beginning to form around your forehead and neck out of extreme anxiety.

“Y/N! Get your butt downstairs. Your date’s already here,” the teasing and boisterous voice of your cousin echoed throughout the apartment, followed by another giggle after a few seconds, probably because Sakusa replied to his rather embarassing comment. Despite not seeing the two, you felt your face flush; it wasn’t like you’re denying that it was a date… it was just unusual to hear especially when your date was someone like Sakusa.

After gathering enough nerves to face them, you took a deep breath and looked at your vanity mirror for the last time, hands smoothing down your red floral yukata for any crease that formed. Soon, you found yourself bashfully standing in front of the two tall men as Sakusa’s eyes shamelessly scanned your figure. Although he himself was wearing a simple navy yukata, you couldn’t fathom what he was thinking seeing as his face was adorned with his usual mask that was, for some reason, black this time.

“You look nice,” he nodded at your direction while you smiled, returning the compliment you have surprisingly received from him; you knew that your face was red as hell right now based on how your cousin was biting his lips to keep himself from laughing.

“Now, go! Enjoy yourselves and remember to make the wish,” he winked, pushing you both out of the door with his hands on your lower backs. You both gave him a glare that he only ignored, waving goodbye as you went on your way.

“I hope he understood what I said about making the wish though.”

“I’m sorry, he really didn’t mean to,” you profusely bowed your head at the man almost twice your age who was glowering at your companion who, in return, remained unbothered. On the ends of the said man’s feet were his spilled strawberry and milk kakigōri which Sakusa, coming from the old man’s words, knocked over when he bumped into him while walking beside the food stalls.

“Young miss, instead of apologizing when it’s not your fault, you should teach your companion how to be respectful to his elders,” he shook his head from side to side in a mocking disappointment, as if to annoy Sakusa further.

“Are you implying that I am disrespectful?” Sakusa countered, hands clenching a little bit as he tried to calm himself down. He doesn’t need a nameless man almost ruining both of your nights right now. Still, his pride didn’t let him let this one go; he couldn’t give this man the satisfaction when he clearly knows to himself that he didn’t bump into him a while ago. If anything, it was the older man who purposely bump into the two of you – probably cause you kind of looked a little too beautiful tonight.

Sure, he won’t deny that he found you pretty right from the moment he met you, one of the main reasons he decided to keep on talking to you and befriending you instead of loathing you for spilling the caramel frappucino on him. For some reason however, the way you styled yourself tonight made you even more gorgeous in his eyes, if that was still possible.

“Just drop it, ‘Omi,” you harshly whispered, fingers grabbing a fold of his yukata and tugging on it to stop him from engaging into an unnecessary fight. In addition to that, you were pretty sure the fireworks show will go off any moment now; you had to find yourselves a decent place where you can watch the much-anticipated event or else you will seriously sulk into a corner until next year’s festival.

“Apologize,” the man ordered but to no avail, Sakusa still stood his ground; even going as far as grabbing your hands with his and pulling you into the opposite direction. From behind you, you could hear a noise of protest and a ‘you little s–‘ before it was cut off. He kept on pulling you despite your arguments about how he should’ve just lowered his pride and said he’s sorry.

“Why would I say sorry when I didn’t do anything? It’s clear as a day that he’s just trying to prolong the conversation so he could take more look of you.”

“W-what…” you stuttered, not really being able to understand what he was trying to say. As if he was able to read your mind, he let out a frustrated sigh after removing his black mask.

“He had this disgusting look that screams he wants to take you out despite him being older by so much. I’m saying it’s because you look too pretty tonight,” the last sentence he told you immediately caused your face to flush a deep red; you were just so thankful it was nighttime or else you wouldn’t be able to live off the embarrassment of being so flustered from a simple compliment.

A few seconds later, it dawned upon you that he brought you to a rather secluded place by the top of the small hill where you still had a good view of what was about to come. Observing the area, you began to think Sakusa also watches the yearly event, judging by how he knew that this kind of secret place existed. People usually crowded by the bridge since it has the widest space and the clearest view which also meant that on this hill, you two were alone together.

He then took out a large piece of clothing that he laid on the ground, sitting cross-legged and patting the space next to him as he gestured for you to sit as well. Following his request, you gently sat down and looked ahead the reflection of the moon by the river.

“Are you feeling alright these days?” you only hummed in reply, too entranced by the night’s beauty. Ten minutes from now, the fireworks will make it even more beautiful.

“I’ve never pestered you about your… situation with Iwaizumi-san, but I felt like I needed to ask how you are,” he explained upon catching your eyes that were filled with wonder and curiosity due to his sudden question. Your mouth formed a small ‘o’ before giving him a small smile.

“I’m really okay, don’t worry. I just feel guilty sometimes, you know? In my mind, there are just some thoughts that pass by… things like I wish I’ve known so I didn’t hurt him that long,” you let out a quiet sigh, folding your arms over your knee and placing your chin on it. The quiet cricket of the night bugs adding more solemnity in the air as you both talked.

“Do you wish to go back to that time? And maybe be in a relationship with him?” you immediately shook your head ‘no.’

“No, no… not that kind of regret. I wouldn’t have agreed to be in a relationship either way. I was too young and too dumb; I know it won’t work out between us. I mean… I just get that feeling that we won’t.”

“Then why do you feel sad?” you mulled over his question, trying to form the right words that will truly explain how you really felt with everything that has happened.

“It’s something like… I wish I’d known so I could’ve rejected him right away? Is that cruel? I mean, maybe if I did that, we wouldn’t have gone through such pain for such a long time, get rid of the false hopes we had for each other. Hell, I don’t even remember anymore what it feels like to be really happy without thinking of such thoughts,” you sadly chuckled before shrugging and leaning back as you saw the people from faraway beginning to take their phones out, signaling that the fireworks show was almost beginning.

You felt Sakusa scoot closer to you; something you didn’t expect since you knew he never liked getting close to another person. You were sure as hell by now that all throughout the night, he was acting really weird; something different compared to his usual demeanor – not that it freaked you out though. If anything, you liked his slight clinginess too much… but you didn’t need him being weirded out so you opted to not saying anything.

“Is that your wish?” he quietly asked, making you jump out of surprise for his sudden closeness. His nimble fingers were on your chin, turning your head so you could look at his eyes that screamed a thousand feelings.

“W-what?” you breathed out, internally cursing because you didn’t even know how many times you’ve stuttered tonight.

“I’ve read somewhere that if you make a wish and… give the person beside you a kiss, it will come true so I’m asking you, is that your wish? To be truly happy,” he whispered, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. If this was any other person, you were pretty sure you would’ve slapped the wits out of him due to his statement’s ridiculousness but for some reason, you couldn’t move away from him.

“I… I think so,” you meekly nodded, gulping as he seemed to have no plan on moving at all. You think you can hear the fireworks crackling as it began to light up the sky, booming over the night sky as it tried to get your attention

“I’ll try my best to make you happy then.”

… but the feeling of soft lips crashing into yours as soon as he said what he wanted to say was enough to leave you distracted. It wasn’t like anything you have imagined before; this – this was full of love, magic and adoration, something you have missed when you often wondered what it felt like to have a kiss. Heartbeats powering the sound of the explosions and sparks as he intertwined his fingers into yours, panting for breath when he released himself from you.

“Y-you.... kissed me... you hate germs... and I missed the fireworks,” you mumbled, feeling rather lightheaded from kissing him too long. He lightly chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over to give you another peck.

“I think we can let those slide just this once.”

#haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #sakusa smau #sakusa x reader #haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu headcanons #sakusa imagines #sakusa scenarios #sakusa social media au #sakusa headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years ago

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The Oncoming Storm Part 28: Big Bad Wolf

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Just when you think that things were getting a bit more under your control shit gets incredibly real. Why does it feel that things are going to get worse before they get better?

The choice is coming, but have a bit more plot first. Don't worry, I'll break up the angst with some fun soon enough. Y/N needs a hug, right? Hoping to do some more art of her today too. Also, wanted to say thanks again for reading. You guys are the best ;_;

Part 27 Part 29 Chapter Index

Grounding exercises helped and while you were still shaky, you managed to get cleaned up and ready for the day. As you made your way toward Raiden’s chamber, you felt considerably more put together than you had only moments ago. Hopefully, that would be enough false confidence to fool everyone else into believing it, too. The good news was that you didn’t think that Raiden had any interest in your emotional state and he likely wouldn’t pry. You were grateful for that.

Sometimes with trauma you just wanted to move on instead of dwelling on something that was so far beyond your control you had no idea where to begin with coping.

Turning the corner, you found Kung Lao walking toward you. You were relieved to find that he looked much better than the day before. Color had flooded back to his face and while he was still bruised and bandaged, he seemed chipper. You waved at him in greeting and then, much to your surprise, he picked you right up off of the ground, spun you around, and then set you back down on your feet.

“Whoa, hey!” You laughed, getting the shivers. He was back to his old self again. “Someone’s feeling better.” You peeked at the bandages you could see and he didn’t swat you away. In fact, he seemed pretty proud that you were checking on him.

“Much better. A little sore but the fever’s gone so practically good as new.” He took a step back from you and nodded down the hall. “Yesterday is kind of a blur. Were you actually there with me or did I just hallucinate that you were?”

“…do you hallucinate often?”

“No, but…”

“Are these hallucinations usually of me?”

“I had a fever, Y/N.”

“Have you considered talking to someone about these hallucinations? Therapy is incredibly helpful.” You teased him and he rolled his eyes. “Yes, I was there with you. You were sick.”

“Did I give you a hard time? I felt terrible so that’s possible.”

“No harder than the usual.”

“Good!” He laughed but seemed relieved. What was he hiding, exactly? “Glad to hear it. What about you, Y/N? Are you feeling okay? No mysterious artifact-related illness?”

“Yes, I’m uh… I’m fine. As you said, I’m probably cursed, so I’m used to feeling like crap.” You had expected him to ask you but your voice still quavered nervously and you were annoyed with yourself. Covering it up with sarcasm was your only defense remaining.

“You are a terrible liar.” He didn’t get the chance to tease you further because Liu Kang was joining you from down the hall. Even from afar he looked terrible. He was still cute, but he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and was paler than you’d ever seen anyone before.

“Oh no, Liu!” You gasped.

“Wow.” Kung Lao was laughing at his brother and so you smacked his arm to silence him but it didn’t work.

“Are you okay, Liu?” You glared at Kung Lao and then gave your attention back to Liu.

“I’ve already been to the infirmary.” Despite how gray he was, he smiled. “High fever but nothing I can’t handle.” He took a step back from you and tilted his head, looking you over from head to toe. Then he brushed his finger over your cheek just beneath your eye and you stiffened up in alert. Kung Lao was looking at him as though he had some nerve, too. Then you swatted his hand away and stepped back. “Have you been crying?”

You averted your eyes and tightened your lips. How could he have known? Just by looking at you? What kind of crazy in tune with your body and emotions was he? Kung Lao snapped to you in alarm and then pouted as if annoyed that he hadn’t noticed you’d been obviously upset. So much for having felt good about your façade.

“…no?” You’d taken too long to answer. Kung Lao’s pout faded and he chuckled.

“You are the worst liar, really. It was a joke at first but now I’m serious about it.”

“Is everything okay?” Liu was trying not to sound worried but was failing at it. You nodded to let him know you were fine. “Just… having a moment or…?”

“I… uh…” You wanted to say yes. That you’d had a moment. A moment where you’d needed a good cry. There was no point in you rattling through what you’d seen twice since you would have to tell Raiden. Besides, it was easier to talk to Raiden about these things. Discussion with him over it was clinical. Discussion with Lao and Liu was emotional. You could explain your bruised palms and the crazy ink web you’d created later. Oh, and the demon that had tried to murder you again. Instead, you stuttered and betrayed yourself.

“You had a vision.” Liu knew too much. He was too intuitive. He had to be stopped. Kung Lao stepped next to Liu and folded his arms over his chest in judgment. They were both judging you for trying to hide the truth from them. You huffed in frustration. How could he read you so easily? How had he known? Why couldn’t you have just said it had been hormones or something?

“Look, I’m going to talk to Raiden and I figured that I’d just tell him when I’m there. Don’t make me tell this story twice, please.” You stubbornly walked toward them and they stepped out of your way on either side of you to allow you to pass. Kung Lao caught up to you and walked alongside you on your left. He leaned over just enough to talk to you covertly.

“Are you okay?”

“I just said I didn’t want to talk about it.” You swatted him away but he kept walking closely alongside you.

“What did you see?”

“Guys! Really! I’m obviously doing okay.” You gestured to Liu who had joined you on your right and he laughed in surprise. “Liu is a different color today! Can we talk about that instead?”

Liu Kang and Kung Lao exchanged a glance in front of you and then spoke in unison. “No.”

You sighed and continued walking through the finally familiar halls. “Well, that’s too bad. I told you already, I’m fine. The most important person to talk to about this vision is Raiden. I’m not wasting my breath by saying it twice because you two are nosy.”

“Wow.”

“That’s harsh,” Liu coughed, covering his mouth with his arm as they caught up to you again.

“She’s wasting her breath, Liu.”

“I know, Lao. Here we are, worried about her, and she’s wasting her breath if she tells us what happened.”

“I hate you both so much right now.”

“Wow!” Kung Lao threw his hands into the air in mock aghast.

“She hates us now.”

“All because we care.”

“Oh my god.” You laughed and then walked faster to get past them. Them teaming up on you was intimidating but also hilarious. You sure wished that Chen’s voice wasn’t rocketing around through your brain. Your face was hot and you tried to breathe through it. Kung Lao caught up to you again and slipped his arm around your shoulder to slow your walk.

“We’re just teasing, Y/N.”

“I know how much you hate us worrying but we do worry and I’m no sorry for that.” Liu caught up slower than Kung Lao had, prayer beads wrapped around his palm.

“Especially since your arcana does violent things when you have those visions.”

“And your palms are bruised.” Liu tapped your wrist and you pulled your hands close to your stomach to hide them from him. Kung Lao pulled his arm back from your shoulder and took one of your hands, turning it over so your palm was facing up. He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Lying. Hiding bruises. Maybe you were right, brother. She has been spending too much time with me.”

“Okay, okay boys.” You chuckled nervously and snuck away nervously from Kung Lao’s grasp. “You’ve made your point. Now hush, before I tell Raiden on both of you.”

“Tell on us? For what? You’re the one who lied.”

“Very poorly, I might add.” Kung Lao grinned. You were no longer worried if he was actually feeling better or not. It was clear he was feeling just fine.

“You would think that with all the time I’m spending with you that I would be a better liar.” You teased in return. You were glad that Liu was at least feeling well enough to joke even if you had to slow down for him. “Get it together, guys.” You scolded and then walked with them into Raiden’s chambers which had been left open in anticipation of your arrival.

You bowed before Raiden who joined you from a doorway on the left. The joking mood you’d had only seconds ago faded. Within the room were the two pedestals that you recognized from when you’d given Raiden the artifacts. Both were encased in glass. Raiden walked between the pedestals and gestured to either side of him. “They are not to be touched without my permission by any of you.”

That was an interesting way to start the conversation but you each nodded in understanding. You weren’t eager to touch them again but had a feeling you would have to. Raiden glared at Kung Lao as though that warning had been meant specifically for him. Kung Lao looked up and away, feigning innocence. Raiden then walked before you, hands clasped together behind his back.

“They have eluded my sight but I have divined that they were cursed many centuries ago and tainted by many hands. They have been locked.”

“What does that mean, Lord Raiden?” Liu stepped closer to the pedestals to get a closer look but was careful to keep his hands folded.

“It means that whoever hid these items did not wish for them to be found. More than that, they did not wish to risk their cleansing. Either these are incredibly powerful tools or conduits for something else.”

“Conduits?” Kung Lao frowned and as he stepped closer, Liu held his hand out to stop him as if to remind him not to touch.

“There are many possibilities but my magic hasn’t uncovered them. They are protected by something powerful.”

“An elder god?” Liu theorized.

“That’s one possibility.”

“What can we do?” You chimed in. It was all well and good to theorize what they were and why but what you could do was what mattered.

“Well, Y/N, you were the one who located these items with your sight. I have a feeling that the same creature who cast a shadow over you is one of the more potent hands cast upon these artifacts. It’s why you saw him.”

“And I have seen him now.” You confessed, turning your attention to the floor. “I saw him before but his face was a blur when I woke. But now? Now I’ve seen him.”

“When?” Raiden didn’t seem as alarmed as Liu Kang and Kung Lao were behind him. Merely curious.

“We fought a creature in the springs protecting the jade. I saw him in the water. I saw him clear as day. If you know an artist then I could probably describe him for a picture or something. Then this morning I saw him again.”

“This morning?” Raiden tilted his head curiously and you felt alarm radiating off of Liu Kang just like his fire.

“I couldn’t see his face this time. He stood beside my bed.” You knew it hadn’t been a nightmare but it hadn’t exactly been a vision either. “Both times he was trying to hurt me. I woke up and my room was filled with ink but it was… it was different.” You felt all eyes on you and you hated it. “It’s hard to describe. I’m sorry that I’m not better at this.” You bowed apologetically.

“You will get better with time. For now, I will read your vision as I had before with the protection of Liu Kang and Kung Lao. That will come later. Are you up for the task of trying to unlock these items, Y/N?”

“Me? Unlock them?”

“Yes. I think that your gift is connected to them. Perhaps your sight could be of some assistance in either unlocking them or for seeing a way to do so.”

“Yeah, I’ll try. Anything to help.” You bowed again and then walked between the pedestals nervously.

“Is this going to make me sick again?” Kung Lao sighed dramatically and Liu Kang shushed him.

“These are powerful and dangerous artifacts, Kung Lao. If I cannot solve this riddle then we will have to remove them from the temple. Or you will all be sick.” Raiden looked to him knowingly and Kung Lao bowed his head apologetically.

“I’m not ready to give up. Let me try.”

“Good.” Raiden walked past you and to the pedestals. With a brush of his hand against the tops of each protective container, the glass faded. You were momentarily stunned. His magic was wonderful and constantly took you by surprise. He gestured for you to join him and so you did.

“…what should I do?” You were lost. You had no idea where to begin. Even using your arcana was still nowhere near second nature to you. It was easier to do in the heat of battle or in the moment. This was premeditated and planned and more about your visions- something you had never mastered.

“Follow your gut.” Raiden instructed like that was something easy for you to do. “Touching them might help.” He stepped back to give you room.

You would try.

You touched the dotaku, fingers brushing along the ornamental designs. “Funny. It’s hot.” You admired the designs curiously. If it hadn’t been cursed then it would have been beautiful. The warmth of the bell wasn’t hot perse, but it wasn’t the natural temperature for a metallic object either. It wasn’t anything near even the inherent warmth of Liu Kang. More like a kettle that had been turned off a few moments before you’d entered the room. Raiden gestured to the jade and so you reached across the gap to touch the jade with your other hand.

It was like a hand brushed over your eyelids to close them. A hum resonated from the bell and through your body to the jade, using you to do so. You opened your eyes and when you did, the room was empty. All that remained were you and the artifacts.

You tried to snap your hands back but they were stuck fast to both items. The items wouldn’t budge from their places on the pedestals either. You tugged and pulled in a panic to try and get free your hands but it was no use. The items grew hotter and hotter beneath your touch, glowing with orange light and burning your palms.

“Let go!” You shouted in frustration, trying to tug your hands free. Then the horned man was in front of you. Skin gray and sick, eyes milky white and staring into yours. His mouth moved but not in time with the words that came out of him in a hiss.

“You will not see.” The eerie whisper traveled all around you and filled you with inescapable dread. Your legs were literally trembling beneath you. You would have crumpled in a heap had you not been trapped and stuck to the artifacts.

“Why?” You sounded rather brave for someone who had no leg to stand on. “What are you?” He tilted your chin toward him with his index finger, as if you were something too filthy for him to properly touch. His hands felt disgusting. Cold. Clammy. You shrunk away from his touch and he clutched your chin. Then his whole body was wrapped in shadow and his hand snapped to your throat so hard that you choked and were instantly without breath.

You tried to fight but there was nothing you could do and no escape. The squeezing on your neck was so intensely painful that you felt yourself fading and quickly at that. Then, for the first time, you watched as ink exploded from your hands, from your chest, spreading throughout the room, tearing through the shadow that held you prisoner.

You could breathe but your vision changed. Instead of Raiden’s chamber you saw smoke billowing from the windows of the temple, flames engulfing familiar halls. Rooms crumbled to pieces. Silhouettes of bodies laid still on the ground in the smoke, dark stains surrounding them. War was being waged on the temple! You tried to scream, to move, to help, but your hands were stuck fast. Clawed fingers ran over your arms and back to your neck, you felt each finger slowly wrap around your throat until you couldn’t breathe.

Your body was failing, limbs going numb, falling limp between the artifacts that held you prisoner. The hands grasped your face and obscured your sight and then suddenly your hands were free. The dotaku burned your hand as you let go and cracked with an ear-splitting shriek of grinding metal. As it had happened in your vision, ink exploded from within you and spread throughout the room, from wall to wall, floor to ceiling.

Liu ran to you and tried to pull you into his arms and you felt the hot spray of his blood splatter over your face and chest as the ink tore through his flesh. He fell away from you. You collapsed in a heap, unable to move, the ink taking every bit of your energy. Your body was prey to something far beyond your control. You couldn’t breathe and you tried to crawl away, to get to Liu Kang who was holding his bloodied arm. Skeletal creatures rose from the ink and a monster dripping with ink joined it. The ink had recreated the monsters you’d fought that protected the artifacts.

Kung Lao dodged them and tried to make his way through the ink web to get to you but it had crystallized and kept him at bay. He sliced through the webs with his hat, shouting words you couldn’t make out. He was making his way through but it would take too long to get to you or Liu.

“You have to breathe, Y/N!” Liu’s voice cut through the buzzing in your head but just barely. You tried to do as he asked but the more that you inhaled the more impossible it became to exhale and your lungs were so tight that you didn’t think you’d make it much longer. Ink was spreading further and further throughout the room. If you didn’t stop, you were going to kill them.

Suddenly you were burning all over as a jolt of electricity shot through you.

“Enough!” Raiden’s voice boomed like thunder and you collapsed in a heap on the floor. You gasped for breath, struggling, but at least you could get a little air. You couldn’t feel your fingers anymore and briefly the world had gone white. When your vision cleared the monsters were gone and the ink fell piece by piece before fading into dust. Your body was too frail to keep it up.

Liu rushed to your side and Kung Lao was only steps behind him. Raiden’s voice bellowed again. “Do not touch her!” You struggled to breathe, struggled to sit up, your body failing. No matter how you tried, simple things that you were used to doing just to exist weren’t working. There were spots in your vision and you tried to push yourself up to your knees but your arms were trembling. “What did you see?” You coughed and tried to speak through it but you tasted blood and collapsed back on your chest.

“She’s suffering!” Kung Lao started toward you again but lightning cracked in front of him to stop him.

“What did you see, Y/N?”

“A-a… a devil…” You managed to choke out. Pain radiated up your arm and through your shoulder, down into your chest. You grasped at the sleeve of your shirt and managed to find the strength to sit up just enough so you could pull the sleeve down. Your shoulder and chest were burning. You didn’t know what was there but you knew that something was there. It was tremendously painful.

“The bell.” Liu nodded to the crack in the bell. His arm was drenched in blood. You caught a glimpse of the bell and then looked to your shoulder where you could barely see the crack that spread from your shoulder and further beneath the lining of your shirt. You ran your fingers over it and pulled them back suddenly. Touching it sent fire through your body, agonizing shots of misery, like your bones were being burned from the inside out. Your breathing was labored again. “What does that mean? Raiden, what does that mean?”

“You are tied to these objects.” Raiden tilted his head in realization.

“What?” You had never seen Liu so mad. Kung Lao looked like it was taking every bit of his self-control not to say fuck it and run to you. “Why? And by who? How is this possible?”

“I only know the answer to one of those questions, Liu Kang. She just told us. A devil.” Raiden approached you then walked past you to the dotaku. You managed to lean up on your elbows while taking quick, shaky breaths but your whole body was rigid with pain. You could barely think, barely feel anything other than the white-hot agony spreading from your chest to your shoulder.

“Will she be okay?” Kung Lao was, again, restraining himself.

“I don’t know. I will try to repair the bell.” Raiden placed his hand so it was hovering only an inch above the metal. Lightning sparked in his hand and surrounded the metal of the bell, his eyes white and glowing. Then he pulled his hand back as if the bell had shocked him.

You pushed yourself onto your knees and stumbled to your feet. The blood rushed to your head and you nearly collapsed. Blood filled your mouth and you could feel it dripping from your nose. Liu Kang was at your side and helped you stay on your feet, his bloodied arm hanging uselessly at his other side. Kung Lao urged your other arm over his shoulder and helped keep you upright.

Liu Kang was glaring at Raiden furiously, as if he knew what would come next. You stumbled and Kung Lao wrapped his arm around your middle to help keep you upright. “You’ll be okay, Y/N,” he reassured quietly but you knew that none of you really understood what was going on.

“I must see what you saw.” Raiden stepped closer.

“She can barely stand, Raiden.” Liu seethed, his anger and frustration far quieter and much more frightening than Kung Lao’s outright fury.

“She needs rest first.”

“Time is of the essence.”

“No,” you choked, finally managing to find words. You grasped Liu’s hand that was too tight around you. “He’s right. He has to see.”

“Y/N, no, you’re too weak, what if he…” Kung Lao objected loudly. Before either of them could resist on your behalf, Raiden rested his hand on the top of your head.

Then there was pain.

Not even darkness.

Color swirling in your mind’s eye and the type of pain that you had only read of.

Then there was numbness, as if your mind had been removed from your body to spare you the pain.

Then there was nothing.

56 notes · View notes

iam93percentstardust · 4 years ago

Note

i was about to ask you to continue your marvels unsolved ‘verse but then i saw your specific ships so i’m going to ask for a fantasy au with winteriron!! but tbh you should do whatever makes you happy it’s your birthday month!!! (happy birthday! your writing makes me so happy thank you so much for it)

Thank you so much!! I’m so happy you like my writing!!!

I ended up being inspired by the magical flower shop AU I wrote last August, but that’s not necessary to read to understand this fic. Since tumblr is still having issues with links, I won’t include the link here but if you’re interested in that one, it’s Chapter 27 of AU-gust

As always, this fic can be found on my ao3!

Roses and Rowan

It’s storming when Bucky drives past Ravenspoint’s limits. The rain is coming down hard enough that he almost misses the sign for the little town in all the gloom, but then there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the foreboding faces of the town patriarchs glaring down at those who would dare enter their town. Bucky shivers, resolutely turning away as he continues on his way.

He’s not here for them anyway. The patriarchs are long dead, their only descendants long since fled. There’s another flash of lightning, this time illuminating the hill off to the left and the old manor on the hilltop. From what little bit he can see through the storm, it looks like it was once a stately mansion but it’s falling into disrepair now. Bucky blinks and suddenly he can see the golden glimmer of the wards around the whole hill, sealing the house and grounds off from the would-be adventurers brave enough to test their mettle against the ghosts of Rosewood Manor.

Another shiver runs down his spine. The magic is strangely familiar, though he can’t place where he might have seen it before. He blinks again and the golden glimmer of the wards disappears from his view. “Spooky,” Bucky mutters. In the passenger seat, Alpine mraows her agreement. He reaches over and scratches under her chin, grinning when she purrs loud enough to drown out the music coming from the car speakers.

They pull into town a few minutes later, only knowing it by the stoplight Bucky just barely manages to make out through the sheets of rain pounding down. He would have missed it otherwise, the storm too heavy and the buildings too dark to see in the night. Ravenspoint is a small town with a population of only three thousand people, exactly one stoplight, and two streets that run the length of town, connected by a series of smaller cross streets. It’s exactly the last place Bucky ever thought he would find himself and yet here he is, searching for someone who had made it clear he didn’t want to be found.

“What am I doing, Alpine?” he asks the cat. “He told me he didn’t want me to come after him.”

Alpine can’t respond but she rolls over, exposing her belly to him, and he gets the sense of reassurance through their bond.

“I know,” he responds. “Tellin’ people he wants to be left alone when that’s usually the last thing he wants. But let’s be real here, this place is pretty far off the beaten track.”

Another pulse of reassurance.

“Well if you ask me—” the helper figment starts to say.

“I didn’t,” Bucky interrupts before it can say anything else. Damn figment’s been more trouble than it’s worth this whole trip. “Where’s the turn?”

The figment gives him a sullen look. “In five hundred yards, off to the right.”

Even as the figment says it, Bucky spots the glowing lights of the shop in the distance. He slows down and pulls over into one of the parking spots off the street, peering up through the rain at the shop sign above the door.

“Bluebells and Belladonnas,” he reads. “He always did like alliteration.”

“Great,” the figment says waspishly. “Can I go now? I got a hot—”

Bucky flicks his fingers and the figment disappears back to whatever dimension figments come from. Alpine flicks her tail lazily, giving off a sense of amusement and a little bit of hunger. Bucky laughs and scratches her chin again.

“Yeah, I would’ve let you eat it if it wouldn’t have given you indigestion,” he says. “’nother couple of minutes. I’m sure he has fresh tuna for you.”

He sighs and looks at the shop again. The sign on the front says it’s closed but there are lights on inside both in the shop itself and in the apartment above the shop, telling him that the owner is probably still working.

“So what’re you doing sitting out here?” he asks himself. He gives another baleful look at the stormy clouds and the rain still pouring down, groans, and then shrugs his hood up over his head. Nothing for it. The rain isn’t supposed to let up for another couple of hours and Bucky doesn’t feel like sitting in the car that long.

“You gonna be good out here?” he asks Alpine. She blinks slowly at him. That’s a yes, then.

Quick as he can, he gets out and dashes for the cover the awning provides. Once there, he throws his hood back and then knocks on the door. He waits about a minute before knocking again, this time a lot louder. It takes a moment before he sees a person-shaped blob behind the water-streaked glass. He knocks for a third time. The person gets larger as they move closer and then the door unlocks and swings open with a wave of the person’s hand.

“What—”

“You know,” Bucky says, stepping over the threshold. He bites back a shiver as a wave of magic washes over him, verifying that he has no ill intent. “You are a hard person to find.”

“Yeah, some people would take that as a hint,” Tony Stark states flatly, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at Bucky.

Bucky is born with the ability to see magic. Or, at least, that’s the sfigmentlest way to explain it, if not the most accurate. Just about everyone can “see” magic but what they see are actually just the effects of magic—what was produced or what was done. Bucky has the ability to actually see the threads of magic. It’s a Barnes family gift, although none of the Barnes mages have had this ability in nearly two centuries. Bucky is the first in a very long time and because of that, he ends up having to go to school rather than being trained at home by the family mage (also known as Ma to Bucky and his sister).

It's at school that he meets his best friend, Stevie, and Stevie’s other best friend, Tony. Tony is a bit of an oddball, not that Bucky and Steve are incredibly popular either. Steve should be popular because of his dragon heritage and the power that brings him but he comes into his inheritance late and has a strong sense of morality and that gets him into trouble, more often than not. And Bucky just ends up following behind him.

But Tony—Tony is hard to pin down. He has incredible amounts of power, which is unusual in a mage from the Jarvis line. He’s a lot younger than most of the other kids, which isn’t so unusual for people with a lot of power—Bucky can think of a couple examples off the top of his head of people who went to school early because of their powers—but all those people went to school early because they didn’t have control, and Tony is nothing if not controlled. He doesn’t much look like either of his parents and the way he acts sometimes… it’s clear that he’s been through a lot, is all.

It’s not until their fourth year that Bucky starts putting the pieces together, and it starts when he finds out that Tony doesn’t actually get his powers from the Jarvis line but from the Carbonell line instead. He wasn’t supposed to overhear that but he and Steve had gotten in trouble again and were sitting outside the Headmistress’s office while she finished up a meeting with the Jarvises.

That’s when he’d heard it: “The Carbonell magic is strong in Tony,” the Headmistress had said, and that had been all Bucky had heard as the pieces had started falling into place. It had always puzzled Bucky how Tony’s magic, so suited to big things, had come from the Jarvises, both of whom were more skilled in household charms and enchantments, but if Tony was adopted… Adoption was rare in magical families, as magic was so often tied to filial lines, but it wasn’t unheard of, and that explained so much about Tony.

He spends some time in the library after that, researching the Carbonells. They’re an old line, originating in Italy, before coming to the Americas in the late sixteenth century. They’re known for producing powerful mages with the exact same proficiency in metallurgy that Tony’s always demonstrated. The last of them, Maria, had married one of the Starks, a newer family with a proficiency in elemental magics—another of Tony’s skills, Bucky realizes—and that’s where the trail goes cold. He never finds another mention of the Carbonells, or the Starks for that matter, in any of the old history books.

But there has to be more to the story, Bucky knows. Because there’s Tony, who looks just like Maria Carbonell, and that means there has to be more. However, he never brings it up. That’s Tony’s story, and if he doesn’t want to tell them, he doesn’t have to.

He never stops hoping that Tony will, though.

Tony is looking at him now, eyes dark and arms crossed. Bucky has changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he’d brought with him as his clothes had ended up drenched, even from just the short run from the car and back out to grab Alpine and his travel bag. His clothes are drying by the fire now as Alpine explores the apartment, sniffing around curiously. Bucky is curious as well, but he’s been so busy drinking in the sight of Tony after almost two years of nothing that he hasn’t taken the time yet to look around.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” Tony asks eventually.

He shrugs. “I came to find you.”

“Thought I made it obvious I didn’t want to be found.”

“I thought we had unfinished business,” Bucky says quietly. He gazes at Tony steadily until Tony squirms and turns away, busying himself with the coffeepot on the counter. He prepares two cups of coffee, one with more sugar than most people can stand and one with more milk than coffee, and hands the one with milk to Bucky.

Bucky takes one sip and blinks in surprise. “This is decaf,” he says.

“Yeah, and?”

“Tony, you don’t drink decaf. You called it the devil’s brew.”

There’s a hint of a smile lurking around the corners of Tony’s mouth as he raises his own cup to his mouth. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Seems like you’ve forgotten a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Like how I promised you I’d follow you anywhere.”

Tony stills for a moment before he puts his cup back down on the counter. “Bucky—”

“Tony, why?” Bucky asks, not even bothering to hide the anguish in his voice. It’s how he’s felt every day since Tony disappeared two years ago. “You told me we’d talk the next day, only I woke up to find you’d run. Did I push too hard? Was it not what you wanted?” He stops, frustrated and upset, and scrubs his hand over his face.

“Bucky, no,” Tony says, dismayed. He moves forward, taking Bucky’s hands between his. “It wasn’t you. You have to believe me. It was never you.”

“Then what was it?”

Tony bites his lip, hesitating. Even without using his Sight, Bucky can see golden magic swirling under Tony’s skin, pooling at his hands where they’re touching Bucky’s. He blinks and now he can see his own magic, cool silver, gathering at his fingertips, aching to reach out and touch Tony’s. Their magic has always been compatible, always stronger when they’re together, even before Bucky figured out his complicated feelings for Tony.

“Doll?” he asks, immediately regretting the pet name when it makes Tony flinch. He doesn’t take it back though. This is who he is, a little old-fashioned and a little flirty and a lot in love with Tony Stark.

“It’s me,” Tony eventually admits, looking down at their hands as though he can see the magic too. “I got scared. It’s—I’m not who you think I am.”

“Not what? Not a Jarvis? Tony, I’ve known that for ten years.”

Tony’s head jerks up so fast Bucky’s own neck aches in sympathy. “What did you say?”

“Tony, I know you’re not a Jarvis,” Bucky says again, patiently. He’s never admitted this to anyone before, let alone Tony. He can afford to be careful right now.

“How did you know that?” Tony breathes. “We’ve never told anyone.”

“Except for the Headmistress,” Bucky points out. “You prob’ly had to tell her so she could help you with your abilities.”

“We did,” Tony whispers.

He shrugs. “Stevie and I overheard her one time. She said your magic came from the Carbonell line. I got curious, thought it might explain why you and the Jarvises are so different, so I looked it up.”

“You didn’t think that was invading my privacy?”

The words are harsh but Tony doesn’t look upset. He looks—hopeful, almost, like he wants to believe Bucky knows everything about him and doesn’t judge him for it. It makes Bucky bold and he steps forward, right into Tony’s space, as he tugs one of his hands free and uses it to tuck one of Tony’s curls behind his ear, fingers brushing against his cheek.

“You are a puzzle I’ve only ever wanted to solve,” Bucky murmurs, bowing his head to rest his forehead against Tony’s. His hand cups Tony’s cheek for the briefest moment and then falls to his shoulder. Tony closes his eyes and inhales shakily. “But the moment the trail went cold, I stopped looking. It didn’t seem right to keep digging.”

“What did you find?” Tony asks.

“Two names: Howard Stark and Maria Carbonell, that’s it.”

Tony nods. “Those were my parents.”

“Were?”

“Could be are. I don’t know where they went after they left me, but I stopped calling them mine the moment they were gone.”

“What happened?” He feels Tony tense under his hand and quickly adds, “If you want to tell me. Don’t feel like you have to.”

“No, it’s—I want to,” Tony says, sounding frustrated. The space between his brows furrows in irritation. “I’ve just never told anyone and—I’m not sure I’m ready to tell the full story yet. It’s a lot.”

“Whatever you’re ready for, then. And when you’re ready for the rest, I’ll be right here to listen.”

Tony takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “I was born at Rosewood Manor,” he says quietly.

“That place outside of town?”

“Mmhmm. That’s my magic you probably saw guarding it.”

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony, that place looks like it hasn’t had anyone living there for fifteen years.”

“Over twenty actually. I was three when—when that happened.”

“You were three? And you had that kind of control?”

Tony laughs humorlessly. “Believe me, that night I had no control at all.” He falls silent. Bucky waits for more, but Tony seems to be done talking for tonight, so he turns his head and kisses the corner of Tony’s mouth instead.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says.

Tony grimaces. “Not like I told you much of anything.”

“You told me what you were comfortable with. Believe me, doll, after two years of nothing—”

“You keep doing that,” Tony interrupts. “Calling me doll.”

Bucky hesitates. “I thought you liked it when I did that.”

Tony looks away, a bitter twist to his mouth. “I left.”

“Yeah…”

“I left right after you kissed me because I was scared and couldn’t face up to what was going on between us even though I promised we’d talk.”

Bucky waits, sure that if he stays silent, Tony will explain further. It’s a trick that he’s used in the past and it’s always worked. Sure enough, after another couple moments:

“You know, I was so sure you were dating Steve? Let me finish please,” Tony says calmly, holding up a hand when Bucky opens his mouth. “You don’t know what it was like. I might have met Steve first but it was so clear that you two were a lot closer than I would ever be with him. So yes, I was convinced you two were dating and that I was alone in my feelings and when I found out I wasn’t, I panicked. I thought it was Tony Jarvis you liked, not—”

“I like you,” Bucky interrupts, unable to keep hearing Tony talk about how he’d thought Bucky wasn’t serious about him, when he thinks maybe it’s the only thing he’s ever been serious about. “I like you as Tony Jarvis, Tony Carbonell, Tony Stark, or just plain Tony.”

“Like?” Tony asks shyly.

Bucky grins and kisses the other corner of Tony’s mouth. “Do you think I would have kept searching for you for two years if I didn’t still like you?”

Tony leans back for a moment, searching his eyes for something before he eventually says, “And what about Tony Barnes?”

Bucky’s heart about stops. He wheezes out, “You—”

“It’s not—I needed a name when I came back to Ravenspoint. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was and it’s a small town. People know every other name I go by, but—I didn’t think you’d mind or I wouldn’t—”

Bucky can’t stop himself anymore. He frames Tony’s face in his hands and kisses him soundly. It’s closed-mouthed and chaste and it’s still the best damn kiss he’s ever had, next to the only other time he kissed Tony. Tony’s hands flutter in the air for a second before wrapping around Bucky’s waist, clutching him to him.

“I love you calling yourself by my name,” he says hoarsely, pulling away long enough to get the words out before he kisses Tony again. “And one day, I swear I’ll give you that name for real, forever and always.” This time, it’s Tony who whfigmenters and kisses him again, sucking Bucky’s tongue into his mouth as Bucky’s hands slide back into his hair to hold him right where he wants him.

“Wait,” Tony pants, struggling against Bucky’s grip to move away. Bucky lets him go reluctantly, gratified when Tony only moves a couple inches. “How did you find me?”

“Your magic,” Bucky tells him, trailing kisses across every inch of his face. “It’s been callin’ out to me since the day you left, leavin’ me a trail to follow.”

“Lucky me,” Tony whispers.

And as Bucky kisses him again, unable to resist for a single second, he thinks to himself, No. Lucky me.

#alle writes #winteriron #birthday prompts #if you like please consider reblogging #alle answers #jkirk09

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mcwriting · 3 years ago

Text

The Marriage Project (12)

Hi all!!! This is the long awaited 12th chapter! It took months of rewrites of not only this chapter, but future ones as well to ensure this was written to the best of my ability.

This chapter marks the heaviest moment in this story, so please, please be mindful of the content warnings for this chapter. I marked the section that includes this moment.

I also chose not to add tags so that this is not everyone's first impression of this series!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: s*xual ass*ult, language, alcohol consumption, blood/injury mention

% end of the first week of November- cont. %

Throughout the game, you and the other homecoming court members (aside from any football players or cheerleaders) had been sitting on the sidelines right in front of the student section, so you were somewhat able to talk to your friends.

The team was playing good in the first half. It was probably Tom’s best game that you’d ever seen. At halftime, they did the “official” crowning of court members and recognized football and cheer seniors.

The seniors were presented first, having their parents with them as they walked across the field. They started with the cheer team so Daisy could change back into her white dress.

Then came the court recognitions, you and Tom stepping onto the field after everyone else as the crowd cheered and clapped.

Tom’s arm linked around yours as he helped you stay steady walking across the grass, since your heels weren't quite meant for the soft ground. Someone handed you a large bundle of roses and you smiled widely.

The bright lights, the cheers, the smile Tom gave you.

It was a moment burned into your memory forever.

Then it was over, and the team went back to their game, winning 42-27, their best win by far all season.

You were saying your final thank you’s to people’s congratulatory comments as you began heading out to the parking lot. Alexis caught up with you amidst the chaos.

“You still on for Tyler’s? I’ll drive,” she offered.

“Yeah. Let’s go home so I can change and then we’ll head out, okay?” you said, finally getting to your car.

She followed you to your house, where you changed into a tight long-sleeved bodysuit, skinny jeans, and some heeled booties. You also packed some other things into a bag to sleep at Alexis’s house later.

You told your parents you were staying the night at her house. They definitely knew better by the way you’d left on your makeup and put on real clothes, but didn’t question you, instead tossing out a “stay safe” and “don’t do anything stupid” as you headed out the door.

Things were pretty much in full swing by the time you and Alexis pulled into the yard outside Tyler’s house and found your friends inside, red solo cups in hand. The speakers were blaring something with a strong beat and most people were dancing.

You had a white claw to loosen up. After having refrained from partying throughout volleyball season, Alexis would be designated driver for the night to let you have your fun. You saw plenty of football players hanging around but didn’t find Tom anywhere.

Weird.

*CW below*

After a little bit, you ran off to use the bathroom just down a hall. You went alone since it would only be a couple minutes, you knew everyone there, and weren’t drunk.

When you stepped back into the hall, you almost ran into a large figure. It was Harrison.

“Oh, hi there, little lady,” he sneered.

“Fuck off, Harrison.” you commanded, brushing past him. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you back.

“I don’t think you want to be saying that to me,” he pinned you against the wall. His breath reeked of alcohol. You looked around, but it was dark and no one was close enough to see your predicament.

“What the hell do you want? I’m just here to have fun.”

“And what do you think I’m doing huh? Don’t think I forgot about that little stunt you pulled going to Johnson. It’s your fault I missed two games.”

“Don’t think so buddy. Maybe if you respected women you wouldn’t have been in trouble in the first place. Now get off me,” you commanded, trying to push forward.

Big mistake.

He drove a knee between your legs and placed a hand over your chest, gripping your breast so tightly it hurt. For the first time, you were actually scared, but still stared directly into his eyes.

“Nah. I just think you’re too much of a pussy to take me. Now you’re gonna stay quiet or something much worse is gonna come to you,” he threatened, then placed his lips on your neck.

You squeezed your eyes shut to focus your thoughts. It was like you were frozen in shock and pain.

His other hand started sliding up the inside of your thigh when you panicked, kneeing him in the groin and shoving him from you before sending a fist into his jaw.

You were thankful he was drunk, as it made him disoriented and off balance.

Harrison reeled back, looking at you in confusion as he bent over, holding his mouth in pain. There was blood around his gums. He looked at you angrily before another voice called out.

“What the hell is going on here? I thought I told you to stay away from her,” Tom seethed. There was a fire in his eyes that you’d never seen before.

“You think I really care what you have to say? I was just trying to teach y/n a little lesson about consequences,” Harrison replied, slurring his words, before spitting blood onto the hardwood floor and pointing a finger right in your face. “You really think a couple hits are going to stop m-”

Tom was about to step forward to do something when rage overtook you and you threw another punch to his nose, causing him to fall backwards unconscious.

Tom looked down in shock at the limp body beneath you, then back up to you. Once your eyes met, his features softened.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” he asked, stepping over Harrison and guiding you away from him. As you finally began processing what had happened, tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I… he- he…” you couldn’t get the words out and your breath quickened.

“Hey, hey. I know. You don’t have to say anything. It wasn't your fault. Can I hug you?”

*end CW*

You sniffled and nodded, not meeting his eyes. He engulfed you in his arms, rubbing your back as you buried your face in his neck. Your chest throbbed from Harrison’s grip and knuckles ached from where they’d met his face twice.

After a few minutes, you straightened up and wiped your face, trying to be tough. Harrison was still out cold on the floor.

“Do you want me to go get your friends?” he asked, to which you nodded. He ran off and only a minute later came Alexis and Caroline.

They fawned over you, making sure you were okay. Tom put a hand on either of your arms and looked you directly in the eyes.

“I’m going to make sure he and his awful friends leave, okay? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

The girls led you back into the bathroom while Tom began dragging Harrison off. They helped you clean the mascara stains on your cheeks and make sure you were okay. After about 10 minutes, you finally felt confident enough to go back out.

When you got back to the main room, word had it that Tom, Jake, Chris, and some of the other guys were making sure Harrison’s crew would leave and not come back.

Knowing that you were safe from him finally, you decided to drink in the hopes of forgetting what happened for a little bit and have some fun. You started off with a shot of strawberry lemonade vodka, which led to shotgunning a beer and tossing back another shot (or two) of bacardi.

Not a half hour later and you were plastered. You went crazy on the dance floor, jumping around like a fool as different people came up to dance with you.

You were barely aware of what you were doing and extremely clumsy. The room was turning as you clambered up onto a table. You were spinning in circles until your shoe’s heel missed the edge and you started to topple over.

You couldn’t even react, but after a second realized you hadn’t hit the ground, and were instead in Tom’s arms.

“Alright I think it’s time for you to take a breather,” he said. It was hard to understand him as his voice sounded distant. He carried you out of the warm room and outside, where the cold air hit you like a truck. He set you down on the edge of Tyler’s porch.

“Y/n are you okay? After everything that happened I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

What he said wasn’t funny, but you found yourself cackling anyways.

“Better than everrr! Did you see my twerking?”

“Yes, yes I did. Are you feeling okay? Your face is super red. You aren’t nauseous?”

You shook your head with a big grin.

“I’m fiiiineee, pretty boy. Just because you’re my husssband doesn’t mean you have to follow me everywhere! I’m alllll gooood.” You slumped onto his shoulder, still giggling.

“Alright, princess. Let’s just chill here for now alright? I’ll text Alexis in a little bit.”

You sat in silence twisting your star ring as you began to cool down and your hearing was returning to normal. Tom was rubbing his thumb over your shoulder and had you drinking your second cup of water, but the effects of the alcohol were still present.

“Tom?” you whispered. He hummed. “You’re a really good husband.”

He chuckled.

“You think so?” he paused. “I think you’re a pretty good wife, too. No matter how much trouble you manage to get us both in.”

After a little longer, you felt yourself getting sleepy as the night took its toll on you. Alexis came outside and rushed over.

“Hey! I was looking everywhere. Sorry I didn’t see your text. Let’s go, y/n. You’ve had a looong night.”

Tom picked you up from the porch and led you to the car, half carrying you. He helped you into the car and buckled you up, then stood leaning in the doorway.

“Thanks for your help, Tom. Glad you were there for us,” Alexis said with a small grin as she buckled in.

“Of course. I’d do anything for her,” he replied, giving you a wink before shutting the door and waving. Alexis had barely pulled out of the driveway when she looked at you.

“Okay spill. What’s been going on with you and Tom?” she asked in a serious tone. She was clearly using the alcohol against you, and even though you were much more aware than before, you still started talking.

“I think I really like him.”

“Like we didn’t all already know that. I meant what have you been hiding from me the past three months? I know there’s more to the story.”

You sighed.

“It started last month, when Tom beat up… you know… the first time. We held hands on his bedroom floor that weekend until his mom accidentally walked in. And then we took those pictures and kept saying all these flirty things. I accidentally caught him naked, don’t ask.”

“Oh I’m definitely asking about that later. But continue.”

“Well then I stayed for dinner that Thursday and Sam caught us in the kitchen goofing around. Oh, and then last weekend we kissed, and-”

“YOU WHAT NOW?” she yelled, causing you to wince at the sound before you started rambling.

“We didn’t really kiss per se… It’s because we were fake dating for that couple. It just kinda happened! And now we’re going to homecoming together but it was supposed to be a secret so… don’t tell anyone before dinner tomorrow. Or tonight I guess since it’s Saturday morning.”

“I knew it. Dammit I knew it! Why didn’t you just tell me!”

“You’d make fun of me! Do you think I want to like him? We’ve been at each other’s throats all this time and now I’m just supposed to forget all that because of a little crush? You don’t get it, Lex. It’s not like he’d ever feel the same way.”

You looked out the car window, trying to settle your breathing after getting worked up. Your head hurt and you were still thirsty. Alexis pulled into her driveway and cut the engine.

“I know I would clown you about it, and I probably still will, but we’re friends for a reason. And you’re joking, right? Everyone knows Tom is head over heels in love with you.”

“What? No way.”

“Yes way! Have you not seen the way he looks at you, and follows you like a puppy dog, and gets so protective over you? I mean come on, y/n. He literally said he’d do anything for you and winked before we left. You must be blind to not see that.”

You sat and tried to think about it for a minute, wondering if she was right about him.

“Let’s go in, y/n. It’s getting cold and you need to sleep it off. You’re not going to have a fun morning, that’s for sure.”

You followed her into the house, trying not to stumble. Your balance definitely wasn’t all there. Her garage door led straight to the kitchen where you chugged a glass of water and took some antacids, grabbing more water to take to her room.

You went into the bathroom to shower off the makeup and sweat and hairspray. When you got out and looked in the mirror, you saw the way your chest was reddened from what Harrison did to you. It took everything to hold back more tears.

The moment your eyes opened, everything hurt.

Your head, stomach, feet, chest. Your head was flooded with memories from the previous night. You rolled away from the window to find Alexis sitting on the floor next to a plate and glass of water.

“Well, well, well. Sleeping beauty awakes. I brought you my hangover cure.”

You looked down to see that on the plate sat two advils, an alka seltzer, and some cinnamon pop tarts. It was almost 11 am.

“Thanks, Lex. For everything. You’re the best,” you said, taking a bite off one pastry.

“Don’t be thanking me. Tom’s the real hero. He got a bunch of people together this morning to report Harrison for what he did to you and he’s suspended again, can’t go to the dance. I guess Johnson is gonna deal with it more next week and he might be expelled. Do you have any proof other than Tom?” she said gently.

“Let’s see,” you said, tugging off your shirt, revealing a sports bra. She gasped when she saw the purple bruising around one breast and the hickey marks that had been left on your neck.

“Oh my God, y/n. That’s awful.”

“I know. It didn’t look like this last night. We need to get some pictures.”

After taking some pictures for proof and finishing off your “breakfast,” you and Alexis began preparing yourselves for the dance. You were going to do makeup and hair at her house before going home to change, and then to Tom’s.

If he even still wanted to go with you. You decided to call him while Alexis curled your hair.

“Hey, y/n. Are you okay?” he asked, voice deep and raspy. He must have gone to bed again after organizing the reports against Harrison.

“Yeah, I’m way better. Thanks for everything last night. For saving my ass. I heard what you did this morning, too. You’re the best.”

“It’s the right thing to do, y/n. I’m glad I was there. And you’re sure you’re okay? We can skip the dance tonight if you aren’t up for it. You know my mom would love to have you come hang out any time.”

“Hey, now. I’m not about to leave the dance without a king and queen. I mostly wanted to check if you were still okay with going together after everything.”

“Of course! I want to go with you, y/n. Nothing’s changed that.”

You smiled.

“Okay, well, I’ll pick you up at 5 for dinner. Bye, Tom.”

“See ya, princess.”

You ended the call and sat quietly looking down. You almost forgot Alexis was there until she said,

“So you’re driving him, huh? I alway knew you wore the pants. Now tell me about that whole ‘seeing him naked’ thing...”

A/N: so... there's that chapter. I hope you all understand that this moment is not at all meant to romanticize or glorify the terrible experiences so many people endure, but instead highlight one way this issue is dealt with.

I wish you all the best. Please remember that my messages and asks are always open ❤️

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, @justafangirlduh, @supraveng,

#the marriage project

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mochegato · 4 years ago

Text

Hope on Board

Chapter 28 – You Can Never Go Home Again

Chapter 1 Chapter 27

“Okay Ms. Dupain-Cheng,” the doctor said pushing away from the hospital bed in the birthing center and pulling off her gloves. “You are completely effaced. We are definitely ready to go.”

Marinette looked up at Dick, an absolutely panicked expression on her face before looking over to the doctor. “What? What about an epidural? We had a birthing plan. It included an epidural.”

The doctor gave her a sympathetic look and shook her head slightly. “I understand, but it appears the universe had other plans. We are too far along for an epidural. You’re going to be pushing before the anesthesiologist will even be able to get here.”

“Fuck you,” she scoffed. Her eyes immediately widened at her words. “I’m sorry that was… I’m sorry. Doctor Graham, was it?” she clarified. The doctor nodded. Marinette smiled in response, which quickly turned into a grimace and scream as another contraction hit. “Fuck you, Dr. Graham,” she growled.

“There isn’t any way to get the anesthesiologist up there faster?” Dick tried, desperate for any way to help Marinette feel less scared and less pain.

Dr. Graham chuckled at Marinette’s outburst. “I get that a lot. Unfortunately, no. There’s nothing I can do. The anesthesiologist is with another patient right now and won’t be able to get here for about twenty minutes or more. I expect at least the first baby to already be born by then, maybe both,” she informed them earnestly. “Sorry. It took too long to get you here.”

“Well sorry for getting kidnapped by some bird obsessed cult,” Marinette gritted out after another contraction passed.

Dr. Graham looked over to Dick who shrugged at her. “The bats just saved her and we rushed right here.” Dr. Graham shook her head. Honestly, not the strangest thing she’d heard in Gotham. “We will need extra security because of it,” Dick added.

“We can have police in with the babies,” Dr. Graham assured him.

“Oh Hell no,” Marinette grunted.

“Police officers were the ones to deliver her to the cult,” Dick explained, running his hand up and down Marinette’s arm in a soothing motion.

Dr. Graham nodded, again, not too surprising. “Do you have an alternative?” she asked as she gave orders to the nurses to get the room set up for the birth.

Dick shrugged distractedly, his focus on the pained expression Marinette was making and the way her body was curling in pain. “We can work something out. The bats seemed to know something about the cult. They might be willing to help keep watch.”

“Yeah, maybe we can focus on the baby trying to come out right now, yeah?” Marinette growled between pants.

“Of course,” Doctor Graham said kindly. “We’re already getting everything ready and I’ll let you know when to start pushing.”

Marinette nodded silently. She looked over to Dick, her look of annoyance with the situation turning to a look of panic. She was not ready for this. She was not ready for the twins to be born. She didn’t have everything settled. She and Dick hadn’t talked. She didn’t know where they stood. They hadn’t talked about where they were going to stay. She hadn’t even processed the kidnapping yet.

“It’ll be okay,” he cooed at her soothingly. He took her hand in his, bringing it to his chest as he wiped her sweaty hair away from her face. He looked lovingly in her eyes and gently rubbed his thumb along her cheek. “You can do this. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re amazing.” He kissed her temple. “I’ll be right here to support you however I can. Feel free to try to break my hand while you push.”

Marinette huffed out a short laugh. “I might take you up on that.” She breathed through another contraction, squeezing his hand and groaning loudly as it crested.

“Go ahead,” he assured her. “I can take it. I have the easy part.” He gave her a soft smile, until she turned to face the doctor and grimaced while her focus was elsewhere. She might actually break his hand at this rate. “Just focus on the end. When this is all over, we’re going to have two beautiful babies just as amazing as their mother.” She looked back up at him, uncertainty clear, but fading. “The universe can’t take you down. The Court of Owls couldn’t take you down. You can do this,” he whispered confidently. She nodded at him, a look of determination settling in as she felt the start of the next contraction.

“Alright Ms. Dupain-Cheng. It’s time to push,” Dr. Graham informed her with a smile.

<><><><><>

“I’ve been thinking…” Dick started, looking over cautiously to Marinette. She was sitting in a glider in the twins’ NICU room attempting to nurse Robert. Robert was doing extremely well, but his sucking reflex was still developing, making latching on more difficult for him than it was for Lucy. Lucy was resting comfortably on Dick’s bare chest, enjoying skin to skin contact under the simulated sun lamps. Her black hair sticking up above the blanket wrapped around her and Dick.

Marinette gave him a tired smile. “About?” she prompted.

“Living arrangements when Lucy and Robert are ready to go home. Robert’s doing a lot better now. I think he’ll be ready to go home in a few days. Lucy will probably be ready sooner,” he answered, turning to be able to make eye contact with Marinette while they talked. It had been a few days since the twins had been born and they still hadn’t had a chance to really talk. Between the coordination of taking care of the twins and making sure there were eyes on them at all times and the exhaustion on Marinette’s system from delivering the babies and after the kidnapping, there hadn’t really been time.

“Dick, I…” she started looking away guiltily.

“I know you’re not ready to date let alone move back in together,” he assured her gently, “this isn’t about that,” he assured her gently. “This is about their safety. The Court of Owls isn’t eliminated. They have multiple strongholds. This was a hard hit, but they aren’t gone.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked away nervously. “I don’t even think the apartment is safe.”

“The prophecy,” she nodded, tickling Robert’s cheek to try to get him to open his mouth wider. “This isn’t over is it?”

Dick shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’ll take a while for them to recover, but I think they’ll be back.”

She sighed sadly and tried to focus entirely on Robert so Dick wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes at the thought of them returning, the thought that they would never truly be safe until the Court was completely eliminated. She ran her hand over his curly black hair. Whereas Lucy had gotten her mother’s straight, thick black hair, Robert’s was closer to his father’s. Little curls licked his face and curled away. “So, what were you thinking?”

Marinette may have turned away from Dick, but he still knew her well enough to know she was terrified and trying to hide it. He could see it in the way she hid her face. He could see it in the way her shoulders curled around Robert. He could see it in the way she held him just a little closer. He moved so he was sitting next to her and could cup her face with his free hand.

“We’ll keep them safe, Marinette. We won’t let anything happen to them,” he assured her. The fierce determinism in his voice made her want to believe him. They would do everything they could to protect their babies. She leaned into his hand and nodded. “So, what I was thinking was… we should make sure they are as safe as possible.” She gave him a confused look, unsure why he suddenly sounded so tentative. “And the most secure place I can think of… is the manor.”

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape in surprise. “You think we should move into the manor?” she whisper shouted. “Dick, I don’t want to live in Bruce’s home for the rest of our lives.”

“I know, I know. It’s not ideal,” Dick conceded. Before the kidnapping, he certainly would never have expected to propose returning to the manor. He had moved out for a reason and now, with Marinette and the twins, there were even more reasons not to. But, there was one overwhelming, overpowering reason they should. “But, it’s the safest place in Gotham, probably New Jersey, possibly in all of America. He has a ton of security to ward off cults, rogues, magicians, assassins, and everything else he could think of.”

“And it’s so big! What if the twins play hide and seek in a few years and we never find them? That place is too big,” she exclaimed.

“Okay, good point,” he allowed. It wasn’t and they both knew it. There was no way they, Kismet, or Alfred wouldn’t be able to find them, but he wasn’t going to argue that point. His focus was to get the twins under the best security they could manage, not get lost in the details. Not to mention, he had actually gotten lost in the manor a few times when he first moved there, so he knew getting lost was a possibility. It’s just that they wouldn’t stay that way. “But what if we take Bruce up on allowing him to build us a secure home. Our own home, with just as much security.”

“Dick!” she exclaimed loudly and immediately regretted it. She startled Robert off his finally successful latch and woke Lucy up. “Sorry,” she grimaced apologetically.

Dick chuckled at her and started bouncing Lucy to lull her back to sleep. “I know. I don’t really like the idea of asking him either, but we need some place safe. The Court of Owls is dangerous, extremely well connected, and apparently obsessed with our children. We need top of the line security and I don’t think we could afford it otherwise. I think it’s the only way to keep them safe.”

She stared at him silently for a few minutes. Not really sure how to react. He was right. They would need security, more security than they could afford otherwise. However, they did have built in security with the kwami, not that Dick knew about that yet. But it also wasn’t entirely reliable. The kwami couldn’t do much more than warn them if something was happening. They couldn’t act on it without potentially devastating consequences.

Dick spoke up after a few minutes, misinterpreting her hesitation. “I… I can live somewhere else. The most important thing is for you and the twins to be safe,” he offered.

“But they might come after you as well. You’re a Grayson,” she protested. If anything, he and the twins needed to stay under the security’s protection.

“I can stay at the manor,” he assured her.

Marinette concentrated on Robert while she thought it through, running her fingers over his curls. She wasn’t ready to go back to the way they were. She didn’t trust him completely yet. Or rather, she trusted him, she just didn’t know if she trusted him with her heart. But she did trust him to keep her and the twins safe. She did trust him to protect them and to act respectfully. She trusted him to want to do what was best for them.

“No… why don’t we… why don’t we stay in the manor until we figure out where we want to go? Relationship wise.” she finally offered resolutely. Dick nodded in understanding. There was no reason to build a home for the two of them if they weren’t going to live together. Marinette and the twins would need security whether she stayed with him or not, but if they decided they didn’t want to get back together she should have a home of her own, away from him. “We can have our own rooms and the twins can stay in mine for the first few months, until the likelihood of SIDS is lower.”

“Bruce has a few very large rooms in the manor, would you… how would you feel about us both staying in the room with the twins, but in different beds? That way I can help better and you don’t have to do all the work by yourself,” he offered cautiously. He didn’t want to scare her off by pushing too hard or rushing her.

Marinette studied him uncertainly. That seemed awfully intimate, but at the same time, it would allow her some rest. He could change diapers and help get them back to sleep… “We can try it…”

“But if you start to feel uncomfortable, I can move to another room, immediately,” he assured her.

Marinette nodded in agreement. “Okay”

Dick smiled again, a relieved, excited smile. He knew there was a lot to do. He knew he still had a long way to go, but they were making progress. They weren’t as bad as he thought they had been. “I know I have a lot to make up for and a lot to prove. I know I messed up and I want to fix it.”

“What do you think you messed up,” she asked curiously.

“I think I was so afraid of losing you, I got obsessed with eliminating any threats that might hurt you. I… I couldn’t lose you like I lost my parents,” he answered honestly. “That’s not an excuse,” he insisted quickly. “It’s not an excuse because I know it doesn’t excuse my behavior. It’s just my reasoning. I didn’t even realize it until Lucius pointed it out at the fashion show. He also pointed out that you wouldn’t have let me go. You would have pulled me out of my obsession, and I knew that. So that’s why I didn’t tell you.

“I think that’s what I need to fix. We’re supposed to be a team. We were supposed to be in a relationship, but I was cutting you out. I saw that I was hurting you, but I convinced myself I was saving you from something worse. I think I messed up by cutting you out of my life. I’m going to change that.”

She nodded at him with tears in her eyes. “Okay. You know it wasn’t the secrets, right? You were allowed to have secrets. I didn’t begrudge you that. Hell, I have secrets I haven’t told you yet.” She looked down at Lucy when she started making whimpering noises. “Trade me,” she motioned for Lucy and held Robert out for him to take. He gently handed Lucy off to Marinette to nurse and took Robert, loosening his swaddle so they could do skin to skin time. “I want us to get to the point we don’t have secrets from each other, but we both deserve the time to figure out when we’ve reached that point.”

After a few minutes bouncing Robert, Dick looked back to Marinette with an open, vulnerable expression. “I spoke with Commissioner Gordon,” he started slowly. “And I quit the Titans. I’m going to become a police officer in Gotham. I’ll be here from now on. There might still be things I can’t tell you because it’s police business, but you’ll know why I can’t tell you now. And I know that doesn’t make up for everything I’ve done, but it’s a start.”

“Dick! You didn’t have to give up something you love for me! That’s ridiculous. Whether we get back together or not, you shouldn’t give up things you love to make someone else happy,” she exclaimed desperately. The last thing she wanted was for him to give up parts of himself, parts that mattered to him, parts he might be bitter about having given up later.

Dick shook his head emphatically. “I didn’t do it for you. Well, not just you. I was miserable whenever I was away. I hated missing you and the twins. I… I didn’t want to miss out on their lives like I missed out on the pregnancy. I don’t want them growing up without me.” He sat back down next to her again to look her in the eye again, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. “I won’t lie. I want to go back to the way we were, but without the leaving and the lies.”

He brushed her bangs out of her face and gently rubbed his thumb along her cheek. “I love you and waking up to you in my arms is one of the best parts of my life in the last few… years really. Kissing you, touching you, seeing your smile. All of the things I got to do with you were magical. I’d love to get that back, but I know I have work to do to get there. And I’m willing to put in the effort.”

“Dick…” she rested her head in the crux of his neck, angling Lucy away while she did. “It’s going to take a while.”

“I know. And I know we might never get back there, but I want to try.” He kissed the top of her head and rested his head on hers.

Marinette looked back up at him and nodded. “Let’s focus on getting the twins healthy and learning how to be parents. Then we can see how things feel.”

Dick smiled gently. “Okay.”

She shook her head and turned her head back to rest against his neck. “I owe Adrien 100 euros. I bet him I wouldn’t end up with a hero.”

“Technically I’m a vigilante. And we’re not together,” Dick corrected with a smirk, “… yet.”

She stared at him for a few moments before nodding resolutely. “You know what? I’ll take it.”

Chapter 29

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duskandstarlight · 4 years ago

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Embers & Light (Chapter 27, Nessian multi-chapter)

Notes: Hello lovely readers! I am so sorry for the day's delay in posting this chapter. I was really poorly last week (and I'm still recovering) so I wasn't able to keep on top of my writing in order to bring you a chapter yesterday. That is not only because I found this very difficult to write, but because this is a LONG chapter. 14k words. There was so much to pack in, and as you all know, I am not one to gloss over certain elements, especially not Nessian goodness. Thank you to everyone who has sent me will-wishes this week and last. You are all lovely people and it's very much appreciated. Let me know what you think, as always. And apologies for any typos and inconsistencies—as I said, I've not been well so my brain has not been functioning like it usually does!

Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

Chapter Twenty-Seven Cassian

Frawley and Lorrian were all ready to go when Nesta came downstairs. Those ever-perceptive eyes—ice blue and brown—fell immediately to Nesta’s chest as she stepped into the hallway. But to Cassian’s relief, the witch remained relatively silent, mounting Caerleon and casting into the sky with her husband close behind her in a glow of emerald without more than a few crisp, comments.

Nesta flew on Sala. Despite knowing that she had trained on Caerleon enough the previous week to know what to expect, Cassian could not help the fear that wound its way into his mouth as beast and Fae left the ground. He needn’t have worried. Sala’s gait seemed as natural to Nesta as breathing; her legs tucked into the manticore’s flank just before the beast’s wings with a confident, determined grip and her fingers were secure in Sala’s ruff. Cassian had launched himself into the skies straight after her, watching Nesta as if he were a hawk. He knew the magic binding Nesta and Sala would keep Nesta seated despite the battering winds and any notion of gravity, but that didn’t stop him from flying a few feet below her for the first couple of miles, ready to throw himself into a nose dive should she fall.

But later, when he realised that Nesta was perfectly at home on top of her manticore, Cassian had risen to fly beside her. And when he had winked at her, his broad wings flapping to match her furious pace, the smile she had sent back had been genuine enough for Cassian to know that if he died that day, he would die happy. That he had seen Nesta offer him a true smile without any thought of stifling it, and it was beautiful.

A few miles from the camp, the four of them landed to leave the manticores in a thicket of pine trees. Cassian watched Nesta bury her face into the manticore’s neck and whisper in the beast’s ear before she wordlessly strode over to him.

They had decided the night prior that Frawley and Nesta would leave their manticores behind. It was an idea that had been met with great protest by Frawley, but in the end, Cassian and Lorrian had talked her round. They were both of the same opinion; bringing the manticores to the Solstice luncheon would probably push the already hostile Illyrian lords to self-combust. So the manticores would remain on stand-by, out of sight but near enough to the camp to intervene if necessary.

“Ready to go for a ride, sweetheart?” Cassian teased Nesta as she walked towards him.

Cassian had expected things to be strained between them since he had given Nesta the necklace. There was also the small matter that they would be publicly declaring themselves together today, but Nesta appeared wholly unfazed. If anything, she looked happy, despite the sexual innuendo which usually had her dropping swiftly into irritation. Her cheeks were stung pink from the cold air, giving her a healthy glow, and her eyes were impossibly bright in a way that made his own heart ache.

Her lack of reaction didn’t help Cassian to stop thinking about Nesta in a sexual capacity. And the thought of Nesta actually riding him… He had dreamt of her so many times now that their imagined actions had become a well-rehearsed dance. He knew what it felt like for her to straddle his hips. Knew what she sounded like when she sighed and sank down onto the length of him, his lips attacking the column of her neck. Of how he groaned so deeply that everything in him shook. Nesta’s phantom hands always weaved through his hair at the sound, and when she bent to kiss him, she tasted entirely right...

“I suppose I’ll have to make do with you,” Nesta struck back, pulling Cassian out of his salacious thoughts with a jolt. Her tone was playful, but there was an underlying edge of disappointment that told him she was fed up of being carried around.

Even though it hurt, Cassian understood. He wouldn’t want to be carted around the skies when he could fly through them. So, he only cast a new protective shield over them, knowing that Nesta would spit blue murder if he ruined her hair. He also knew that he should look presentable for once, rather than turning up in blood-stained armour and hair so wind-snarled that running a brush through it threatened to break it more than it promised to ease out the knots.

Cassian might be the Night Court’s general, but that didn’t mean it was beneath him to look presentable.

For a long, the two of them travelled in silence. To his surprise, Nesta had curled her fingers into his chest, an action which had been lost long ago with her fear of flying. The action was absent-minded enough to tell him her thoughts were elsewhere. Indeed, when he glanced down at her she looked far away.

Cassian was just about to ask if she was all right, when Nesta asked, “Sala will be ok in the forest?”

He bit back a smile at her concern. Somehow, he knew that would upset her.

“Yes, she’ll be fine,” Cassian replied sincerely. “She’s an alpha predator and she’s with Caer.”

Darting another glance downwards, he found Nesta chewing on her lip. The action made her appear even more beautiful. Cassian didn’t know how Nesta always managed to look so arresting. Sometimes, he thought it was because he saw her through rose-tinted lenses, but then someone else would make a comment, like Lorrian yesterday, and he’d know it wasn’t in his imagination at all.

“If you need her, she’ll come,” Cassian assured Nesta, locking his eyes with hers so his words held weight. “Sala is bound to your magic, just will her presence and she will find you.”

Slowly, Nesta nodded. When she unclenched her teeth, her bottom lip was swollen and flushed. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss her when they weren’t dying. Whether she’d let him. Sometimes—only rarely—Cassian thought she might. Like earlier, when he had given her the necklace and she had twisted to look up at him. It would have been so easy to cup her cheek and bow his head that little bit further. And for a second, he’d thought that was what she had wanted. Her eyes had darted to his lips, but rather than satisfaction Cassian had felt a stab of mutual fear. Because they both knew that if Cassian was to give in to temptation—if she let him and wanted it—they would not stop until their skin was bare and their bodies were moulded into the other.

Cassian fortified his ring of fire at the thought. Made it even tighter and more formidable. Blocked out the thought of Nesta’s endless skin and her unforgiving curves. Since the kerits attack on Windhaven, Cassian felt more of Nesta down that shared tether. It was still constricted, but it was enough to get hits of emotion more frequently than before. And even though Cassian was desperate to, he hadn’t dared to reach out and touch that twisted rope again.

It hurt to deny himself the pleasure of brushing against it. The urge pulsed beneath his skin, whispering her name over and over: Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

“You’re ok with today’s plan?” Cassian asked Nesta, because he needed to say something that didn’t make him think about how they would be sharing a bed later. How he would be so consumed by her scent it would be hard to breathe, let alone think. Needed to focus on the fact that today could be very dangerous and that he was willingly carrying her right into it.

It would not be like last time when she had been suffering from nightmares. This time she would be lucid. He would not be able to arch a protective wing over her and ghost his body alongside hers. It was going to be necessary torture and he had no idea whether she had yet pieced together that they would not have separate sleeping arrangements. Nesta was usually so quick to put two and two together, but she had not truly snapped or refused point blank to be anywhere near him, which made him suspect that it hadn’t yet clicked.

“Aside from being promised to you?” Nesta asked, a slight crease appearing between her brows.

The words were not vicious, but Cassian still had to snicker away the hurt. “Aside from that.”

“Yes, I’m ok with the plan,” she replied. She craned her neck up to look at him. “You’re worried.”

Cassian could not help but press his lips tightly together. He thought about denying it, but somehow he knew that she could read his expression too adeptly.

“I’m always wary before I meet with the war-lords. I’m even more wary when a meeting has been brought forward,” Cassian admitted. He cast his gaze forward to the skies, to Lorrian and Frawley who were flying ahead of them. Lorrian’s natural gait had always been faster than Cassian’s. Whilst Cassian’s wings were bigger, Lorrian’s build was made for speed. “I’ve got a bad feeling about it,” he admitted. “Marsh is a notoriously harsh war-lord, but he’s been unwell in recent years. Usually, a war-lord would not think twice to rid himself of a son who would pose as a threat. Kallon has openly claimed to have Enalius’s sword and his father has not made a single move against him, even though it threatens his position.”

“You think Marsh would kill his own son?”

Cassian snorted. “It has happened before. That, or a son would be cast out of the camp and stripped of his entitlement.”

Nesta frowned. “So, what you are saying is that you do not think that Marsh has long left to live and he is allowing Kallon to rule in his stead?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I think,” Cassian replied seriously, not at all surprised at Nesta’s intelligence. “And that means Kallon could soon be in a position of great power and influence, especially if he claims to have been chosen by Enalius to unite the Illyrians.”

They flew in silence for a few minutes. Cassian could almost hear the cogs turning in Nesta’s mind, as she digested the information he had just given her. But when she finally spoke, it was not about Kallon or the rising discontent. “I won’t be subservient.”

Cassian looked down at her in surprise. Did she mean today? “I don’t want you to be,” he said carefully. Honestly.

“Aren’t you going to remind me of the Illyrian customs and how I shouldn’t behave considering I’m a female?” Nesta asked stiffly.

Cassian frowned. Maybe things weren’t fine between them, after all. There was a sudden edge to her voice that he had heard when he had first shown her the necklace. That sharp, brittle parry that had almost seemed like she was purposefully attempting to put distance between them. He had felt her panic. She hadn’t been able to stifle that emotion before it flew down their tether. Nor had she been able to disguise the beating of her heart, which pattered at such a rate that it had melded with his own terrified rhythm.

Nesta knew what the necklace was, Cassian was sure of it. Knew by now that he had dived back into the Sidra to retrieve the gift she had refused, just as she had rejected him.

Now Cassian was no longer clouded by the fierce grip of rejection, he could not entirely blame Nesta for turning him away on Solstice. She had spent the evening sitting as far away from the fire as possible during a visit against her will. And not only had she had to fight battle trauma, but she had been forced to endure how they were all moving on without her. It was what Nesta had insisted upon, but Cassian was not stupid enough to think that it hadn’t hurt, especially when he had opened Mor’s gift and laughed along with everyone, pretending everything was fine when it most certainly was not. When it had felt as if someone had already thrust a hand into his chest and thrown out his bloody, bleeding heart for everyone to see.

To see the world through a pair of dusky blue eyes rather than hazel had everything tilted sideways, but it was necessary, he knew that now.

“No,” Cassian replied shortly, and meant it. Nesta was wild and he hungered for it. To see her chained and timid went against every fibre of his being.

“Is that not what is expected of the females here?” Nesta questioned, her voice that little more pointed.

Cassian frowned again. “It is, but I like you just the way you are,” he confessed slowly. “It is not what I would ever expect of you.”

Then, he barked a laugh, missing the sudden change in Nesta’s expression. “And you’ll find your defiance is in good company. You and Frawley are going to make a formidable pair.”

A soft snort. It was as close to a laugh as Cassian was going to get, but he would settle for it, even if it was nothing on the joy that had hit him square in the stomach a few weeks prior. He had been eating breakfast in the kitchen when he had felt it: pure, radiating laughter that had somehow ghosted into his ears and wound itself around his most vital organs. He had been out of his seat and in the skies before he had a moment to catch himself, following that tether between them that was more defined than ever before. But the cold, bracing air had done him good, and Cassian had turned sharply around, suddenly understanding that it was not his moment to share. That it was something Nesta needed to experience independently from him.

So, Cassian had waited at the bungalow for Nesta to return, every second a new form of torture. And from the moment she stepped through the front door, he had known they had reached a turning point. There was a lightness to her features that he had not seen before. As if the laughter had broken through that expressionless mask and rendered her new.

Cassian had expected to have to wait for a glowing retelling from Mas the day after, but Nesta had told him herself, a ghost of a smile on her lips as he made her breakfast and a mug of chai, listening to her talk and talk and talk.

He would have sold his soul in that moment. Would have done anything for her. But he had only sat opposite with a cup of steaming coffee and watched her eat as if she hadn’t for days. And when he had asked if she wanted to come with him to oversee his camp duties, she had nodded without hesitation, telling him she had a few hours before she was due to show Feyre around the camps with Mas.

“I should warn you that they’ll be interested in you,” Cassian told Nesta after a moment.

Nesta’s body turned stiff in his arms. “What do you mean?”

“Word has spread amongst the camps about what you did,” Cassian explained.

Mas had encouraged the widows to do as much. The monthly market set deep in the mist-shrouded valley of Empyr, was the perfect opportunity for those that could fly to spread word, just as Kallon’s recruits spread vicious discourse about the Night Court. The valley was flanked by lush forest green and cascading waterfalls, and Illyrians flew from all over the mountains to stock up on essentials, from grains and spices, to weaponry and healing medicines. It was also the location of the Illyrian festival Kharon, where once a year, Illyrians congregated to sail souls to rest down the River Styx.

Cassian couldn’t wait to take Nesta there. Was waiting for the perfect moment.

“Feyre was there, too,” Nesta reminded him, but Cassian only shook his head.

“You brought Mas back to life. A lowly widow in the eyes of the average Illyrian. You gave someone worth who was deemed as having none, Nesta. You sparked an oppressed female to lead others and finally stand up against cultural traditions that have been engrained for centuries—”

“But the males don’t see it that way?” Nesta guessed, cutting him off. Her expression did not give any indication that his praise had either pleased or irritated her.

Cassian tilted his head in a shrug, but he did not stop staring into her eyes—into the smoky blue that mesmerised him even now. “Should the dissent continue to rise, we might be forced to invoke a referendum about whether Illyria should become an independent nation,” Cassian explained. “Females have the right to vote. Rhys instated the law many years ago, much to the chagrin of the Illyrian males. I think that’s why Kallon has been targeting the females who lost their husbands and sons in the war—in the hope that their support would swing the cause in his favour.”

“But if he is behind the orchestrated attacks, then we could stop a divided nation?” Nesta asked, finishing his strain of thought.

Cassian’s smile was grim. “Exactly.”

“You think he did it?”

Cassian shrugged. “I keep thinking about those bastards who have disappeared. I would not be surprised if their allegiance had been bought by the rebellion. I’m sure they have been promised a station above the lowest ranking foot soldier. You heard Devlon, they are all exceptional in the skies, but they aren’t recognised for their talents. They have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

“What would happen if you captured them?” Nesta asked quietly.

Cassian looked into the distance—at the pine-capped mountains and the craggy mountain stone. He didn’t want to think about what would befall those males. He knew them. They were good soldiers with no sense of self-worth.

Nesta touched Cassian’s shoulder. “Maybe it won’t come to that,” she said.

“Maybe,” Cassian replied, but he knew he didn’t sound convinced.

Lord Marsh’s residence was a too-large stone building set deep into the forested mountain ledge that overhung the rest of the mountain pass. Flags bearing the Ironcrest insignia—a crested hawk eagle with its wings spread wide—rippled in the breeze, and Fae males armed with spears flanked the huge double-doors, which were made of heavy pine and punctured with black iron studs and heavy handles in the shape of Illyrian wings. The guards iron helmets were plumed with pointed black feathers tipped with white, just like the hawk that had given Ironcrest the latter part of its name.

Carefully, Cassian touched down onto the stone a careful distance from both the entrance and Lorrian and Frawley. He did not give Nesta the opportunity to step away. Instead, he tightened the arm that was still wound around her waist and curled a wing around them like a shield.

Already he felt territorial. Already he did not want to let her go.

“You stay with me tonight.”

Nesta’s head whipped up at the dead seriousness of his tone. His words were not up for debate but to his surprise, she did not hiss ‘no’ and he did not feel that silver power push against her skin. Cassian suspected that Nesta’s nerves had started to fray at the prospect of being somewhere that was not the bungalow or Lorrian and Frawley’s cottage.

He touched her hand to bring her back. Nesta stared down at the fingers that clasped hers as if she did not understand how they had got there, before she tightened her grip and turned to face him. As she met his gaze, that smoky blue latched onto him and he felt as if he was a predator who had crawled into the palm of her hand and rolled over in surrender.

“If you need to get my attention when we are inside then send me a subtle signal,” Cassian told Nesta in a quiet voice. Already there would be too many prying eyes and ears. He could already feel Fae watching him from the crown glass windows, their faces distorted by both the plain whorled glass and the stained colours of the insignia set into their middle.

Nesta frowned. “How—”

Cassian pressed his fingers gently against Nesta’s stomach. He felt the wings of her ribs and the muscles of her core. “Here,” he said softly, his heart battering against his chest. “Like you did the other day at Kanaman.”

This close up Cassian could taste the sweetness of Nesta’s breath. Could see every single one of her eyelashes and the black-blue kohl that rimmed the upper lids. Nesta was not usually one for enhancing the features she already had. She did not need to. Staring at Nesta as a human had been enough for Cassian’s breath to catch in his throat, but as Fae… she was devastating. And whilst Cassian preferred Nesta windswept in leathers and a simple braid, he could not deny that when he had found her that morning to give her the necklace, his knees had gone weak.

Yet, there was something about Nesta being dressed up which made Cassian feel as if he were at a distance from her. As if the formal garments and the tight, intricate arrangement of her braid slammed a partition between them, highlighting how he was only a lowly bastard and she was too good for him. It was why he had often kept his distance before, too fearful to speak with her in front of his friends in case she were to shoot him down publicly. And the truth of it was that Nesta made him feel like he was young again. He had played games without realising it. Ignoring her to feign indifference, hoping to hide just how affected he was by her mere presence in a room. How scared he was to let his friends see just how much his wild and vulnerable heart had been flung out before this bewitching female for the first time in centuries. Because Nesta was not like anyone else he had ever met. He had never felt like this. Not just an undeniable pull of attraction, but something deeper than lust or fancy. Something more.

It was only when Cassian spied the pyrite laying below her collarbone did he relax a little. Perhaps it was too simple for someone as arresting as Nesta, but she hadn’t rejected it. Had let him put it on her and she had not taken it off, not even when she had realised what it was. How it highlighted that painful memory that was strung between them.

She had called the necklace beautiful. Had meant it.

“What—” Nesta started, but she broke off suddenly, a flicker of recognition dawning on her face. Absent-mindedly her fingers closed around the pyrite, as if touching it allowed her to understand—to tap into his mind and read his thoughts.

For a moment, they stared at one another. Both of their hearts thumping even as their expressions remained impassive. If not for the slight stain on Nesta’s cheeks Cassian would not have known she was affected at all.

It amused him that she had thought she had gotten away with sending an emotion back without him noticing. It was the first he had felt something gentle from her, rather than a blast of emotion. And whilst the sensation had still been stifled down that constricted tether, it had touched him in a way he could not explain. That she had cared enough to soothe his torment.

In that moment, Cassian had felt wholly connected to her, but Nesta hadn't even glanced his way.

Outside of their cocoon, Cassian heard approaching voices and the clink of armour. Even still, he found himself hesitating, wanting a private moment with Nesta for a little longer before they were thrown to the vultures.

So, Cassian surprised her, raising her knuckles to his lips. Her skin tasted so intoxicating the primal part of him internally growled, but he only looked at her with dark eyes as he slowly retracted his wing — at the smoky silver that slid behind her irises, and unable to help it, breathed softly, “Pulchra.”

His lips quirked against her skin when her breath hitched. Then, slowly, he dropped her hand and offered her his arm with a smile that for once he did not have to catch and shape into something else. “After you, amore,” he said.

Nesta studied him for a moment. He watched her eyes slide past him to the stone building—to the window and the faces that he knew were staring, prying and scheming. Saw the understanding dawn on Nesta’s face that told him she had believed the kiss for show, when really it had been nothing but a perfect excuse.

And then she took his arm.

Warriors on duty armed only in fighting leathers and what Cassian suspected was a number of well-hidden knives led them to the drawing room. Stone walls lit by bobbing faelights cast dark, long shadows in the hallways and onto the faded rugs. As they turned a corner, female servants came into view laden with silver plates piled high with food. In the near distance, a wide doorframe gleamed, light spilling into the corridor and with it, the rumble of forced conversation and the clink of glasses.

One step into the bright room had Cassian on high alert and scanning for every possible exit point. As usual, the Solstice Luncheon did nothing to bring the Illyrians together. Instead, the clans remained steadfast in their own groups of lords and ladies, save for the odd stiff conversation between camps with long-formed alliances. Cassian spied Lord Condor from Forktail speaking stiffly with Devlon, and Cassian immediately thought of Lorrian. How would he fare coming face-to-face with his younger brother today? Notoriously they did not get on. Rumour had it that Lord Icor Condor had not been happy that Lorrian had been promoted from outcast to Colonel. Cassian had received a hate letter for it, not that he cared. Everyone knew Lorrian was the best equipped Illyrian to get their warriors back to a high-level of skill in the skies.

It did not take Cassian long to locate Ironcrest’s war-lord. He was sitting at a large pine table laden with Illyrian cuisine in front of the right-hand bay window. In front of him, a large silver goblet was full to the brim with red wine, as well as a plate piled high with untouched food.

Lord Anguis Marsh had always been a broad shouldered male who was unusually well-kept for a warrior. His dark hair was slicked back to feather at the nape of his neck, and he sported a hooked, crooked nose and an ugly scar which effectively splitting through his upper lip. When Marsh had been in good health, he had been known for his alarming speed on the battlefield and the vicious nature with which he gutted his opponents. Now, Cassian could not find that male in front of him.

Marsh was the eldest of the war-lords—a few millennia old, perhaps—and as Azriel had reported, his health was not what it was. The lord—or prince, as all the top ranking war-lords were referred to (with Enalius being viewed as their God and King)—had not been able to fight in the most recent war, nor had he made a point of sitting in on the War Counsel. Kallon, who was Marsh’s only princeling and son, had been denied a place on the Counsel in his stead, with Cassian arguing that it was not only because Kallon was unseasoned, but because he wasn’t intending to fight against Hybern himself. It had been a decision that Cassian knew had not been taken lightly, and he did not delude himself to think that the repercussions weren’t now stacked against him.

The prince’s declining health was far worse than when Cassian had last seen Marsh. That much was evident from where he remained seated at the thick pine table rather than standing with the majority of his guests. Although, Cassian mused, he would not put it past any Illyrian war-lord to feel so superior that they remained seated at their house table as if it were a throne.

Steering Nesta over the table to get the formalities over and done with, Cassian deliberately shortened his strides to match hers. As he did so, he tracked Marsh reaching stiffly for his goblet to take a deep drink. It did little to disguise the unmistakable tremble of his hand. Only the war-lord’s eyes remained the same as Cassian remembered; small, yellow and beady — alert and vigilant in the way that only a true Illyrian warrior was. They slid from Cassian to Nesta, before moving on to Lorrian and Frawley behind them.

“General.” A deep, drawl laced with the faintest rasp. Not as fierce as it used to be, that was for certain.

Yet, the sneer that twisted the male’s tan face as they came to a stop a few feet from the table undoubtedly belonged to Marsh. The movement highlighted the scar on Marsh’s lip, the skin crumpling as the split caused it to curl in the wrong way. “I see you brought company, bastard, when usually you do not grace us with your presence at all.”

Cassian did not let a flicker of expression taint his blank canvas. He had sent word of their intended stay well ahead of time, but Cassian knew that Marsh would feign ignorance just for the spite of it. “Yes,” he replied. “As I am sure you are already aware, Colonel Lorrian has been reappointed and is overseeing the armies aerial fleet. Neither of us would miss the Rite counsel.”

It was true, Cassian would not miss the Rite counsel that would take place later that afternoon. It was unusual that it had been moved. Usually it took place mid-January, but seeing that it was Ironcrest who was due to hold the ceremony that year, combining the Solstice luncheon and the Rite counsel made sense. It didn’t stop Cassian from being suspicious. Any deviation from the Illyrian’s deepest traditions always had Cassian’s hackles raised, not because he did not appreciate progress or the ability to adapt, but because it was not the Illyrians usual way, especially when it came from one of the oldest Illyrian war-lords.

Marsh did not acknowledge Cassian’s comment regarding the Rite. Instead, he said maliciously, “I didn’t believe there was an aerial fleet left.”

Cassian did not allow his body to stiffen. Did not allow to show how they affected him, even now. He could beat them all to a pulp if he wanted, Cassian reminded himself. He had more siphons than all of them. More Killing Power. He may be a bastard but he was a worthy warrior and better suited to lead the armies than any one of them.

So, he dropped into a voice that he saved for occasions like this. A voice which promised death and destruction and was not to be disputed. “Colonel Lorrian will oversee the training of your aerial warriors tomorrow morning,” Cassian clipped coldly, as if he had not heard the rebuttal. “And we will see how much of that rings true. I am sure Ironcrest would not have allowed their warriors to sink in standard.”

Another curl of the lip as Marsh sneered. Without looking behind him, Marsh raised his goblet with a shaking hand. A female servant rushed forward with a tall, heavy pitcher of wine. When his goblet was refilled, Marsh did not shift his yellow, beady eyes from Cassian as he lifted the goblet to his lips. His hand shook with enough effort that the contents spilled over the lip and onto his arm.

A snarl unleashed itself from Marsh’s throat, the sound not unlike a whip hitting home. The goblet thunked onto the pine table, wine sloshing over the surface. “Maya, you useless female,” Marsh chastised the female servant, whose eyes had widened with fear. “You jostled me. Get me a napkin at once or I will banish you to the widows camp and be done with you.”

The hand that was still looped through Cassian’s arm tightened slightly, and Cassian felt the threat of Nesta’s magic push beneath her skin. Training regularly with Nesta had allowed Cassian to become used to the seal of her magic. It was something which had become as naturally as breathing to him since that day at Spearhead, when they had first trained with his siphon. It was almost as if Nesta’s magic had imprinted onto his very being. When it moved, he felt it. When it blazed, he burned without fire.

As if it were the most natural gesture in the world, Cassian brought a hand to cup Nesta’s where it lay on her arm. It was a reminder to stay calm. Nesta’s job was to scout out the emotions in the room, not set it aflame.

“Father,” a male voice announced.

Cassian turned to see a male standing a few feet from them. Kallon was the imitation of his father when he had been in good health: impossibly dark hair scraped back to the nape of his neck; yellow eyes; a chiselled jaw; and sharp cheekbones. He was handsome in the way that most Fae were, and his skin betrayed his youth; the majority of brown unmarred, save for a vicious looking scar on his arm and half of a missing index finger on his left hand, which left the digit intact only to the knuckle. Kallon did not have Illyrian tattoos yet—had not seen war to earn them—and on the backs of his hands lay no siphons.

Given the steadfast rule at all gatherings for the war-lord, Cassian was not surprised to see that no sword lay either in a scabbard by Kallon’s side, or strapped down his spine, as was Illyrian custom.

“My son, Kallon,” Marsh announced with the stiff flick of a trembling hand, “who I presume you have met before.”

Cassian did not bow his head. “I don’t believe we have met in a number of years.”

Piercing yellow eyes studied Cassian. “I don’t believe I would have had cause to, considering our General does not visit Ironcrest often, and given that I was not permitted a place on your war counsel.”

An insult already and one that was not entirely true. Cassian had visited Ironcrest a fair few times over the last four months, but Kallon had never been in the training ring or with his father at the same time.

Kallon’s luminescent yellow eyes moved from Cassian’s to the female beside him. They stilled and then, painstakingly slowly, they deliberately raked a path over every inch of Nesta’s body. The movement was purposefully claiming, and Cassian suppressed the growl that came roaring to the forefront as Kallon dared to flex the claws on his wings. “And who is this bewitching female?” he asked.

Nesta had turned preternaturally still, and not one part of her body moved save for her eyes, which slid to the talons at the apex of the princeling’s wings. In fact, Cassian noted, Nesta’s posture had not changed since she had entered the house; her spine stacked tall, her chin slightly raised, those beautiful eyes lined with silver shimmering mercury blue. But there was something in her stillness that made Cassian wonder if Nesta, too, had dissected that Kallon’s good looks had a cold and unreachable quality that hinted at something far sinister. As if he used them as a way of luring in victims, much like sirens tempted sailors to the rocks at sea.

Nesta would have felt distant and otherworldly if she had not been holding his arm. If he could not feel her, ever so slightly, down that bond thanks to her lowered walls.

“This is Lady Nesta Archeron,” Cassian replied, forcing all malice from his voice.

“Oh, yes,” Kallon mused smoothly, his irises flaring as if they were an extension of his nostrils. No doubt trying to scent whether Cassian had claimed her. “I have heard of you. I can feel your power. I’ve heard others call you a witch, but I have also heard that you have taken a power that is ancient beyond reckoning. Something that is not yours.”

The princeling’s voice had dropped into a purr and a snarl roared inside of Cassian as Kallon closed the distance between them to take Nesta’s hand. His signet ring flashed in the faelight as he placed a slow, deliberate kiss to Nesta’s knuckles—the exact same spot atop Nesta’s ring finger that Cassian had kissed moments earlier.

“Such a touching story,” Kallon continued, his voice unbelievably even as he looked up at her, “about how you defended one another on the battlefield.” His gaze intensified and sharpened on Nesta as he lowered her hand from his mouth. “Rumour has it that your dedication did not last long, but who can blame you for deciding not to settle for a lowly bastard?”

The way in which Kallon straightened was slow and deliberate. He did not let go of Nesta’s hand, his yellow eyes continuing to stare pointedly at the female before him, as if he had been privy to every night she had fucked someone else and Cassian had perched outside on the rooftop.

Hot and cold washed over Cassian’s body with such ferocity it felt as if he had jumped into both ice and fire. Rage and humiliation battered against his shields, but he did not lower them. Would not allow Nesta or anyone else in the room know how much those words affected him.

But then he felt Nesta’s anger fling itself hard down their tether, the sensation not akin to a blow to the stomach. It pierced through his fire, his heart, and for a moment he felt as if he had been set aflame. He knew she had lowered her shields so she could sense others' emotions in the room, but to be reminded how much she truly felt when she let every barrier fell away was astounding.

Even so, when Nesta spoke, her voice was icy and level beyond reckoning. “Evidently that is not true, otherwise I would not be here.”

She retracted her mist-wrapped hand from Kallon with such care Cassian knew that she was considering smacking him round the face.

A low, sensual laugh that was more fitting for jovial conversation than it was here. “Do not try to convince me that you, a High Fae, has settled for the lowest born faerie? Just how poor was the offering back in Velaris? I hear there was no shortage of males in your bed…”

Cassian had stopped breathing for fear that if he did he would launch towards Kallon and use his fists to beat him bloody and blue. His shield had faltered, the fire sputtering as the words hit home like a spear to the heart.

Nesta did not rise to the bait. She only clipped, “It turns out that the only male I found to be worthy was an Illyrian bastard, so that is no longer relevant.” That chin of Nesta’s rose defiant, and with it, she grew even taller; a vengeful mighty queen looking down on her subjects with pure loathing. “And I may have been Made High Fae against my will, but I am human at heart. I believe you think them to be at the bottom of the chain, so perhaps that will help you sleep easier at night.”

Kallon blinked at Nesta, momentarily stunned. His gaze slid to her fingers, where mist was still seeping from them, curling around Cassian’s bicep. The heat was a welcoming lick rather than hot enough to burn, but the way her fire started to take form, the mist turning into a rope which blazed in coils around her forearm was enough to insinuate otherwise. And there was the fact that Nesta could will it to burn hotter if she liked. Cassian did not doubt that she could incinerate the room with a mere flick of her fingers.

The thought thrilled him. Stacked up the fire inside of his own body, his internal shields answering to hers as his flames licked higher.

Kallon did not step back, although Cassian saw the muscles in his body tense as if to fling himself out of range. He cocked his head to the side, contemplative, as if Nesta were a puzzle he wanted to figure out. And then, he slipped. For a fraction of a second his right hand fell to his hip, where a sword or knife usually hung from his weapon’s belt. But the way his fingers remained there, lingering… it was enough to tell Cassian that he was hiding something. That he was armed, even though he was not supposed to be.

And the knowledge clearly gave him courage, because he stepped towards Nesta, his eyes gleaming—

Nesta snarled, her whip uncoiling itself, the tip lashing out across the clearing with such speed Kallon recoiled.

“It’s true then,” Kallon said, his eyes bright as he took a step backwards. “Silver flames—”

But his father interjected, as if he had endured enough of his son’s games. “I do not remember inviting two witches and an Incomplete to this luncheon,” Marsh snapped.

“Scared of what we’re capable of?” Frawley asked, speaking up for the first time since they had stepped into the room. Her voice was quiet but chilling, and her ice-blue eye levelled Marsh with such a glare that Cassian found himself tensing. Frawley was not irresponsible enough to start a fight, but she had been known to provoke the war-lords when she saw fit. Usually when they insulted her husband.

“To think that you would be in the company of two females more powerful than you,” Frawley mused with the deathly sort of calm that Cassian usually harboured for himself during battle. “And that’s not to mention that one of us beheaded the King of Hybern.”

That lip twisted and contorted, but Kallon spoke before his father had the opportunity to do it himself. “I do not think that we need to thank a witch for ending a war where Illyrians were treated as disposable,” Kallon said.

A murmur went through the crowd. But that did not deter Nesta, who levelled Kallon with a gaze which had him stilling as a slow, cruel smile crept across her face. “I’m not a witch,” she vowed. “I’m something much worse.”

True silence. So quiet that Cassian could have heard a pin drop.

And that was when, without waiting to be dismissed, Cassian chose to steer Nesta away from the war-lord’s table and into the watching crowds.

Nesta moved beside him as if she were floating, as if gravity did not apply to her. Cassian challenged every stare and every curling lip they passed. When they reached the large windows farther down the room where it was less crowded, he drew them to a halt.

Begrudgingly, he dropped his arm, but then he felt couldn’t resist the temptation this partnership had granted him, so he dared to raise a hand to touch his fingers to the nape of Nesta’s neck. As well as being self-indulgent, it was also a gesture of intimacy that he thought would make Nesta least uncomfortable. It was a self-indulgent move, something that sung intimacy and was designed to stake a claim. Because he had seen the way in which Kallon had stared at Nesta. The way he had tried to scent for a bond or claim on her. The gleam in Kallon’s eyes had told Cassian he was not wholly convinced about their claim of being partners, enough for him to prod and poke about Cassian’s bastard status and Nesta’s bedding habits. To see what they said and how they behaved.

And whilst Illyrian males were not overly affectionate with their partners in public, Cassian never intended to take a wife who he did not openly cherish.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked softly.

To his surprise, Nesta did not flinch. Instead, she turned into his touch, lifting those smoky blue eyes to his as if this impromptu dance they were orchestrating was as natural as breathing. That she hadn’t just been called out on her promiscuous behaviour and her continual rejection of him.

She gave a short nod. “Please.”

Her expression, Cassian noted, might be carefully blank, but her eyes were readable to him. He had spent four months living with her. Had learnt to dissect every hollowed out stare and every dulled light whenever she was unguarded enough to let him. And whilst Cassian had expected Nesta to wear the mask she so habitually wore, her eyes were open enough for him to know that she was still angry.

Sweeping up four goblets of wine from the closest servant, Cassian tried not to mourn the loss of Nesta’s skin beneath his fingertips. Frawley flicked her hands casually at both Lorrian’s and Nesta’s drinks, turning the wine to juice before either of them had a moment to comment.

“I could do with some wine,” Lorrian confessed to Cassian in a low, bitter tone as Nesta turned to respond to something Frawley had just said. His friend’s face was wholly impassive to the outsider, but Cassian knew Lorrian well enough to catch the slightly mournful look in the Lorrian’s eyes as he glanced down into the depths of his goblet. “I give it five minutes until I have a war-lord upon me demanding for an update on the state of the aerial fleet.” He cast a slow, hard look around the room. It was a look that Cassian had honed himself over centuries of learning how to assert authority. “That being said,” Lorrian continued, “I think that could have gone a lot worse.”

Cassian grunted, the sensation making his chest jolt and his armour clink. “Speak for yourself.”

Lorrian shot Cassian an apologetic look. He watched Cassian take a deep sip from his goblet. At least the wine was good, Cassian thought bitterly, as if the silver lining would smooth over the battering he’d just received.

“If it’s any consolation, my brother has been sneering at me since we set foot in the room,” Lorrian admitted to Cassian, as if he knew what Cassian was thinking. “I’d sell my other arm in a wager that he’ll have strut over here by the end of this damn luncheon to give me hell.”

It was intended to be a joke but Cassian knew how sensitive Lorrian was about his missing limb. And understandably so. Illyrians were cruel at the best of times, but to have already been referred to as an Incomplete was enough to have a traumatised warrior drowning in a sense of underserved dishonour.

Like Cassian, Lorrian was resplendent today in his black scaled armour, and his right arm glowed a soft emerald from where he had used his magic to temporarily reinstate his limb. “At least we took Frawley’s poison blocker before we left,” Lorrian continued to mutter under his breath. “I bet the majority of this room would take great joy in our deaths.”

Another grunt from Cassian—this time one of agreement. He glanced down into his goblet which was now empty. It was not like him to drink so quickly in the company of the lords, but Kallon had Cassian’s anger pushing at his skin, ready to jump to the forefront with one sneering look.

He lifted his eyes to search for another servant, but the same female Marsh had snapped at earlier—Maya—appeared at his left-hand side with a silver pitcher of wine as if she had been watching him.

The first thing Cassian noticed about the widow was that she had large, almond shaped hazel eyes that were so light, they were almost amber. Her long, ebony hair was fashioned into a double bun at the nape of her neck—a style at odds with her servant status—and on the inside of her wrist, as she lifted her arm to pour him a drink, Cassian spied a tattoo of a sun and moon.

A twin.

Cassian was so distracted by the ink that he didn’t realise he had moved his goblet away until it was too late. The wine spilled over the rim of the cup and onto the flagstone floor, the red liquid splattering over his leg and onto the back of Nesta’s dress.

Maya’s eyes went as round as saucers and he saw the panic flood her expression in a way that told Cassian she was not treated well in the Marsh residence. Nesta turned around sharply, most presumably, from feeling the females terror with her magic.

“I—I am so sorry, my lord,” Maya stammered. Her eyes, which had been dutifully downcast, had snapped up in alarm to connect with his. “Please, let me clean this up. I—”

But Cassian only shook his head, wordlessly taking the handkerchief Lorrian passed to him and took a deliberate step backwards so Maya was deliberately placed in front of him. “I think you will find that it is me who should be apologising,” Cassian corrected kindly. “I moved my goblet.”

He turned to Nesta. “Are you wet?” he asked, holding out the handkerchief to her before even thinking about drying off his wine-covered hand.

“I’m fine,” Nesta replied, shaking her head. She had not made any movements to draw attention to herself like many other females would have done. It was as if she, too, had deduced that if Marsh was to catch wind of the incident, Maya would be cast out into the cold. “It’s only a little on the bottom of my skirts. It will soon dry.”

Maya’s eyes slowly fell to the floor at Nesta’s words. They widened in horror at the spatters of red that had already seeped into the light fabric.

“I am not wed to this dress,” Nesta assured Maya. Her usually clipped manner had fallen into something softer and more sincere. It was a voice she used with a fair few: Elain, Roksana and Mas. Sometimes him.

Sometimes.

Cassian pressed his lips together to stop himself from protesting. Because whilst Nesta might claim not be wedded to her dress, he certainly was. The floating material was the colour of dusky cornflower, a shade which made Nesta’s irises so light they shimmered ice blue. The effect was so startling Cassian’s heart had stopped when she’d opened her bedroom door that morning. If he hadn’t been so nervous he would have probably gone to hell with it all and bent his head to press his lips with hers. Instead, he had stared into those mesmerising eyes and, for a moment, forgotten the silver chain that was burning into his fist.

Avoiding the puddle of wine, Nesta stepped deliberately closer to Cassian, using their bodies to shield the spillage from the war-lord’s table. She touched his arm with her fingertips and looked up at him. “It’s nothing our housekeeper can’t fix. Isn’t that right, amore?”

For a moment, Cassian stared at Nesta, unable to process that she had not only spoke a word of Illyrian, but the term of endearment he had used earlier. Her voice was matter-of-fact, but there was something lacing the words that made him, for a stupid second, believe she meant it.

“Our housekeeper is very skilled,” Cassian assured Maya, allowing a rare smile to slip across his expression. “It won’t be an issue.”

But Maya was still pale. Her eyes slid past them, to the war-lord sat at the far end of the room.

“He can’t see you, Maya,” Cassian assured the servant evenly, as he finished wiping the wine away from his arm and sleeve. When he was finished, he wound an arm around Nesta’s waist, intending to pull her closer to his body, but she moved for him, moulding her curves against his hard lines, blocking Marsh completely from view. Jasmine and vanilla washed over him, the scent a relief. He rubbed a thumb over the fabric of her dress in thanks for playing along. For the blessing of having her pressed up against him.

“I can take care of it.” Frawley took a small step forward to close their circle.

She held out her goblet purposefully outwards, as if she were in need of a refill, and Maya tentatively topped up her a drink as Frawley subtly flicked her fingers. The puddle of wine and the stain on Nesta’s dress vanished.

Again, Maya’s eyes widened, but she was clever enough not to make any kind of movement to attract attention.

“Th-Thank you, my lord. My ladies,” Maya said gratefully, the clear relief in her voice enough to make Cassian angry. When would the injustices inflicted on Illyrians by Illyrians stop? Cassian had no doubt Maya had been mistreated, despite the fact that her twin status must provide her with a certain amount of protection. Illyrians were a superstitious race and would not risk the wrath of the Gods for casting a twin out into the cold.

In fact, Cassian was surprised that Marsh dared to keep her as a servant at all. Usually twins were the only low-born Illyrians that were established into civil society. And they were always low-born and always unbelievably rare. More often than not they were the product of lords unable to keep their cocks in their pants outside of their marriage bed.

Holding back a grimace, Cassian made himself nod at Maya as she bobbed a perfect curtsey to each of them, her golden eyes downcast and submissive, before she took leave.

Curiously, Cassian cocked his head at the widow as she quickly disappeared into the crowds, no doubt to find solace in the kitchens for a moments reprieve.

“Do you know who that was?”

Lorrian’s voice brought Cassian out of his thoughts, and he dragged his eyes away from Maya’s retreating figure to look at his friend. He continued to slowly rub his thumb over Nesta’s ribcage, the curve of her bone beneath the his skin a comfort, somehow.

“No,” he admitted to Lorrian, because he didn’t.

“That’s the widow of Halias Marsh.”

Cassian caught the eyebrows that wanted to disappear into his hairline just in time. “Marsh’s younger brother?”

Halias had not been alive in Cassian’s lifetime, but he knew that he had been a cruel male who had made Anguis Marsh look positively sweet in comparison. Whilst Anguis was known for his sharp, cunning intellect, Halias had been made of a brute strength which had led to an arrogance and dominance both inside and outside the sparring ring. It had been no secret that the brothers had an ongoing rivalry, with Halias believing he was best suited to the role of prince. When Halias had died in a fire, there had been rumours that Marsh had orchestrated his brother’s death, but those sorts of whisperings weren’t uncommon amongst the Illyrian camps, where everyone was out for glory at the expense of others.

“Yes,” Lorrian confirmed in a low voice.

“What happened to her twin?” Cassian asked with a frown.

As Cassian and Azriel’s self-appointed guardian, Rhys’s mother had done her best to teach them the history of the Illyrian camps and the war-lords family trees. They had been lessons which Cassian had found inanely dull at the time, usually because he had been exhausted from a rigorous day of training. But he did remember learning that the Ironcrest brothers had secured twins for brides. He also recalled that it had caused uproar amongst the clans at the time. Twins were rare in Prythian and a symbol of fertility, power and good luck. As was usual for twins, they weren’t of high status, but had been plucked from the mud and inserted into elevated society from birth—reared for the two princelings for when they came of age.

The tattoo Cassian had spied on Maya’s wrist was a part of Illyrian culture. When twins were born, they were marked with the tattoo of a sun and moon: separate yet integral to one another, forever entwined. They were said to be a gift from the Gods: fertile and harbouring power beyond reckoning which would be passed down to their offspring. Their wings were cut at birth. Twins were too precious to risk flying away when they could produce offspring with hearty Killing Power.

“Her twin died in the fire with Halias. I believe she was called Lyanne.”

It was Frawley who had spoken and Cassian looked at her with a frown on his face. “With her twin’s husband?”

“It was quite the scandal at the time,” Frawley said in low tones. “Her twin sister was married to Marsh but sleeping with his brother. I’m surprised you have not heard of it before.”

“Marsh loved his first wife.” It was Nesta who had spoken, and Cassian instinctively tightened his arm around her. “I felt his pain when he looked at Maya. It ran deep, as if he could not bare to look at her.”

That would explain why Marsh had not taken Maya as his wife, Cassian thought. To be wed to a replica but know that they were not the Fae you loved… The heartache would be too much, especially if the female you had given your heart to had bedded his brother, and whilst Marsh was cold beyond reckoning, it was interesting to know there was a side of him that was warm-blooded.

“I bet there’s a reason she’s not in the widows camp,” Lorrian said quietly, and Cassian’s eyes snapped to his friends so quickly his neck cricked.

His neck burned but he was too busy processing what Lorrian was saying. To think that Marsh had kept his wife’s sister in his residence so she could warm his bed when he willed it… the hairs on his arm stood up and something inside of him recoiled, even as he knew that it was incredibly likely. It would explain how well-kept Maya was. How, like Lorrian had said, she had not been turned out into the widows camp and into the cold.

“How long have you known that?” Cassian demanded quietly.

Beside him, Nesta had turned rigid. He didn’t have to look at her to know her skin had turned pale. And despite their constricted bond he felt an unfathomable icy rage force its way down the tether of twisted rope to meet his own.

He did not look at Nesta as he sent an emotion to soothe. A heat to lick against their anger until it had thawed.

He dragged his thumb across her rib cage in a slow, deliberate motion. He felt her let out a long, measure breath.

“I don’t know it,” Lorrian corrected Cassian smoothly, as if he were discussing the weather, not wanting to raise his voice so others could hear. His eyes burned when they connected wth Cassian’s. “But it would be interesting to find out, wouldn’t it?”

By the time Cassian and Lorrian headed into the Rite meeting, Cassian wanted to leave Ironcrest so fiercely that he had almost refused to leave Nesta behind. As usual, as the lords consumed more wine throughout the luncheon, they seemed to overcome their disdain at approaching rival clans. It result in the pursuit of a kind of hostile, verbal swordplay that reaffirmed why no-one had been permitted to enter the residence with a weapon.

Not, Cassian thought grimly, that it would stop any of them from magicking one with their siphons anyway.

Icor Condor—Lorrian’s brother—had been the first to stride over to them and interrupt their conversation to publicly sneer at his sibling

Despite being the eldest of the two, Lorrian had lost his right as princeling heir when he had left the camp for Frawley’s heart. When their late father had died, his brother Icor had inherited the status of war-lord, much to his pleasure and Lorrian’s disgust.

Icor was Lorrian’s sole sibling, and at a first glance, the two of them were almost identical in looks. It was only on closer inspection that one noticed the unrelenting hardness to Icor’s dark features—something that was due to the constant state of stark displeasure that hung across his expression. He was also slightly broader in build, the twisted cords of his muscles pushing against what Cassian suspected was too-small armour, and whilst Icor’s eyes were technically hazel, the majority of the time they were a light, unnerving jade.

To the untrained eye, it was Icor who appeared more formidable. But outcast or no outcast, Lorrian was the finest cut of Forktail princeling, made for the skies in a way his brother was not. And whilst Icor was undeniably an exceptional warrior—his primary skill was with the spear—Forktail’s ancestry boasted formidable warriors from the skies, and Icor had been loath to forget it.

To his credit, Lorrian had appeared completely unaffected as his brother barrelled insult after insult his way, but when Frawley’s ice eye had glowed brightly with threat, Icor had taken sudden leave, claiming that he couldn’t stand to breathe the air of someone who was not only Incomplete but a defector of his race, as well.

Nesta had dug her fingers so hard into Cassian’s armour at that point that Cassian had thought her fire might beat Frawley’s own magic to throwing itself across the room and hitting Icor square in the chest.

Now, Lorrian and Cassian followed the rest of the war-lords as they made their way to the war-room, which was situated in the right-hand wing of the residence.

They had barely had time to say goodbye as Frawley and Nesta were ushered into the parlour with the war-lords and Rite representatives partners. Frawley’s eyes had gleamed as she and Nesta floated from the room, and Cassian knew that the witch hoped to wheedle out some information from the females whilst their husbands weren’t by their sides.

The issue of oppressing others, Frawley had said the evening prior, when they were hashing out their plans, was that oppressors had a tendency to become over-confident and over-trusting in their tyranny; so sure of their unwavering power over others that their mouths became loose. And if the females did prefer to keep quiet due to fear of being found out by their husbands, Nesta would sense it.

It was, Frawley had insisted, a win-win situation, and Cassian would have been inclined to agree, if the Illyrians didn't harbour such a fear of outsiders, especially those that were not only powerful but looked terrifying, as well.

Lorrian, Cassian had noticed, hadn’t pointed that out to his wife. Nor had he reminded her that her independently moving eyes had a tendency to put Fae on edge rather than at ease.

Which, Cassian thought with a near huff of laughter, probably made Nesta the most approachable out of the two of them.

That knowledge grew inside of his mind until he wanted to howl, and he clamped his lips tightly together to stop a sound from escaping.

He supposed it was a good sign that he could still find humour in things, especially when he had a looming sense of dread that everything was about to go southward.

“She will be fine,” Lorrian told Cassian, frowning at his friend as they walked through the dimly lit corridors which were darkened all the more by heavy tapestries. “Nesta is more than capable of looking after herself, and she has Frawley with her. They are probably safest with the females, anyway.”

Cassian didn’t want to explain the reason for his expression, so he just nodded. It wasn’t as if he liked being separated from Nesta. The more time they spent together, the more he dreaded their time apart. It was a constant sort of worry that gnawed at his insides and made him feel as if someone had ripped a limb clean off his body. And since Nesta had nearly died healing Mas, Cassian had started to experience incandescent, sporadic flashes of panic that Nesta was dying and he did not know. That she was suffering and he was not there to ease it, even as reason told him that anything that urgent would fly down their shared tether.

“That’s what it was like with Frawley,” Lorrian added to Cassian, his hazel eyes discerning as they followed the hulking, retreating backs of the other war-lords.

“What it was like?” Cassian repeated, feigning confusion. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to partake in the discussion.

But Lorrian only dipped his chin. “It’s when I knew we would be chroí . After we were joined, it felt like the greatest relief, as if a spool of yarn had been pulled tight between us but now it could just… exist. Relax a little.”

Cassian thought of the constricted tether between them and the way his light was desperate to push against the inner walls, until that rope had widened into a tunnel clear of brambles.

Not once had Cassian spoken with Lorrian or Frawley about Nesta. About how he was in so deep that sometimes he thought that if she were ever to reject him again he wouldn't be able to climb out of the pit he had fallen into. Both of his friends were sharp enough to have dissected his feelings, he wasn’t naive enough to pretend otherwise. He had never introduced them to a female before, had never allowed them to get to know someone so intimately that was clearly not a friend.

Not that Cassian knew what he and Nesta were. Wouldn’t dare to ask for fear of ruining it all.

And his friends had not pressed him for more information or, to his knowledge, asked Nesta about the two of them. The latter of which he was immensely thankful for.

Yet, that didn’t mean that Cassian hadn’t felt Frawley’s ice blue eye swivel carefully between the two of them, or Lorrian’s knowing smile as Nesta joined in with his friend to torment him.

In fact, the only thing Frawley had commented on was her fondness for Nesta.

“I hope we get to keep her, Cassian,” the witch had said sternly when he had arrived at the cottage earlier that week, as if, ironically, the decision was up to him. Then, without commenting on how premature his arrival was, Frawley had waved impatiently to the back door, “She’s training with Lorrian.”

Having been thoroughly dismissed, Cassian had headed into the backyard to find the paddock to the left of the barn had been cleared of its usual horses. Instead, Nesta stood at a shooting line that Cassian suspected had been made by Lorrian dragging the toe of his boot through the mud. At the far end of the ring —20 metres or so away—stood an archery target.

His friend had not turned as Cassian drew up beside him. Instead, they had both watched in silence as Nesta pulled back the bow string with a strength that no other Illyrian female possessed before releasing it.

Together, they watched an arrow fly across the clearing and hit clean into the outer yellow ring of the target. Lorrian had still not looked at Cassian, had only kept his arms crossed firmly over his chest as they watched Nesta stride over to the target on her long legs to collect her arrows.

“You’ve met your match,” was all Lorrian eventually said, shaking his head in disbelief, before he went over to correct Nesta on her stance.

Now, Cassian glanced sideways at his friend. Lorrian’s eyes were full of a shared understanding that Cassian could not bear. So he looked away, and before he could stop the words, he admitted tightly—quietly, “It’s going to be the death of me.”

Ahead of them, the heavy double doors of the war-room came looming into view, and with it, another layer of dread. Cassian flared his siphons, breaking the sound bubble Lorrian had encased them in, and stalked into the room.

Marsh was already seated at the long, wooden table. He had left the drawing room well before the rest of them, no doubt to hide the extent of his illness, but Cassian could almost taste death on the war-lord.

The others could, too. Those sharp, beady eyes never missed a thing. And if they had not gleaned it for themselves, the way in which Kallon seated himself beside his father was enough of an indication of who was truly intending to run the meeting.

There was a growing expectancy in the air. The deafening kind that was almost like a ringing silence, even as chairs scraped against flagstones and war-lords muttered to their Rite representatives, who took a seat beside them.

It did not escape Cassian that one of Ragar’s friends was seated beside Devlon. That beside the other war-lords, Cassian recognised lordlings who had been reported to have met with Kallon all those weeks ago.

That sense of apprehension intensified, but Cassian settled his wings over his chair and waited for the first war-lord to break the silence. Even as his mind worked at a hundred miles per minute, trying to piece together what he was clearly not seeing.

Unsurprisingly, it was Icor who finally broke the silence. “A representative can’t take place in the Rite,” Lorrian’s brother sneered from where he sat opposite Cassian and Lorrian, his lip already curled as he narrowed his eyes at Kallon.

The princeling did not rise to the barb. He only settled back into his chair with an unrivalled arrogance and smoothness that made Cassian want to smack him in the face. It was an action that almost reminded Cassian of Rhys when he was playing wicked, but there was something impossibly cold and threatening beneath the movement which set Kallon apart from his brother. It made Cassian want to sit up straighter, but he did not allow himself to do it. To let others know that Kallon held his attention so fiercely.

“I am aware of that, Icor,” Kallon replied, once he had taken his time getting comfortable. “I do not intend to partake in the Rite this year.”

Not a murmur ran down the table, but the air became tight and pregnant again. Expectant. It was almost unheard of for a princeling not to partake in the Rite past a certain age, and Kallon was near twenty-five.

It meant that he would not earn siphons of his own for another year.

It was an unusual move, especially given that Kallon was trying to stake authority amongst the Illyrians. Siphons were the quickest way to earn respect amongst Cassian’s race. It was why they begrudgingly accepted Cassian.

Kallon’s birth as a princeling meant that he was born with a natural amount of Killing Power that superseded low-born foot soldiers. Azriel’s information had detailed that Kallon usually trained with three siphons in the sparring ring. That although he was green, he was better than most with the Illyrian saber. That since he had been training with the sword he claimed to be Enalius’s, he had taken to using a fourth siphon to contain the Killing Power that seemed to still be growing within him.

That, in itself, was a worry. Cassian’s Killing Power had reached its maturity at the age of twenty-five, training with seven borrowed siphons in the sparring ring until he finally earned his jewels after the Blood Rite.

The Siphon Master had not hesitated in giving Cassian siphons the colour of blood.

For the blood glory you will earn in battle, ratnik, the Siphon Master had said at the Rite ceremony, as he placed red siphons atop Cassian’s hands, on his knee caps, his upper arms… And across his heart, a flawless star ruby. Even now, Cassian remembered how the jewel had beat a deep, dark red that took on a blueish hue, as if it were kicking into life for the first time. Cassian remembered the gratification that had flickered over the Siphon Master’s face as the ruby did not shatter but became an additional heart, pulsing gently in the spring light.

“Shall we begin, Father?”

This time, every war-lord bristled as Kallon spoke. Somehow, the air became even thicker. A princeling did not order a prince. Yet, Marsh only raked his shrewd eyes over every single male in challenge, before he waved a trembling hand at his son, commanding him to start.

Kallon stood with a confidence that superseded his age; as if he were a messenger sent by the Gods and had the intention of delivering a fucking sermon. Cassian’s stomach dropped leaden to his toes at the same time that his blood began to boil beneath his skin.

Beside him, Lorrian stiffened, as if he too knew that they had been foiled, even though neither of them had yet learnt why.

“Many of you are probably wondering why my father and I have called this meeting early,” Kallon started. The princeling stood tall, his feet slightly apart, his shoulders squared, his wings held up high… A warrior’s stance. But there was something infuriatingly relaxed about his posture, as if commanding an audience was all completely natural to him.

“Tradition states that the first Rite counsel is not held until the new year, but given that Ironcrest is hosting the ceremony this year, we thought it made sense to arrange for this meeting to coincide with the Solstice luncheon.”

There was a pause in which Kallon looked around the room. His voice was too cordial for an Illyrian, especially a princeling, and if it were not for that unfathomable chill to his voice—a carved out emptiness—Cassian would have been willing to bet that he would have been sneered back into his seat. And of course, there was arrogance, too. An entitlement that came with those born into wealth.

“Since Enalius gifted our ancestors with a drop of his power and we were able to mine siphons, the Blood Rite has become the most important tradition in our culture,” Kallon continued. “Illyrians produce the best warriors Prythian has ever seen. Our bloody history shows that whilst we are perceived by High Fae and many others of our kind to be the lowest of faeries, we are triumphant in battle and far supersede not only the Night Courts forces, but the forces in every other court. We Illyrians are relied upon for our gifts, but we are treated as disposable when our talents are not required. The recent kerit attacks on our camps has highlighted what we have known for centuries; that the Night Court does not care about our race to provide sufficient protection.”

Another cessation of speech for what Cassian expected was not for Kallon to catch his breath, but to allow his words to settle. All of the war-lords and representatives remained eerily silent, and whilst they had originally sat forward as if they were waiting to jump in and protest, they were now stock still, drawn in by the words that they all already believed to be true.

“We suffered many losses in the war against Hybern,” Kallon pushed on. “Forces across all of our camps are drained and depleted. Whilst the Rite is an important part of who we are, the loss of more Illyrian lives would be the greatest sin. Enalius gifted all of our families with a drop of his blood so we could ensure that the Illyrian lines did not die out. That we could continue to perform our duty to honour and protect. My father and I have called you here today to consider a hiatus on the Blood Rite. To focus instead on strengthening our troops rather than inflicting more bloodshed upon our kind.”

Silence fell again as Kallon stopped talking. As, with a sweeping look around the table, the princeling sat back down and leant back into his chair with a superior expression on his face. No doubt a sense of achievement that he had captivated the hostile war-lords for enough time to say exactly what he intended. To plant the seeds in the minds of those who already did not look favourably towards their High Lord’s rule.

Lord Alcathoe was the first to snap. The war-lord from Swallow’s Ridge leant forward, his expression dark and openly aggressive. “The Blood Rite has been performed every year without fail. What claim do you have to suggest a hiatus?”

“We have not ceased the Rite in the aftermath of war before,” Lord Hamel added. Hamel’s voice was monotone and bored, but Cassian had learnt from his many visits to Craggs Peak that the war-lord was as vicious as any of the other males around the table—worse than some, actually. One misplaced word and the war-lord was known to explode.

Cassian thought it only a matter of time until everyone at the table witnessed it.

“I don’t think a young whelp who has not fought in a war or earned his own siphons should be leading a discussion in which he has no place.”

“Watch your mouth, Hamel,” Marsh snarled in warning. “My son is smarter than all of your offspring, both the bastards and your true heirs. If you have any true heirs, that is.”

Hamel’s answering snarl had him rising out of his seat. The war-lord’s face had turned purple with rage and his teeth were bared. Spittle flew across the wooden surface of the strategy table. “If you weren’t already on your death bed, Marsh, I’d—”

“It is true that I do not yet own my own siphons and that I have not yet fought in a war,” Kallon interrupted, standing again with a flare of his wings. The sound snapped around the room, like a nine-tail whip cracking against skin. “But I see what our race has suffered at the hands of the Night Court. We are treated as expendable and as bodies rather than being valued for who we are and what we stand for. To put a hiatus on the Blood Rite will allow us to become stronger. It will allow our warriors to become proficient in the art of battle and for our numbers to rise. We cannot afford to lose any more warriors.”

The blood in Hamel’s face was slowly draining from purple to red. Still angry, but not as if he was going to self-combust. The war-lord had sunk back down into his seat, and it was clear that an internal conflict was going on in his mind; as he decided what held greater importance, his hatred of Anguis Marsh and his son, or his opinions on Night Court affairs.

And the issue was that whilst there were statements of Kallon’s that were wrong—namely that the war was not an Illyrian cause and that Rhys saw the Illyrians as disposable— the princeling was also right. The Illyrians could not afford to lose any more warrior blood in the upcoming Rite. It was an issue Cassian had deliberated over repeatedly. One he had brought up with Rhys and Azriel. A problem they had decided not to interfere with for fear that it would set the Illyrians against them even further.

But what Kallon was doing… it was clever. It played on the Illyrians sensibilities and the ever-growing notion that they should not be ruled by Rhys’s hand. And if Kallon could get the war-lords to agree… he would be seen as a martyr, whilst the Night Court would be viewed as complacent in further deaths of the Illyrian race.

It would gain him support amongst the most influential of the Illyrians. It would strengthen the dissent. And if the war-lords made it clear that they were openly opposing Rhys’s rule, then many more Illyrians would follow their example.

As if Kallon knew he was triumphant, he pinned Cassian with a stare. “Do you not agree, General? We have suffered the death of an entire aerial legion, plus many of our strongest warriors against Hybern. Surely you cannot argue that we should go ahead with the Blood Rite rather than strengthen our forces before we allow ourselves to suffer any more losses?”

Cassian and Lorrian were rabbits caught in a hunters snare and Kallon knew it.

“The Night Court agrees that we cannot afford to lose any more males in the Blood Rite,” Cassian replied, his voice so deep and commanding that he did not recognise his true self—the part of him that was not General but Fae. “Should another war come to Illyria, we need to ensure we can protect our kind and those throughout our court. A reprieve from the Blood Rite is the best way to prevent further bloodshed.”

A growl sounded from Icor. It was an abrupt, guttural sound that sounded too much like a temper tantrum. He had no doubt been expecting Cassian to side with him. “You have not answered the question, princeling. What right do you have to suggest a hiatus?”

Across his cruel face, Icor looked briefly triumphant. A petulant child believing he’d won a game rather than contemplating the life or death of his best warriors. “So tell me, what right do we have to interfere with the will of our warrior Gods?”

“My son has been chosen by the Gods. By Enalius himself.” Marsh’s grating voice was deep and commanding. Forceful.

A dismissive snort. “I do not think—” Icor started, but Marsh dismissed Forktail’s war-lord entirely, and looked towards his son. His heir.

“Show them,” Marsh ordered Kallon with a wave of his hand.

The princeling turned his head in a way that was more automaton than Fae. He looked towards the doors, where a male steward wearing Ironcrest colours stepped out of the shadows.

In that moment, Cassian wished Nesta was in the room with them, if only to sense the emotions of every single war-lord as their lofty expressions turned carefully blank. As their eyes fell to the sword laying atop a velvet-crushed cushion the colour of mustard.

Enalius’s sword. Or at least, a sword with ancient magical properties.

Cassian could feel the hum of it in his blood—his magic—turning over inside of him, pressing against his skin as if it was trying to leap from his body and join with the steel. His siphons pulsed, his star ruby beating like a star-blessed heart. And from the look on every other males face, they could sense the magic of it, too.

The sword looked exactly as it did in the drawing printed in Heroicis. The sword Cassian had committed to memory as a youngling, as he stared at that inked drawing—the only thing he could understand as an illiterate bastard trying to make sense of a book full of words. The blade was arced, the steel etched with the Illyrian marks of glory that each of the war-lords wore on their own skin. The curved bone pommel gleamed as if it had been recently polished, even though the handle looked well-worn and cracked.

Just as Frawley had reported, the oval jewel was missing from where it should sit on the wide guard.

Cassian knew without Frawley having to confirm it—with a certainty that was completely devoid of doubt—that Kallon was presenting them with Enalius’s sword.

And worse, that the princeling would gain the begrudging respect of the males around this table for it.

Tags: @arin1030 @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @lovelynesta @melphss @nestalytical @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775 @iwastoowildinthe70s @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints

#embersandlightfic #embers and light #nessianfic #nessian #nesta x cassian #acotarfanfiction #acotar #acofas #acosf #cassianfic #cassian #nestaarcheron #nestafic

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seeingteacupsindragons · 3 years ago

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(Answering publicly as an ask with permission)

For screenreaders, the text reads:

Hello! Sorry to bother you again... You've mentioned quite a lot of times that you're learning japanese and I see you're even able to read manga in the original text(kudos to you for that!) I'm an aspiring japanese learner myself-I've recently mastered all the hiragana and katakana, but I'm kind of clueless how to continue from there, since I'm studying on my own. Do you maybe have any tips on what I could tackle next? Sorry that I couldn't send this as an ask. Unfortunately tumblr isn't really cooperating with me today. Thanks a lot in advance!

This is going to be a long story, because: this is actually the third time I’ve tried learning Japanese.

The first time, my parents bought me a (I’m told very expensive) program for Christmas when I was twelve to learn Japanese at home--it came with a bunch of CDs and books and things. It was a lot like all of the materials for a foreign language course, at home.

But I was twelve and didn’t know what I was doing, and had no support or encouragement from anyone else, just a desire to learn, so it didn’t end up really working out. I remember some of the info from the books, but honestly, it just didn’t work for me. I didn’t really even know how to use any of the stuff.

In college, I made it through three semesters of Japanese. I learned a lot there, but it, again, didn’t quite work. I had my classmates and a couple friends, a teacher, but I have never been motivated by grades, and there just wasn’t much of a reason to keep on.

Anyway, years later, JR happened, and I desperately wanted to read them, but I was nowhere near close to being able to tackle that. At all. So I picked up Duolingo and found that my Japanese from college was coming back to me, and that was pretty cool, but it’s not like I was getting anywhere. JR is much too high a level for me to really take a crack at.

And then I ran out of YuuMori scans.

This was back in...November? The end of October? When only up to chapter 27 had been translated, and a new chapter was getting uploaded in English every month or two. And I was dying, because I’d been reading like a volume a night and other people were definitely going to accidentally spoil things for me and I hate spoilers.

But a couple of my friends who are fluent in Japanese were reading it that way, and after I saw a couple screenshots, I noticed that everything had furigana in it, and after some puzzling with a dictionary, I could figure out some of the speech bubbles, because I still remembered my kana from college! Cool! I asked one if they thought I could manage is, and she was encouraging, so after a week of debating, I went and bought volume seven so I could keep reading.

This has been going much better, and I’ve been learning far more Japanese than I have before.

Why this time?

I have a really good reason to keep reading (YuuMori, yay! Fan comics! Random stuff from Japanese people on twitter!) that I can actually hope to mostly manage because it’s not too high a level for me to make it through (although...the politics in YuuMori is...rough.)

I have friends who are fluent in Japanese this time (did not have that before--I could ask the Japanese TAs in college, but we weren’t friends, so it always felt awkward). I can ask them for help, they correct me when I get things wrong, and sometimes I pop into their DMs like “Hey, I keep finding this weird grammar bit that I don’t understand and isn’t in the dictionary, what does it mean?” And since I’m livetweeting, if they see I got something very off, they’ll comment and go, “Hey, actually....” or will help if I’m totally confused.

One of them is a Japanese to English translator, so she gave me the recommendation for the Japanese to English dictionary I’m using (which is super useful, omg), and a browser extension, which is also really helpful.

Plus, having multilingual friends is really nice when I’m like “Hey, this part of learning a language is like...normal, right? It’s a good sign, not a sign I’m a total disaster?” and they can reassure me because I’m anxious.

Another friend also recommended this book called All About Particles, which has been useful for that part of Japanese that I reference a lot. Another recommended I pick up Learning the Kanji but I haven’t gotten around to that just yet.

I have a couple friends who are also not quite fluent who I DM back and forth in Japanese from time to time, which helps up both practice, too. Having a reason to really use the language is incredibly necessary for me. After all, language is a communication tool, right?

There’s also this cool website I found a few weeks ago that I haven’t had a chance to use yet called https://learnnatively.com/. It ranks Japanese books and manga on their difficulty, so you can buy and try to read them (after all, that’s how little kids in Japan learn Japanese--isn’t it?).

Another thing I was doing all fall and winter, but have mostly stopped now, was taking out a notebook (my old Japanese notebook, lol), and diagramming out the sentences. Okay, sure, I could look up words in the dictionary, but I needed to figure out how they fit together. So I would write them out in order with the particles, look up the conjugations and particles on google, and then note that, and then piece together how all the words fit together.

I don’t need to do that so much anymore (although it would probably be helpful, lol). But then, I’m very gifted with grammar and always have been. A couple of my friends who are fluent have commented they’re very impressed by how fast I’ve picked up the Japanese grammar, and even my mother was like, “Yeah, you’ve always been good at that since you were little...” And discussing some linguistic things with my friend who has a Master’s in translation led to her asking me if I’d studied it because I said things that she’d heard there, which..well, no, it just made sense to me.

So. I have that going for me, too.

There’s also tons of podcasts and YouTube series and things like that designed to help learning Japanese...that’s not really how I learn, so I haven’t been using them and can’t give any recs. But they’re certainly out there!

Anyway, that’s what I’ve been doing, and it’s been going pretty well, all things considered.

I hope this helped, and if not, was at least sort of interesting to read.

#Japanese #langblr #language #language learning

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snowdice · 3 years ago

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 66]

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

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

It’s editing time for me because I have not edited in way too long. I am so behind on the Study Fic and this one. Oof. Also I should do some blog organization maybe.

Chapter 30

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

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

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

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

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

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

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

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin these, so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some left over. Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on you, but they should work for now.”

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

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

“The same for me,” Logan said.

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

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

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

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

“Seedlings?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 31

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

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

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

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

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

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

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

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

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

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

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

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

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

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

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

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too!” Patton said.

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

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

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

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

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 32

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

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

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

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

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

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

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

“Virgil?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

He shook his head.

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

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

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

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

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

“How did you find this?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” he said.

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

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 33

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

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

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

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

“No,” Logan said.

“Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You found what?” Logan asked.

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

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

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

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

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

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

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

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

“No, Logan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 34

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

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

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

“It does?” Patton asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes! Exactly!”

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

Chapter 35

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

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

“It’s snowing,” was the answer.

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

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

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

“Why not?” Logan asked.

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

Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

“I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

“Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

“That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

#proofread stories #not writing

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