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birdwonder · 5 years ago

Note

Hey, I was just wondering could you do a Phantom Blood Dio x female reader where they sneak around everyone's backs to be together and pretend they don't get along when with others? Thank you and have a wonderful day.

|| Love the request ! This is going to be set before Dio puts on the stone mask and George’s death, but both he, Joseph and the reader are young adults.

Phantom Blood Dio | Behind Closed Doors

“Come now, Dio, certainly Lady [L/N] isn’t as irksome as you claim her to be,” the calm yet mildly concerned voice of George Joestar spoke, a heavy sigh following his speech as the stubborn frown upon Dio Brando’s lips refused to falter or leave.

The blond crossed his arms tightly around his chest, refusing to directly face the man that he had taken in him despite his need to show him the upmost respect. “I have told you repeatedly father, that ... impudent girl has no tact nor manners to her high end name! She is a thorn in my side no matter how pretty her petals may be.” He spoke with such disdain and venom in his voice that he would believe the older man to be brain dead to not understand how he felt about you.

The ageing father of both Joseph Joestar and Dio Brando pinched the bridge of his nose slightly, a hand gripping his cane as he tried to recall exactly when the feud between [F/N] and Dio had came to be.

“But father! I don’t want to be betrothed to some girl I’ve never met,” a younger, yet still just as well mannered as now, Dio complained, internally retching at the idea that George was attempting to have him marry some unacquainted, noble child who was probably as juvenile and pretentious as all the other high standing sons and daughters he had met through his adopted father’s parties.

“Dio I am only doing this so that finding someone to wed won’t be a concern in the future,” his father attempted to explain, placing a gentle hand on the teenager’s shoulder, “you have shown no interest in any other young females that you have met, or in finding someone to love at all!”

With a huff, Dio continued to desperately convey why an arranged marriage was out of the question, “what if I wholeheartedly dislike her, hm? What if she talks too loud or flirts with other men behind my back or doesn’t even like me?”

“None of which will happen, Dio. Lady [F/N] is a polite, upstanding girl who is always happy to greet me when I visit her family’s home. Imagine coming home from work to a beautiful, welcoming smile? I’m sure that’s any man’s dream.”

The blond quietly scoffed, as to not insult his father directly, and refused to listen to any more reasoning. George did nothing to pester him further however, a bright smile on his mouth as he gestured towards the door of their home where a butler was approaching and starting to open. “No matter, she should be here now! Look smart now, Dio, and do try to smile a little.”

Dio was not ready to be meeting her right now. Or at any point in time for that matter, but especially not now. With slightly widened, golden eyes he glanced over to see that the doors were now open and two figures were entering. A woman who was definitely close to George’s age, if not a few years younger, and a man around the same age too, both dressed as fine as aristocrats as if they were attending a meeting with the queen. ‘Rich people. Too much money for their own good,’ Dio thought, looking the��presumed couple with a hidden disgust.

“Ah, if it isn’t the great [L/N]’s! Looking as dashing as ever,” George greeted with open arms, only to then shake the man’s hand with a hearty laugh and ‘good day’ , afterwards politely kissing the woman’s gloved hand.

“I’m sorry if we have kept you long, our little flower was a little difficult to convince to come, I think it’s just a young woman’s time where she’s too bashful to talk to a man face to face,” the woman joked, a light-hearted look and sound to her as she side stepped from her husband, hands moved to gently push a third person in front of her.

There, stood in a neutral pink frock, was a fairly beautiful girl, hair pinned, neatly teased and brushed back to be styled into a perfect bun, with the small exception of a few strands purposefully let loose to carefully frame the delicate face of a young lady. Her eyes seemed to travel anywhere but somebody’s face, as her hands laced in front of her fiddled tenuously.

Even with an averted gaze, Dio could tell that her eyes had a pretty look to them, though he couldn’t tell if it was the colour or how long her lashes were, or if it was even something as trivial as her eye shape altogether. No. It couldn’t be any of it! She was just some girl, nothing about her was special at all!

“This is [F/N], our little diamond girl, she is so enthusiastic to be meeting your son, Dio. I can already tell the two of them will be make for a great pair!” The man introduced, something Dio was quick to disagree with in his head. He hadn’t so much as made eye contact with the girl yet and they assume they would be perfect, how stupid.

After some encouraging from her parents to say hello, she finally looked directly at the other teenager, eyes scanning him from his shoes all to way to the top of his head. It made him feel a little awkward. It was like she was judging him in her head, or analysing every detail of him, while most women he knew just threw themselves at him in an instant.

“He’s nothing special. I don’t see why I have to marry him,” she finally said, monotone and blunt, eyes dull and general expression no different. Dio almost choked in response, gawking momentarily at your words.

“Young lady! You should not speak about your future husband in such a manner,” her father scolded while the mother gasped and looked down at her with disappointment.

Similar to Dio’s attitude earlier, [F/N] huffed and continued to speak tersely, “future husband or no, he’s just some child. I don’t even want to be here!”

Something in her had seemed to snap as in the next second, she had spun on her heel and made a bee-line for the front door, dashing outside to who knows where.

Instantly, both of the parents began to apologise on behalf of their daughter, even bowing their heads in shame to which George reassured them that it was no problem. Dio was only standing there, staring at the ghost of where the girl once was near the door and hummed to himself with thought. It didn’t take him long to ponder over his decision since he quickly knew that he wanted to find out what could possibly drive a woman to not only go against her own parents, but a man too, something that was frowned upon by everyone.

“It’s alright, I’m sure it is just the nerves,” Dio added in, sending the three elders a warm yet faux smile before he started to head out the door. “I’ll go find her and talk to her! After all,” he paused at the entrance, turning his head with a closed eyes, “is it not a husband’s duty to support his wife?”

That was as much as George was able to remember of your first meeting, never truly understanding what had brought upon your reaction unlike Dio, who knew a lot more than what he did.

After five minutes maximum of searching, Dio had finally spotted a pink blob in the distance and knew it could only be you. You were under a tree, knees hugged to your chest which caused you skirt to ride up slightly and crease in the most un-lady like fashion, head buried into your arms as small sobs came from your balled up figure.

Now Dio wasn’t the best at comfort. In fact, he hadn’t been able to recall a single moment where he had tried to ease anyone side from his crying mother once upon a time. Nonetheless, he knew that if he couldn’t get to you, he’d never find out what brought one such a display earlier.

“Oi, woman. Stop your crying,” he demanded, realising a little too late that wasn’t exactly the most or at all comforting thing to say, but it did cause you to raise your head and look at him with watery eyes and tear stained cheeks. A pitiful show, and still Dio thought of it as an oddly precious look. He’ll just pretend that’s the pity talking.

“What...What do you want? If you’ve come to convince me to marry you, forget it! I won’t marry a man I don’t love, know or need, ever!” You yelled, unafraid of the consequences that would come from being a woman with such an outspoken voice.

Clicking his tongue against his cheek to make a ‘tsk’ sound, Dio placed his hands onto his hips and looked down at you with a stoic expression. “Who said I wanted to marry you, girl? I’m only here because your parents are causing an unnecessary ruckus and I’m here to understand why you’re being so damn difficult.”

You blinked up at him. A tear rolling down because of your fluttering lashes, even if you were no longer crying. Sighing, you gazed ahead of you at a serene scenery that captivated you well enough to soothe your inner troubles. A lake weaved before you, water glistening underneath a setting sun which was slowly painting the sky different hues of pinks, oranges and yellows; even a purple was blended in somewhere in the mix. It was so beautiful, and all you could really come back to was the issue at hand.

“I... Don’t take this personally, Dio was it?” You checked, to which he affirmed by nodding once, “I don’t hate you directly, and it’s not that I loathe my parents either. It’s just that I don’t want to live the rest of my life under another man’s roof who I hardly know, and love, while being expected to sit around all day until he comes home so that we can try to have a child I probably won’t care for because all I’ll see is the product of an unhappy life.” Your longwinded rant paused briefly, as you inhaled quickly to continue.

“I want to live on my own! Under my own rules and start my own business where I can provide for myself and work hard for what I need and want, not have it boringly handed to me on a silver platter.”

After you were done, Dio blinked a few times in amazement. Were you really telling him all this? Something so controversial and so strangely endearing? Fascinating. He was actually quite hooked on your story, and understood where you were coming from. Dio would feel identically to you had he been in your position.

“I see. Well, there’s only one way to go about this then.” He piped up, kneeling down beside you with slight cringe as he sort of wanted to avoid dirtying his trousers. Giving him a curious look, you tilted you head to ask ‘how’ when he suddenly placed a hand on your cheek.

“From now on, we’ll show those stupid old people that we have no other relationship than one filled with hate, and if we’re successful enough then they’ll have to release us of our burden to marry.” His plan sounded fool proof, at least it did when he said it in such a confident and certain way, though you still had doubts.

“What if they get angry and disown us? Or worse...” You trailed off, cringing at the harsh hands that could come into play if things went south.

“Then you’ll just have to be Mrs Brando and live only to bear my children,” he returned, smirking in a way that reminded you of a smug cat that had caught the canary. Shuddering, you shook your head.

“No, that sound horrible!”

“Oh? Does [F/N] Brando not have a ring to it? I think it’s quite fitting.”

“Don’t joke like that!”

The memory faded there as the rest wasn’t important to Dio. From that day, for at least two years the two of you have yelled, bickered, insulted, chastised, teased and even lightly hit each other to send across the message that there was no romantic interest between you and still, the both of you were pressured into marrying. It was like the message wasn’t going through their thick skulls!

Some things had changed since then as well. The two of you had slowly grown closer, away from your parents’ eyes of course, and even found comfort in each other’s company. Dio had somehow ended up confessing his backstory to you and his dislike for Jonathan, in which you assured him that he wasn’t any less of a man for coming from a poor family, and you had even given him a comforting kiss on the cheek. The rest of your time together was in embarrassing silence, mainly for Dio as you were contently resting your head on his shoulder after you had teased his denied blush,

Honestly, even some of your fake arguments were like flirting, but just ten times more attractive and it made Dio genuinely want to see you again every time you left.

Snapping back into reality, Dio realised that George had resumed conversing with him and to his luck, it was to remind him that you would be shortly arriving for another one of your ‘arranged dates.’

Acting disgusted, the trickster scowled. “Does she have to come? She’s better off a thousand feet from me and then some.”

“Dio, please. It’s been years, surely you have warmed up to her enough to at least not talk about her in that way!” George scolded, raising his cane to gently tap his son’s head with it.

“You could stretch my life span to an infinite amount of years, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

No more was said then as a butler had entered the room, announcing your arrival in which you entered on cue, cold as ever and not even greeting your supposed fiancé, just a ‘hello’ to George who sighed and greeted you in return, shortly excusing himself to his study to leave you two to do your own thing, expecting the both of you to carry out your arranged date though he doubted it.

As soon as he was gone, you smiled at Dio and giggled, slowly walking up to him once the door was closed by the exiting butler. “My, Mr Brando, don’t you look god awful today,” you noted, a joking flirt in your tone as you hooded your eyes and pinched your skirt to raise it a little.

Dio had managed to both scoff and smirk at the same time as he slightly opened his arms out, allowing you to approach him ever closer and press your blouse covered chest against his broader one, one hand slowly mimicking a walking motion up from his chest to his neck so you could wrap your arms around him. “Not as wretched and hideous as you, Mrs Brando. Did you just roll out of a sewer or is this your usual afternoon attire?” He teased, loosely holding your waist and staring down into the eyes that he had noticed so well when you first met. Still as perfect as ever.

“Oh love, you know all of this is for you. If you’re good, I’ll let you see what’s under all this sewer gunk,” the purr in your tone and the feeling of your breasts pressing onto him made his mouth dry and you only laughed at his reaction to your unabashed tease. “I’m only joking, Dio, I can’t very well go sleeping with you just yet if I want to prove to my family I can be independent!”

He cleared his throat slightly and nodded with agreement, “of course, of course, we can do no such thing,” he recited, coquettishly grinning at you before he repeated one of your words, “yet.”

You gasped and stuttered, slapping his arm gently. “Oh hush! You know what I was going for.” You really didn’t know where your relationship with Dio was heading, if the two of you really were going to marry due to your parents or your own free will, or if it would all be over once you had your business plan approved, but you made an effort enjoy what strange intimacy you had now.

“Do I, love? Perhaps you should explain it to me in further detail,” he hummed, moving his head down a little to brush his nose against your own.

“No! Now be quiet, shouldn’t you be taking me somewhere?” You reminded, quickly changing the subject and taking a step back. Tittering, Dio starved for the feeling of you against him once more, moving to walk beside you with a hand on your lower back, guiding you to the door. It was arranged that he would take you to a restaurant in a carriage and spend until the evening at least socialising and perhaps touring the town. You both knew that you could actually talk until tomorrow’s sunrise, but for the sake of the message you wanted to send, it was better to cut it off sooner than that.

The two of you continued to silently banter all the way to the carriage.

Dio, in all his years, had never been more happier to spend time with a woman, as sharp tongued and stubborn as you were. He knew that once he had gotten rid of George and Jonathan Joestar, that he would appoint you head of his household and name you his wife and let you do as you wish, provided you swear to love him until death do you part.

#dio brando #dio x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #x reader #george joestar #dio brando x reader #phantom blood

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hopecountysfavhoe · 4 years ago

Text

‘Cold’ Chapter Thirteen

Word Count: 4,216

Rating 18+

A Peggie hunter slid into Jacob's room. "Sir! There's been an explosion down at the Armoury! You have to come quick!" He exclaimed and Jacob jumped to his feet.

"What explosion?" He demanded.

"I'm not sure, but our guys down there sounded pretty shaken up. They just called on the radio, they said that you would want to see this." The Peggie told him and stepped out of his way.

"Take me there." Jacob insisted and the Peggie nodded. He turned to two of his guards. "You two stay here, guard the Deputy. Don't let anyone but the doctor in, you understand?"

They quickly nodded and gripped their guns tighter. Jacob followed the Peggie hunter outside to his truck, pulling random Peggies to go with him to the Armoury.

They hopped into two trucks and peeled away from the Veterans Centre, being quick to speed down the road. They were just about there at the Armoury when they got the call.

"It's a diversion! They're getting the Deputy!" A guards voice crackled over the radio.

Jacob grabbed it right off of another Peggies shirt. "What do you mean it's a diversion?" He shouted into the radio but there was no answer, only silence. Jacob cursed and tossed the radio to the ground. He leaned into the front seat and grabbed the shoulder of the driver.

"Turn us around!" He ordered and the Peggie nodded. They quickly turned around, taking the other truck with them.

"But sir, what about the Armoury?" One brave hunter asked.

"There is no explosion, it was all a fake to get the goddamn Deputy right out from under our noses."

Jacob told him and shook his head, his rage growing by the second.

Thankfully, the driver was driving at top speed so he didn't get yelled at, but by the time they slid back into the front road of the Centre it was too late. Dead bodies laid everywhere, the wall, the roof, the door. Jacob jumped out of the truck and ordered his men to check the bodies. He bounded up the front stairs and pushed his way through the already open door. Inside were more of his men's bodies, it was obvious they tried to fight back.

He spotted a dead body laid over the radio system and knew that was the voice that told him it was a diversion. With rage (and a little panic) taking him over he ran downstairs to his office. The two guards that he'd posted outside the Deputy's room were dead and the door was hanging open. He checked and she wasn't there, only the mattress and a couple of blankets piled up in the corner.

"God damn it!" Jacob shouted and punched the wall. He was furious, how could he have been so stupid as to leave when the Deputy was here? He should have made his men go check the Armoury. He hadn't even been gone that long, but it was enough time for the fucking Whitetail Militia to ruin everything.

Two Peggies appeared at the entrance to Jacob's office. "Sir, it seems they let the others escape. The ones in conditioning." One of them said with a lump in his throat.

Jacob walked out of the Deputy's room and over to his guards in a dangerously slow way. He got really close to the one that spoke's face. "Then find them! Put up twice as many roadblocks, send out more helicopters, I want every inch of this mountain visible to me by the morning." He ordered and turned back to his desk.

The Peggies glanced at each other before promptly leaving. Jacob walked back over to his desk and leaned on his plans with the palms of his hands. He tried to take a few calming breaths like Joseph had showed him but he just got angrier and punched his desk, making a dent in the wood.

"I should have just fucking killed that goddamn Deputy." He told himself and punched his desk again.

Eli walked into a room where Marianne was holding up an IV. "How's she doin'?" He asked.

Marianne turned to glance at him before hooking the IV up to its holder. "She's stable but her injuries...they're worse than I can handle. She needs to be moved to the clinic in Holland Valley, there she'd have a better chance of recovering." She said and stepped away from the bedside.

The Deputy was still unconscious but because of the painkillers and oxygen her breathing wasn't as laboured as when she first got there. Her face swelling had been reduced thanks to Marianne's ice packs but the black bruises still festered across her face.

"How soon can we transport her?" Eli folded his arms, taking his eyes off the Deputy to face Marianne.

Marianne grabbed a fresh towel and dipped it into a bowl of water. "I'd say you'd have to move her tomorrow, I'll go with her to make sure the doctor knows about her condition." As she talked, Marianne carefully dabbed the towel across the Deputy's forehead.

"Can we move her tonight? With all the heat from last nights raid I'm worried about moving her during the day."

Marianne pulled the towel away from the Deputy's forehead. "I guess so. Can you get Mike ready to drive the van?" Marianne asked and Eli shook his head.

"Jacob's upped his roadblocks we'd never get out. I'll call someone in a chopper."

"Do you really think Adelaide can be quiet enough to get her out in time?" Marianne asked with disbelief in her voice.

"She's the best damn helicopter pilot I've ever met, and she loves the Deputy. She's the best chance the Dep has of making it out of here." Eli said and Marianne unwillingly nodded.

"Ok," she sighed, "I'll get her all ready to go." Eli thanked her then took one more glance at the Deputy before he turned and left the room.

*beep beep beep*

The Deputy's eye opened slowly, adjusting to the light of the room around her. She heard beeping coming from a machine next to her head. With a groan the Deputy pulled her arms over her abdomen, realizing she had an IV in her arm. She looked down at her arms, they were uncovered and laying on top of a blanket that someone had laid over her. She could feel that she wasn't wearing anything other than a hospital robe, but she was too tired to care. Besides, her legs and feet were covered by the blanket.

"Hey, Shorty." A voice entered the room, causing the Deputy to look over at the door. Sharky walked in holding a beer.

"...Sharky?" The Deputy's voice was weak and muffled through her swollen lip.

Sharky's head whipped towards the Deputy, shock was evident on his face. "Dep, you're awake?" He shuffled over to her bedside. Sharky has volunteered to keep an eye on the Deputy while she was asleep. Eli said that it would be a good idea for someone to be there when she woke up and the doctor couldn't stay at the clinic the whole time.

"Where...where am I?" Her speech was slurred due to her lip but Sharky could just barely make out what she was saying. But her left eye was still swollen shut, causing her depth perception to be thrown off balance.

"You're at the Hope County Clinic, man am I glad you're awake! We were getting worried about you! But no worries, Sharky is here and he's gonna take extra special care of you. Now the doc gave me a list of questions to ask you when you woke up but don't worry if you don't know the answer, I don't know the answer to half of 'em myself." Sharky set down his beer and looked around for something.

He finally found a clipboard and lifted it so that he could read it in the light. "Here we go. What is your name?" He asked and looked over at the Deputy expectantly.

"Uh...the Deputy?" Sharky shrugged.

"Works for me. Where are we right now?"

"Montana."

"Nice. What is the date?" Sharky paused as they both thought hard. "You know what, I don't even know the answer to that one. Next question: favorite colour?"

"Is that really a question?" The Deputy asked.

"Maybe it ain't but I'm trying to get to know you a little better! Favourite colour?" Sharky insisted.

"Uh...green." It took quite a bit of energy to talk but since it was with Sharky it was a little easier.

"Ok, count backwards from ten." Sharky lowered the clipboard and looked over at the Deputy, waiting for her to say something while taking a sip of his beer.

"Ok...ten, nine, eight, six no seven, then six, five, four, three, two, one." With every word the Deputy got more and more exhausted and Sharky could see that. "Sharky, what happened? I know...I know I was at-"

"Well after you were missing for a while Eli called us up and asked if we'd seen you. We hadn't and he started scrolling through his cameras and stuff and saw you getting chased by a butt ton of Peggies so we made a little diversion, an snuck inside ol' Jakey's Veterans Centre, and got you out! So now you can relax, besides you're in Holland Valley and Jake never crosses over into Johnny's territory. That'd be like a major major problem for John cause then he'd be upset and they'd start fighting but while they were fighting we could escape so maybe..." Sharky looked over at the Deputy who was fighting to stay awake and listen to him. "You know what? We'll deal with that if it happens. No worries Dep, I'm in charge and I'm a wonderful protector! Now I'm technically supposed to write down the answers to your questions so Imma go do that while you take a nap, how does that sound?" He asked and the Deputy nodded gently. Sharky gave her a quick pat on the shoulder and got up from his chair, mumbling something to himself about finding a pen.

Relieved that she wasn't in Jacob's region the Deputy was this close to being able to breathe easier. If only her ribs weren't broken, then she'd actually be able to breathe easier. It was easy to fall asleep, especially with the rhythmic beeping in her ear.

The sound of distant arguing made the Deputy stir in her sleep. Confused she woke up, although she wasn't fully awake she could tell what was happening around her. She heard Sharky arguing with someone, probably the doctor, but there was another person in her room. She had to turn her head since they were on the side with her swollen eye but then she saw Kim Rye setting up a flower arrangement on her bedside table.

"...Kim?" The Deputy asked and Kim turned to her.

"Hey Dep, how are you feeling?" She asked and reached out to hold the Deputy's hand.

"Like shit." The Deputy said and Kim chuckled.

The sound of Sharky yelling: "What do you mean fire in the Deputy's room will make it explode? Is there gas in it?" while the doctor desperately tried to explain to him that oxygen was the problem made the Deputy look towards the door.

Kim made a face. "That Boshaw I'll tell you. Just give me one second and I'll go take care of that." Kim gave the Deputy a smile and a small hand squeeze before she walked out of the room. She was quiet but her words were obviously a hushed shout. She kicked Sharky out of clinic under the instructions of finding Nick and returned back to the Deputy's room with the doctor.

"Hey Deputy, how are we feeling?" The doctor asked and picked up the clipboard at the end of her bed.

"Everything's pretty fuzzy, but I'll get chunks of it here and there." The Deputy explained and the doctor nodded.

"Well a little fuzziness can be expected with your concussion." The doctor said and grabbed a small flashlight out of her pocket. She walked over to the Deputy and held her good eye open, shining the flashlight into it.

"What all is wrong?" The Deputy asked as Kim took a seat next to her.

"Well, you have a lot going on. You've got two broken ribs, three cracked ribs, multiple bruised ribs, along with severe bruising and blood pooling in your abdomen, legs, and back. Your right rotator cuff is torn but that's pretty fixable, your face trauma is what I'm watching pretty closely right now." The doctor set down the clipboard and did some small muscle tests to check the Deputy's nerves.

Kim stayed by the Deputy's side, literally holding her hand the whole time. Hearing the list of her injuries, which she knew that wasn't the full extent of them, was enough to get her pretty worried. She'd known that she was in bad shape but hearing a doctor tell her was scarier.

"How long will it take her to recover?" Kim asked as if she could read the Deputy's mind.

The doctor studied the Deputy and her chart. "I'm going to say around 6-8 weeks just to make sure everything's healing the way it's supposed to be."

"Doc, I can't be here for 6-8 weeks. People need me." The Deputy tried to argue.

"Sorry Deputy, but even you need to take a break sometimes. Besides, we can handle it for a little while while you recover, I'm sure everyone will understand that." The doctor was sincere but the Deputy hated it.

What was she going to do if she couldn't fight the cult for 6-8 weeks? What was everyone like Eli and Wheaty, or Sheriff Whitehorse and Virgil, or Pastor Jerome and Mary May going to do with the Deputy down and out? The Deputy started thinking about what horrible things could happen to the Valley while she was sick.

Kim gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's ok Deputy, the time will fly by and you'll be better in no time." She said sweetly, her tone was comforting but still the Deputy was out of commission. That was a pretty terrifying idea for the Deputy to wrap her head around.

Time was not flying by the way the Deputy hoped it would. It had been two and a half weeks already and the Deputy was barely feeling any better. Already Pastor Jerome has been over to the clinic to visit her, he wasn't supposed to tell her about what was happening but he did anyway when the doctor wasn't around. He gave her information about how they were keeping the cult pushed back with barricades and trucks, how because of her there were a lot more people that had been encouraged to pick up a gun and join the Resistance. It was all good news but still the Deputy was worried. She hated being in the clinic and was counting down the minutes until the doctor let her go.

She'd been visited by the majority of her friends, even Adelaide and Xander stopped by to drop off some stuff to help with the pain. It was most definitely pot and as soon as they left the doctor threw it out but it was the thought that counted. Nick and Kim visited her the most, sometimes they'd bring Carmina but most times one would stay home with the baby.

Kim would talk to the Deputy for hours about her garden and how big Carmina was getting. It was nice to hear about simple stuff like how her rutabagas were growing or how Nick had to put a child lock on his beer cooler and locked himself out of it.

Hurk and Sharky visited a lot too, mostly to tell the Deputy about whatever crazy things they were doing like trying to play tag with real guns (Sharky spent some time in the clinic with the Deputy) or how they were going to get Hurk Sr. to love Hurk Jr. more. They would eventually get kicked out by the doctor for being too loud or trying to touch all the medical equipment but they promised to come back whenever they could.

The doctor agreed to let the Deputy walk around the clinic to get some light exercise as long as she didn't try to leave, which the Deputy was grateful for. It was painful to sit up but the act of walking was freeing. After being tethered to the bed for weeks the Deputy was so thankful to be able to walk that she over did it and wound up collapsing halfway down the hallway. It gave Kim a real good scare and she lectured the Deputy about being more careful when she woke up. The doctor checked her out and was happy to tell her that she hadn't done more damage to her ribs but warned her against exerting herself more than necessary.

The Deputy tried to convince Kim not to spend so much time with her. "You should be spending this time with your family, not in some clinic with me." The Deputy tried to reason with her but Kim just pulled out a card game from her bag with a smile.

"Listen, Nick has Carmina and they're spending some quality time together so I have plenty of free time. So, Go Fish?" She asked and the Deputy sighed.

She did love to play Go Fish with Kim so she agreed to play until she got tired and had to take a nap. With all of the sleep the Deputy had been getting she was amazed she hadn't been having many nightmares. Maybe it was the painkillers, maybe they did something to mess with her head and make her sleep peacefully.

Maybe she'd spoken too soon.

After a long day of walking and resting and walking and resting the Deputy was sleeping peacefully. Until she had a dream.

It was a nice dream, the Deputy was walking through the forest in the Whitetail mountains, no gun, no Peggies, just her in nature enjoying herself. She walked around for a while, past some small lakes with fish jumping for flies above the water. She saw some deer grazing along open fields in the hills. The Deputy decided to go visit the Wolf's Den, since she'd been gone for so long.

It took her a little while to get up there but she got to the front door of the Wolf's Den and climbed in. She walked down the stairs and felt the air get cooler. No worries though, it's always chilly in the bunker. It was suspicious that she hadn't seen anybody yet but she just assumed they were having a meeting so she let herself in.

When she turned a corner she saw a Militia man dead against the wall. The Deputy hurried to check his pulse but found nothing. She grabbed his knife and ran deeper into the bunker. After every twist and turn she found more dead Resistance members strewn across the place. Then she saw Tammy bloody on the ground, then Wheaty, and the Deputy could hear someone breathing around the corner of the room she was hiding in.

She jumped around the corner of the doorway and saw Eli dead on the floor, his head caved in with a pipe. Standing over him was a bloody figure, holding a gun in one hand and a pipe in the other. He turned around to reveal his face. It was Jacob Seed. He had blood coating the left side of his face, his breaths came out in exerted pants. He saw the Deputy standing there with a small knife and grinned that haunting grin.

"Do you really think I can't find you?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

The Deputy couldn't say anything, she couldn't speak, she couldn't move, all she could do was stand there in terror and watch. Jacob raised his pipe with a single arm and with a disturbing laugh swung firmly, suddenly standing a foot away from the Deputy. The pipe swung right for the Deputy's face causing her to lurch.

She jumped and was suddenly sitting on the clinic bed, her hands gripping the blanket over her. She looked around as quickly as she could but the stiffness in her neck made that difficult. "Where's Eli? Wheaty? Tammy? Where are you?" She called out in a panic.

"Deputy, calm down it was just a nightmare." A soothing deep voice got closer to her. The Deputy whipped her head to the voice and saw Grace standing there with her hands up, being careful not to get too close.

"Grace?" The Deputy asked and slowly made herself more aware of her surroundings. She was sitting in the clinic, not walking through the Whitetail mountains. She raised a hand to her head that was now pounding.

"You were having a nightmare, I was just about to wake you up." Grace said and got closer to her.

"Thanks, when'd you get here?"

"A couple hours ago, what was that dream about? You were mumbling in your sleep about Eli?" Grace asked her and the Deputy leaned back into her pillows.

"It was nothing, just a bad dream." She told her, hoping that Grace would leave it alone.

"Ok..." Grace sat down in the chair next to the Deputy's bed. "So how long have you got left in here?" She asked and the Deputy rubbed her eyes.

"I'm a few days out of 6 weeks, but I'm feeling much better so I'm hoping the doctor won't keep me stuck in here for much longer."

She looked way better now than she did when she first got there. Her eye wasn't swollen shut anymore and the bruise had been reduced to a yellowish tint around her eyes. The gash from the pipe that stretched across the right side of her face was healing but it would definitely scar. The doctor kept an ointment on it and a bandage over it to help it heal. Her right arm (the one with the torn rotator cuff) was in a shoulder sling to help it heal properly. Her face still looked like hell but she was coming out of it.

Grace could tell the beating had a lasting effect on her. She didn't have that sort of lighthearted laugh to her voice when she spoke and her eyes were dark. She spent a lot of time thinking, not that the Deputy wasn't quiet before but now it took Grace a couple times of saying the Deputy's name before she realized she was being spoken to. It was obvious she was getting antsy with being stuck inside the clinic, she'd been convincing the doctor to let her do her walking outside the clinic.

After days of wearing her down, the doctor agreed to let her walk around outside as long as she had someone there with her at all times and she didn't go farther than the driveway.

Grace wasn't great at helping the Deputy walk around. She just didn't have that side to her, she was more gruff and stoic than a caretaker should be. Jess was even worse. But the Deputy enjoyed having their spunk around her, it helped her feel like she was out in the field again.

Jess would sit on the stone marker that marked the driveway and wait for the Deputy to hobble over to her. She spent the majority of her time focusing on her bow and arrows, pretending that the Deputy walking wasn't such a big deal. It was really because she hated seeing the Deputy like that. She hated watching her stumble around on shaky legs, just trying to make it somewhere she could sit down.

Every time Jess looked at the Deputy she was filled with rage. That rage made her want to go hunt Jacob Seed down and torture him the way he'd tortured so many other people, including her. But she couldn't, she couldn't just go in and try to kill everyone the way she wanted to so bad.

"I feel like a goddamn drunk." The Deputy sighed as she lowered herself down to the stone marker Jess sat on.

"You sure look like it." Jess replied and the Deputy gave her an entertained huff.

"You know, when you get to be my age," the Deputy sat up straighter to relieve the pressure on her ribs, "you get a sort of clarity about a lot of things."

"You know I'm 27 right?" Jess interrupted and the Deputy looked over at her.

"Holy shit, you're not like, 18?" She asked and Jess shook her head.

"No you just look old." Jess bantered back and the Deputy chuckled.

"Well damn, I didn't know that." The Deputy said and winced as she adjusted herself on the stone marker.

Jess stayed quiet for a minute. "How are you going to get Jacob back for this?" She asked, motioning to her sling with an arrow.

The Deputy sighed. "I don't know Jess, I don't know." She said and neither of them said anything else, even if they wanted to.

#far cry 5 #jacob seed #far cry #jacob seed x deputy #jacob x deputy #female deputy #deputy oc #fem!deputy #fem deputy #farcry fanfic #jacob seed fanfic #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry fanfiction #jacob seed x fem deputy

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justjessame · 4 years ago

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The Deal Chapter 34

I was locked in the bathroom, where I’d retreated and redressed, when Negan finally had enough of my shit. I heard the lock tumblers roll and then he had the door open and was looming in the frame. Damn it. Why was he so adamant that I NOT lock the damn door if he had a fucking way to unlock it?

“Are you through with your tantrum, Jessi?” His eyes were flashing, but he didn’t sound pissed. Weird.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What if I’d been naked in here? What if I’d been using the facilities?” I glanced at the toilet. “What if I’d been in the shower? What if-”

He rolled his eyes. “Dramatic, aren’t you?” He huffed out a breath. “It ain’t like I haven’t seen what you’re packing, sweetheart. You’ve met my fucking wives.”

“Yeah, I like to think that we women aren’t ALL THE FUCKING SAME!” I glared at him. “And speaking of ‘dramatic’, what’s the point of telling me not to lock the fucking door if you could just fucking get in anyway?”

He shrugged. “It’s fucking easier to get in, if I don’t have to fucking pick the damn thing.” He gestured for me to get my ass out of the bathroom. “Come on, we’ve got shit to do.”

I brushed past him and grabbed my boots. Once I was ready, he tossed on his jacket and grabbed his best friend, the bat, and whistling led the way outside. The shit we had to do, apparently was oversee the supplies coming in on trucks.

I’m standing beside Negan, fulfilling my duty as his shadow when I hear the shot ring out. Gunfire? Looking up and keeping pace with Negan, we find my little brother holding a machine gun and demanding Negan’s head. Well, I didn’t see that coming.

Carl killed two Saviors before D tackled him. I’d stood by Negan, his shadow. I could have sworn that I felt a bullet ripple the air next to my head. Did my brother nearly kill me in his quest to take out Negan? I’d felt pretty damn lucky when the target himself used a Savior as a human shield instead of me, but to die at the hands of Carl, well that would have just been pretty much keeping with my life so far.

Did I hear Negan right? Did he say Carl was ‘adorable’? I was going to end up dead. Definitely dead simply because I seem to surround myself with men who find the violence we’d been forced to learn to treat as a normal part of life"cute" or "fun". And then, Carl was given the grand tour, with me Negan's shadow along for the ride.

I should have been bored, or irritated, but I hadn’t really been there when he’d given me my own. I could have done without watching him play king on high on the catwalk addressing his subjects. Seriously, I could live to be a thousand years old and pray that the image is erased from my memory by some magical means and not miss it. Fresh veggies for everyone, without points deduction. Negan doesn’t want his people to get scurvy. Let us all give praise, “Amen.”

Respect. He thinks that the people cheering because he’s granted them free carrots is respect. Yeah, I'm pretty confident that I’ll be regaining full access to the lovely nothingness of my inner sanctum.

We end up back with the harem. They look like dolls, which I hadn't noticed before. Dressed almost the same, just sitting there waiting to serve their master. I gag internally. Carl looks pretty interested. Great. Wonderful. Now that I’m paying attention, I notice one of the wives takes Negan aside, Sherry the one who'd introduced herself to me. And then I watch him approach another one, and give her a talking to for, wait, she cheated on him? Jesus, am I in Melrose Place?

And then I watch as the wife that stepped out on him assures her 'husband', that she loves him. OK then. This isn’t fucking surreal at all. Then he basically makes out with Sherry. Did I trade my life to watch soap operas play out constantly? Please God don’t let it descend into porn. Why couldn't he just have put me out of my fucking misery?

Negan leads the way into his bedroom. And he glances at me to be sure I’m right on his fucking heels. Of course I am, I think, did you assume I’d stay with your concubines and mingle?

Negan sits and gestures for Carl to take my seat. Well, the seat I’m usually grilled in. I go to take the chair next to my brother, but Negan stops me and pats the empty space beside him on the sofa. Really? I have to slip past his legs and share personal space to get to the open spot. Too close for me. I keep my eyes on the ceiling, but he takes my hips in hand and shifts me over, forcing me to glance down at him and his casual touch. Ugh.

I sit and wait to see what punishment Carl is going to get for the deaths of two of Negan’s men. Wasn’t that what had caused Abraham’s death? My dad and the others killing his men? I wish for the numbness, because right now I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll have to watch something horrible happen to Carl.

Negan orders my baby brother to remove Dad’s hat, and the bandage that covers the horrible crater that Ron had created with that damn bullet. I watch as Carl tries to argue against it, but as I suspected, this is part of his punishment. Negan reminds him of the two men he killed, this is the price he has to pay. Carl flashes me a look, is he pleading for me to intervene? Or is he begging me not to look? He takes off Dad’s hat, and then unravels the bandage and my heart lurches. My poor baby brother. And Negan? Far from the compassion he’d shown me at first, taunts him. Telling him how disgusting it looks. And I close my eyes so I can’t see Carl’s pain or his tears.

Negan must notice that I’m taking it as hard as Carl, because I feel his fingers brush my hands clasped in my lap, and then he apologizes to my brother.

A knock comes to the door and I open my eyes. No one ever comes to Negan’s room. At least no one had since I’ve been here. It’s a rotund man whom Negan addresses as ‘Fat Joseph’. Charming, I think, fat shaming as a nickname. He was carrying the bat, which apparently has a name. Lucille. And I have to listen to the weirdest exchange over a weapon that I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness. Negan is speaking about this piece of barbed wire wrapped wood as though it was a woman. And again I feel pretty damn certain that with him leading me through ‘recovery’, I’ll be back to my numb self soon.

The Savior is dismissed. Negan returns to Carl. He tells him that his eye is badass and he wouldn’t cover it. That seeing my brother’s scar would make sure no one fucked with him. My eyes fall closed again, when Negan demands that Carl sing him something. Again, Carl tries to object, and again he’s overruled. When Carl starts singing ‘You Are My Sunshine’ I cannot stop my tears. Dear God, another crack to what was left of my mask. I feel his fingers brush my hands again, but I keep my eyes shut.

Lori. She used to sing that song to us when we were little. And Carl held on to that memory. Even after- They’re talking about her, about what happened. I can feel my heart clench. Feel my fear ratchet up at the thought of Judith. Carl tells Negan that he’d put her down, and my throat is burning from the pain of it. The memory. Negan offers that he understands why Carl’s gonna end up a future serial killer and I bend my upper half, folding in on myself.

I feel a hand on my back. It’s huge so I know it’s Negan’s. I’m fighting a building sob, and I try to focus on the fact that he’s trying to comfort me, and not on the fact that he created the situation he has to comfort me through. I fight to regain my composure, and he tells Carl and I that the ‘iron is ready’ and we leave the suite. My arms are wrapped around myself, and I’m desperate to find it. My darkness. The comfort of nothing.

Downstairs, a man is tied to a chair with the fire of a furnace burning before him. Negan gives a speech about rules. Their importance. And I look around at the gathered people. The wives are lined up in front. D is reaching for an iron tucked into the flames, and then before it happens, understanding flows through me in a shock of horror. It’s how his face was scarred. It’s the punishment. And then it happens. The man tied to the chair, the iron, and the scent of burning flesh.

My chest is heaving as I pant for breath. I can’t seem to get any air. Why can’t I breathe? I hear the buzzing of Negan’s mocking voice. I hear a buzz mentioning forgiveness. I hear a buzz, but nothing clear. And I’m still fighting for air. Negan returns to Carl and I. I’d forgotten my little brother had seen it too. Then Negan’s hand is tilting my face up, and he’s saying something because I can see his lips moving, but I can’t hear them, the words.

“Breathe, Jessi, breathe.” It’s Carl’s voice, breaking through the static. I focus on his words, and I work to calm myself. Focus on drawing air in and letting it out. Until finally, I can hear the sounds of someone mopping. Of the scraping of a chair across the concrete floor.

When I’m breathing normally, we return to Negan’s rooms. And somewhere, downstairs, my brother’s gotten his confidence back. He taunts Negan for not killing him. Or Dad. Or Daryl. And I can feel his eyes on me, silently adding me to the list. Instead of proving Carl wrong, Negan invites my baby brother to take a ride with him.

I almost believe that I’ll get to stay behind. Alone to fall to pieces or to find my way back to the numbness, but I’m not that lucky. I’m included in the invitation. We take a cargo truck. And I’m put between Negan and Carl. I have a flicker of fear that this is going to be the last ride I’ll have, that Carl’s brash action has doomed us both.

#negan x ofc #daryl dixon x ofc #dark #The Walking Dead #alternate universe #mental illness

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western-writer · 5 years ago

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After the Fall: War Within Family

Fandom Far Cry 5/New Dawn

Warnings: mentions of abuse, drug addiction, and sex addiction, general angst, brief mention of suicide

A/N: this is long lol. Just warning you. I’m honestly really proud of this and hope anyway reading it loves this as much as I do. Like all my writing, this is my own idea and Braeden is my OC for Far Cry 5. This is unedited so there may be mistakes. Should I make a second part? Enjoy!

Summary: Braeden is riddled with guilt and remorse for her actions before the collapse. With the death of the Seeds, her friends, and coworkers on her mind, she retreats into herself for seventeen years, only to be brought out of it by Joseph himself. After finding out some alarming news, Braeden is left feeling betrayed by a person she thought you would never feel that from.

I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was going to save everyone, save the county. I was wrong. I was very, very wrong. Jacob tried to stop me, begged me to stay. That was the first and last time I had ever heard him beg.

Now I wish I had listened.

“You don’t need to do this, Braeden,” Jacob spoke softly to me. His face wore an expression I was unfamiliar with. “You have me. You have John and Faith. Isn't that enough? Joseph can only do so much without us.”

I spun around to actually look at him, instead of looking at him through the mirror. “Yes, I do, Jake. I tried to be reasonable. I tried to get him to stop of his own free will and he refused. It doesn’t matter if he can’t do much on his own. He can do enough and the county deserves to live in peace.”

I took a few steps toward him and cupped his face. He was beginning to worry me. “Please be careful...”

“I will. Go to your bunker. I made sure the Peggies cleared out so it should be safe. John and Faith are already preparing to leave in the safety of their bunkers. You should too.”

He pressed a kiss to my lips, soft and hesitant.

That was the last time I saw Jacob. I left to go face Joseph with the support of Whitehorse, Pratt, and Hudson. Joseph had taken my friends, the members of the Resistance, and it was a battle to get them back. Eventually, it was all of us against Joseph and he didn't stand a chance. As he made his final speech, crawling across the ground bloody and bruised, I checked my watch. I was supposed to meet the others in ten minutes. I was running behind schedule.

I watched as Whitehorse put Joseph under arrest and Joseph spoke a few words to me. I couldn’t really hear him over the howl of the wind and the sound of a bomb exploding in the distance.

That was the moment I knew I fucked up.

Whitehorse ushered us into the truck while Nick and the others took off in other directions.

I tried to get us to safety. I tried to get us to Dutch, but I crashed. I was knocked unconscious and when I came to the others were dead and Joseph was gone. Joseph ripped me out of the truck and I was in and out of consciousness until we reached Dutch’s bunker. There, when I came to fully, I saw that Dutch had been killed by Joseph.

Joseph became my family that day. My only family. I was sure that John, Jacob, and Faith were dead.

Joseph and I were stuck in that bunker together for over five years. Over the course of those years, I changed, Joseph changed me. He told me he forgave me for turning his family against him, but I never quite believed him. I still don't.

I haven’t said a word since right after the bombs destroyed the world, nor have I shown my face. I left myself behind when the door to that bunker sealed shut and I lost everyone I loved. After everything I did... I deserve this.

The Twins were quick to move into the valley and New Eden, Joseph’s new following, fought The Highwaymen until they extinguished the fire in Joseph’s statue that I had destroyed years ago. They lost faith in Joseph, despite still being completely loyal to him, even after he left us. They’re scared, and I don’t blame them. The Highwaymen aren’t like Eden’s Gate was all those years ago. They aren’t taking over for the greater good, or what they think is the greater good. Unlike Eden’s Gate, The Highwaymen are self-absorbed. They care about their survival and their survival only.

News of outsiders in the county traveled fast and word of some “Captain of Security” giving The Highwaymen hell circulated through the compound. Whoever she is, she reminded me of me when I caused trouble for Eden’s Gate. Sometimes I miss those days, but most days I don’t.

“I know you’ve heard of this Captain of Security,” Ethan muttered to me inside his living quarters. “She intrigues you, does she not?” He turned to look at me. I just stared at him. “My father has told me about you and him before the collapse.” I stiffened up at the mention. I never talk about that. Never. I never want anyone inside these walls to know who I used to be. I’m ashamed of it. “She’s a bit like you, isn’t she Deputy?”

The name hit my ears like nails on a chalkboard. It pulled memories out of the deep pit in my mind causing an acid taste to hit my mouth. I glared at him through my mask. If I could’ve, I would’ve yelled at him. Shouted that he doesn’t know anything, but not talking for nearly seventeen years does a number on your vocal cords. Instead, I clenched my fist and he got the message, brushing it off with a chuckle.

“I have received word that the Captian will be coming here to seek our assistance with The Highwaymen. You remember what to do when an outsider wishes to come inside these walls, correct?”

I nodded.

“Good. I doubt she will succeed, but I guess we will find out.”

Ethan walked away from me at that point. My glare followed him as he disappeared out of sight.

Not long after that, the Captain appeared at our door, but I turned her away just as I had been instructed to do. Everyone was surprised when she came back with the Book of Joseph and I had to let her in. Ethan instructed her to bring back proof that Joseph was dead. He wanted his father to be dead so badly so that he could take over for good, but that didn’t happen. Joseph was alive and well and Ethan was furious when New Eden rallied behind him once again.

After that, I began to accompany the Captain on her journey to take down the Twins. It had been a long time since I had done anything like that. It felt good to get away from New Eden and away from Ethan. It gave me a distraction. And God knows I needed it.

***

“You see that sniper up there?” Cap asks me, pointing to a tower on the other side of the Chop Shop. I nod to her. “Take it out.”

I break into action and sprint to the tower silently. I was a bit rusty when we first teamed up, but my old instincts have kicked in once again and I’m back to kicking ass just like I used to.

Maybe John was right. Maybe I am wrath.

My arrow lands in the neck of the Highwayman and he crumples to the ground, bleeding out silently. I look back to Cap and watch her takedown of the Highwaymen with a shield. She picks it up and throws it at another Highwaymen. I can hear the crack of her neck as it snaps from the force of the throw.

“You hear that Joseph Seed is back?” I hear one of the Highwaymen mention to another, blissfully unaware of their dead colleagues.

“Who hasn’t?” the other responds. “You hear about the sighting of what people are believing are the other Seeds?”

I nearly choke on air at that.

“What?”

“Yeah, people are seeing what they think are other three Seeds up north.”

“C’mon, you don’t really believe that, do ya? There’s no way they’re still alive.”

“Of course I don’t believe it. I just think those people drank a little too much ethanol.”

Being distracted, I didn’t even realize I was being snuck up on until I felt the buzz of a bullet fly past me and land in the head of a Highwaymen. I look back at Cap who motions for me to charge. She’s taken out the alarms.

I do as I’m told and jump a barricade. Within mere minutes we have taken back Fall’s End-I mean the Chop Shop.

I stand in front of what used to be the Spread Eagle, thinking about when I first met Mary May and Pastor Jerome. I had saved them from the peggies that had taken Fall’s End. Then I shared a drink with them right there in that bar.

I wonder how Jerome is doing. I know Mary May died, as did most of my friends when the bombs dropped. I haven’t seen any of the living ones since that final battle with Joseph. I refuse to enter Prosperity. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle seeing John’s Ranch.

I remember when I took John’s ranch from the cult. John was so upset with me. He threw every insult he could at me and got even angrier when I didn’t react. I wonder if he’s ever forgiven me for taking his home away from him.

I wouldn’t forgive me for that.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Cap questions me, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance at her, then back to the ruins of the bar and shrug. “You don’t say much, do ya?” I shake my head. “Joseph told me you haven’t spoken since right after the bombs dropped. Is that true?”

I nod slightly in response.

“Why?”

I shake my head and look around what used to be Fall’s End while thinking, You wouldn’t understand.

She sighs, slinging her gun over her back. “I’m going back to Prosperity. You comin’?”

I shake my head again. She’s told me who’s there. I want to see everyone, but they wouldn’t recognize me. I’m not the Deputy anymore. I’m the Judge. I couldn’t stand to have them see me how I am now. I shell of what I once was. I couldn’t stand to see John’s ranch.

“You’re gonna have to go there eventually, Judge. What if the Twins attack it and we need your help?”

I shrug again and at this point, I can tell she’s irritated with me.

“Fine, do what you want. I’ll be at Prosperity getting a hot meal and some sleep if you need me.”

I want to tell her everything. Tell her that I was like her once. Naive in the mindset that I could save the county. But instead of saving it, I caused the apocalypse. I ruined the whole world and destroyed myself in the process. I caused the death of so many of the people I cared about. Why did I get to live?

Maybe that’s why Jacob had tried to convince me to not stop Joseph. Maybe he knew what would’ve happened if I did, but couldn’t tell me, or didn’t want to tell me for some reason.

Why didn’t I listen to him?

***

I make it back to New Eden and immediately go to my bed. My stomach grumbles, but I ignore it. My tiredness trumps my hunger as I fall asleep the moment my head hits my pillow.

I wake back up to see Joseph standing next to my bed and holding a bowl of soup.

“I noticed you did not stop to eat,” he mentions. I sit up and take the bowl from him. He sits down next to me as I move my mask up to eat. He chuckles a bit and glances at me. “You know, I never thought that you would actually stick to your vow of silence. When you stopped talking to me, I thought you were angry with me for some reason, but then when we came topside and I saw that you wouldn’t speak to anybody, I was sure it wouldn’t last more than a few weeks. But you proved me wrong.”

He places a hand on my shoulder as I eat.

“Their deaths were not your fault. None of them. Not my siblings, not your coworkers, not your friends. The collapse would’ve happened one way or another. We just sped up the process.”

I want to ask him how he’s so sure, but I can’t seem to get the words to leave my mouth.

“Do not keep punishing yourself, Braeden. It is not what Jacob would’ve wanted. It’s not what any of them would’ve wanted.” With that, Joseph walks away and I’m left in my thoughts. I haven’t been called by my real name for a long time. It felt strange to hear it, especially from Joseph, the one who rebranded me as the Judge.

It’s insane to think that that crazy son of a bitch could’ve ended up being my brother-in-law one day. Jacob and I had never talked about marriage; we never really got a chance to talk about our future together. I doubt the man would’ve wanted to be married, especially being in his late forties by the time we got together. I wouldn’t have blamed him for that. Being with him was enough for me. A piece of paper saying that we were legally bonded together would never have changed anything, and I’m sure Jacob felt the same way. Jacob wasn’t always vocal about how he felt about me, but he didn’t need to be. He showed his love by his actions and he was incredibly good at it. I understood his love language better than most people did, maybe even John and Joseph, but I also got to see a part of him they never did. I loved him. I still do. No one will ever be able to replace him.

I loved John and Faith, too. I love Joseph, despite everything he has done.

He’s right. Jacob wouldn’t want this for me, especially this long after the Collapse. None of them would’ve wanted this.

After that night, I decided to take Joseph’s advice. In private, I began working on being able to talk again. Not speaking for so many years took a hard toll on my vocal cords and for a while, I began to think that I had lost the ability. No matter how hard I tried, the words just wouldn’t come out.

It wasn’t until I stumbled upon what’s left of John’s bunker that I finally spoke. It was the only bunker accessible, the other two being stuck inside the radiation zones and making it impossible to reach, even with Eden’s Gift.

Seeing it in ruins like this makes me unreasonably emotionally. I stand at the top, staring into the flooded hole in the ground. Memories pour back. When I first met saw them in the church when we arrived in Hope County. When I seized control of his house singlehandedly. Me, never being able to stop apologizing for that. When John first found out about Jacob and me.

I still remember the look on his face when we decided that we were leaving the valley after Joseph was stopped. I could tell he was devastated. I don’t blame him, though. I promised him happiness, a life where he’s not a herald.

At least one of those things came through. He’s not a herald any more.

“I’m sorry, John...” I choke out, my voice rough and raspy. Tears fall down my face and I rip my mask off. “I... I j-just wanted you all t-to be h-h-happy and I-I-I fa-iled.”

“John? Who’s John?” I hear Cap’s voice behind me. I glance back and see her coming up the hill. “Judge, is that you?”

I wipe the tears from my face. “Ye-ah, Cap, It is.”

“You’re talking!” she exclaims.

I laugh a bit. “I am.”

��Who’s John?” I look back at the broken bunker.

“He would’ve been my brother-in-law if life had been kinder.”

As I talk, it gets easier and quicker, too.

“Ew, did you have a thing with Joseph?”

I laugh. “No, no.” I turn and face her. “Have you heard stories of the Deputy that nearly saved this county singlehandedly back before the Collapse?”

“Of course I have, Kim and Nick never shut up about her.”

“I was that Deputy, Cap.”

She looks as if she’s about to choke on air. “W-what?”

“I was the Deputy. My downfall was falling in love with the oldest Seed, Jacob. Joseph wouldn’t stop what he was doing and after he was stopped, I was going to leave the county with Jacob, Faith, and John,” I look at the bunker. “But the Collapse started before I could get to them and I believe they died that day. I was stuck in a bunker with Joseph where the guilt and mourning ate me up until I became this, the Judge. Joseph certainly didn’t help.”

“I never would’ve guessed that you were the Deputy.”

“Most people don’t and haven’t. The only ones that do are Joseph and Ethan.”

She takes a few steps toward me. “That’s why the other day at the outpost you got distracted when those Highwaymen were talking about the rumor that the other Seeds are alive.”

I nod.

“How are you so sure they aren’t alive?”

“I missed our meeting time. They would’ve been topside and away from safety when the bombs dropped.”

“But are you sure?”

“Please don’t get my hopes up, Cap. I’ve spent the last seventeen years mourning these people and feeling responsible for their deaths. Do you know something I’m unaware of?”

“Well... I wasn’t gonna say anything, but knowing what I know now...”

“Tell me!”

She sighs, crossing her arms. “I was up north a few days ago and... I saw what those Highwaymen were talking about.”

“What!?”

“I don’t know how, but I think they’re alive.”

***

My first steps into Prosperity feel strange. It feels like I’m coming home yet arriving at a completely unfamiliar place at the same time. My mask stays on as I look at what they’ve done to John’s ranch. I’d like to think that he would like it.

I walk around and find so many familiar faces that I almost feel overwhelmed by it. I don’t know how I should do this. Should I expose my identity to everyone all at once or do it one at a time?

Now that I think about it, all at once may be too overwhelming. One at a time it is.

My eyes wander over the sea of faces before they land on one that causes an indescribable feeling to shoot through my body. It’s Sharky. My crazy pyromaniac best friend. My ride or die for as long as I was the Deputy.

His back is to me when I walk over to him alone in the explosives lab, but he turns when he feels me getting close to him. He eyes me, unable to figure out what to make of me.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks. His words would sound aggressive if you didn’t know Sharky like I do. Or did. Good thing I know better than to think that he’s being an asshole.

My hand reaches up for my mask and grasps it firmly. He’s looking at me strangely and I lift it up barely enough for my mouth to show.

“Hi, Shark,” I whisper.

His expression changes quickly. “Shorty?” he whispers back. Finally, I get the nerve to take my mask off all the way and I do. He wraps me in a bear hug when he sees my face, and he tells me he’s not crying when I feel wetness hit my neck, but I know Sharky too well. When we pull away his eyes are filled with tears, just like mine. He holds my shoulders, staring at me.

“I missed you too, Shark.”

“What the hell happened to ya, Brae?”

I hold up a hand and shake my head. “That a long story for another time. Just know that I’m back.”

A huge smile spreads across his face and he pulls me into a hug again.

One by one, I go to everyone and show them who I am. Then, I get to Nick, Kim, and Carmina.

She grew up into such a beautiful woman, Carmina did.

“The Captain brought you in, right?” Kim says, sparing a glance at me as the three of them have their backs to me and are looking at a map or something. For a moment I forget my mask is back on.

“Mhm,” I answer.

“Great, well, welcome to Prosperity. I’m sure you’ll be of great help. I’m Kim, the unofficial leader of our community. This is Nick, my husband, and our daughter-”

As she was talking and slowly took my mask off. Then, I finished the sentence for her. “Carmina,” I say. “Heard that name once or twice.”

My mask drops to the ground and the three of them turn to look at me. Nick and Kim stare at me in awe for a second, seemingly unable to move before they both spring forward and wrap me in a tight hug.

“Braeden, is that really you?” Kim questions, sniffling. I nod to her.

“Braeden...?” Carmina says. “You don’t mean that this is...?”

“Yes, honey,” Nick says. “This is Braeden Creed. Your godmother.”

Without hesitation, Carmina hugs me. And when I say it was the best feeling in the world, I don’t mean it lightly.

***

“Where have you been all this time, Braeden?” Nick asks after I got into a change of clothes. Those old rags I had been wearing were beginning to be uncomfortable. They sit around a fire, eating, and I join them, being handed a plate.

“I’ve been up in New Eden,” I answer. “After the bombs, I was stuck in Dutch’s bunker with Joseph. I... I felt guilty. I blamed myself for everything. For the end of the world, for the death of my coworkers. For the death of Adelaide, Mary May, Jess, Dutch, Eli. For Jacob, John, and Faith. I was mourning the loss of the people I loved while feeling responsible for it at the same time and Joseph took advantage of that.”

“Why for the Seeds?” Grace asks me. “What made you feel like it was your fault they were dead?”

I sigh. “The day we went to stop Joseph, I was supposed to meet with them after and we were gonna leave. Leave the county. I missed our meeting time and they would’ve had to have been topside and away from safety by the time the bombs dropped.” I set my food down, suddenly not being hungry anymore. “Jacob had pleaded with me to not confront Joseph that day. Maybe he knew what would happen if I did, I dunno, but he begged me not to and Jacob never begged. He was too proud for that.”

“But, if he knew what would’ve happened, why would he have let himself die?” Carmina asks.

I shrug a bit. “Jacob was fully prepared to give up his life for Joseph’s throughout the war. And he didn’t even really know if he believed that Joseph could talk to God.”

“That’s one thing about Jacob,” Hurk cuts in. “He never needed a reason for anything.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I respond.

The more I think about Carmina’s question, though, the more it makes sense. He wouldn’t have just let his family die. Not if he could have prevented it. Maybe Carmina’s on to something here.

Maybe the others really are alive.

***

I stare at John’s house, still in awe of how good of shape it’s in, even all these years later. The Ranch is still as beautiful as it’s ever been. Kim has taken such good care of it.

“Do you think he’d mind that we moved into his house?” I hear Carmina behind me. I turn to look at her and she hands me a cup with something in it.

“What?” I ask, my voice cracking a bit, making her laugh as I take the cup. “Sorry. Rusty vocal cords.” I crack a grin at her and she smiles back.

“Do you think John would mind that we moved into his house?”

“That’s a good question. I had never really thought about it. If I’m being honest, I think he would’ve preferred this to it ending up like a lot of the other structures around here.”

I place my cup on my leg, smiling sadly at the house.

“I remember when I took this place from the cult,” I mention to her. “Jacob and I were nothing more than two smartasses flirting with each other, and John was furious. Called me every name under the sun and more and me not reacting to it made it worse. I thought it was hilarious.” My face falls a bit. “Eventually he got it back, but he didn’t get to enjoy it much. I knew he was mad at me still and even when he said he was over it, I never quite believed him. The Resistance had destroyed a lot of his property: his plane, family photos.”

Carmina looks at me for a second before pulling something out of her pocket. “Here,” she says, handing me a photo. “I found it in the master bedroom in a safe. When you find them, you can give this to him.”

I glance down at it and find a family photo of him, Jacob, Joseph, and Faith. I smile and look back up. “Do you really think they’re alive?”

“What I think doesn’t matter,” Carmina responds. “If you know, deep down, that they’re alive, that’s all that matters. Do you think they’re alive?”

I look down at the photo and run my thumb over it. “I want to. But if they are then I spent all these years punishing myself and feeling guilty for they’re deaths. I’m scared that if they are alive, things won’t be the same.”

Carmina stares at me for a second. “You’re afraid that Jacob won’t love you anymore. That’s it, right?”

“I...” I pause, the realization hitting me. “Yeah... I am afraid of that. Terrified, actually. A lot can happen in seventeen years and I still love him with all my being. I don’t know what would happen if he didn’t love me anymore.”

“I’ve heard about how you and Jacob were. And from what I’ve heard, it seemed like he really loved you. Not just any kind of love, either, no. The kind of love that can and would survive the end of the world. If he’s out there, there’s not a doubt in my mind that he would love you the same, even after seventeen years.”

Carmina’s words of encouragement stuck me with me over the next weeks as we started our search while simultaneously fighting the Highwaymen. Even New Eden is searching, wanting to bring the beloved heralds home. For a long time we turned up empty and I was beginning to lose hope. Then another sighting would happen and the process would start over. It began to feel like I was chasing ghosts.

“Times like this is when I wish I had one of my old guns for hire or fangs for hire” I mutter as me and the Captian steak out an outpost.

She glances at me. “Who were yours?”

“Well, for my guns for hire I had Sharky, Nick, Hurk, Adelaide, which was Hurk’s mom and Sharky’s aunt, Grace, a girl named Jess, a dog named Boomer, a cougar named Peaches, and a bear named Cheeseburger.”

“Sharky was a gun for hire?”

“Well of course. He and I were best friends. Loved to fuck shit up on the cult’s expense. I remember this one time-” My recollection gets cut short when commotion starts in the outpost. We watch as cheering spreads through the outpost. One by one, we see prisoners being dragged in. I grab my makeshift binoculars so I can get a better look and that’s when I spot a familiar blonde being dragged in. The green eyes were a dead give away, if the hair wasn’t.

I smack Cap’s arm and she gets annoyed at me before seeing my expression.

“That’s Faith,” I breath. “It’s Faith.”

“Let’s go raise some hell, then.”

Faces blur together as I take them out one by one, making my way to Faith as fast as I can. It feels as if time as slowed down as bullets fly out of my gun, embedding themselves in the flesh and bone of the scumbag Highwaymen. Then my gun gets knocked out of my hands and I barely manage to dodge a swing as the bat connects with the metal behind me. I roll off to the side to put distance between me and my attacker when suddenly my gun comes sliding up to me. I look up, expecting to see Cap, but it’s not.

It’s John.

With a heavy breath and a smile, I pick up my gun and land a shot into the guy trying to kill me. After that, I jump to my feet and run over to him.

“I’ve got the key to free the prisoners they’ve already put away,” he sighs quickly. “I’ll go get them and Faith. Just keep doing what you’re good at.”

He leaves me with a hand on my shoulder and the question, “Where’s Jacob”, hangs in the air but I stop myself. For now, I need to focus on killing these bad guys.

I spin on my heel and fire off a few shots, dropping them like dead flies. The recoil of the gun feels familiar and for a second, Hope County is back to normal and I’m dropping Peggies faster than you could say Eden’s Gate. The memory waivers for a second before the scene in front of me turns back to normal and the last Highwaymen drops in a heap on the floor.

I glance to my left and see John making his way over to me, Faith in tow. Her eyes light up when she sees me and I run over, crashing into both of them and wrapping them in a tight hug.

“Please tell me that Jacob is okay.”

I pull away from there and their expressions are unchanged, giving me hope.

“He broke up away from the group when they were bringing us in and ran off,” Faith explains.

“We’re not really sure where he is, but we know he’s okay. It’s Jacob,” John adds.

Their eyes look past me and I hear heavy footsteps behind me. Turning around quickly, I see him.

I see Jacob.

Jacob.

My Jacob.

It’s almost like he doesn’t believe his eyes when he looks at me, but an emotion washes over him that I’ve never seen on him before. A look of confusion, mixed with pure joy and happiness.

I can barely contain myself and find myself crashing into his chest. Even seventeen years later, the man is well built and takes my impact without budging. My arms snake around his neck and I hold on like he might disappear if I let go, and a part of me might believe that.

“I thought you were dead, all of you,” I whisper to him. “I thought I had gotten all of you killed.”

“You can’t get rid of us that easily, sweetheart,” he says into my ear. His voice... I missed his voice so much.

I feel something wet on my face and it takes a minute to realize what they are.

Tears.

I haven’t cried in years.

“I wouldn’t want to.”

“Braeden, backup’s on its way! We need to go!” I hear Cap yell to me. I gather myself quickly and nod to her. “We’ve got a ride waiting on the road on the other side but we have to make it there in one piece!”

I let out a loud, ear busting, whistle, pulling the attention of the survivors around us. “Listen up! Highwaymen have reinforcements on the way so if you wanna live, you’ll follow us!”

The group of us run up into the tree where Cap and I were waiting and just as she said multiple trucks are waiting for us and we all pile in.

“Braeden, you’re bleeding,” Cap points out from across the bed of me.

I look down, seeing a gash in my upper right arm.

“When that person tried to take me out with the bat, the metal he hit must’ve buckled and cut me...”

“Well, I guess it’s good we helped Selene out so she can patch you up when we get back.”

“Back where?” Faith asks.

“Our base,” Cap answers.

“Yeah... John, you may not like this...”

***

The moment we’re through the door to Prosperity, Carmina’s on me, clinging to me for life.

“We heard what happened through the radio. I was so scared we lost you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“What happened to my house...?” John mutters, looking at me.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with this.”

A little bit later we sit down for dinner and the three of them start interrogating me.

“So, all three of them died...?” Jacob questions me, talking about Whitehorse, Pratt, and Hudson.”

“Yeah,” I breath out. “The truck crashed when I was driving us to Dutch’s bunker and, well, when I came to, it was too late...”

“Wait, then how did you survive?” John asks.

I smile a bit and look down at my food. “Joseph. He pulled me out of the truck. Unfortunately, I was trapped in that damn bunker with him and it changed me.”

“Changed you...?” Faith says.

I stir my food around, debating on whether I should tell them or not. “For the last seventeen years, I felt guilty and responsible for the collapse, for the death of you guys, my coworkers, my friends-everything. I became a shell of what I was. Stopped talking, never showed my face.” I glance over at Jacob. “It wasn’t until Joseph came to me a few months ago and told me that none of it was my fault and to stop punishing myself...”

“Braeden... did Joseph ever tell you what he tried to do?” Jacob asks me.

I feel my stomach drop at his tone and cautiously, I question him. “No, he didn’t. Why? What did he do?”

“He tried to convince us to stay... to stay hidden in our bunkers while he fought you. Tried to convince us to not leave,” Faith answers. “We didn’t listen to him and John and I, we went to meet Jacob at his bunker so we could go meet you together, but when we went to leave, there was a small army of followers outside that kept us from leaving.”

I stare at her, trying to make sense of what she just told me.

“Joseph sent the followers, Braeden,” John continues. “He’s known this whole time that we were alive.”

Once the realization hits me, I feel the rage bubble inside me-my wrath. I slam my bowl down, spilling what was left inside of it, and jump to my feet. “That son of a bitch let me believe that you were dead for the last seventeen fucking years. Let me feel guilty and responsible for your deaths and mourn the loss of all of you at the same time. He had the audacity to look me in my face and tell me that your deaths weren’t my fault. All while knowing that you’re alive!?” I pause for a moment, looking at them for a second. “I’m gonna kick his teeth down his throat and rip his fingernails out.”

***

They tried to stop me. They really tried, but they should know better than to stop me while I’m indulging in my wrath.

I was an unstoppable force when I stormed into New Eden for the first time in months with the other Seeds in tow. New Edeners were stunned to see my face as I blew past them in search of Joseph.

Ethan tried to get in my way when I found them, which was a major mistake. I shoved his bitch ass so hard into the wall that it seemed like the wall cracked under the pressure.

Joseph’s face was priceless when he saw the others and even better when slammed his back into the wall behind me. My rage was nearly palpable as I stared at him.

“You,” I seethed.

“What did I-?”

I pull him forward and slam him into the wall again. “YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID,” I roar at him. “For all these years, all these FUCKING YEARS you let me believe that they were dead and for what? To make me into your fucking monkey!?”

Joseph falls quiet for a second. “I wanted you to feel my pain. To feel what I felt when you turned them against me. I never meant for it to get this far.”

“Yeah!? And what the fuck did you mean to happen!?”

“I wanted to tell you! I wanted to find them, but the further you fell into yourself the harder it became.”

“Yeah? And what about them? What about leaving them trapped in that bunker for years!?”

“I never intended for they’re exit to be blocked! Believe me, I tried to move the rocks time and time again, but I am only one man! It was by the Grace of God that an earthquake came through and uncovered the doorway.”

“You’re a piece of shit, Joseph. Fuck you for what you did to me and fuck you for what you did to your siblings. I didn’t turn them against you, Joseph. You did that yourself by refusing to see that truth. You’re lucky I don’t put you out of our misery right now.”

I back away, glaring at him as I do. The rage eventually subsides and all I'm left to feel it betrayed.

Who would’ve thought that I could feel betrayed by Joseph Fucking Seed?

What a joke.

#jacob seed #john seed #faith seed #joseph seed #Far Cry 5 #far cry 5 oc #new dawn #far cry new dawn #the deputy #the judge #oc: braeden creed

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concussed-to-pieces · 5 years ago

Text

I Want It All

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

Pairing: Jean Pierre Polnareff/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M

AN: Hello my broskis, and welcome back to more of my indulgence! This takes place during the Stardust Crusaders arc (and also is an 'everyone lives' AU because I am nothing if not an indulgent bastard.) Enjoy, and thank you for reading!

[!WARNING!: For my attempts at French, it has been...many years since my lessons. Forgive my lingual sins.]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For canon-typical gore, blood and violence. Stay safe!]

...

"I am only speaking the truth!" Polnareff protested, blue eyes wide in feigned hurt.

"You, Jean Pierre Polnareff, couldn't speak the truth if your life depended on it!" You shot back, halfway between laughter and fury. "You expect me to believe everything that comes out of your mouth? I wasn't born yesterday, big fella'."

"But it's true! Your eyes light up so wonderfully when you're annoyed or put out--just like they are right now!" The Frenchman was obviously trying hard to butter you up. "You and Jotaro both have such expressive eyes, it's tres bien to see the two of you hot under the collar."

"What the hell did you just say?" Jotaro growled. "You tryin' to tell me you've been this obnoxious because you like how it makes people look? You're such a damn handful Polnareff."

"I agree!" You huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at the menace in front of you.

Polnareff just laughed it off, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "You are so lovely when you're upset."

"You're just as lovely when you're being obnoxious, you gravy-sucking--"

"Ah ah, such language!" Jean interrupted, tilting his chin pointedly in Anne's direction. "Little ears don't need to hear rough speech."

"You've gotta' be joking, she could probably teach you some new curse words!" You teased, laughing outright when Anne nodded enthusiastically and started rambling down a list of incredibly colorful phrases.

Amidst Polnareff's wailing about how unladylike it was that Anne had an impressive repertoire, you felt his eyes on you. Ever since you had collapsed it had been this way, Jean Pierre hovering like a nervous parent. It was infuriating! You weren't some helpless child. Your Stand may consume your energy at an exponential rate, but it made up for the increased strain with impressive damage output. You didn't need anyone coddling you, and you did your best to make sure that the group knew that. Joseph was the only one who seemed to 'forget' aside from Polnareff; he was also a parent and prone to worrying so you tried to let it slide.

It was certainly a bunch of misfits you had taken up with. You had your own reasons for wanting to beat Dio's face in, noble or otherwise, and it seemed like your best chance to get close was to engage in the Joestar's crusade. Though the Strength Stand was a bit of a wakeup call.

You had only passed out twice in the span that you had been fighting alongside the Crusaders. You had grown leaps and bounds as a Stand user, able to keep your Stand active for longer and longer periods of time. Sure, your Stand was no Star Platinum, but you were far from the weakling you had been.

To let Jean Pierre hold you back felt like admitting defeat, and so you railed against his supposed 'well-meaning' concern with all your might. It led to heated disagreements between you, the Frenchman insisting on keeping you behind the bulk of his body and Silver Chariot's defensive saber during battles.

He nicknamed you Le Canon De Verre, The Glass Cannon, after one such tangle with enemy Stand users. "Destructive, beautiful when the sunlight hits you just right, and entirely reckless!" The backhanded compliment had only served to infuriate you further, as had his jovial laughter after the fact. You nearly dislocated his shoulder with your Stand's punch, startling him into silence.

"You're so-!" You bit your tongue, unwilling to get yourself thrown out of the group because you couldn't take his teasing. "Mean, Polnareff, that's what you are!" You had snapped finally. "You can't just say things like that to me, okay? I'm trying so hard! Stop making fun of me already!"

"I'm not...I-I apologize, I did not intend to hurt your feelings. In this group we tend to go at one another for sport. I assumed you would join in." The large man had continued to hold his shoulder, grimacing. "I thought you wanted to, anyway."

"I don't want to be hazed or initiated, if that's what you're getting at. I'd rather be an outlier if I'm going to have to engage in a dick-waving contest." You had replied firmly.

Polnareff looked thoughtful, which was rare. "I understand. I will ah, 'ease up'. Can you forgive me?"

"Will you stop pouting if I do?"

"Perhaps. Unless, of course, you find me more attractive when I pout?"

"No." His crestfallen expression had made you laugh harder than you wanted to admit.

...

Finding out Jean Pierre Polnareff had a penchant for dirty talk in the bedroom was like finding out that the sky was the same shade of blue as the previous day.

Utterly unsurprising.

He loved to hear himself talk so damn much you were fairly certain that he got off on it, whether his partners did or not.

Joseph laughed boisterously when Polnareff proudly stated his enjoyment of such activities during a rowdy night of drinking, the older man slapping him on the back. "I'll drink to that, my chatty friend! I feel your pain. I remember when Caesar and I were training, I had to wear a mask to regulate my breathing and…" Joseph paused, the sparkle in his green eyes dimming. "He was a wonderful friend, was Caesar." He murmured instead of continuing his story.

Jotaro looked about as interested as you had ever seen him, the stoic teen studying his grandfather. "Was he now."

"A phenomenal fighter and a total pain in the ass. Always trying to one-up me." Joseph dashed away a tear. You shifted closer to him beside the fire, touching your shoulder to his. On his other side Polnareff did the same, effectively sandwiching the older man between the two of you. "He was incredibly brave and incredibly dumb, almost as dumb as I was." Joseph dug around in one of the pockets on his cargo pants, drawing out a thin strip of cloth with a triangular pattern on it. "This is all that I have to remember him by."

Avdol shook his head, resting his hands on Joseph's shoulders from his place behind him. "You have the many, many memories of the two of you as well, Mr. Joestar."

"True! I'm sorry kids, I get so melancholic around campfires. I doubt the drinking helps." Joseph wound the strip of cloth between the fingers of his mechanical hand absentmindedly, the fabric frayed like he had done it many times before.

"Mr. Joestar, would you tell us some stories about Caesar?" Kakyoin requested softly. "You shouldn't have to shoulder the burden of his memory alone."

Jotaro grunted in affirmation, getting up and moving across the clearing to slouch beside his grandfather. "Spare us no detail, old man. I want to know about the guy that could kick your ass."

"He couldn't-! That's an awful lot to assume, Jotaro!" Joseph huffed indignantly, his bleak mood seeming to vanish once his pride was poked at. "He used Hamon to trap me in a bubble! Can you even imagine being that insecure?!"

You caught Jean looking at you over the top of Joseph's head as he rambled (no small feat considering the size of the elder Joestar). Polnareff glanced at Joseph, then back at you. Both of you nodded after a moment, coming to a silent agreement.

Jean Pierre would take a step back in battle to allow you a step forward, and you would be more cautious.

...

From that point on, things smoothed out a little between the two of you. You didn't feel so stifled, like every move was watched. Chariot was ready and willing to work together with your Stand, the rapier-wielding chevalier helping to increase your own admittedly-lacking range. It was surreal how well you and Jean could control the battlefield now that you weren't at each other's throats.

Jean's motions when he was fighting were one with Chariot's. Often it was difficult to tell where Stand ended and man began, Chariot a literal extension of his own body. He moved with a savage finesse that was a treat to watch, something you hadn't been able to appreciate when he was trapping you behind him. Now that you could operate on even footing however, it was a different story. There was ample time to watch him fight, ample time to hear him taunt the enemy in both French and English, or a jumbled mess of the two. Perhaps a little too much time, if you were being honest. Jean Pierre was an incorrigible show off.

Somewhere along the way you had also gained a new nickname.

"Did you see that, mon coeur?" The silver-haired young man would often exclaim after you two managed to do something impressive, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "They didn't stand a chance!"

You wanted to hate yourself for enjoying his enthusiasm when it came to fighting. After all, you were on a very important quest. Now wasn't the time to be entertaining such thoughts, like fun and what will happen after all of this? Now wasn't the time to wonder about Polnareff's multitude of lovers, the wistful wife no doubt waiting for him at home in France.

"What will you do?" You asked him the night after his agonizing encounter with the copies of Avdol and his dearly departed sister. "When all of this is over, I mean."

"I...I don't really know." He had been in a thoughtful mood the entire day, more forlorn than you had ever seen him. It broke your heart, just a little. "I'd like to see more of the world, I think." His voice was so soft, as if he didn't want to say anything at all.

"What places do you want to visit?"

"I'd like to see Niagara Falls." You knew you had him then, watching his body perk up ever so slightly. "I've heard so much about Canada. I have distant relations there as well. And then, I want to go to Florida!" Jean gushed. "No wait, perhaps Mexico or South America first, trek the Amazon and then make my way up the East Coast. Yes, that will do. But California, the vineyards, I must...how will I decide?!"

You were so thrilled at the return of his dramatic nature that you laughed aloud and threw your arms around his neck. "There you are. Thought I'd lost you for a minute." You murmured against Polnareff's jaw, the gesture oddly intimate for you. You heard Jean swallow convulsively and then he embraced you, holding you to his chest.

"Your friendship is such a precious gift, mon coeur." The large man whispered, his voice sounding slightly choked. "Whatever comes of us, know that this crusade will not be the end. I, Jean Pierre Polnareff, promise you that. We will see the world as it should be."

"A promise of such weight demands the proper gesture." You pulled back slightly and hooked your left pinky around his own. "The pinky promise of Polnareff shall not be broken easily, I warn you. If we don't travel the world, there will be hell to pay."

You didn't exactly have confidence in the fact that you would be returning from the tangle with Dio, so the promise was both simple and hard for you to make. Jean's smile in reply warmed you from head to toe, the sensation strange but not unwelcome. "I would have it no other way." He swore sincerely.

…

Your Stand vanished under the blow and you clutched the heavily-bleeding stump of your left wrist, all that was left where your hand had once been. You dimly heard Jean Pierre screaming (in what was hopefully rage, it was difficult to tell sometimes).

Despite he and Avdol's insistence that this fight was every man for himself, you couldn't just stand by and let Jean die to gain an opening at Dio. It was better this way, you reasoned while your Stand had flung Polnareff out of the range of the fiendish Cream Stand and into the range of Iggy's Stand. Polnareff has a better chance at getting Dio than I do, so I should make this count.

Your eyes had met Jean's seconds before Cream's void reached him, and you shot the tall man a shaky, battered smile. It'll be okay, you wanted to tell him, it'll all be fine. Iggy's Stand enveloped him, sand barely holding together as the small dog draped over your arm struggled to breathe.

Cream's void touch obliterated your Stand's left hand and you felt the pain down to your soul, dropping to your knees and almost immediately emptying the contents of your stomach.

Consciousness didn't stick around for much longer, the blood loss too rapid for you to staunch effectively on your own. You prayed that you had been useful even as your senses dimmed.

...

You didn't really expect to wake up, so realizing that sunlight was beating down on your eyelids was bizarre.

You tried to open your eyes, but gave up after a few moments and simply basked in the warm haze. This is actually kind of nice.

Your brow furrowed as you tried to recall what led to this. You were drawing a blank. Unconcerned, you hummed out a breath and shifted slightly on the soft surface you rested upon. Your left hand felt odd, heavier than you remembered and sluggish. But then again, your whole body felt heavy and sluggish. I wonder where I am, you mused, not exactly motivated to find out. It was as though thinking was a struggle.

A deep voice reached your ears, the words incomprehensible but soothing all the same. Someone seemed to be speaking in an area adjacent to your own. Were you in a hospital?

Curiosity started to penetrate the haze, and with it came the thrum of distant pain and a soft, insistent beeping. Maybe you had been in an accident of some kind, you must be in a hospital. That mystery solved, you tried to open your eyes again. You flexed your hands, first left, then right. Your left hand was definitely slower.

After a final, Herculean effort, you pried your eyes open and immediately summoned your Stand. It looked gaunt and frail when it appeared, as though a gust of wind might blow it away. The relief you felt at the familiar sight was short-lived as your gaze trailed down to the Stand's left hand. Or rather, where it had been. It seemed wrong, twisted in a strange way.

Egypt. Dio. The Joestar Crusade. Recollections poured back into your mind like a torrent, making your whole body go stiff. Your Stand touched their forehead to your own, making their customary sound as if to reassure you that they were alright.

"Where's…" Your words were muffled by the oxygen mask you wore. Where is everyone?

Your Stand, appearing thrilled to be out and about once again, practically lunged towards the door of your room. You had to close your eyes to fight the nausea at the abrupt motion, biting the inside of your cheek to choke back the bile.

You felt when your Stand reached the edge of your range and then, something careened past it heading in your direction. You sensed the displacement of the air and the door to your room suddenly burst open.

"Oh my God, you finally woke up!" It was none other than Joseph Joestar, his eyes brimming with tears. "We weren't sure if you were...I'm so happy!" He bolted towards the bed with the vigor of a man a quarter of his age, nearly crushing you in a tight hug. "The others need to know, I have to-"

The door to the room was having quite a busy day as two more bodies made their way through it. Both Kakyoin and Jotaro looked somewhat worse for wear (Kakyoin was so covered in bandages he bore a striking resemblance to a mummy) but at the familiar irate grunt of "Good grief," from the taller young man currently pushing the redhead's wheelchair, you got the feeling that they would be just fine.

Avdol sauntered in with Iggy slung over one shoulder, the black and white dog glancing at you and then yawning widely as if to say, "my work here is done."

"You're okay." Your voice was barely a whisper, tears welling up in your eyes. "B-But Avdol, I thought…am I dead? Did we all die?"

"I mean, the old man tried pretty hard to die on me but I wasn't going to let him get away with that shit." Jotaro growled.

"It is a bit of a miracle, the survival of Iggy and myself. All thanks to you and Polnareff, my friend. Due to your quick intervention, Jean Pierre managed to land the killing blow on Vanilla Ice and drag most of my body back from the abyss of his Stand." Avdol held up his gloved hands, showing you his arms bandaged to the shoulder. "My body has yet to reject the prosthetics, so with some luck I'll make a full recovery."

"Where is Jean Pierre?" You asked faintly, your strength waning. As if to answer, there was a loud crash from the hallway and someone was abruptly swearing a blue streak in French.

"He's not entirely used to the crutches, but he refused our help." Kakyoin explained hastily. "He should be here any second now."

"Speaking of prosthetics, how does your hand feel?" Joseph asked curiously. "Any pain? My hand took some getting used to."

"It's totally gone, isn't it." At the older man's nod you giggled, a little hysterical. "I'm scared to look. I don't want to see how much I've changed. My poor Stand…"

Polnareff interrupted your rambling by all but flopping through the doorway, half-supported by a weakened-looking Chariot. Both Stand and man lit up upon seeing you awake, Chariot waving wildly, and without thinking you raised your left hand to wave back.

You caught sight of smooth metal fingers responding jerkily to your brain's stimulus and that was all it took to make you go gray at the edges.

Does a pinky promise still count if the pinky that you promised it with is gone?

"Mon coeur, open your eyes! Please, I promise it's not so bad!" Polnareff's imploring words met your ears when you regained consciousness moments later.

"Five more minutes, have mercy on me." You groaned, not opening your eyes just yet. "Fuck. How long has it been since the fight?"

"Almost three weeks."

"Fuck. Did we win at least?"

"Holly is going to make a full recovery." Joseph said. You could hear the smile in his words and that gave you the courage you needed to open your eyes and finally look down at your hand.

"Fuck that's sore." You winced, the pain vibrant now as you moved your fingers individually. "I think I liked being out cold better."

"You were the last to wake up. We've all been so worried!" Kakyoin said, sounding relieved.

"Even Jotaro?" You teased, laughing when the aforementioned boy grumbled something in reply and Star Platinum appeared to loudly Ora!, as if contradicting the stone-faced teen.

Jean Pierre slotted himself into the space between your bed and the wall, his large frame almost too big to fit. Chariot chirruped at you while their user reached out slowly, so slowly to cradle your new hand in his own. For all his size and strength he was surprisingly delicate, his fingers feeling strangely warm to your overly-sensitive appendage. "As you may recall," He began quietly, glancing up at you before ducking his head again. "I made a promise. Once you are entirely well, we will...we have a lot of traveling to do if you would accompany me."

"I don't know if that promise still counts." You said before you could think, more than a little shocked that he had even remembered that promise. You wiggled your fingers haphazardly.

"We can make a new one if you wish." Polnareff was as serious as you had ever seen him, those blue eyes boring into your own. He raised your hand to his lips and kissed your bandaged wrist, the look on his face daring you to stop him.

You extended your metal pinky with a wince, letting him be the one to loop his finger around your own this time. The feeling of metal on metal startled you momentarily, but you recalled that he had lost two fingers to Cream himself. "I pinky promise. It'll give me something to look forward to while we're all recovering."

Recover you did, with a speed that you attributed to spite against Dio. The sooner you were healed, the sooner you would be able to leave that vampiric fiend in the dust he had become.

The sooner you would be able to journey with Polnareff, your brain felt the need to chime in gleefully. It made you flush more often than not, the idea of being legitimately alone with the large man. You couldn't recall a time during the entire adventure that the two of you had been alone, and you weren't certain why but it filled you with an odd trepidation.

Jean Pierre was not one to let simple things like the doctor said you need to be careful get in his way, the large man determined to recover as quickly as he could. His hand and thigh were healing up well it seemed, but his foot was slower going. They had been traumatic injuries and you tried to reason with him that it was expected, though it didn't seem to penetrate his thick skull. The doctors of the Speedwagon Foundation clearly had the patience of Job.

Polnareff lavishly praised your own recovery progress; his thrilled exclamation of Magnifique! when you managed to open a jar during physical therapy almost made all the pain and frustration worth it. You could only imagine how obnoxious it must be for someone as self-sufficient as Jean to be unable to walk without help, so you did your best to be just as encouraging to him when he seemed weary. Your terrible rendition of Hail The Conquering Hero never failed to put a smile on his face even while he slouched in a chair at your bedside.

"The worst part is how bone-tired I am." He admitted one evening. "All my energy is going towards healing and learning how to redistribute my weight and it is...difficult to stay positive when I truly feel how heavy my body is." Jean gave you a half-smile. "Who would have thought being the tallest and most muscular of the group would be detrimental to me in the long run, eh mon coeur?"

"Hey at least you've got that going for you. It took me a good week to be able to flex my hand enough to flip someone off again!" You complained, trying to get him to laugh. Jean took your metal hand, his expression unreadable. The doctors had been fine tuning the receptors in your fingers and palm, so his touch was no longer scorching. You wished that your face had gotten the memo.

"Don't think that I'll ever forget what you did for me." Jean's voice was soft, yet firm. It added a strange weight to the conversation. "I know you wanted to kill Dio as much as the rest of us, and you gave up your chance...no, your damn hand, to save me instead. I owe a debt I doubt I can repay and I will never forget that, mon coeur." He sighed, "So many debts to focus on! First Avdol, then Iggy, and now you. My life is forfeit I suppose."

"W-What does that mean?" You stammered, blurting out the first thing you could think of.

"What does what mean?"

"What you call me, mon kyar or something. I assume it's French?"

"It is."

"So...what does it mean?" You pressed after he was silent for several seconds. "You gonna' tell me?"

A knock on the doorframe interrupted the conversation, the nurse with your usual tray of food arriving right on time as ever. Jean Pierre was in such a hurry to leave he nearly bowled the poor man over, mumbling an apology as he hobbled past.

What the hell was that all about? You wondered as you ate your meal. If he believed he could avoid your question like that, he was dumber than you thought. What if it was a swear or an insult? You froze, thinking back to your original glass cannon nickname. The fork in your metal hand was bent nearly in half before you could stop yourself, and you spent several panicky seconds trying to flatten it back out.

…

Niagara Falls was first on the list of attractions. It was a poorly-designed list, of course, but you were still excited to see more of the world.

You supposed you were a hopeless optimist for believing that nothing untoward would happen to the two of you while embarking on your grand tour.

"Pose by the railing! I want to take your picture with that backdrop of the falls." Jean urged, laughing when you stuck your tongue out and curved your back into a weird-looking, hunched stance.

"How's this?" You asked, striking an even stranger pose afterwards and laughing along when his composure entirely dissolved. He staggered over to lean on your shoulder, still cackling, then his fingers wrapped around your non-metallic wrist.

"I need you to move with me." The mirth was abruptly gone from Jean's face though his smile stayed; his broad shoulders tensed like he was bracing for impact. "Don't make a scene. We're taking two steps back from the railing."

You giggled to keep up the illusion that the two of you were just sharing an intimate chat, nodding once and waiting for him to give you the go ahead.

A hulking, metallic Stand suddenly appeared overhead and plummeted downwards. Jean summoned Chariot without so much as blinking, your own Stand not far behind. The two of you sidestepped the enemy Stand's crushing attempt and launched yourselves back into the crowd of tourists, your smaller size allowing you to more easily make your way through throngs of people. Jean struggled to keep up and you grabbed onto his hand, no worry for propriety on your mind while you wove between the sightseers.

Someone's outstretched leg was almost your downfall but Jean heaved you bodily up into his arms and kept moving, setting you back on your feet without so much as breaking stride.

"I imagine they're still following us." He hissed, seeming annoyed. It had been overcast all day but now it started to drizzle. The crowd began to thin and you could feel Jean getting more and more anxious, trying to stick with groups that kept dwindling. He started swearing under his breath, his eyes darting around as he tried to locate the enemy Stand user.

Your own eyes landed on a corridor that led back into the visitor's center, and just inside the mouth of the corridor was a door beside a pay phone. No doubt it led to a maintenance closet or area of some kind, but it was cover all the same.

You opened your mouth to tell Jean your plan but before you could utter a word he grabbed your shoulder, ripping you backwards. The enemy Stand slammed into the ground where you had been standing, whirring loudly as it attempted to free itself from the cement.

Polnareff was actually shaking, the large man maintaining a death grip on your hand and making a mad dash for the door you had noticed. Chariot's blade nimbly took care of the lock.

The space was entirely too small.

Jean Pierre's chest heaved against yours, the Frenchman still panting for air from your headlong dash. Overhead Silver Chariot made sounds of distress, pressing their helm to your forehead while your Stand hovered worriedly.

"Ch-Chariot!" Polnareff scolded, waving his Stand back. "Non, Chariot."

His arms wrapped around you suddenly at the sound of running footsteps outside the door, and you felt the muscles of his thighs tense in preparation to flee. Your metal fingers dug into his shoulder and he winced, letting out a strangled noise.

"Sorry, sorry." You hissed, sure that you had accidentally left a bruise. Who would have expected Stand users to attack you even after the defeat of Dio?!

The footsteps paused outside the door and Jean Pierre's hold tightened even further, threatening to crush the breath out of your lungs. Whoever they were, the person appeared to be making a phone call with the pay phone on the wall by the closet.

"I don't know where they went. It's like them and their Stands turned the corner and disappeared into the rain." The individual said, sounding dejected. "Yeah, I'll head back."

Jean cautiously slid you down his body to rest on the floor, then pointed silently at the doorknob. The handle jiggled as the person on the other side began turning it, no doubt trying to be thorough before returning to whatever hole they crawled out of.

They didn't expect the enormous silver-haired Stand user to be the one behind the door, as evidenced by their horrified yelp. Polnareff slapped a hand over the man's mouth and dragged him into the closet, where both of your Stands were eagerly waiting to dispose of him.

...

Your damp clothes stuck to your body like they were vacuum sealed and you groaned, fidgeting with your jeans. Jean Pierre was in the same boat, soaked to the skin and doing his best to try and wring out his already-tight tank top. "It's no use, mon coeur. Let's find a hotel and see about getting dry." He said with a defeated sigh, offering you his arm.

It served you right for trying to do some sightseeing during a peak tourist season. Not a hotel in the entire damn city had a double room available, or even a twin and sleeper sofa combo! You wanted to scold Jean for his lackadaisical planning, but you figured from his deflated expression that he hadn't taken into account the fact that everyone else in the world was also on vacation.

"The best I can do for you is a room with one queen. I'm really sorry, sir, but with the summer traffic-"

"Non, do not apologize!" Jean hastily interrupted the woman behind the counter. "My companion and I appreciate whatever hospitality you can extend to us, and we thank you for your time. The fact that you found us a room at all is more than enough." He shook her hand while she went bright red and you barely choked back your giggle. Jean Pierre was a handful normally so he was entirely outrageous when he laid the charm on thick.

The room was small but the bed was clean, and that was really all that mattered to you. Polnareff began rummaging through his bag for a dry change of clothes and you took the opportunity to bolt for the shower. The air conditioning in the hotel lobby, while pleasant at first, ended up chilling you through your wet clothes. A nice hot shower would rectify that.

"Bath or shower?" Jean called through the door. In response, you turned on the showerhead.

You emerged ten minutes later, warm and sleepy from the long and strenuous day. Jean Pierre was waiting beside the bed, clothes neatly folded on the floor.

"You look radiant, mon coeur!" He teased, getting to his feet and chucking you under the chin. "Can you tuck yourself in? You seem ready to sleep standing up."

"Oh hush." You grumbled, batting his hand away and trotting over to your own bag. He laughed softly and you heard the bathroom door close behind you. You quickly dropped your towel and rummaged through your bag for a loose shirt and some clean panties, struggling into the garments as sleep dragged at your limbs. The bed felt heavenly when you finally stripped back the covers and climbed in, and even with the lamp on in the room your eyes grew heavy.

You snuggled a pillow to your chest and drifted off, stirring when you felt someone lay down beside you. Lips touched your forehead and Jean Pierre murmured, "only me, mon coeur. Go back to sleep."

You abandoned your pillow and slotted yourself into his arms, mumbling some gibberish while you buried your face in his chest. He was wonderfully shirtless and you took advantage of your drowsy, carefree state, uncharacteristically bold in your cuddling.

You felt more than heard his breath hitch, and then he was urging your chin up so that you would make eye contact. "Are you awake?" He whispered. "You are acting strange." You whined in reply and a breathless little chuckle left his lips. "So sulky! I will not deprive you of any more rest. Sleep well, mon coeur."

You dropped your head back onto his chest, his heartbeat thudding loudly in your ear. It was almost loud enough to drown him out when he spoke next.

"I could have lost you today, mon coeur." Jean breathed. "That Stand...it would have left you as a stain on the pavement. What a terrible thought." His arms wrapped around you and his chest expanded with a heartfelt sigh. "Unbearable, even. My heart stopped for just that second. I wasn't sure I would be able to move you in time. I wished for Jotaro's power then! What a ridiculous thing to do in the heat of the moment, no?"

Jean's hands were shaking, fingers rubbing light circles on your back.

"I couldn't breathe. I was trembling. Me! The idea of me fearing anything is preposterous. But I did. I...I feared for your life. I feared that I would lose you." He chuckled, the noise a little ragged. "What selfish fears I have, mon coeur."

…

After that, it was easier to find accommodations. The two of you could share more than a battlefield without killing each other, it seemed. It was only slightly mortifying to disentangle yourself from his grasp in the morning, seeing as you were always the first one awake. But it did offer you ample time to study his face all flushed and relaxed, so you decided that you could live with the embarrassment of knowing that you cuddled up to him in your sleep.

Or maybe it was vice versa? You usually went to sleep on the far side of the bed, and yet you always woke up with him holding you in his arms. As if he was seeking out your body heat in his sleep. It was almost enough to make you suspicious if you didn't secretly relish the lazy mornings before you were fully awake, just luxuriating in being held.

Jean Pierre was an enthusiastic if not entirely capable tour guide no matter where you went, though half the time he could be caught with notes written in Kakyoin's hand detailing the areas you were visiting. It would seem that the younger man had been essentially everywhere and had whipped up a few cheat sheets for Polnareff.

So the two of you saw all the sights you could cram in and then some, resulting in long days and sleeping like the dead.

Until one night. A fateful night, like the stories always said.

Your metal hand had been acting up through the day due to a changing weather system and it left you tense and anxious, unable to relax. You were plagued with the fear that you might have already broken your new hardware. The idea of having to cut your trip short due to your appendage not 'playing nice' soured your mood even further.

Jean Pierre seemed to sense your discomfort but not the source, the large man cautiously asking over dinner at a local cafe whether he had done something to upset you.

"Mon coeur, your eyes have lost that mischievous shine. Was it something I said?" He queried with a fair amount of concern. From their spot beside him Chariot reached out their saber, as if to also inquire. The Stand's mannerisms never ceased to be charming to you; they displayed a blunt inquisitiveness that was such an obvious facet of Jean Pierre it made you want to tease him. Their rapier rested delicately on the table, just to the left of your fingers.

"I just want things to keep working." You couldn't keep the annoyance out of your voice. Your hand twitched involuntarily, bumping Chariot's rapier, and you swore under your breath.

Jean Pierre definitely noticed that. "Your hand as well? My foot and hand have been ah, cantankerous all day. I thought I was the only one." He laughed a little self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know you can tell me about things like that, right?"

"I don't want to bug you." You grumbled, startled when his finger hooked under your chin and tilted your face up. He looked oddly serious.

"We've been traveling together long enough for you to know that you're never bugging me, mon coeur." Things had taken a strange turn. Were you blushing?!

"P-People always say stuff like that, but they never actually mean it." You floundered to answer him, the retort devoid of your usual wit.

"I mean it."

"Well I uh, I guess you're the exception to the rule, Polnareff. And the logical height restriction for hair, as always." Jean's expression was unimpressed. You went on to insist, "Look, it's not fair that you should have to listen to me whine just because you made a pinky promise."

"The only thing I've heard is genuine concerns. Perhaps it is your assumptions that need to change, mon coeur." Jean suggested, leaning forward just a little. "Who else have you engaged with? Who made you so willing to shoulder the burden of your fears and wave off help from anyone else?"

"No one, that's just how I've always been. I don't like bothering anyone."

"Bother me, I dare you."

"What if my hand never gets back to full speed? What if I'm stuck with a fidgety hunk of metal like Joseph, what if I can't fight anymore?!" You exploded, slamming your left fist down on the table. "What if I'm useless, Jean? What then?"

"Is that your chief grievance?" He was weirdly calm. Normally he was the one to get worked up and you were the one to rationalize him back down to Earth. You shook your head and Jean got to his feet, taking your metal hand after he paid the bill for the evening. "Come with me, mon coeur."

...

Once the two of you were back in your hotel room, Jean Pierre left you to sit on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom for a short period of time. When he reemerged, he urged you into the smaller room and you were faced with a bathtub full of bubbles.

"Get in, get comfortable, and call me once you're settled." His demands brooked no argument and you grudgingly stripped to get into the tub once he exited the bathroom. The bubbles were actually thick enough that they kept you from feeling too exposed and you blinked back tears at the realization that he had planned it that way.

"You can come back in, I'm decent." You announced after climbing into the small mountain of bubbles.

Jean returned with one of the folding chairs from beside the bed. He sat down, rested his chin in his palm, and fixed you with a stern look. "Speak."

"Just like that?" You huffed. Jean inclined his head, raising an eyebrow and simply waiting. "I'm scared, okay? I'm a big, scared, useless baby. I'm tired and I'm scared."

"What are you scared of?"

"The future, I guess. Nothing will be the same. A lot of times I wish I could go back…" You paused. "You would think after everything that we went through, I wouldn't be scared anymore. But I still am." You curled up with your knees to your chest. "I almost miss the Crusader tunnel vision, y'know? We didn't have the luxury to focus on anything besides Dio."

Jean sighed heavily. "If you had said something sooner, I...we all feel that way, you know that, yes? The rest of us were conscious and recovering while you were still wrestling with Morpheus. I would say we got a bit of a head start. Though Kakyoin and myself in particular struggled immensely, mon coeur. Kakyoin did not believe he was going to survive the battle with Dio. His wounds were...devastating." Polnareff glanced up at you, his eyes a troubled, stormy blue. "I, on the other hand, did not want to continue living with my survival built upon the sacrifice of my friends."

"Jean..."

"Avdol's arms. Iggy and Kakyoin's entire bodies, mangled and broken. Your hand. These were all prices I consider too high to pay and yet each one of you did what you needed to do without a second thought. It is...humbling." Jean chuckled mirthlessly. "Jotaro spoke with me at length about stopping his own heart in order to trick Dio into thinking he was dead."

"He did what?!"

"He had Star Platinum literally grab hold of his heart and stop it." Jean Pierre shook his head. "He's insane. Listen, the point is that we're all scared of the future. I didn't even think that I would have one, didn't dare to hope for one! I've been struggling adrift, trying to decide what I wish to do with my life now that the length of it stretches before me like so many miles of untread country road. Granted, the generous patronage of the Joestars and their Speedwagon Foundation has eased the difficulty somewhat. None of us will want for anything in this transitional period, I'm sure."

"Jean, I...I guess I got so into my own head I didn't think that anyone else could be having the same problems as me." You didn't apologize, and he didn't seem to expect you to.

"We were selfish as well, mon coeur, you cannot take the blame. I assumed Joseph would discuss things with you in private, but he must have been preoccupied with Holly's recovery." Jean's hands now rested on his thighs and you watched his metal pinky and ring finger jitter independently for several silent minutes.

"Thanks, Jean. For everything." You finally said quietly. Chariot appeared with a sound of glee, the Stand's deadly rapier raised in front of them in a perfect salute. "You too Chariot, of course!" You continued, laughing when the Stand began to preen. "I would never leave you out."

Polnareff had gone bright red at the enthusiastic antics of his Silver Chariot, the poor man sputtering in a way that was far too endearing, "Chariot, please!"

"Are you actually embarrassed, Jean Pierre? I never thought I would see the day." You teased. "You look dashing in red, I have to admit."

"You are so cruel!" He whined.

"Ha! After your little kink reveal during our quest, it's so funny to see you lose your cool over something this inconsequential."

"Kink?! Dirty talk is just...it's standard procedure in the bedroom! I hardly count it as a kink-"

"Surprise, you nerd, it's a kink." You carried on ribbing him, a massive grin on your face. "Not every kink has to be super weird or niche, you know. As long as it gets you off, it can be anything."

"How on Earth-" Jean Pierre began heatedly, his hands fisting in the fabric of his pants as he shifted forwards into 'debate position'.

"I mean, some people like when people dirty talk to them, but could never do it themselves. Or vice versa. People love that filthy stream-of-consciousness ramble. You've got the added bonus of being bilingual, so you could say a whole bunch of random words in French and I bet your partner would still be swooning!" You pointed out, unable to stifle your giggles at the flabbergasted expression on his face. "Do you like when people talk dirty to you in reply? Or are you always the one doing the talking?"

"I...I've never had anyone talk dirty to me." Jean's voice hitched slightly. "I do not...I'm rather large. With that comes the assumptions, you know."

"Well you do have a commanding presence, for better or for worse." The shake in his words threw you off just a tad. Was he upset with you? "Hey, I'm only joking around. If I went too far, tell me and I'll stop."

"Non! No, no, I just never thought about it." He admitted. "I mean, the process is…" Jean lapsed into muttering under his breath in French and your laughter returned with a vengeance. "Hush you! Laughing while I'm in crisis!" He complained, the wry grin on his face belying his words as he gave your exposed shoulder a gentle shove.

"You're so sweet, Jean Pierre. Under all that bravado, anyway."

"Sweet?! I am not--I am precise and fierce! Deadly, even!" He jumped to his feet, Chariot at the ready as he tried to pace in the tiny area. "I am a man of great skill and charisma and-"

"And you drew a bubble bath for someone so they would talk to you. Face it, you're sweet."

"I would...whenever she had a difficult day at school, I would run Sherry a bath and then sit and listen." At the mention of his late sister, your heart squeezed in your chest. You of course knew his whole sad story, but the reverent way he spoke about her never failed to spark a sympathetic reaction. She had been incredibly dear to him and, while he had dispatched her killer, it was obvious that the pain was still there. "It's a tactic that's served me well, though getting Jotaro in the tub is easier said than done." Jean tried to joke.

"You're ridiculous." You extended your metal pinky to him and he wrapped his own around it after a moment of hesitation. "You're also a good man, Jean Pierre. I envy the person you share your heart with in the future."

He stared down at you with his brow furrowed, then looked at your joined fingers. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but he simply sighed after a moment. His shoulders drooped. "Yes, of course. The future." He mused thoughtfully.

After you had gotten dressed for bed, Jean beckoned you close.

"Please, just let me hold you." His voice cracked at the end of his request. "No more talking." Confused at the vulnerability he was displaying, you obediently settled yourself into his loose embrace. Nothing about how he was touching you was improper, but you still felt a flush of heat on your face. Jean Pierre stared at the space over your head in silence for what felt like hours, his eyes distant and suspiciously glassy.

You brushed your fingers against his jaw and he flinched. "Hey." You whispered, "just me."

"Oui, it always has been." He replied cryptically, placing a kiss on your forehead. "I'll be alright. Thank you for letting me hold you."

"Trust me, the pleasure's all mine."

"You like being held, mon coeur?" He sounded startled.

"Only when you do it." You yawned, snuggling closer. "Anybody else'll get their ass kicked."

His hand was trembling when he cupped the back of your head and you felt the breath leave his body in a long, shuddering exhale. "Bonne nuit, mon coeur."

…

You woke before him, as ever, but this time you didn't leave Jean's arms. You just studied him from your vantage point, taking in every tiny detail. So involved were you in the play of shadows on his collarbone, it took him clearing his throat to realize that you too were being watched.

His eyes were barely open, still heavy with sleep, and you prayed that he wouldn't remember catching you ogling him. Jean didn't say anything, instead resituating you in his arms to better press your body to his own and burying his face in your neck. One powerful thigh slid between your legs and you were startled by the rush of heat you felt from such an innocuous motion.

That was nothing compared to when he groaned, his voice deeper than usual with sleep, "Tu es si jolie mon coeur." Large hands carded through your hair blindly. "Tu es si précieux pour moi."

"Jean?" You murmured.

There was a sharp inhale right next to your ear and then he drew back, looking befuddled. "I...what?" He asked drowsily. "G'morning, 'allo."

"Good morning. How do you feel?"

"Warm. Still tired." He tucked his face back into your neck, sighing. "Shh. Sleep."

"Jean, I-"

His body shifted as he stretched, pressing the rigid muscle of his thigh up in between your legs. You squeaked and that definitely got his attention. Blue eyes met your own, confusion evident on his face. Those eyes traveled down to the sheet over the two of you, and then they widened in comprehension. His own undignified yelp made you start to laugh hysterically, burying your face in his chest in a losing effort to contain your mirth.

After several tense seconds he started laughing too, peppering your cheeks and nose with playful kisses. "What a wake up call! I could get used to that." He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your nose again.

You tilted your chin at the last second and Jean's mouth landed on your own. He gasped against your lips, obviously startled but not recoiling. Hope flickered in your chest as his mouth stayed where it was, like he was frozen.

"If you want me to stop, tell me." He breathed finally. "I would like to give you a real kiss. I'm going to do so unless you tell me to stop."

"Why would I tell you to stop?" You whispered.

Jean's hands cupped your face, one thumb rubbing your cheek while he searched your eyes. You glared back at him defiantly and he looked torn between laughter and tears, finally closing the distance once more.

His 'real kiss' left you reeling, gripping his upper arms for support while he ravaged you with his mouth. Jean Pierre Polnareff always gave his all in everything he did, so you shouldn't have been so surprised. It was different when it was focused on you, though. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that, mon coeur." He murmured after he decided it was time for you to breathe again. "Feeling your body react to me is...it's incredible. Intoxicating."

"Holy shit," You said weakly in reply, "I guess you aren't all talk."

"The talk is the best part of me, mon coeur." His mouth brushed over your ear, making your whole body break out in goosebumps. "Everything else is just window dressing." You snorted and you felt him smile against your neck. "I love it when you do that."

"What, when I mock your attempts at being suave?"

"Non, can you really still call it nothing but an attempt when I can feel how your heart pounds in your chest?" Jean teased you, making you smile broadly and giggle with more than a touch of nerves. "I meant when you smile or laugh at something I've said. It makes me happy, knowing that I did this." He continued sincerely, brushing his index finger over your lips. "Knowing that I put this enchanting expression on your face...there's no greater prize for me, mon coeur."

You ducked your face into his chest, thoroughly flustered and mumbling denials. Jean pressed light, tender kisses to the crown of your head, letting you work up some resolve. Quickly, so that you wouldn't have time to panic and rethink your bold move, you darted up and planted a kiss squarely on his lips. Jean made a delighted noise, his fingers back to combing through your hair while the two of you shared a heated exchange.

"I feel like the luckiest man in the world." Polnareff's voice was nothing but a heartfelt sigh, his forehead touching your own. His smile was so wide it looked like it hurt, his joy barely contained. You smiled shyly up at him, your metal fingers curled into a loose fist on his chest. "Stay with me, mon coeur? I cannot guarantee you an easy or safe life, this much you know. I am selfish and headstrong and entirely full of myself, but I will do everything in my power to make sure that the burden of the power we share is a light one." He promised solemnly, his thumb rubbing over the knuckles of your metal hand.

You bit your lip in thought, looking down at your joined hands. His metal pinky hooked around your own in a sort of playful, teasing gesture. Remember when, it seemed to say. It made you smile again and you felt the tension go out of his body when you tipped your face back up and kissed the underside of his jaw. "I guess I could be persuaded to stick around for a little while." You allowed.

"Only a little while? Isn't there anything I could do to get your...attention for just a touch longer?" Jean asked hopefully, his hands starting to wander a little lower on your body.

You straddled his hips and sat up, cupping his face to keep his eyes focused on your own. "What does mon coeur mean, Jean Pierre?" You queried, your tone saccharine-sweet.

The large man actually squirmed, his face going bright red as you put him on the spot. It was quite possibly the cutest thing you had ever seen. "It is, er...it's a term of endearment." He choked out finally.

"Yes, but what does it mean?"

"I...It means…listen, I don't know if it's too early to be saying these kinds of things. Are you positive you want to…?" Jean's question seemed to die in his throat at the rapid nod of your head and the man heaved a long sigh, dramatically covering his face with his hands so you couldn't see his expression. "It means 'my heart'. Because I...I have loved you for a very long time. You have my heart--non, you are my heart. It is so silly, but I-"

"Oh thank God!" You erupted, probably startling him judging from his incredulous look. "I've been so worried it was another shitty nickname like Le Canon De Verre, you have no idea."

"Merde, of course not! I learned my lesson. You are...you are not upset that I have been calling you my heart, are you?" Jean mumbled awkwardly. "It is a common term, I can come up with something el-"

"Shut up. It's perfect." You took a deep, bracing breath. "I love you too, Jean."

"Are...you are serious, yes? If you are not, you don't need to say it back. I am a grown man, I can handle a little rejection." He insisted bravely.

"Yes, I mean it. God Jean." His embrace crushed the air from your lungs and you wheezed out a chuckle, smacking his shoulder. "Easy on the goods, Pol." Jean ran his fingers through your hair, tears in his eyes. "Don't cry Jean, c'mon." You chided with a grin.

"I can't help it! This is the happiest moment of my life!" He announced tearfully. "I love you so much! I have loved you since before you got angry with me! Maybe it was love at first sight?!"

"Maybe for you. Weirdo." You teased, rumpling his hair (much to his indignation).

…

He danced around the topic of being physically intimate for what felt like months. If the kissing sessions got too hot and heavy, Jean was always the one to calm things back down. At first it was mildly entertaining to be soothed and cooled off by such an irreconcilable flirt, but soon you began to wonder.

Does he actually love me or was that a bunch of talk? Does he regret the choice? Is he just trying to let me down easy? Does he feel indebted to me?

You would get your answer in due time. As with all things related to Jean Pierre, he demanded the perfect setup.

"I've been thinking." You started carefully one evening. "About us."

Jean immediately glanced up from his guidebook, looking almost guilty. Almost. "Yes?"

"I...Jean, you do love me, right?" All your tact went out the window, your confidence soon following. You just stood there, twisting the hem of your sleeping shirt while you tried to stop your lower lip from quivering and your words kept pouring out, "I just wanted to know whether you...um. Whether you want me. As in...well, sexually, I guess. We kiss and hold each other a lot but it seems like every time we would be getting to that point, you put the brakes on." Your fingers threatened to tear a hole in the thin cloth of your shirt. "I mean, it's okay if you don't! It's okay if you want to go back to the way things were. I promise I'll get over it. I don't want to lose you, even if it's only as a friend."

Jean snapped the book shut and lunged upright, his expression gone stony. With two strides he had crossed the room, opening his arms and enfolding you tightly in his embrace. "Mon coeur, my heart, my everything." He whispered into your hair as you sniffled. "I want to ravish you until I consume your every thought as you do mine." Your breath caught in your throat at his heated words. "I want to pin you down and give you everything, every last pitiful scrap of desire that I have for you. I didn't want to scare you, mon coeur, but I have such a voracious hunger for you and...and if you want me as well, you can have as much of me as you wish to take."

Jean pressed his forehead to your own and you took the liberty of mussing his hairstyle with glorious disregard, your fingers raking through his impeccably-styled tresses gleefully. "I want it all." You breathed. "The whole nine yards."

"God, I am so glad. I am so very, very glad." Jean said in reply, his voice sounding strangely thick. "I did not want to rush you. I am well aware that I have a reputation, and I do not know...how far is acceptable to you?" His hands hovered at the hem of your sleeping shirt.

Your answer was to untuck his tank top, gently easing the tight-fitting garment out of the waistband of his pants and shoving it upwards. Jean's body trembled at your touch, a sharp inhale leaving him when you boldly splayed your metal palm on his newly-bared abdomen. You stared up at him, loving how disheveled he looked with his hair askew and tank top hoisted up to his chest. "This is mine now." You said softly.

His moan and the helpless, adorable blush that accompanied his nod of confirmation was all you needed to continue urging him to shed his tank top. Jean did so hastily, clearly eager to show off more of his form. Distracted as you were by ogling him, you barely noticed his arms back around you until he lifted you up. Jean laughed aloud at your squeak, rubbing his nose against your own. "Wrap your legs around my hips, mon coeur." He purred. "Feel as much of me as you would like."

You were only too willing, greedily drawing your hands over his shoulder blades and pulling yourself as close as you dared.

Jean surged forward to close the space between you, nuzzling into your neck with an aching sweetness that was both foreign and familiar at the same time. "You are so beautiful." He said simply, making you flush and squirm a little under the attention. "I am so happy. So incredibly happy."

"Show me then." You replied with a mischievous grin, squealing a second later when he blew a raspberry against the skin of your neck.

Jean laughed again and moved to lay you on the bed, pulling away briefly to study you beneath him. "I can't believe that this is real." You wriggled out of your underwear when his fingers reached for the elastic band, already too excited to let him peel them off unaided. Jean lifted the hem of your shirt and touched it to his lips, the gesture reverent and teasing all at once. "Can I put my mouth on you, mon coeur? Will you permit me?" He asked softly.

"I am going to actually burst into flames if you don't." You admitted, getting the tall man to shoot you an unbearably cocky smirk. It was softened considerably by the wonder in his eyes, like you were the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

Jean urged your legs apart and settled between them, his smirk broadening further when he realized that your thighs were shaking slightly. You covered your face with your shirt, thoroughly embarrassed, but Jean tugged it back down. "Please, don't hide from me. Ne te cache pas de Jean, s'il te plaît." He implored you.

"You know I have no clue what you're saying." You replied breathlessly. Jean didn't bother to translate, lavishing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs with soft kisses and nips. You buried your fingers in his hair, none-too-subtly trying to guide his mouth to where you wanted it, but Jean wasn't budging. "Jean-"

The way your voice cracked seemed to fuel his fire, Polnareff glancing up at you with a dazed expression before he attacked your drenched folds with his skilled tongue. He was methodical and brutal, thumbing lightly at your clit while your body arched into the flat press of his tongue. Jean devoured you enthusiastically, making sounds you would have been embarrassed of at any other time had you not also been making highly embarrassing sounds.

"À toi, pour toujours." Jean gasped when you came apart beneath him, reaching up to fondle one of your breasts through your shirt. "Mon coeur, je suis amoureux."

"Y-You'd better not be saying something mean--" Your threat was ruined by how hard your breath was hitching, coming in shaky bursts as you rode out your orgasm.

Jean Pierre languidly shifted his weight until he knelt over you on the bed, pressing his fingertips to his mouth and then touching your lips. "I said, I'm yours forever, my heart, I'm in love." He replied, sounding a little breathless himself. "Too much, yes?"

"I said I wanted it all, didn't I?" Your rhetorical question hung in the heated air between your bodies for barely a split second, fingers already dragging at the buckle of his belt. Jean groaned low in his throat when you opened his zipper, revealing his cock trapped against his stomach by the waistband of his boxers.

"It seems to always be like this when I'm around you." He confessed, unable to meet your eyes and instead focusing on your hand rubbing him through his boxers. "Sleeping in particular is so difficult, mon coeur. Your body, warm and pressed against mine…but I am not some spoiled boy without an ounce of self-control. So I prayed for the dawn like a damned man. Prayed for the courage to tell you, the patience to wait." He chuckled ruefully. "To think you would outstrip me all the same."

"I think we've both waited long enough." You pointed out, feeling him rock down into your waiting palm.

Jean flushed a little, biting his lip as you slid his boxers out of the way and freed his cock. "Will you let me?"

"I keep telling you I want it all. I'm greedy for you, Jean, c'mon." You chided him, startled when he shook his head.

"It's not enough to say it."

"I guess I'll just show you I mean it then." Jean raised an eyebrow at your tone. You lunged up to kiss him, clinging to his waist as you ground your aching pussy against his cock. Jean actually growled, the sound reverberating in his chest while he eagerly reciprocated your grinding motion. "I want you, Jean. I want everything you can give me."

"Since you asked so nicely." Jean Pierre palmed your thighs and dragged you even closer to him, kissing you fiercely. His mouth dominated your own easily, your legs falling open for him as you welcomed him into your body.

Jean buried his face in your neck, panting for breath while you adjusted around him. Your calves quivered and jumped noticeably when he cupped them, shoving your knees up and over his shoulders to leave you entirely at his mercy. You whimpered helplessly, covering your face with your hands again.

"Mon coeur, my love, my everything, please don't hide from me." Jean begged, his voice ragged with desire. "Let me see you, let me know you."

"It's so good, I feel so embarrassed." You replied through your fingers, shaking your head.

"Why be embarrassed?"

"I...I don't know, really. I guess it's the way you look at me. Kind of like I'm being examined under a microscope." You mumbled.

Jean rolled his hips, settling his cock even deeper than it had been previously. Your lips popped open without your input, eyelids fluttering closed. "Do you want me to stop?" He whispered.

"You're so mean." You managed to sputter. "No, I definitely don't want you to stop."

"Are you not enjoying what I'm doing?"

"Oh my God, Jean-"

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about if you like what I'm doing, so what could it be?" Jean's smirk could have given the cat that ate the canary a run for its money, your continued pitiful attempts at indifference doing nothing but bolster his confidence. "Is it maybe...that you like what I'm doing, but you think you like it too much?"

"Polnareff-"

"My last name in bed, how formal of you!" He teased, coaxing an exasperated half-giggle out of you. "I have encountered this before, of course. I will tell you a secret." His lips barely touched your ear, eliciting a shiver. "No one else is here but us, mon coeur. Which means you are as free to enjoy me as I am to enjoy you. I understand that some moron before me has given you the impression that you should be silent or not enjoy this...delicious intimacy. Whoever they were, they were an inconsiderate, selfish liar."

"You are the first person to put your mouth on me. D-down there." You confessed.

He straightened up, looking absolutely scandalised and shrugging your legs off of his shoulders. "But you came so easily for me! Surely someone...no? No one?"

"Nope, not a one."

"Vile, inconsiderate selfish pigs." Jean lapsed back into French, grumbling under his breath and rolling his eyes. He then slid his arms beneath your shoulders, his large form effectively looming over you. You yelped when he picked you up bodily, hurrying to wrap your legs around his waist like you had earlier. "Relax, mon coeur. I won't let you fall." Jean promised, sounding amused. His cock twitched inside you, making you whine. "Oh, that's a lovely noise."

"You can't say stuff like th-at!" You tried to protest but your voice pitched higher as he settled you onto his hips, sheathing his cock to the hilt. He raised you slightly, then lowered you back down again. His careful, even pace was tortuous, your pubic mound pressed firmly to his abdomen while he slowly fucked his cock in and out of you.

"I will not go any faster unless you tell me how you would like it." Jean didn't even seem like he was struggling for breath. You, on the other hand, were gasping out with every thrust, your fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. "You have to tell me, mon coeur." You buried your face in his neck and he shuddered all over, laughing a little. "Is it too much? You are clinging to me so tightly."

"You are absolutely terrible." You muttered, taking a handful of his hair and roughly tugging his head to the side so you could mouth over his ear. Jean's breathing hitched when you finally bit his earlobe and shakily murmured, "please fuck me."

"Oh," Jean sighed, "I would love nothing more." When you arched against him he made a wrecked sound in the back of his throat, thrusting up to meet you halfway. "How could I ever not want you, mon coeur? Now that I've had a taste, I am drunk on you." He said it like it was normal, regular. Maybe to him it was. Maybe things like that came naturally to him.

You cupped his face, suddenly seized by a fierce tenderness that demanded to be expressed. "You're amazing." You choked out bluntly. Jean's eyebrows rose and he seemed genuinely surprised. "You're perfect. You make me feel incredible and you're so, so wonderful to me-"

Jean sputtered, now clearly bewildered. His flush reached the tips of his ears. He cradled you to his chest, helping you ride his cock even while he continued to silently color. "These things you are saying to me…" he breathed, sounding shattered. "You believe them?"

"Jean-!" You cried, resting your forehead against his. That appeared to be what he had been waiting for. You watched as his eyes narrowed and he bit his lip so hard the pink skin faded to white.

"You want it all? It's yours." Jean rutted up into you, stealing the breath from your body with the ferocity of his motions. "Every inch--every breath, every feeling I have, is yours. It's yours." His grip on your hips tightened when one of your legs slid down, the rough press of the large scar on his thigh grounding you.

"Thank you…" You barely had the presence of mind to speak, your brain hazy with ecstacy, but you forced the words out anyway. You laced your fingers through his hair and cried out again as the ache in your body blossomed, trying to come to fruition. "God Jean, I'm so close, please-!"

His laughter was a ragged, broken noise and he buried his face in your neck once more, feverishly pistoning his hips to bring you to climax. You raked your nails down his back when you finally came and Jean clumsily rushed to pull out, barely able to do so before he reached his own orgasm. Thick spurts of come landed on your abdomen, the large man's entire body trembling violently.

The two of you were all but gasping for breath, staring at each other while he tensed up and tried to stop shaking. "So…" you drawled after several awkward seconds. "That was phenomenal."

Jean lit up like a firework, quickly laying you down on the bed so he could lavish you with kisses. "Truly?!" He asked excitedly. "You're not just saying that, right? My feelings will not be hurt if I have room to improve, you understa-"

"Jean, I don't think I can move. My legs feel like I went on a hundred mile hike." You clapped a hand over the scar on his thigh. He was still trembling. "Are you okay? I know that must have been a lot of effort."

"I will be alright. I don't think I've ever come that hard." Jean admitted, grimacing as he slid a finger through the coating of his release on your stomach. "I'm afraid I've made a mess of…" He trailed off when you licked the substance from his index, his eyes darkening. "You accuse moi of teasing, mon coeur?"

"Well yeah, you're ridiculous." You stuck your tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry. Jean rolled his eyes and flopped down on top of you, making you wheeze for air. "Jean wait, you'll kill me-"

He raised himself back up on his elbows, one finger tracing a careful line down the bridge of your nose. "We should shower, no?" He suggested softly.

"We should shower, yes." You agreed.

"Come then, let's get cleaned up. And then we can sleep together. Wake up together." Jean's smile was beaming. "Like we should have been all these months, yes?"

You teared up a little at his sincerity, smiling back at him. "You got it, big fella'."

He didn't make a move to get off you though, continuing to study you. "You are so beautiful like this." It was almost as if he was talking to himself, his expression blissfully content. "I am truly the happiest man alive, even with my heart living outside of my chest."

"You are outrageous-"

"I cannot wait to outrage you every day for the rest of our lives, then. Though I may have to take it down a notch or two, at least until we've grown accustomed to one another." He kissed you, laughing into your mouth. "Your eyes are sparkling again, mon coeur. Are you exasperated with me?"

"Every second of every damn day." You huffed, trying and failing to fight your own smile.

"Wonderful. I would have it no other way."

#jean pierre polnareff #jean pierre polnareff/reader #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Stardust Crusaders #holy cow #this got so long #I had a lot of fun #behold my indulgence #I love one (1) giant french man #title taken from Queen because shit it's JOJO I have to #everyone lives au #I'm barely on episode ten of Golden Wind and I'm having a great time #I love JoJo so much #stardust crusaders spoilers

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painted-kaleidoscopes · 5 years ago

Text

Speeches and Swing

Major Bucky feels! Sorry, this one is so long!

So, we’re pretending the ending of Infinity War never happened. This means that Thanos was defeated and everyone is safe and alive, so Endgame never needed to happen.

Paring- AU Bucky/ Female reader

Warnings- Smoking, language!

Word Count- 1655

The cool wind left patterns of raised bumps on my arms and tickled the back of my throat as I took a deep inhale. It was an unusually cold breeze for July, but it was a welcome chill. The band’s shrill trumpet lofted through the sky, loud enough to be heard from the ground level. I turned around, watching everyone dance to the Glenn Miller song and smiled as I saw Steve emerge from the floor in his Army uniform. He looked around, eyes hoping to find something worthwhile to drag him away. He glanced at me and I saw him relax as he headed for the balcony.

“Hello, Captain. Happy birthday/ retirement” He smiled and tipped his cap.

“I’m glad you could make it Y/N. It’s been too long.” I nodded in agreement and lit a cigarette.

“So, how is it being the only 102-year-old in the workforce?” I mused as I took a deep inhale.

He glanced down and I could tell I hit a nerve. “I’m sorry Steve, I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t do anything,” he cut me off and held up a hand to stop me, “It’s just... This.” He finally managed to get out. “It just all feels so real, part of me thinks I’m going to look up and see the old me, or Buck with both flesh arms. Every brunette I see I immediately register as Peggy.” His words fell off, ending quite and hopeless. “Tony outdid himself, this is so close to how the 40′s were. It feels too much like home, y’know?”

He looked up at me, searching for understanding and I nodded. “Steve, I can’t really say I know, but I do know how it feels to be constantly reminded of the past."

"Steve!" We both looked up and a tall, brown-haired man waving from inside. "Sam and I are ready to make our toasts!" He shouted over the music.

Steve looked back at me and motioned with his head indoors. He held out his elbow for me. "Ever the gentleman, Steve." I chuckled. We walked over to the famous Bucky Barnes. He turned around when we reached him and we walked in.

"There he is!" Sam smiled and motioned to Steve.

Steve unhooked our arms and leaned down to my ear "I'll catch up with you later." I smiled at him and waved him off, finding a spot near the front of the stage.

The lights dimmed and a spotlight went up, shining on Sam. “Steve...”

I felt eyes on me and I turned around the find the brunet man, Bucky, staring. He gave a smile and took a sip from his flute, not breaking eye contact. I looked him up and down, trying to get a read, but I saw nothing beyond the small scars peeking out from under his old uniform. He was eyeing me just the same, reading me, albeit probably better than I was reading him. Right as I began to move towards him, he started towards me and smirked, realizing we were thinking the same thing. I turned to say hello to him and he brushed passed me and headed for the stage. He kept that same smirk all the way up the small stairs and his eyes landed on me with a wink.

“102, can you imagine what the commandos would have to say about that?” He let out a laugh, but I could tell he didn’t quite mean it as a joke.

“They’d probably tease me about you still being sewed to my hip.” Steve cracked. They both smiled each other, and everyone else in the room buzzed with laughter.

“Steve. I first met you on the schoolyard in 1925. We were in first grade and you had managed to insult some of the other boys. Now, my father always taught me to stand up for myself and those who needed it. So I walked over to where you were getting taunted and punched Joseph Marshall square in the nose,” everyone let out a chuckle as Bucky recomposed himself “Little did I know I was signing on for a lifetime job of punching people square in the face for you. It is now 2019, and I have punched for you in every alleyway New York has to offer and in almost every country the world has to offer. I told you once that I was following that little guy from Brooklyn. I’ll always follow that little guy from Brooklyn. Frankly, I can’t imagine how my life would have gone had I not become your bodyguard at 7 years old, but I know it would’ve been a lot less action-packed. That being said, at 102, I’m glad you’re hanging up the suit because honestly, pal, my knuckles are ready for a break and I’m tired of following you to enemies. After 90 somethin’ years, I’m ready to follow you to peace. Happy Birthday Stevie, may this year be your 1946 after all this time.” Bucky raised his glass and the room followed. “To Steve!”

Everyone cheered and the lights returned as Bucky walked off stage and the band filed back out.

I walked around the room, mingling but still eyeing and feeling eyed by Bucky. We danced in circles, always avoiding, seeing who would break first, planning how it would go.

“Y/N? Holy shit it’s been a while.” I abandoned my task of watching the mysterious man and found Natasha in front of me.

She kept me occupied, talking about everything that had happened since we saw each other in Wakanda, and how her life has been coming into peace.

Throughout our conversation, I found my eyes wandering back to Bucky and I saw him and Steve standing over an empty table. On it lay war memorabilia, a picture of The Howling Commandos with Peggy Carter, and six filled pints. The pair gave a small salute to the table and then hugged each other.

Their tribute was cut short by the sound of the band playing In The Mood. The room grew louder as a jovial tone sang through the room, and the dance floor became packed.

“I’ll catch up with you later. I’m making Steve dance with me.” Natasha narrowed her eyes playfully and went to drag Steve onto the floor.

I made eye contact with Bucky and smirked. He walked over to me and when he reached me he stopped and held out his hand

“Care to dance, Ms...” he trailed off, waiting for me to finish his sentence.

“Y/N.” I supplied him as I placed my hand in his. “Yes, I would love to dance.” He escorted me to the dance floor and immediately picked up to the beat of the song.

We danced through In the Mood, Dream a Little Dream of Me and when the final note of Sentimental Journey played we broke apart. He gave me one last spin and leaned us down. With a small kiss to my hand, he hooked my arm in his, leading us out to the balcony.

“I feel like we have met before, your face is familiar.” He spoke offhandedly as he leaned against the rail. I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips.

“That line won’t work on me. Sorry soldier.” I laughed while pushing down the brim of his cap slightly.

“It never has, just thought I’d try anyway.” He grinned and lit a cigarette, offering it to me. I took it, and he lit another, moving closer to me as he did so. We leaned on the railing silently, observing the city and each other, when he broke the silence.

“Steve and I grew up over in that direction. You can’t see it from here, but I remember being a kid and sneaking away to Manhattan to see everything. There was a cafe here on Park Avenue that we used to go to when we could.” His voice was lofty and I could tell he was lost in a different time, reliving the New York of his past. He gave a look in every direction, seeing it in a way I never could. When his eyes landed back on me he busted into a toothy grin, one that I had seen in old photos of Bucky.

The trumpet started back up again from inside and the melody that followed was one that near made me nostalgic for the past. He looked at me, and I saw a twinkle in his eye, one that I imagine the younger Bucky had often. He threw the remainder of his cigarette off of the side and went to the center of the balcony. He held out his hand, waiting for me to join him. I followed suit and walked over, letting the sound of It’s Been a Long Long Time wash over me.

I began to sing the lyrics as we swayed, the tune coming naturally. I hadn’t even realized until he joined in with me.

“You have a beautiful voice, Mr. Barnes.” I crooned as he spun me back into him. He gave a small blush as he bent me down for the finale. His cool metal hand made my skin raise where he brushed my arm and I gave a small shiver.

We pulled apart and I ran my hands through his medals and ribbons, lost in thought when he cleared his throat.

“Well Doll, this has been a pleasure, but I gotta get going. I hope I see you again soon.” He kissed my cheek and closed my fist around a piece of paper before tilting his cap and walking off.

I stood motionless and awestruck, wondering how he managed to sweep me so far off my feet. The small sliver of paper was digging into my tight fist and I opened it

‘See you around, Doll,’

I smiled at his handwriting and number scrawled on the bottom.

“Yes Mr. Barnes, you definitely will.”

#bucky barnes #fanfiction #fanfic #sergeant barnes #bucky imagine #buck #bucky x reader #captain america #james barnes #fluff #avengers #bucky #au #alternate universe #aufanfiction #aufic #steve rogers #fem!reader

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letterboxd · 5 years ago

Photo

The Purrfect Storm.

Since that Cats trailer dropped, the internet has had its whiskers in a twist, with cries of “impawsible, no way, they can’t do that”.

But they are doing that, and we can’t fight it, so we turned to Little White Lies associate editor (and Letterboxd member) Hannah Woodhead to help us understand this catalogue of mewsical mayhem.

Every so often, a film comes along that unites audiences in wonder and delight. We laugh, we cry, we emerge from the cinema born anew, washed in the collective excitement that comes from watching a sea-change take place before our very eyes.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction: so came the trailer for Tom Hooper’s bombastic musical spectacular, Cats, slinking into cinemas this Christmas and your night terrors imminently. The internet reacted with a mixture of confusion, anger, fear and wonder. Out of chaos, comes order: sit back, relax, and let me answer all your questions.

What on earth…? Cats. Don’t pretend you don’t know what Cats is.

No, seriously. Okay, so Cats is a musical, composed by the overlord of British musical theater, Andrew Lloyd Webber in 1981. He’s also the man behind The Phantom of The Opera, Evita, Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat… the list goes on and on. And on.

So it’s a musical about cats? That’s literally it? Yes. Based on Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, by T.S. Eliot.

T.S. Eliot who wrote The Wasteland? Yes. He also liked cats. A lot. Like, he wrote a whole book of poems about how much he liked cats, to entertain his nieces and nephews.

That… okay. So, what is Cats? Well, we join our feline friends on the evening of the Jellicle Ball—

The what? Okay, so, ‘jellicle’ is just how T.S. Eliot would describe cats. It’s a corruption of the words ‘dear little’, and in this instance, refers to the tribe of mischievous kitties who gather under the cover of darkness for a special party.

So the musical is about the party? Erm, sort of. Actually, it’s really just a sort of song-and-dance routine where the cats try to decide which one of them will be selected to ascend to a new life on the Heaviside Layer.

Excuse me? The Jellicle Ball is called to order by the wise leader of the Jellicle Cats—Old Deuteronomy—who announces that one of them will be selected for this great honor of transcending our world and going on to a better realm. They each introduce themselves to the audience—and argue their case for being the cat that deserves to shuffle off this mortal coil—with a little song and dance.

So it’s a talent contest where all the contestants are dancing cats, and the prize is death? Yes, it’s all very Black Mirror.

And it’s going to be a film? Directed by Tom Hooper, the luminary auteur behind The King’s Speech, Les Misérables and The Danish Girl.

Why is this happening? Because the Earth is dying and we’re all losing our minds, so anything goes at the cinema. Also, because musicals make a lot of money—even the ones the critics don’t like. The Greatest Showman, Bohemian Rhapsody, Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again. People like films based on stories they recognize, and they like singing along. It actually makes perfect sense from a financial standpoint, if not an ethical one.

But… why do the cats look so weird? In a star-studded featurette that preceded the trailer, there was much fanfair about Tom Hooper’s “digital fur technology”, which is being implemented to transform the actors into catctors. In the stage show, the performers usually just wear outfits and face paint that makes them look a bit like cats, but apparently that just wasn’t going to cut it for Hooper. But it just looks a bit wrong, doesn’t it? The human noses, the human hands, the strange cat-person-to-furniture scale they’re working with… there’s a lot going on.

What about all the cats in the trailer? Well, there are approximately 500 cats in Cats, but we got a good look at some of the key players. The first cat we see is Victoria—she’s a ballerina kitten.

Then there’s Mr. Mistoffelees, the black and white cat in the top hat. He’s a magician. Did you ever see a cat so clever?

Dame Judi Dench is playing Old Deuteronomy in this version, and wearing a large fur coat, possibly made from the skins of cats she’s bested in battle.

Then there’s Jennifer Hudson, playing Grizabella. She has the best song in the whole show, ‘Memory’, which is also the one you’re most likely to remember from your school talent shows when the one theater kid who really went for it would belt that out on stage and everyone’s parents would cry.

We’ve also got James Corden as Bustopher Jones, a gentleman cat, and Taylor Swift as Bombalurina, the flirtatious lady cat.

Why does she have boobs? It’s best not to dwell on that.

Is that Jason Derulo? Yes. He plays Rum Tum Tugger, the cat whose whole personality revolves around him being a bit of a shagger.

What’s Idris Elba doing? Skulking around as Macavity the Mystery Cat, the villain of the story (also called ‘The Hidden Paw’). I won’t go into details. I don’t know why he’s wearing a hat—in general, this version has a lot more hats than the stage show. There are plenty more cats to come too: Skimbleshanks, the Railway Cat; Gus the Theater Cat, played by Sir Ian McKellen. A cat for every occasion.

Why do you know so much about Cats, Hannah? Listen, I was a very theatrical child. Cats was the first stage show I ever saw, and I was obsessed with the VHS we had of the original film, which was a recording of the musical. I really don’t jive with Tom Hooper as a filmmaker, so this has been a difficult time for me. My only love, sprung from my only hate.

But… why? Listen, when you’re eight years old, you just want to see something cool every now and then. Remember the bit in The Incredibles where Mr. Incredible is asking the kid on the street what he’s waiting for, and the kid says, “I don’t know! Something amazing, I guess!” That’s what being a kid is. For me, seeing Cats was that. My mind was blown. There’s more than a little nostalgia tied into my feelings regarding Cats, and let me be clear: I don’t think this film will be good, per se, but I’m sure I’ll be entertained. Sometimes that’s enough.

Crikey. What will they think of next? Well, if Cats makes a truckload of money, maybe they’ll finally make a film version of Starlight Express, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s rollerskating musical about trains.

Trains? Yes. Singing trains. It’s 2019, why the hell not.

‘Cats’ is coming to cinemas worldwide in December 2019. For feline-lovers who can’t wait, please take part in our latest Showdown and then enjoy these lists of cat-related movies prepared by your fellow Letterboxd members: Films in which cats are secretly the main characters; Cat films everyone is too afraid to admit are good; Movies where I spend the whole duration of the film worrying about the cat; Cats of Gothic/Horror Film; Japanese films with cat as main or supporting character; and Cats as a main plot point.

#cats #cats the musical #andrew lloyd webber #taylor swift #tom hooper #idris elba #judi dench #ian mckellan #letterboxd

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travllingbunny · 5 years ago

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The 100 rewatch: 4x09 DNR

This episode is mostly about setting up the explosive developments of the last 4 episodes, it deals with four almost fully separate storylines. Three of them are mostly about characters dealing with their traumas and deciding what path they will take for the rest of their lives, and these storylines are all quite good. And then there’s the fourth storyline that’s all about Grounder politics… and I’m not fully sure how I feel about it.

The title “DNR” refers to the decision of Jasper and a group of others to stay behind in Arkadia, partying, and eventually dying on their own terms, instead of following Jaha to the bunker. Jaha, who’s somehow positioned himself into the role of leader in Arkadia again, even though he hasn’t been given any kind of official title, is again giving leadership speeches, and gets most of the people to join him. He still believes that all of them will have the place in the bunker. The new info that there is some sort of salvation has made Bellamy stop with the partying and join the group heading for the bunker. (As he explains to Monty: “There was no hope, now there’s hope”). Some 400+ people, including Niylah, also join, but a number of other, including Jasper (who is kind of their leader), Riley, Bree and eventually Harper, decide to stay behind and have a party for the end of the world. This is really very understandable, and it makes sense that a number of people would make that decision, after everything they had gone through, and with such grim prospects. (And now that we know how horrible things ended up being in the bunker, and that 1/3 of people died in it, while another 1/3 died shortly afterwards – I can’t even say that Jasper and co. made the wrong decision.)

Jaha insists he won’t leave kids to die, and Bellamy points out he sent them to the ground to die – but now it’s their own choice. (At this point, there’s another touching moment when Jaha has another vision of his son who was the only one of the 100 who willingly went to the ground.) Bellamy has understood that you can’t save those who don’t want to be saved (as Kane pointed out to him in 4x07). At this point, he understands that Jasper and the others have the right to decide what they want to do with their lives, even if they want to end it, and that it is not his duty or right to make those decisions for them.

“DNR”, Do Not Resuscitate, is what Jasper writes on his hand and shows through the glass to Jaha, Bellamy and the others, refusing to open the door and come with them. It is a very sad moment that says a lot about how Jasper feels about himself and his life – in spite of the outwardly cheerful, partying manner he adopted in season 4, he felt that he was like a person in a coma, already emotionally dead, only artificially kept alive.

However, Monty is not giving up on his best friend and his girlfriend, so stays behind with the rover, risking his own life, in case Jasper and Harper change their minds.

Raven has her own self-destructive journey, as she starts seeing visions of Becca, and decides to stay behind and try to spacewalk instead of going into the bunker. I don’t know how much “Becca” is similar to the real Becca, since it is just a part of the code that was left in Raven’s mind after the chip was taken out. I’m also not sure why it’s Becca that she keeps seeing, rather than ALIE – while the remains of the neural mesh in Clarke’s mind in season 6 made her see ALIE. Raven’s storyline gets more focus and is resolved in 4x11. But this episode has a very important and sweet moment between Raven and Murphy, who have finally become friends and even share a hug. Murphy finally apologizes to Raven for crippling her (that was a long time coming), but she replies it’s not his fault – it’s not the use of her leg that’s bothering her, it’s losing her mind. I wasn’t fully on board with the Murphy redemption/Murphy getting accepted into the group until season 4, when he started apologizing and trying to be genuinely helpful.

There are also some interesting Memori interactions and character moments for Emori. They are all waiting for Miller and Jackson will come back for them to take them to Polis to the bunker, but Emori doesn’t believe they will, and thinks that they won’t need Raven anymore now that her brain isn’t working properly – which says a lot about how Emori is used to seeing the world, based on her experience: people will throw you out as soon as they have no need for you. Murphy suggests they go to the lighthouse bunker, but Emori points out they will die since food would run out far before five years pass. (Just so the audience would know that this is not an option.) To their surprise, Miller and Jackson do come back. But Raven refuses to go.

This is the first time we see sparks between Jackson and Miller. Which confused me a lot the first time, as I was wondering “But where is Bryan?” Now I can see that Bryan broke up with Miller early in the season (4x02, in his last appearance), but this was so subtle that you could easily miss. In any case, this relationship still comes of the blue. I like the idea of it, but it would be nice if it wasn’t developed mostly off-screen. (The age difference may also be weird, but the show seems to constantly forget that Miller and the otherDelinquents are supposed to be about 18 at most at this point – and wasn’t, at this point, doing anything to even try to make 30-something Jarod Joseph look younger.)

Meanwhile, Octavia is genuinely trying to live a peaceful life with Ilian on his farm. This relationship has unexpectedly developed into something warmer and more positive. As they cuddle at night, he tells her his beliefs in the afterlife and the cyclical nature of things. I really like these scenes and Ilian’s views, and I low-key shipped Octiilian: it was refreshing that they did not fall in love after knowing each other for a few days, they were just two screwed up people seeking comfort in each other, but there was still a genuine connection there that could have grown into real love – if the show hadn’t killed him off to leave Octavia single and propel her Octavia’s Blodreina arc. In any case, it certainly helped get Octavia into a more positive head space and even heal up to a point, going from her murder-period to trying to save people in the Conclave.

Still, Octavia was never going to go as far as to settle on a farm and have a peaceful life. She would rather be in Polis where a war is being fought. And when she learns Ilian is a trained warrior, you can see new admiration on her face. But to be fair, she was making a genuine effort to leave a peaceful life, but couldn’t escape her own past and reputation, in the form of three of Ilian’s acquaintances who attacked her and tried to kill her (after one of them recognized her, after seeing her in Polis, as “Skairipa”). She did try to avoid fighting at first, but those three were basically poking a bear. She could have tried to non-lethally subdue them – but going straight for the kill is what Octavia does, proving to herself once more than peaceful life really is not for her.

And now the storyline that slightly brings the ratings down for this episode, because I’m not sure what exactly I’m supposed to take from it. If it’s about relating to Clarke for being completely desperate and exasperated by everyone around her acting stupidly and waging a war a week before the apocalypse, and trying everything to get them to listen to her reasonable proposals – which explains her actions in 4x10? Yes, that works! Am I supposed to side with Roan feel that Clarke has crossed the line and insulted the Grounder religion? Sorry, I don’t care. Or was it just meant to play with the suspense of “will she or won’t she take the Flame?” Meh. I don’t think I ever believed that would happen.

To start off, at some point off-screen, the Arkers agreed with the Trikru to share the bunker between just the two of their clans, and to assassinate Roan. (Wait... so the moral, idealistic Kane agreed to an assassination?! He was usually the one negotiating with Indra.) Abby delivers that information to Clarke, who is upset and tries to stop it, because she considers Roan a friend. (Which shows what a low bar Clarke has for friendship – yes, they’ve been semi-friendly allies, but they manipulate each other politically 90% of the time, and he was threatening to kill her friends just a few episodes ago. But that’s a recurring thing for her – I guess with her life and the situations she is in, she will take even semi-friendly behavior as being BFFs. I laughed when she referred to Murphy in 3x07 as “my friend”, which was way weirder as they hadn’t even been friendly at all up to that point.) It turns out to be unnecessary as Echo is already there with Azgeda warriors, and they take Clarke captive, but Roan just pretends that Clarke is a captive in front of Echo, while freeing her and thanking her afterwards. They are some sort of friends.

Clarke manages to convince him to negotiate with Indra, who comes with leaders of the clans allied with Trikru against Azgeda – it looks like Azgeda are on their own, but are numerous and strong enough to fight a war by their own. Clarke tries to convince everyone to share the bunker, which has space for 1200 people (so does that mean it’s more than any of the 12 Grounder clans by themselves? It’s certainly 800 spaces more than there are Arkers who want to be in the bunker), but they really hate each other and would rather continue with the war. Clarke tries to invoke Lexa’s name to convince Indra, but she retorts that a Commander could unite the clans, but there are no more Commanders. Clarke is clearly desperate at this point, and pretty much ready to do anything. So she has an idea – and goes to Gaia, telling her to make her a Commander. The only thing that can make Grounders listen to her suggestions.

They do quite a fake-out, as Roan, who knows how Clarke became a Nightblood, waits for the very last moment to expose her (oh Roan, how dramatic you are!), bringing Abby – who’s worried that the Flame would kill Clarke – to tell everyone that she made her daughter Nightblood through science. They’re all shocked that she would disrespect their religion so much… I mean, using science to create something that was created 90+ years ago through science, by a scientist who wanted to make sure people could get a computer chip in their head? Blasphemy! Roan points out that, if everyone can make themselves Nightbloods, they can’t trust the “black blood” to be special anymore (indeed, how terrible it would be if rulers weren’t special by birth and blood and anyone could become a ruler just because of, say, their capabilities?). Clarke tries to appeal to Roan, indicating that she’s trying to save everyone, and he accuses her of thinking of them as savages that need saving. I dunno, maybe she just thinks they’re being idiots. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to think that Clarke is bad for ‘disrespecting’ their culture? I find myself extremely not caring about their stupid culture that was made up 90+ years ago, probably by a bunch of nutty cultists who were way too much into GoT cosplay, especially when it means making idiotic decisions that could end up with the human race dying out. * Waiting for someone to protest that I’m culturally insensitive for disrespecting a silly fictional culture made up by The 100 writers*

So, Grounder leaders wisely decide that the question of who gets the bunker, which concerns the survival of the human race, just as every other important political decision, needs to be resolved by… people trying to kill each other with swords and spears. Nice, guys. Really makes sense. Indra wants war, but Roan instead proposes a special Conclave with a champion for each clan, repeating again his motto that it’s better for one to die instead thousands. Except he’s wrong, this wouldn’t be just one person dying – entire clans of those champions who lose would be left to die. (It won’t happen that way just because Octavia will propose that they share a bunker. What a great idea… oh wait, the same one Clarke suggested in this episode and the Grounder leaders just ignore. Too bad, Clarke, you may have good ideas, but you can’t fight with a sword…)

In the last scene of the episode, Clarke and Bellamy are in the same place and interacting for the first time since 4x06. Bellamy is worried that they have no one who can fight in the Conclave – they can’t use guns and need someone trained in Grounder combat – while Clarke points out they have to fight or they will die – when Octavia rides into the city and says she’s here for the war. Dum dum - here is our champion for the Sky people! Octavia would be a long shot if we were looking realistically, but being a main character and fighting for the existence of the protagonists gives her enormous Plot Armor.

Timeline: 6 days till Praimfaya – this means it has been 4 days since the start of episode 4x07. Two days are supposed to pass during the episode, because, towards the end of the episode, Clarke says that it’s 4 days before Praimfaya.

Body count:

Three Trikru warriors killed by Echo’s archers

Three Trishanakru people who attacked Octavia and then got killed by her

Rating: 7.5/10

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the-mira-life-project-mtf · 5 years ago

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IT IS OFFICAL! I AM NOW MIRA CARLEEN MESSINGER-BRUER (My MtF~HRT Journey)

So the story goes like this...

As I was writing the previous post: Attempting To Legally Change My Name To Mira, my mother, Michelle arrived to the courthouse just in time! My whole family was unaware of my actions today, until this early morning when I told Michelle that I was heading to the courthouse to file my petition to change my name and by surprise and shock...I was assigned a hearing in 30 minutes. When she arrived for Zack’s Trial (happening the same day), she was surprised to find me waiting as I told her that I had a hearing in a few minutes and she asked if I would like her to attend and I promptly nodded my head!

Inside the small District Courtroom, we awaited Judge Laura T. Bradley (Whom was new to the District Court). In the room, there was a young lady awaiting to change her whole name, a young Hawaiian man changing his name to a femine Hawaiian name, a gentleman with a civil dispute and another ‘creepy’ gentleman here for a traffic enfractionment.

I let Michelle take the inner seat as I wanted to be able to hurry to the podium when I was called upon. Michelle did her best to comfort me as I was shaking from anxiety. ‘I really don’t like courtrooms!’ I never been in trouble or summoned to a Jury, so I have no experience here! When the judge arrived, we all were commanded to stand and remain standing until Judge Bradley told us to sit. She then called roll-call and said: Mr. Bruer? And I immediatly responded “Here.” It was like school!

Luckily she did the name changes first as she called up the young lady whom sought a full name change. The judge asked her if she was in legal or criminal prosecution and she answered no. Then stated her legal name and new desired name and asked: “You changing it back to your maiden name?” she shook her head and the judge smiled “So you just like it.” the woman nodded and said yes quietly. The judge approved it and I was shocked!

‘It’s that easy!’ I wondered, feeling a sense of relief come over me. She had the woman see the Clerk as the judge called the next person to the stand. “Mr. David Joseph Bruer...”

That was me, as I stand up and walk over to the podium to awaiting my hearing. The young lady looks at the spelling and notices a error on her new name. So my hearing is delayed as I am relieved and breathe. Something that we CFers need! The judge appoligizes for the delay, I am just happy we are delayed as I can collect my thought. I don’t want to screw up!

When the corrections are made for Mrs. Snow (that is her desired last name!) the judge turns back to me. “Your seeking a name change, is that correct?”

“Yes your honor.” I say clearly. I remember the first woman never doing this and thought it odd. You always address the judge as ‘Your Honor’! That is what they do on those Courtroom Drama’s! I place my pile of papers on the podium; they consisting of a copy of my petition and credit-score.

“Your changing your name from David Joseph Bruer to Mira Carleen Messinger?”

“Yes your honor.”

“One moment please, as I review your petition...” she looks as stern faced as she then asks “Is it spelled M.I.R.A.” she smiles “That is a lovely name.”

I nod. “Yes your honor, I agree.”

“C.A.R.L.Ee.N.?” she says, doubling her ‘E’s in her speech.

“Yes your honor.”

“Messinger...M.E.S.S.I.N.G.E.R.?”

“Yes your honor...” as I thought ‘Wait, what about the ‘dash’ and Bruer?’ I decided just last week to keep my mother’s name after realizing my mom and sister were willing to accept my being female. I don’t say anything, considering if sacrificing my family name gets me my first, middle and last...I was willing. The judge signs on the paper as she looks at me.

“Alright Miss Messinger, I approve your name change, please see the Clerk once Miss Snow is finished.”

“Thank you your honor.” I say with a smile as I am shocked. ‘She didn’t ask if I was being prosecuted, or why I wanted to have my name changed!’ I did not inquire! I sat down as I waiting my turn and listened to the Hawaiian go through the same questions; and like Miss Snow, Judge Bradley asked him if he was prosecuted and I wondered ‘Wonder if her not asking this question will null-n-void my court-order?’ Again, I did not ask as I did not have anything to hide. I turned and smiled at Michelle as I was now legally ‘Mira’. The life of ‘David’ was concluded and I was happy.

When Miss Snow had her document, I approched the stand as I met the Clerk. She asked “Are you David?” I nodded, even though that name is no longer legal. She printed the form and stamped it with the seal. “Take this across the street to the Auditor’s Office.”

“Auditor’s Office...got it!” I said as I took my form and checked the spelling and smiled...it wasn’t exactly offical quite yet. The Auditor will need to ‘record’ the order and that order then will be sent to Olympia, where my name will be changed...so if I am ever arrested, jury summon or anything else ‘government-related’, it is recorded. Michelle and I exited the courtroom as we went our seperate ways. Across the street to the Administration Building, I went to the Auditors office where I paided 107.99 to have my name legalized, and thought ‘God, I’ll be broke before this is all said and done!’

As I leave the Auditor’s office with my stamped letter and walk back to my car as I look at my watch ‘9:37 Hmm...well that was easier then I thought!’ as I thought about this blog-post. My whole transgender experience has been personal and advocacy for other people whom are considering transitioning. In my car, I monologue: “Well, step three is done (Step One Was Hormones, Step Two Was Coming Out) there is still much more to do...” as I think about Dressing, Acting, Conditioning, Surgeries and Adapting. Not to mention all the people I will have to notify that I just changed my name and to please stop calling me David!

Driving back home (I was origionally was going to go to the DMV and Social Security Office to finalize...would have made a great photo-opt!) I finally tell Mitch and Betty about my name change...to mixed reactions as people are struggling to get my name right. It is hard to call someone by their new name when you’ve known them back a different name all your life! So I don’t hold it against them. ‘One Year.’ I think. Plenty of time to adjust!

Only people I will not require to call me by my name is my biological family as they’ll need about five years (a liberal estimate) to convert to me being ‘female.’ Even now, it is surreal! So much still left to do! And the realization thagt I am no longer ‘David’ still has not sank in...give it time! Enjoy the process.

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vintagemiserie · 6 years ago

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hey guys!!! this is a really beefy revamped drabble, i am absolutely begging you to read at least part of this, and like/rb this cuz i couldve spent the time i used writing this to write, like,, the essay i have due tomorrow

Patrick knelt down at a specific tree. It looked rather dead from all the cold, but he suspected it would come to life after the prolonged winter found itself ending; on the trunk was a heart with initials inside it. "Joseph, it should be right here. Good luck with the snow, I'm far too weak to help."

The human fixed his collar to cover up his reddened cheeks. "What is it we're looking for, again?" He asked, stepping up. Patrick got out of his way to let him start digging, and adjusted his musket. Though no one had gotten hurt in a month, the townsfolk still reported seeing the undead animals roaming about the surrounding forests, and they had to keep careful.

"A sizeable wooden box. It was a birthday present, I was going to dig it up once the problem with my father was over, but… I suppose I forgot until recent times."

Joe laughed, his breath saturating the air. "I'd love to hear the story behind that," He said, and the snow he shoveled away appeared to be thankfully less packed than it was closer to the town.

It was a beautiful spring day, and Louis had set up an easel, though he was taking a break from his charcoal and paints for the moment. After all, a portrait wasn't the only point of the date. Patrick sat up, as well, and pushed the platter of cheese and fruits closer to Louis. "Is that lace on your collar?" Patrick asked when his love finally pulled off his vest, leaving them both down to just their undershirts and breeches.

"I was hoping you'd notice. I got this shirt tailored while I was in the capital, I thought you'd love it."

"I'd love it more if you took it off, Louie." Patrick grabbed a raspberry off of the platter, leaving it between his teeth for a moment before biting down. "Really, you're very handsome in it. Can I see how your painting's coming along?"

Louis adjusted his glasses and pushed a hand through his thick, dark curls. "I'll show it to you once it's done, Patrick. It'll be better as a surprise."

"The last surprise I had ended up with me sweltering in my room, bandaging up my arm."

Louis, who had been pouring himself a cup of wine, stopped halfway through Patrick's speech. "The differences between your father and I are quite numerous," He said between gritted teeth. "We ought to deal with him soon, hm? I can't bear how depressing it is to see what he's done to you."

"I really can't imagine how things will happen when we confront him. I can't have him turn you."

"Me neither. How about I work for another fifteen minutes before we take another break?"

"Aye, Patrick, we've hit solid ground. Ah, Patrick..?"

He pressed a hand to his cheek and found that tears had begun to freeze. "That's good, Joseph. It can't be more than a foot or two lower." He said, realizing that Joe likely wanted to hear about the story rather than watch him clam up as he thought over it. It was really too late for him to say anything, though, so he instead wiped the tears from his eyes and tried his best to concentrate on his surroundings.

The painting was clearly of the scene, with the beautiful forest and the creek in the background, and with the blanket they were lying on in focus. On it, obviously, was Patrick in the pose Louis had him in, but slightly differently, for Louis had also painted in himself, and it appeared as if they had just pulled away from a kiss. In the foreground was their food, the whole thing painted in a lovely, hazy manner. "Louis, I… this is really quite touching, hm?" He said, finding it difficult to compose words.

"I'd love for it to become a reality," he said, removing the painting from Patrick's grasp and placing it in the box he brought with him. "See, since I know you won't be able to bring these home with you, I was thinking we'd seal the box and bury it, then come back on the birthday after we finish dealing with your father."

"Oh, that's a lovely plan, Louie. Let's get to the kissing part, please."

Louis's lips felt less chapped than usual, tasting of cheese and fruit and wine. It wasn't long before he pushed Patrick down and settled arms around him, and Patrick managed to get a hand behind Louis's head, pulling lightly on his cropped hair. It was quite nice, being able to tilt his head to both better their position and keep his lover's glasses from pressing uncomfortably into his cheek.

A hand found its way to Patrick's waist, tugging on his shirt in a way that suggested to Patrick that, for how smart and clever Louis was, he still struggled with undressing someone. That was fine, though, since Patrick could use his hand to pull Louis off of his for just long enough to pull off his shirt, and it was at this point that Patrick realized he couldn't do much else but tug near Louis's collar to have him reciprocate the action, not wanting to dirty the lace.

For some reason, Louis started to laugh, a giggle stifled by a sleeve. "Oh, my love, my darling, my—" He stopped, pulling off his shirt and knocking his glasses off with it. "When should we stop and head back?"

"Well, not now, we only just started kissing."

"It'll get dark come a couple hours."

"I can handle my father being mad at me, just… let's keep going, darling."

Louis thought a moment, then obliged.

Joe grabbed Patrick's arm and pulled him to the hole that was dug. "I know how weakened you are in this cold, but I won't be able to pull this out by myself."

"I… yes, I suppose I can try to help. How are you planning on doing this?"

"Well, there's most of the perimeter cleared out, so if we can get our hands under it, we should be able to pull it out just fine. Seems well preserved."

"Good, good, that's good."

It took less time than either of them thought for it to be removed, and after deciding against going through the trouble of covering the whole back up, they began to head back home, Patrick promising he'd open it up and examine the contents by the heat of the fireplace.

Louis had gotten on to digging a hole for the box before Patrick had even pulled his stockings back on, his cheeks still feeling overly hot. "People don't get to sleep this disheveled," He mumbled, grabbing his vest and watching how beautiful Louis was whenever he did anything.

"I think I've got a comb and hand-mirror somewhere in my bag, my love."

Patrick laughed. "How egotistical of you. Lucky you're so handsome, otherwise I bet I'd hate you."

"And if you weren't so handsome, I'd say that that's shallow of you," Louis quipped. He turned and grabbed the box, settling it in the hole he dug and repacking the rest of the hole with dirt. Watching for a moment how Patrick was still pulling on clothes, Louis headed to his bag and threw a comb in Patrick's direction. "Here, to make sure we remember where it's buried, I'll carve something on this tree, okay?"

Patrick pulled on his overcoat and shoes, and fixed his hair as best he could. "You're so smart, Louie, darling. I'm so glad you haven't left town for something bigger, yet."

"I'm not gonna leave until you're father's taken care of. Then I'll go and work for the royal court, and I'll come back as much as possible to see you. You'll become Marquis, won't you, after your father's taken care of?"

"Oh, yeah, I suppose that's what'll happen to me. Wonder how that'll work, hm."

They cleaned up and, with Louis's hand at Patrick's back, they headed back to town.

Once they got the box open, its contents were clear. Patrick pulled out the painting first and tried his best not to start crying right then. "Your great grandfather was an incredible man," He mumbled, setting down the canvas. "We'll have to find a frame the right size, for this."

"You knew him?" Joe asked.

"Better than I've ever known anyone, Joseph," Patrick said. "I forgot about the painting, but if you're curious as to what my life was like a hundred years ago, I suppose you can stare at it for a while."

The rest of the box held a beautiful but now old-fashioned coat, some jewelry, and a few letters that Patrick decided against reading immediately, out of fear that he would break down then and there. "Patrick, something's written on the back of this," Joe said. Without giving the vampire so much as a moment to set down the coat and glance over, he began reading it. "My love, though times are tough, I promise you that you'll be remembered by me forever. Though I fear our time together is short, I'll—oh, he was rather, ah, raunchy, hm..?"

Patrick laughed and hoped Joe couldn't hear the lump building in his throat. "Louis was the smartest, funniest, most handsome man I've ever met," He, keeping his gaze away from Joe. "It was so easy to be with him."

Joe snorted. "Yeah, clearly. I'll see if I can find a frame in my father's manor."

"I'd bet you could find more of his paintings there, too. Your mother, his granddaughter, would be good to ask—she has kept most of them, I do believe."

"Will do, Marquis. Y'know, I didn't think of you as, like, someone who ever had love. Let alone having it be, um, my great grandpop."

Patrick laughed, though perhaps it could be described more accurately as a sob.

#actually its longer than the max word count of the essay by 400 words adskjfksjdfls #this bitch is juicy and i want it to get a lil more attention than my usual drabble #my writing

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bitletsanddrabbles · 6 years ago

Text

Downton Court Hotel pt. 6

Completely unpolished draft of the reception, part one.

Of course, the reception was only supposed to be one part.

WHY? WHY, SCENE?!? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SPLIT UP ON ME? WHY DO I HAVE TO CARE ABOUT PACING? THIS IS JUST A STUPID FLUFF THING!!!! ARGH!!!!

I will probably sit on this one a few days and do a bit more polishing, but for now....

Also, while I don’t have a definite setting for this, it clearly happens sometime before April, 2019.

(The file for this is 34 pages. How did this silly, stupid thing get to be 34 pages long?!?)

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Characters: Phyllis Baxter, Joseph Molesley, Tom Branson, Sybbie Branson, Sybil Branson, Thomas Barrow, Anna Bates

Relationship: Baxter/Molesley, canon pairings

Warnings: Bored six year old child. Bored nearly-forty year old Thomas.

https://bitletsanddrabbles.tumblr.com/post/184219301659/downton-court-hotel-pt-5

Phyllis was exhausted, but at the same time, she couldn't remember when she'd ever felt happier. She lost track of who had shaken her hand, congratulated her, wished her all the best in the future, and moved on to her husband.

Her husband. She may have stayed Baxter on paper, having decided after changing it to Coyle and back that it was entirely too much hassle to bother with again, but she was now Joseph's wife. The thought brought her smile back up full force whenever it started to fade from weariness.

A man she'd never met approached her, a girl of about six hoisted in her arms. "Tom Branson," the man introduced himself and she immediately placed the name. "Pleased to meet – and congratulate – you."

"Thank you," she smiled. "Joseph has told me all about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet."

"Why didn't you have a flower girl?" the girl, who she deduced was his daughter, asked before her father could reply.

"Sybbie," both Mr. Branson and the woman just behind him, who had to be Lord Grantham's youngest, Lady Sybil, scolded in unison. "Manners."

Not quite willing to let anyone get in trouble on her account, Phyllis smiled at the little girl and employed a technique Thomas called 'creative license', but most other people called 'lying'. "A flower girl is supposed to throw rose petals down the aisle," she explained, not entirely certain if it was true, but dimly remembering something like that from a movie she'd once seen. She hadn't had a flower girl in her first wedding either. "And Father Travis is going to have another function in the church later, so I didn't want to make a mess."

The little girl frowned, but didn't offer any argument other than a discontent, "Oh."

"Come on, Sybbie, let's say hello to Mr. Molsley and then we can go get something to eat." Mr. Branson gave Phyllis a look that was both grateful and long suffering.

"Can we have the cake now?"

"The cake comes later."

Sybil Branson stepped in front of her and shook her hand. "I'm dreadfully sorry about that."

"Don't be," Phyllis smiled and shook her head. "She's darling, and what little girl doesn't want to be a flower girl?"

The other woman thought a moment, then replied, "Actually I can't see my sister Mary wanting it. She'd probably have thought it menial. Mary is a bride-or-nothing sort." She laughed a little at some private thought and took Phyllis's hand. "Anyway, thank you so much for inviting us, and congratulations. I'm sure you'll both be very happy."

"Thank you."

And the line wound on, mostly unfamiliar faces given that, outside of the wedding party and a couple of odd friends she'd made in recent years, the guests were all Joseph's friends and family. He'd asked, at least a hundred times, if there wasn't anyone she wanted to invite, but most of the friends she'd known before the divorce hadn't wanted anything to do with a jail bird. Thomas's sister had sent her a congratulatory email and regretted not being able to get the time off, which was probably for the best anyway. Another congratulatory friend had moved to America. She supposed it should have been sad, having so few people to invite, but she found she didn't care. She remembered Daisy asking Anna at the bachlorette party if she regretted going to the registrar's office rather than having a church ceremony and Anna replying that she'd rather have the right man than the right wedding.

Sneaking a sideways glance at Joseph, Phyllis couldn't help thinking she'd gotten both.

Once the last hand was shaken, Joseph held out his arm, the perfect, gallant gentleman, and led her over to the head table. They'd decided, after much debate, on having the food on the table itself rather than a buffet style, although it did cost a bit more. They'd also decided to forgo the speeches, although Phyllis half suspected that someone would find a way to slip one or two in. Mostly, though, she looked forward to an evening of polite conversation, good food, and some dancing.

She was somewhat surprised to find that Thomas had taken his seat at the table already. The rest of the bride's maids and groom's men were still wandering around, admiring the cake and greeting familiar faces among the guests. There were the usual number of flashes going off and people being cajoled in for impromptu group photographs. Thomas, however, had acquired a glass of white wine and was simply watching, although he did stand when she came up next to him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, careful that it didn't sound like a reprimand. "I thought you would be out visiting, not waiting for dinner." She took her seat, letting Joseph push the chair in so that it didn't muss her dress. She had done quite a bit of fussing to him about how difficult it was to move in it, and she was flattered that he seemed to have listened.

"What can I say, I'm hungry." He replied with an easy smile and a lift of his glass. "Besides, outside of Mrs. Branson, there's no one here I know that I don't already see at work nearly every day."

"I thought you might at least want to play with their little girl," Phyllis teased, giving him a sideways smile and looking for Sybbie among the crowd. "You certainly talk about her enough."

"Have you ever tried entertaining a six year old girl on an empty stomach?" he arched an eyebrow at her. "Or worse, one with an empty stomach?"

"Fair, I suppose," she allowed.

“I'm really quite flattered the Bransons made it," Joseph said, waving over one of the caterers circling the crowd with glasses of wine. "She may not go by Lady Sybil anymore, but it's an honour to have her."

"I'll remind you of that after Sybbie takes a handful out of the cake before it's even cut," Thomas replied, smirking into his glass.

That made Joseph pause. "Er, you don't think she really will, do you?"

"I wouldn't think so," Phyllis replied, turning down a glass of wine when the caterer offered. "She's precocious, but she seems like a well behaved little girl."

"No little girl stays well behaved when she's bored," Thomas argued philosophically. "Nor any little boy either. Just you wait, she'll get up to something, mark my words."

"Well her parents still have her outnumbered, so hopefully it won't be too bad," Phyllis reasoned, trying to keep Joseph from getting up and going to guard the cake personally, which he was looking like he might do. "Your parents never did."

"No, they didn't have the good sense to stop at one, did they?"

Phyllis frowned at him a little, reaching over to place a hand on his arm. At his mild, querying expression, she decided not to say anything. After all, perhaps he really had been referring to the difficulty of riding herd on four little ones at a time, rather than questioning his own existence. And if he really was depressed, he certainly didn't want her to know, so pressing wasn't a good idea. Still, there was an undertone to the observation she didn't quite like.

"Mrs. Molesley? Mr. Molesley?" their photographer stepped up to the table, catching Phyllis's attention. "I don't suppose I could get a shot, could I?"

"What, now?" Joseph blinked, looking from his glass to his plate. "We've not eaten anything."

The photographer gave him a highly amused look. "Do you really want a picture of the two of you with bits of lasagna all over your plate? Better to take one now while everything's clean and pretty looking."

"Good point, I suppose. Very well," straightening his tie, Joseph took his glass. "Er, what should we do?"

"Just lean together, raise you glasses, and smile," the woman replied, playing with one of her lenses. Then she looked at Phyllis and realized she didn't have a glass. "Oh. Or, hm..."

"Here," Thomas passed his still mostly full glass over. "It's just for a picture, right?"

"Right," the photographer beamed as Phyllis took the glass and, leaning into her husband, raised it. Thomas moved over another seat, getting himself well outside of the frame. "Wonderful, perfect. Hold that pose and..." there was a click and a flash of light. This was followed by the camera being turned at several angles, the lens adjusted, and three or four more flashes of light before the newlyweds were allowed to relax. "There. That'll look wonderful in the wedding book."

Thomas smirked and reclaimed his glass. "I hope you're planning on having copies of that wedding book made. All of the bridesmaids are going to want one."

"I suppose they will, won't they?" Joseph sighed. "Ah well. Hopefully it won't be too expensive."

Phyllis watched the photographer taking at least a dozen pictures of the cake from various angles, including having one of the groomsmen steady her as she got up on a chair, and wondered. "I suspect that will depend on how big it winds up being. She's taking an awful lot of pictures."

The observation seemed to somewhat worry her husband. "I thought all wedding photographers took a lot of pictures? I mean, surely we're not going to have all of those cake pictures in our book, are we? We only need one or two."

"Didn't you select the package that lets you decide what to use and what not?" Thomas asked, eyeing them sideways over the rim of his glass. Phyllis thought she detected a smirk to his tone.

"Yes," she answered hastily. Really, the worst was over. It was time to relax and have fun, not work themselves into a nervous state over the wedding photos. "Now that you mention it, I do remember doing that."

"Well the, you've nothing to worry about."

The conversation wandered to how nicely the ceremony had gone, what was on the menu (Thomas was pleased to hear it was prime rib rather than lasagna), and the plans for their honeymoon. Phyllis was much more excited about seeing Paris with Joseph than she'd been about going to Monte Carlo with Peter. Hearing him talk about the Louvre and Notre Dame alone was enough to make her wish she was already there.

Of course, there were other things she was looking forward to, as Thomas noted with a quietly wicked grin that confused her husband, but made her blush. Still, this time they weren't the most exciting thing and she couldn't help but think that was important.

Slowly the other members of the table took their places. It was about time for the food to be served when Mrs. Branson came past, looking somewhat worried. "Has anyone seen Sybbie?"

The question ran up and down the table with a resounding negative. "Have you tried by the cake?" Joseph asked. Clearly the emphasis that had been put on young girls and cake over the course of the evening had made an impression.

"Don't worry," she gave him a knowing smile. "Tom has stationed himself by it just in case." She sighed and looked around. "I'm certain she's just playing somewhere, but I'd like to find her before the food comes out."

"If not, I'm sure she'll come out when she realizes everyone's eating," Anna assured her.

"Oh, undoubtedly." With a sigh, the young mother moved off to the next table.

"You know, I used to think I wanted children," Joseph noted. "Now I'm starting to think I'm too old."

"Nonsense," Gwen laughed from Anna's far side. "I know people who have had children at your age. You'd make wonderful parents."

"Perhaps," Phyllis allowed. "But if we do decide to go that route, I think I'd just as soon adopt."

"Plenty of unwanted children in the world," Thomas agreed. Again, there was that note to his voice that suggested it was more than a simple observation. "And you've both good steady jobs. I'm sure you'd make good parents."

"Yes, well, it's something to talk about, in the future," Joseph allowed. "Although I'm all for getting through the honeymoon first."

"True," Thomas nodded sagely, his eyes fixed on a point just beyond his plate. "After all, depending on how things go, you might not need to adopt."

"Thomas Barrow!" Anna swatted his arm. "That is hardly polite."

"True though, isn't it?" Thomas noted with a smirk. Before anyone could react, his entire body did an odd jerking motion and a squeal of laughter erupted from under the table. "Got you!" he proclaimed, with a vicious grin.

"What on earth?" Joseph stared at the table cloth as if it were possessed, then at Thomas as if he were possessed, and back.

Pushing his chair back a little and lifting the fall of white cloth, Thomas revealed the source of the laughter: Sybbie Branson, trapped neatly between his legs. Looking up, he waved at the little girl's mother and called, "Sybil! I think this belongs to you!"

"No, no, let me go!" Sybbie protested, still laughing, trying to extract herself from his grip. Unfortunately for her years on his feet had given Thomas rather strong leg muscles, so the scissor trap held firm.

"Young lady, get out here," her mother scolded when she reached the table. "It's time for food."

"I don't want food – just cake!"

"Haven't you heard? You can't have cake if you don't eat your dinner first," Thomas informed her, reaching down and hauling her into his lap, clipping his head on the table as he did so. "Those are the rules of weddings."

Sybbie wasn't having any of it. "You're making that up!"

"No, he's not," Phyllis shook her head, fighting back a smile. The rest of the table was trying, and more or less failing, to keep a straight face. "That's a very important rule at weddings. It's so the delicious wedding food doesn't go to waste."

"And there's going to be all sorts of good things to eat besides cake," Joseph chimed in.

"Like what?"

"Come with Mummy and see," her mother instructed, holding out her hand. Thomas released the little girl, only to have her vanish under the table again and come out the other side. She shot straight past the offered hand toward where her father was standing.

“I get to sit next to Daddy!"

Mrs. Branson sighed and shook her head. "How Mama and Papa put up with three of us, I'll never know." With a long suffering, apologetic smile, she turned and headed toward her seat.

"Mmm, I think we should definitely get through the honeymoon before we discuss children," Phyllis gave Joseph a sideways, knowing grin. It wasn't that she was opposed to the idea entirely, just that she wasn't certain she was up to it any more than he was. "Maybe do some baby sitting before we make up our minds."

Once everyone was seated, Joseph stood up. "Good evening all," he started, wearing the hesitant, humble smile that Phyllis loved so much. "Thank you all for joining us tonight for this very special occasion. I know you're all hungry and we'd said no speeches, but I can't let this moment pass without saying a few words."

“Of course you can't."

"Thomas, shush."

Whether he missed the quietly hissed conversation from the bride's party or simply chose to ignore it, Joseph continued. "Growing up, I always assumed this day would come. Everyone was always talking about getting married and having a family and children. It seemed as inevitable as graduating school and getting a job. Just one of those things people did. I didn't even know I was looking forward to it until suddenly I was five years out of school, employed, and still single. I hadn't even really dated, being absorbed in my studies and all. By the time I was forty I'd decided that maybe it wasn't going to happen. It was one of those things like getting a career with a bachelor's in history." A small, but well meaning chuckle went through the assembly. "I gave up, and that may sound pathetic and whiny, but it's true, and in the end I'm glad I did." He looked down at Phyllis and his smile grew. "Because this day wouldn't mean half as much as it does if I were still young and taking it for granted. This love wouldn't be half as true, I don't think. And I'm not going to talk about how it's going to last forever or anything like that, because that would be taking it for granted as well and Phyllis? If there is one thing I never want to do, it's take you for granted. I want to be the man you deserve, and the man who deserves you, and that's not just going to happen. It's going to take a lot of effort, but I'm ready. I'm excited." He looked back out over the room. "And I am so very, very glad that you are all here to be a part of that. Thank you." He sat down to a round of applause, punctuated by an 'aw' here and there.

Smiling so broadly it hurt and fighting back tears, Phyllis leaned over and kissed his cheek. He took her hand, squeezing it, and then they both wound up blinking as every camera in the room flashed at them. Clearing her throat softly she suggested, "Maybe we should have some food."

"Er, yes, food. Food is a good idea."

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #modern au #phyllis baxter #joseph molesley #tom branson #sybil branson #sybbie branson #thomas barrow #anna bates #wedding reception #shenanigans

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