#they’re probably just busy. it’s a big job to be mayor after all
Note
The most baffling part of WKM is that everyone trusts and adores Damien, despite him being the only one in politics and actively in office. Mark made the mayor character the most trusted and loved. How????
(uh oh, you unlocked my 'Love Damien' mode)
You came to the right person! This is a great question and I will gladly go on a rant to try and help shed a little light on this!
In short, it's exactly because of how you phrased your question. There's a politician. He's seen as nice and trusted and loved. It seems like something that shouldn't be, and you assume the worst of him because it has to be an act for whatever reason; and that is because of the general view of politicians at the moment. I'm not touching IRL topics with a ten foot pole, but I will say that at present, there is a sorta wariness/a 'they don't care about us' vibe toward politicians in certain countries (including my own). That's something that then seeps into media.
Think about it. If there's a politician in a show of any sort (especially one holding office), they're usually up to no good behind the scenes or are unreliable - just like how a librarian might be cranky, for instance - in a sort of caricature. Off the top of my head I can remember seeing... A mayor that wanted to evict an entire community to build a business something-or-other to make lots of money, a mayor who branded a local team of agents as non-trustworthy when they went against his pretty crummy views (which could be the same show tbh), an absolutely useless buffoon of a mayor who needed the help of children to constantly save his city from supervillains, and a politician (maybe a mayor?) who constantly clashed with the chief of police in a city. This isn't even considering the times a politician character (whether or not they hold office) is involved with criminals, bribery, is being blackmailed, or even has a criminal record of some sort.
Damien is an exception to this trope. It may or may not be completely intentional, but it's genius on Mark's part. You walk in, see this well-dressed man with a rather cheesy Mayor badge pinned on... And people would immediately get suspicious... Something which Mark called people out on at a panel! Don't forget, every character was framed in a way to give reason for them maybe being the killer. I watched WKM (and got vaguely into the fandom) a week after it finished, so I missed the speculation in between each episode. From what I've seen, it appeared that a lot of people were wary of Damien, though I'm not too sure if it's because they were like "IT'S JUST DARK IN DISGUISE DON'T BE FOOLED" or if it was because of his job and mannerisms. Either way, it turns out his worries were genuine, and he was innocent of any crime that night, which completely subverts the expectation of a politician in a show. He's a rare breed - someone that has good intentions and a good heart, who wasn't 'tainted' by politics in some way.... But ends up getting corrupted anyway through matters far beyond his control.
Not only that, there's two important points that I think people forget and I'll go into better detail of under the read-more because this is getting pretty long.
-
1. The character that is the viewer has known Damien since university. That means they've been friends minimum... Let's say five years, but probably closer to ten. You're going to be more at ease and more 'yourself' around people you are very fond of, and Damien's face lit up the moment he noticed the viewer arrived. Since the viewer would be going into this cold the first time it's viewed, they wouldn't feel that bond and might think Damien's friendliness is an act.
2. While he is the Mayor, he's not The Mayor at that moment. He's merely a Mayor by title alone. For the events of Who Killed Markiplier?, he's just Damien. It would be different if we had walked into his office, but we arrived at a party with people Damien was comfortable with. He had no need to impress anyone because they were friends. Remember, the reason the badge exists is to tell the viewer what Damien does. Otherwise he could be any sort of businessman or guy in a fancy suit, and the explain everything video states that everyone thought Mark got the suit for a wedding when he shared a photo.
(Both points are showcased nicely in the very first scene we meet Damien if you compare the way he talks to the Detective - someone he barely knew - to the viewer - who has been a friend since university. When talking to Abe, Damien stands poker straight (almost rigid) and rests his hands on his cane. One hand moves to emphasise something, but the rest of his body remains still. There's a polite, yet formal, air to him. Here, he is The Mayor. I'd bet they were having casual conversation on how they met Mark or some other generic topic to break the ice. Then the pair notice you and that conversation is instantly DROPPED. Damien immediately lifts his cane as his entire body turns to the viewer. That smile isn't one that's given out of politeness. He's now Damien. There's no need to put on an act when it's a familiar friend. He still stands straight, but his body language and facial expressions are far looser and more casual. Gestures are with both hands now. His expressions are more playful, including widening his eyes to emphasise his tease about the viewer's skill of poker. This continues until he walks off-screen where, I presume, he was going to say hello to William.)
We don't know the extent of how much anyone trusts anyone else, but one of the big exceptions is the Colonel. I know I've written a headcanon on a roleplay blog about this, but he didn't know you, so he was polite, but distant and aloof. He had no reason to even care about you. We saw a good example of William acting like this the morning after. HOWEVER, after spotting the viewer talking to Damien outside at the end of the first episode, he notices a connection. The moment he knows you are Damien's friend he opens up with no hesitation in the second episode and is rather friendly toward you from then on. He trusts you because he trusts Damien, which to me suggests that our Mayor keeps good company and has a good judge of character. Plus, no one really has a reason to think ill of Damien. He and William have an argument focused on William's reaction to Mark's death (and don't forget that Damien wanted to apologise but William kept running away), while Celine shuts him down for Damien trying to get her to reconsider her idea; but neither are motives for them to be suspicious of Damien. Chef and George are indifferent, while the Butler is probably indifferent but feels comfortable enough to make a drug joke with Damien in earshot (and Tyler's IC stream as Butler had it that he thought well of Damien, but this might not be considered canon). On the other hand, you could say that the Detective is wary of Damien, but he was suspicious of everyone between all the work he did and the warning he got from Mark, so it's not completely reliable.
Speaking of, I haven't forgotten about the Detective's study and how there's a record sheet for Damien with something scribbled out. Unfortunately, I don't think it's something we'll ever get clarification on. I double-checked the explanation stream and there wasn't any mention of what was on it... But I feel like I heard Mark say something like 'forget about what is there, focus on why it's there', or how it got there in the first place? Maybe it was for another project, but the idea is more that the Detective's work was built up over time, and not in the span of that weekend; rather than focusing on every little piece of writing that can be seen. Perhaps there is something shady in Damien's life... But since it wasn't relevant to the 'story' we were being shown, it was omitted. This could very well be where people take the idea of a corrupt politician and run with it (and I have seen some excellent roleplayers over the years work with that!), or they could be like me and say that the crimes were things he was framed for. Or maybe, as I'm writing this, it could be like how Abe had documents for things that didn't happen in WMLW, and that the crimes he scribbled out were ones that Dark would do later... But that's going into theorist territory and that's not at all relevant to what I'm talking about.
Anyway, I've rambled on waaay too much as it is. He's trusted and loved as a character because he's so human. Mark pointed out in the explanation stream that Damien was the only one to question what was going on. He was upset, mourning, and had no idea what to do. It's a vulnerability that you don't see from people often, especially if they are supposed to be leaders.
If there's anything people wanna add or point out, jump in and do so! :D
#Ash talks#(it's either Damien or Y.ancy. I think they're the two you can really get me ranting about so apologies for the length!)#(when you've been writing a character for three years you tend to think a LOT about them)#(I'm no theorist or someone who claims to be the 'best Damien writer' btw. I just really appreciate our good Mayor)#long post#(I was nearly late for work because I wanted to start this before work; and I've spent over an hour AFTER work adding to it)#(there's a read-more but I wrote a LOT damnit)#who killed markiplier#mayor damien#(also it's a nice change to not have to rapidly proof-read and put dots in the middle of important words so it doesn't appear in searches!)#(how much answers the question and how much is me being like 'DAMIEN IS A GOOD MAN'? You decide!)
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
Friday Night || Shane x Reader
It was just another Friday night in Pelican Town. The small saloon was filled with bright laughter and cheery chatter. Nearly every seat at every table was filled, and Shane could name them all.
At one table, there was his aunt Marnie making heart eyes at Mayor Lewis - kinda gross, if you asked him. Not too far away were Leah and Elliott, who he didn’t really know too well, but it sure as hell was amusing seeing Elliott get near-wasted after a single drink, embarrassing Leah to death as Pam encouraged him, loving the entertainment.
In front of him at the bar was Gus, the saloon owner who was a pretty nice and caring guy, and Emily, someone he wondered if he could consider a friend; both people he’s spilled his heart out to more times than he’d like to admit. A bit embarrassing, but they weren’t judgmental and truly only wanted the best for him, so he couldn’t be too upset about it.
He also never found himself too upset with Clint, who sat with Willy and frequently gave Shane dirty yet heartbroken looks every time Emily approached Shane. He was kind of pathetic really, even more pathetic than he was. The guy lived alone for crying out loud, so Shane tried to just ignore him rather than make the situation somehow worse by talking to him.
And of course there was the loud trio in the back of the saloon, the young adults that somehow acted like they were still in high school. Believe him, Shane would know, he had to put up with Sam at work. Sam, the kid who played air guitar with the sopping-wet mop.
Shane knew these people, and they more-or-less knew him. Yet on this Friday night, surrounded by all his neighbours, he still felt alone.
“They’re not here yet, huh?” Before him, leaning on the counter with a bright smile, was Emily. For a moment, Shane wondered how sad he looked - was it that obvious?
He softly swished the glass of sparkling water around, “Nah, not yet. Could be busy tonight.” It was already nearing nine o’clock, and they were usually here around seven or eight. He knew they could be running late, but he couldn’t help but feel that they wouldn’t be showing up tonight. Shane never liked to get his hopes up anyway, and he kicked himself a bit for being so disappointed about this. They were allowed to be busy, it’s not like they had any kind of obligation to hang out with him every Friday night!
Hearing a snort from Emily, he glanced up to see her watching the door as it flew open. “About time!” She teased, and he followed her gaze.
Shutting the door behind them with a bashful smile was the farmer, “I’m sorry! The farm’s been getting a bit much to handle, I’ve been running around like mad all day.” Shane felt his heart skip a beat. He felt warmer, like they were the sun lighting up the saloon, as cheesy as it was. He couldn’t help feeling this way - they were one of his closest friends, he was allowed to think of them like this, right?
They approached their usual seat, a barstool right next to Shane, whose hands suddenly felt clammy as they always tend to do around the farmer. “So, how are you guys doing?”
Emily prepared the farmer’s usual drink - a cool glass of iced tea - with a grin. “Pretty good! Some of my friends flew by today, they look as beautiful as ever.” Right, her friends, parrots. Sometimes Shane wondered who loved animals more, Emily or his aunt Marnie.
The farmer’s gaze then fell on Shane, who simply shrugged as he took a sip of his own drink. “Been alright, work’s work.” He couldn’t help but notice Emily slowly slip out of the conversation, heading over to Gus. As much as he liked Emily, he felt a little grateful to spend some alone time with the farmer. Again, he just wanted to hang out with his good friend! Nothing non-platonic about that. Right? The thought of this sounding like he was attempting to convince himself rather than stating facts crossed his mind, which he tried to ignore.
“Morris annoying as ever?” The farmer teased, and Shane let out a groan with a roll of his eyes, getting an immediate chuckle from the farmer.
“Yoba, you won’t believe what happened today,” The farmer leaned forward, their eyes brightening. Shane loved telling them stories, and they especially loved hearing about his hell of a job. “Morris nearly fired Sam. On the spot.”
“No!” The farmer exclaimed, eyes wide. “How the hell did that happen?”
“You know how Pierre and Morris have that rivalry going on?”
“Mhm,” The farmer nodded as they took a sip of their drink.
“Well, Morris found out that Sam’s close friends with Abigail, Pierre’s daughter. He had a fit.” Shane paused to take a sip of his own drink before continuing. “Said that if Sam was like, ‘conspiring’ with the ‘enemy’, that he could look for a job elsewhere.”
“Wow, harsh.”
“Yeah, I had to step in and calm things down - me, of all people.” Shane said with a sarcastic chuckle.
Something about that made the farmer burst out laughing. Maybe it was the thought of Shane having to mediate that situation to save Sam’s ass, or maybe it was just how Shane sounded when he said it. Either way, it seemed hilarious to them. Their laughter was infectious, and Shane found himself laughing along before he knew it.
“Pfft, oh my- Shane, Shane look!” The farmer grabbed Shane’s arm, pointing not-so-discreetly to Elliott, who was starting to dance with Pam right next to the jukebox. Both of them were drunk as hell, stumbling over their feet and flailing their arms wildly. The pair watching them could do nothing but laugh even harder. The farmer let out a snort, and Shane tore his gaze away from the dancing duo to look at them and oh.
‘Oh wow,’ was all Shane could think in the moment. They looked absolutely… flawless. Their big smile was stretched across their face, cheeks flushed red, eyes teary from laughter. They had never looked more amazing - of course, they always looked great, but this? Shane felt his laughter begin to slow as he just gazed at them, lost in thought. If he could pick any moment of his life to take a picture and frame it up forever, it would be this one, no doubt about it.
Slowly, the farmer quieted down and they took notice of Shane’s staring. They wiped their eyes and gave Shane a crooked smile, “You good?”
Shane, now hyper-aware of his staring, quickly glanced away. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m good.” He felt his cheeks redden - he probably looked at the farmer like his aunt looks at the mayor. Gross. His eyes began to widen as he realized ‘oh shit, I just looked at the farmer like how my aunt looks at the mayor.’ Alright, maybe things weren’t as platonic as he had hoped.
The all-too-familiar anxious thoughts began to rise in his mind as he realized how strong his feelings for the farmer truly were. Shane felt sick and a little dizzy as they swarmed his mind for a brief moment.
The sound of Emily setting down a tray in front of the two distracted him. She had brought them a pizza, “Fresh out of the oven, on the house!”
“Awh this looks amazing, thanks Emily!” The farmer grinned, grabbing a slice. With a wink, Emily turned around, leaving the two alone once more. Watching Emily walk away, Shane tried to calm himself down.
He looked back at the farmer, who caught his gaze and gave him a warm smile, making his heart race. Picking up a slice of pizza, Shane started to feel at ease again. Times like these were his favourite, he couldn’t let it go to waste by worrying about his own dumb thoughts and feelings.
Sure, he was terrified. He hated dealing with his own feelings, and he knew he’d have to deal with his feelings towards the farmer sooner or later. But right now, all he really wanted was to just split a pizza and enjoy their company.
#sdv#stardew valley#stardew valley imagines#stardew valley x reader#sdv imagines#sdv shane#stardew valley shane#sdv shane x reader
472 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter three for Surprisingly Familiar. It’s time to get to the real plot of this thing!
@petrichormeraki is the maker of the hermit Tommy au, @helleborusangel likes to read these and give me their rambles which are my beloved, and then check my tumblr for my masterpost of things I’ve made.
“Hey Paul, you’re done talking with X, right?” Bdubs asked as he noticed Paul walking by.
“Uh, yeah. He said he could let a guest in for a little bit because he needs to talk with Phil and Phil’d rather stay here instead of coming to the castle.”
“Yeah yeah, sounds great.” Bdubs sad, waving it off. “Hey, new question. Paul what the heck was that back there?!” He shouted, making a number of hermits look over.
“Hey, calm down, keep things off tap.” Paul tried to calm the hermit down, but it didn’t work that much.
“Oh this is Hermitcraft. We don’t do things on tap. Except Tommy but that’s different. Now, what were you doing back there?” And Bdubs pointed towards the room Paul and Phil had talked in. From the crowd, Jrum felt a little nervous, wondering if it was something he did, but the answer calmed the bot.
“Calm down. It was something Hoodie taught me. I’m sure Zedaph can back me up.”
Behind Bdubs, Zed stopped slurping from a coffee cup that was actually filled with a slushie. “Yeah, don’t worry he’s fine. No necromancy.”
“See? I just wanted a private conversation.” Paul replied, though Bdubs still looked grumpy.
“Alright, don’t make me call in Genny.” And Bdubs signalled that he was watching Paul before walking off. As he left, Scar took his place, seeming pretty confused.
“So, what’s with him?”
Paul sighed. “He’s not a fan of certain types of magic. I did a bit of necromancy for a time and there was someone else in the world who essentially became a dark lord, so Bdubs and some others became witch hunters.”
“Huh, That’s not something I would have guessed.” Scar said. “I mean, I’m a wizard and he’s been fine with me.”
Paul looked a little stunned. “Oh really? Didn’t realize. What style are you? My friend Hoodie is coming in for a quick visit. He’s ars based.”
Scar laughed a little. “Is that so? Haven’t seen many of those. I’ve got a mix. Vex magic and crystalline. Cub’s also a user of vex magic.”
Paul nodded. “That’s nice. How many magic users you got around here?”
The hermit mayor started to count on his fingers. “So there’s me and Cub. Pretty sure Stress has some. Cleo’s definitely got some magic. Grian of course. Uh, not sure if Joe does or not. I think Xisuma’s just-”
“Xel- er, Grian’s got some magic?”
“Yeah. And I guess the kids probably do too. Not sure right now.” Scar said, before looking Paul in the eye. “You're not going to freak out about Grian having magic, right? You’ve already got him upset which gets us upset.”
“Yeah, I know.” Paul sighed. “Just been through a lot. I get overly worried sometimes, and to me, I suddenly hear that ‘kid involved in murders is now causing wars in the world my friends are in.’ So yeah, sort of thought the worst.”
Scar inhaled sharply. “Okay, yeah. I can see what made you freak out. But Grian’s fine. He’s been through a lot and while technically he’s caused chaos, it’s never something we hate and normally we’re all in on it somehow.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, you should hear about the sewer cats.”
“Can’t wait to hear about it. Haven’t seen any letters about it.”
Scar nodded, before being just a little confused. “So, is there a reason you’re always using letters instead of other stuff? I’m sure some of the others could make you something that would work.”
Paul nodded. “I don’t doubt that they could for the most part. I just deal with a lot of factors and have always preferred the tried and true method. I’m all over the place and sometimes I can only really bring along paper.”
“What do you do?” Scar asked, interest piqued.
“Let’s see. Not sure if Phil’s told you, but he used to be king.” Scar nodded. It wasn’t Phil, but Grian had mentioned it. “Well, I’m one as well. Hoodie’s my right hand man and royal mage.”
“Ah, and you said he’s the one visiting?”
“Yeah. So I end up busy there a lot. I also spend a lot of my time visiting my kids so I’m going from world to world. Then, there’s also my wife and she’s in the world we raised the kids in which is essentially my main home.”
“And that’s what?”
“Uh, the same one I found Xe- sorry, Grian in ages ago.” Paul answered. “And I’ve got a job there that doesn’t really work with comms sometimes, but paper is easy enough to have on hand, especially enchanted paper.” And Paul took out a sheet of paper, handing it to Scar.
Scar took the paper and looked it over. As he moved it, he could see how the light caught the slightly physical aspect of the magic, much like how enchantments could be seen. “This looks good. You can hardly see the magic but I can tell it’s there. What all is on here?”
“Mostly stuff to get it to the right recipient and make it illegible if you’re trying to read it and it’s not for you.”
“Ah. That’s a commonly known one for ars mages, right?” Scar asked. “I haven’t heard much about them.”
Paul nodded. “Yeah. That’s due to the mage wars. They happened a number of years back before Hoodie was alive. He’s the main reason things are sort of getting back to normal for those guys.” Paull pulled out an old communicator which looked like it was being held together with duct tape and prayers. “He should be here pretty soon. He said he was only going to get a few books and amulets. And your admin said he would be able to get in.”
Almost as soon as Paul had said something, a message went out that someone new had joined the world. Xisuma sent a message that he would go to help the guest to Aque Town and from there Paul and Scar just waited for the two others to arrive. Xisuma was the first to arrive, gliding down on his elytra. The other person wore a royal purple hooded robe and seemed to arrive with the use of an ender pearl, but Scar didn’t see them use one.
Paul was the first to move, going over to the other person. “Hoodie! You made it!”
With the confirmation that this was the mage coming in, Scar followed along, a bit excited to meet someone new with magic. “Of course Sir. You did ask for my presence.”
Scar watched as Paul put an arm around Hoodie’s shoulder. “You don’t need to be so formal here. In fact, here. This is Scar. He’s the mayor, and based on the kind of place this is, I’d say he’s the local hedgewizard.”
“Ah, I see. It is nice to meet you. My name is Hoodie. I am King Soares’ right hand man and royal mage.”
Scar shook Hoodie’s hand, getting a slight shock. “It’s nice to meet you too. Paul already said I’m Scar. I’m guessing you’re a lightning mage or something?”
Hoodie took his hand back. “Ah, sorry about that. Yes I am. Or at least I specialize in it. Same as my father lest he’s recently changed his affinity.”
“Well I don’t know enough about your kind of magic to know what that really means.”
Paul walked away as the two magic users started to discuss their various forms of magic and wizardry. He needed to find Phil again since the main reason Hoodie was even there was so that Phil could get more of the enchanted paper. Not wanting to drag the mage away, Paul was instead going after his brother since he was the one insisting he wouldn’t take any of it without knowing for sure it was enchanted by Hoodie. After that, Hoodie would help out a bit around the world as repayment for Xisuma letting him on, then the two of them would head back home. At least, that was the plan.
.
.
.
Drawing him away from the nest was almost laughably easy. Grian and Mumbo were both asleep and the chicken was theoretically trapped. At least trapped enough it wasn’t going to escape into the room itself. And then it could only see out the window and not into the room which was a big plus. Because of that, it was simple enough to have viridian magic surround the prison and really ensure the chicken wouldn’t be getting out.
“You know.” The person spoke in a whisper, making Grian twitch ever so slightly in his sleep, but not wake up. “You’re really making this far too easy. I thought it would be difficult with those guests of yours here, but it turns out everyone’s distracted by them. And they put you in such a perfect position. Let’s just move you to somewhere a bit more private, hmm?”
Grian of course didn’t wake up, but as the person left, a bit more magic appeared around Grian, and then a few moments later, he woke up with a start. Grian looked around, glad to see there was only Mumbo and a box in the corner. For a moment he was confused about it, but faint clucking from inside helped him figure out what it was. But something still felt off.
Grian went to shake Mumbo awake, but he hesitated a moment before actually waking him up. “Mumbo. Mumbo!” And Mumbo woke up from his name being shouted, looking around to see what was going on. “Mumbo, I think we’ve been up here too long. Something feels wrong.”
Mumbo pulled out his communicator to look at the time. “Oh dear! It does look like we have been here a while. It also looks like someone else has shown up.”
“Really?” Grian asked, pulling his own comm out to look at the message. “There’s no way this person would just happen to show up today of all days for no reason. What if they’re someone else with… I want to check on the kids.”
Mumbo stood up and then helped Grian to his feet. “Don’t worry. I’m sure if anything happened, the other hermits would be taking care of the boys. We can of course check on them, but you don’t want your panic to make them panic.”
Grian nodded and from there the two of them went back down to the ground floor, leaving Kokatori behind. Finding the new person was rather easy as he and Scar were both standing on the street of Aque Town facing each other. Scar was currently donning his wizard robe over his Aque Town outfit. In his hands, he held a number of crystals that Grian thought he was never going to see again.
The other person was wearing a purple robe and held a wand in one hand and a book with a yellow cover in the other. His hood had fallen back slightly, so Grian was able to see as the other person glanced over at him when he got closer. Normally the avian would assume it was just because he was getting close and was noticed, but there was some sort of emotion in the eyes that made Grian worry.
Both of them had their attention pulled away from each other as Scar moved, a yellow glow around him as he moved like he had a speed effect. When he reached the other person, Grian watched as the Scar’s netherite sword struck them, and then a ring of white magic appeared around them, acting as a shield against further attacks.
Realizing at this point that the two were fighting, Grian moved to try and stop them, but then out of nowhere, lightning struck the ground in front of him, making him stop. When Grian looked back up, both mages were looking over to him and then Scar called out. “Hey, don’t worry! We’re just doing some sparring! It was my idea!”
“Are you sure? Who even is this?”
“His name’s Hoodie. Royal mage of Paul it looks like.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Grian asked, concerned.
“Yeah, it just sounds like he was jumping to conclusions when he saw you. I’m sure it’s going to be fine if you talk to him again.”
Grian wasn’t completely convinced, but pretended enough for Scar to look back at Hoodie and then continue their sparring. Slowly, the avian started moving to where everyone else probably was, still in the party building. Mumbo followed him along, but eventually he passed Grian when the builder decided to actually watch the magic battle.
Scar seemed to mainly be using regular combat, but enhanced by his crystals which actually seemed to be doing something. Hoodie, on the other hand, was using his wand and casting a number of spells from his book. At one point, Grian watched the mage fumble a little bit to pull out a book with a green cover before casting a new spell that he hadn’t used yet.
Grian didn’t realize he was just standing there alone, and the magicians weren’t really paying much attention to him, but in the span of a few seconds, that all changed. To anyone watching, it would seem like it happened all at once, but really it was just one thing after the other.
Grian was barely aware of the space around him getting the slightest tint of green to it. As soon as that had happened, Hoodie turned away from Scar and instead faced Grian, pulling out a new red spell book. Scar was the next to react, still under the effects of his yellow crystal. He started to pull out a red crystal, accidentally pulling a pink one out at the same time. He threw them towards Grian just as Hoodie began to cast some magic aimed at Grian, but also in the direction of what would be in the path of the crystals.
Seeing multiple things coming his way, Grian started to panic, wings moving to act as a shield since he currently wasn’t holding one. As they moved, the tips of his wings started to change from red to purple, the shift in color working its way to the base of the wings. He couldn’t react fast enough to block everything, but the magic hit both of the crystals, making them shatter into dust. The pink and red dust didn’t completely stay their original colors, some of them charred by the magic attack that hit them, but each tiny piece seemed to glow with its own energy, and even with the, being broken so small, when the cluster hit Grian, there was enough force to make him crash to the ground.
For everyone not watching at that moment in time, they simply heard a large crack of thunder at the same time there was shattering glass, followed by screaming from Grian. Within a matter of seconds, people were racing out of the nearby building, there to see what had happened.
When people got out onto the street, Scar was yelling at Hoodie. “What was that?! Grian wasn’t involved! I thought I could actually- I can’t see why Bdubs actually trusted- I’m guessing he’s changed a lot since-”
“Please, I was just trying to defend myself. He was about to attack me. Didn’t you see it?”
“He was just watching us!”
“No. Your back was turned so you maybe didn’t see it.”
“I should have used a brown crystal too. What kind of spell was that?!” As they yelled, Xisuma was the first to get over to the pair to try and figure out what was going on, getting an answer from Scar. “That Paul guy’s mage just attacked Grian! If I hadn’t done something, it might have killed him!”
“What?” Paul asked, coming over. “Hoodie what just happened?”
The mage looked over to Paul, ignoring Scar and X. “Sir, the hedgewizard and I were simply having a duel to see each other's magic skills. As we battled, this avian mage came by and tried to stop us once. Of course Scar was able to prevent that the first time, but then the mage tried to cast a spell of attack. I was already using a spell to help my reaction time, as was the wizard here, so I began to cast a counterspell. At first I thought Scar was also about to assist me, but instead he seemed to try and stop my spell, causing our magic to collide. It seems to have still-” Hoodie tried to continue, but Paul held up a hand to stop him.
Paul then tried to speak himself, but then his shoulder was ground and he was whirled around by Phil. “Paul, what the fuck? Did you just have your wizard attack Grian?”
“What? No, of course I wouldn’t! It sounds like Grian was trying to attack Hoodie and he defended himself.”
“Yeah sure. Mate, just tell me the truth.”
“I’m just telling you what Hoodie told me. I know just as much as you do at this point other than what he told me.”
Again, the conversation was cut off by Mumbo speaking up, having joined the group. “Grian’s really hurt. His breathing is off and it looks like his wings were hurt enough for them to shift away. There’s also something else, but I can’t place it. Xisuma, can you look at him?”
Everyone moved out of the way for the admin to head towards Grian, but as soon as he took a step, everyone had their comms buzz with two messages. Xisuma peeked over the crowd to look where Grian had been a minute ago. He wasn’t currently lying there, but neither were any items that signified him having died and respawned. That could have been because he had nothing on him at the point, which was unlikely, but could have been what happened.
That being said, the shocked gasps from people who were looking at their comms didn’t assure Xisuma, so the admin pulled up the chat logs on his helmet. Instead of there being a death message for Grian, there were two messages of people leaving the world.
The_Grifter left the world
Xelqua left the world.
#hc x dsmp#hermit!tommy au#bdoubleo100#paul soares jr#jrumbot#zedaph#goodtimeswithscar#xisuma#xisumavoid#hoodie the mage#Hels!grian#Grian#avian!grian#watcher!grian#grian xelqua#yhs grian#mumbo jumbo#philza
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tan Hands and Tan Lines
Day Three, Side A: Ubiquitous
(read it here on AO3)
Nobody wants to spend their summer vacation working. But spending it with your two best friends wasn’t too bad. So when Mercedes told Rachel and Kurt that there were two openings at the retro fifties diner in downtown Lima, they jumped on the opportunity.
Diner in the Sky started out as a relatively slow job. It had just opened a few months ago and the word hadn’t gotten out to much of the city that it even existed. In those early days, Kurt and his friends spent the afternoons and nights singing through the empty store, twirling on black and white checkered floors. Finn and some of the other New Directions would stop by before the sunset and order milkshakes with fries. He and Rachel would not-so-mysteriously disappear for five or so minutes, and Kurt noticed the way Mercedes and Sam giggled around each other. He eventually cornered her during a graveyard shift, and she admitted that they had been dating in secret since prom. It took two days for Mercedes to win Kurt back, after buying him the new Marc Jacobs piece he had been dreaming about.
It was a cute job with even cuter outfits. Until July fourth came around.
The mayor of Lima stopped by that night and made a big show of it all, forever putting the little diner on the map. The appearance knocked out every ubiquitous fast food joint in town. It’s been packed every night since.
“I need a number five without onions!” Kurt hears Rachel scream into the kitchen, followed by the clanging of a few plates. She storms out a minute later, hair sticking to the sweat on her face.
“I hate this job,” she grumbles to him as she makes her way to another table of hungry customers.
Kurt leans his body weight against the counter. The metal is cool against his skin, a nice distraction from the oppressive summer heat. The bar isn’t nearly as packed tonight as the rest of the restaurant, mostly just little kids ordering heart attack inducing malts and ice cream cones. He’s adjusting the stupid rectangle shaped hat on his hat when he hears the door jingle at nine o’clock on the dot.
Blaine Anderson strolls into the diner with his little private smile, pulling his usual denim jacket off as he goes. He’s humming again, a pop song Kurt notices. Probably Katy Perry. He overheard Blaine tell Rachel she was his most listened to artist last week. Not that he was listening to hear if his name came up in conversation or anything like that. That would be crazy.
They meet eyes for a brief second, hazel to blue. Blaine grins before sliding onto one of the red leather barstools. “Hell again?” His cheeks are flushed pink, but Kurt blames it on the heat.
“Yeah,” Kurt replies, sounding breathier than usual. Blaine has a way of doing that to him. With his funny quirks and ability to make restaurant issued bowties sexy, the Dalton Academy junior has snuck his way into Kurt’s heart from the second he started working with him.
There’s a particularly loud crash in the corner of the building, followed by a baby screaming. Blaine takes a moment to sober himself, eyelashes fanning out on the apple of his cheeks. “I better get to work. I mean, I should get to work.” He’s flailing, adorably so. “I mean, I should check that out.” Blaine stumbles. The back of his neck is red as he walks away.
“Remind me again why you won’t ask him out?” Mercedes says with a poke to Kurt’s shoulder. Her hair is still intact, textured curls bouncing at her shoulders. The only way you’d know she had been working was the ketchup colored stains on her baby blue dress and apron. “He’s obviously into you.”
Kurt’s thought about it so many times, and the answer is that he doesn’t know. Competing schools wasn’t an excuse, it was summer. Besides, the Warblers had been so gracious in their loss at Regionals that they invited the New Directions over for coffee at the Lima Bean.
Truth is, he was scared. He’s never had a boyfriend, let alone asked a boy out or even told one they were handsome. This is still Ohio, and being out and proud has its consequences. He knows Blaine is gay at least, so his crushing isn’t creepy.
It sort of terrifies him to care about someone so deeply. When Blaine came in with red rimmed eyes after his fifteen minute break one night in the middle of June, Kurt sat with him as he ranted about how awful his dad was. He’s the only friend Kurt has that likes to watch old black and white movies for fun. Blaine makes him laugh so hard he cries, and everytime he brushes past Kurt during the busy nights, the spot tingles for until he gets home.
Kurt sighs. “I don’t know.” He rests his head against the edge of the soda machine. “Crushes are so damned difficult.” Mercedes hums in sympathy.
“It’ll work out, boo. Even if Rachel and I have to force the two of you to close together like last time.” He can feel her laugh beside him, and soon he’s laughing too. That was a good night.
“Kurt! ‘Cedes!” Rachel all but screams, turning a few heads. After knowing the girl for two years, he’s convinced she only has two settings: Loud and Louder.
Her face is bright pink and there’s a deep crease between her brows. She’s got her Business Face on. “What’re you two doing? This large party just came in, and you guys are just sitting here! A little help would be appreciated!” She huffs, pumps tapping against the floor as she walks to the back at a dizzying speed.
Kurt and Mercedes share an eye roll before going opposite ways. The party Rachel was talking about is huge, five adults and three kids under ten years old. After finding a table large enough so they’d all be comfortable, he pulls out a notepad and asks what drinks he can get them started with.
An older woman starts speaking in rapid fire Italian, gesturing to the rest of the group, who nod in return. Kurt instantly regrets taking up French instead of literally any other language.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, hoping they could understand. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
A younger man with a beard cocks his head and speaks in an incredibly thick accent. How a family of Italians decided to spend a summer in boring Ohio confuses him. “Could we get another waiter?” He stutters through the sentence, and Kurt feels bad to inconvenience them.
There’s a familiar tingle on his left shoulder. “I can help them,” Blaine whispers, side-stepping him to get closer to the table. He says something to the family, who grin back at him. He has that effect on people.
“You speak Italian?” Kurt hisses. This guy is just full of surprises.
Blaine puts his head down and smiles. He shrugs like everyone in America is fluent in the romantic language. “I spent a few summers in southern Italy with my grandmother when I was younger.” Because of course he did.
“Oh,” Kurt offers lamely. “Okay, well tell them I’m really sorry for any inconvenience.”
Blaine smirks at him and turns to the table. He says something to them, laughing afterwards. Kurt watches behind him, amazed at the way Blaine can make anyone feel so important. Not to mention Italian is such a hot language to hear coming out of his mouth.
A kid who can’t be above twelve pipes up, pointing back to Kurt. The rest of the family looks back at him too.
Kurt pulls at the edge of his crisp button down. They’re looking back and forth between him and Blaine, unnerving him beyond belief. He feels called out and exposed even though he has no idea what’s being said about him. So he just returns a wavering smile and turns to leave and prepares to never show his face again when he hears it.
Amore.
That stops him in his tracks. Love? Kurt’s no language expert, but the word is pretty universal in every one of them. He turns around to ask Blaine for a translation, but to his surprise he’s gone uncharacteristically silent.
Blaine eventually stammers through a reply, hands stuck stiffly at his sides. Kurt hears him murmur, “I’ll be back with your drinks,” before walking into the kitchen as fast as he can. He won’t make eye contact with Kurt the rest of the night.
Diner in the Sky closes at eleven every night, and it takes another thirty minutes on a good day to scrub stains from the tabletops and lock everything up. It’s Kurt’s night to close up. Usually either Rachel or Mercedes is on schedule to help him, but since his luck is just absolute shit, he has to clean up the place with Blaine.
Closing up is usually an intimate job. Just two people, the nostalgia of an old diner, and a jukebox. Depending on who you’re with, it’s either heaven or hell. Kurt’s not sure which one he’ll get tonight. The other two times he’s had to suffer through it with Blaine, it’s been fun. They dirtied dishes making vanilla shakes and doo-wopping along to the jukebox tunes.
Tonight feels like purgatory. Blaine avoids him at any cost. If Kurt goes to mop the kitchen floors, he goes to the front room, and vice versa. He won’t speak to him, or even acknowledge him when he accidentally sweeps Kurt’s feet. It’s fine at first, Kurt can handle the awkwardness. But eventually, it simmers to anger.
“Can I talk to you?” He calls after Blaine. He stops like a kid caught in the cookie jar, hand freezing on the light switch. He turns slowly, eyes as big as saucers.
“Yeah?”
Kurt glares at him for a moment before speaking. “Look, I don’t know what that family said to you, but it gives you no right to be so absolutely rude—”
“They said I looked like I loved you.” It comes out as if it pains him to say.
That sentence makes any anger Kurt has, flow out of him and into a pond on the floor. Love?
He scraps up any dignity he has left and smiles to himself. “Well, do you?”
“Do I what?” Blaine snaps, coming to sit on the stool next to him. His leg trembles on the floor. Kurt can recognize now the little tells he didn’t know he ever noticed; how Blaine presses his thumb and ring finger together when he’s especially nervous, the way his eyes seem to light up when he looks at him.
“Love me?” Kurt continues, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He wants to hear him say it.
Blaine doesn’t answer, instead opting to bury his head into his hands. Kurt hears him mumble to himself. Something about not the right time and tan messed everything up. His stomach flip flops.
“So,” Kurt drags, tapping the edge of the metal counter. “Love, huh?”
“Shut up,” Blaine mutters. They sit in comfortable silence for a little, until the hum of Ella Fitzgerald fizzles off the record. Then, Kurt feels a warm, almost clammy hand on top of his. It’s enough of an answer for him.
#spaceorphan’s sophisticated challenge: ubiquitous#glee#writing#klaine fic#klaine fanfiction#kurt hummel#blaine anderson#tan lines and tan hands
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
and it’s just around the corner
fandom: stardew valley
pairing: sebastian/player (female)
summary: She’s a fool – she tries to tell herself. There’s nothing she can offer Sebastian that would make him stay in this village he so obviously loathes. She’s just dumb enough to have fallen for the man she cannot even bring herself to ask to love her back.
rating: explicit // word count: 25k // AO3
She cannot remember the farm per say, just the proof that she’s been there once: a dusty, yellowed photo of herself, smiling in a pink sundress under the shade of a gigantic oak, 4 years old and beaming. She can vaguely bring back the savour of cranberry jam on her tongue, the authentic, slightly sour taste that only meant home-made. She thinks they had a gray cat, and she can feel the smell of gasoline in her nose, from the long car ride there as a child. That’s all she remembers about her grandparents’ old farm; and anything of that lifestyle is completely lost upon her, or her memories of her grandpa. They haven’t been crazily close either: she was busy pursuing her education too far away to allow proper visits, and the phone signal failed the old man too much to allow even constant communication. When he died, they buried him in the city, next to his wife, and everything about the way he lived his life became hazy and forgotten in the lives of the living.
Which is probably why it is so hard to comprehend what she’s reading now, in her cubicle at work, defeated under her 16th time this month of overwork. Her grandpa was known for being eccentric, which is why she expected to see a card with hey, we all die in the end! or something written on it, and not the dreams of her childhood offered on a plate to her. She stares at the paper, reads and rereads it for 7 times before she’s convinced it’s actually real.
She’s touched at the care in his words, at the oozing affection on that piece of paper. It’s something that she didn’t know she was missing until now. A care sent across generations, to reach her – and when she feels like she needs it most. She doesn’t know if she should scream or cry or laugh.
She looks around: there are only a couple of other workers left in the office at the moment, in the late hours of the night. There’s delivery food all across the others’ empty desks, and a few of the girls switched their shoes, from heels to sneakers. And yet, as she stops, the clanking on the keyboard never ends around her, and the neon light remain buzzing above her, the static noise of her real life nightmare. The sigh coming from a co-worker several seats away is deafening in her ears. As she’s writing her resignation letter, for her boss to find on his desk at the first hour in the morning, she can’t help but notice how her vision shakes, how she can’t quite straighten her back under the pain of hours and hours of being hunched at a desk.
It’s not even the irony of it all, dying in a storm of unfair overworking while those above her wallow in money, that upsets her more. But rather, the way in which she cannot have any satisfaction out of it anymore. As a graduate, she thought she’d find happiness in a corporate job that pays well, but now the comfort of money means nothing when she doesn’t have the time to even spend it, and she can’t even recall what her hobbies are, let alone when’s the last time she did anything else but work, do house chores and sleep.
She cannot recall the last time she met up with some friends, visited new places or ordered online something else but a new pair of heels or a new shirt for work. Gods, now that she hit the brake on her wreck of a life, she can’t stop noticing how pathetic she’s been.
Her hands tremble as she signs the paper, as she tosses her meagre office belongings into her bag, as she pushes the elevator button. She’s already overthinking the decision, but it’s already made and she can only worry about what’s to be done next now. She’s 100% sure she’s not made for this, she has zero knowledge of how to take care of a farm and she still screams when she sees a spider in her apartment. But she’s tired, there’s a tiredness that never seems to let loose, and no matter how much she sleeps on Sundays, she wakes up feeling like she has her hands and feet tied. Even if to only rest for a while, and the whole ordeal would still have been worth it.
Sleep doesn’t come easily to her that night. She reads the letter over and over again, she measures the weight of the keys in her palms, she tries to put puzzle pieces together, from old photos she brings up from hidden boxes. Nothing tells her she made the right decision, though in her old photos, everyone looks so happy while on the farm. Maybe she didn’t even truly get to the end of her patience, just a bad day, maybe she still could have taken it for a while. After all, it’s not like she had that bad of a life. But then, it’s not like it was that good either. And once she started thinking of it, the idea of change became hauntingly tempting. The potential in this new place is infinite, and so, so terrifying.
But a change nonetheless.
She spends the next couple of weeks in a frenzy: selling most of her belongings, keeping only the strictly necessary. She keeps the pictures, of course. A few books, only those that she read during university and she felt like they changed her life, though she hasn’t revisited those stories since. Maybe she’ll finally have the time to, now. She sells or donates all her office clothes, expensive shirts and bags – all gone, because they remind her of some kind of work she never wants to do again in her life.
When she stops to count what’s left, looking at her near-empty apartment, two suitcases and a backpack put aside, she’s overwhelmed at how pointlessly she lived her life up until this point. She has nothing to show for all the efforts she’s made, and she can feel the skin all over her body itch with the realisation, itch for something else to do.
She doesn’t look back, as she’s returning the keys of her rented apartment. She has been paying expensively for the chance to live on her own in the big city, and there’s nothing but bitterness towards that idea anyway. She waits in the bus station with music playing at the highest volume, drowning out an incoming panic attack – as she’s struggling to count up to 10, reassure herself that she’s a grown fucking adult and that she can do something as easy as just moving someplace new.
Still, the scenarios roll in her mind, unperturbed, and she almost throws up thrice before she reaches her destination – and then she almost throws up again, as she’s watching the bus pull away, leaving her alone in the middle of nowhere. The sun is bright, but too bright and her clothes are sticking to her skin, even if it’s barely early spring, and the air is fresh. A fairy-tale start to her new adventure, and yet she feels like crying right then and there, a fain headache booming at her temples from all the anxiety she had to push away.
She’s already exhausted and it’s barely noon. She starts pulling at her suitcases, though the road makes it a tricky and tiring job. Then, just as she’s ready to take her first break, a hand grabs the handle, and she stares up in the face of a kindly looking old man.
Mayor Lewis; she still remembers the face, as he is the kind of person who probably always looked the same. They’ve last seen each other at her grandfather’s funeral, so there’s a bit of awkwardness hanging between the two of them, as she’s allowing him to help her with her luggage.
A redheaded woman is waiting for them in her truck, a bit of a distance away, and she helps them with her stuff. It’s easy to make conversation when friendly people are pushing it forward, and they seem way too enthusiastic about her presence. They don’t even comment about her sneakers, totally unfit for most of the roads in the town, or her outfit, that would rip or get dirty the second she’d encounter a field.
She already has a room prepared at Lewis’ place, there’s no way her old house can offer her proper living conditions just yet. That’s not a jab directed at her, rather at the passing of time and the overgrown state of her courtyard. But there’s nothing mean behind their comments, and they’re even offering all the help they can.
She’s trying to come up with a list of things that she might need, but Robin is already writing one of her own.
“She’s our architect,” Lewis whispers, winking at her in secrecy.
It’s weird and scary and she doesn’t know how to feel about it. Back in the city, she could have crumbled on the sidewalk and nobody would have cared. Here, it seems everyone jumps at the chance to do just that, help and care, and she’s terrified out of her skin. Her thanks are muffled by the weird knot in her throat. When balancing things out in her head, there’s nothing she can give them in equal measures.
The key in her hand feels foreign, but yet it’s that thing that grounds her to the moment, doesn’t let her slip away in that part of her brain that makes her forget things even happened. The house is, of course, a disaster, though someone had the good thinking of covering the furniture. The place is small, and it needs a good dusting, maybe even a new coat of paint. Robin, by her side, is still doing her job.
“Is there anything you want in particular?”
“No, not really. I don’t think so?”
She’s lost and overwhelmed. She’d like to just sit somewhere and start unpacking, maybe go and switch all of her things again actually, because there’s no way she can fit in with these people. But Lewis’ arm is around her shoulder, urging her back the way they came, promising her his special vegetable mix and green tea.
Once finally out of his sight, and comfortably settled in his extra bedroom, she squeezes a pillow close to her chest, hiding her face in it, and starts crying. She sobs – for the grandparents she didn’t properly appreciate while alive, that still left her with so much. For the chance that not many have to switch things around. For the state in which the farm is, and the immense effort she’ll have to put in building it back together. For the pain in her arms, the burn so unfamiliar that it must be only the sign of something new. She’s overwhelmed and scared, and hours pass before she finally falls asleep,
The next morning, she refuses even the breakfast, and immediately heads towards her place, luggage in tow. Mayor Lewis promised he’ll solve the problem of electricity and water running back to the place, so at least she can forget the administrative part.
She greets everyone she passes by, because otherwise the staring just gets too unbearable, and though they’re curious, they also remain polite too. But her courtyard and house are truly disastrous. She’s glad it’s still so early in the year, so the weeds didn’t grow yet on the path towards her door, so at least she can focus on dusting off the room, polishing the floor. She unpacks with nostalgic music blasting from her phone: plates in one drawer, her clothes in the other two. She builds herself a nightstand out of all the books she brought with her, and she washes the curtains by hand, letting them dry out in the sun.
She goes to the town for bedsheets and even more cleaning products, buys a basil plant for the windowsill. The place is small, smaller even than her city apartment, and she has nothing of her own to properly decorate it with, give it a specific charm, so she allows herself to get lost between the small isles of the store, and pick whatever piques her fancy. But this is fine, she thinks. This is, after all, the true definition of a new start.
She watches the sun set from her porch – she thinks she’d like an armchair for the place, it’d make a lovely reading pace if it’s not rainy, and there’s a soft lull from the TV inside, where the weather prognosis for the next day rattles on.
She finds grandpa’s old gardening books, and she starts reading them. She cleans up a small portion of the land, plants some seeds she picked based on Pierre’s recommendations. Gathers wood from the end of the forest that runs almost up to her house, practices splitting it in smaller branches, that she can carry and gather in the small tool shed, for the winter.
During the first night that it rains, she opens her door to a stray, lost dog. She hugs him close to her all through the night, as he whimpers and warms up – and in the morning she names him Max, and buys him dog food and a colourful bowl. She stops feeling so alone, so lost, a purpose forming, even though she can’t quite name it.
When too many days pass with her cooped only at her place, letters and requests for visits start pouring in her mailbox. Sometimes mayor Lewis comes pick her himself, walking around the town with her, stopping to present her to any villager they encounter. She feels like a circus freak being paraded around like this, but she smiles, wonders if Max is getting bored at home or if she could walk through the forest in search of some fruits.
***
Then, when the weather prognosis tells of many sunny days in a row, Robin shows up at her doorsteps, can of paint in one hand, brushes in the other – and her son behind her, to help her out.
She watches him, fiddling on the spot, looking like he certainly doesn’t want to be here and she smiles. Well, that’s at least a feeling that she can relate to, even when in her bed after a tiring day, she still sometimes yearns for everything that this place is not. Max helps. In this case as well, as he runs to the door and immediately jumps on him.
“Max, no!” she chides, though he settles calmly on panting up at the man for pats. Luckily, he hasn’t slammed him to the ground, as he tends to do with her, but that’s still no proper way of greeting strangers. “I’m so sorry…”
“Sebastian,” he says. “There’s no problem, really.” He’s scratching the dog between his ears, absentmindedly looking in through the door, at the small place she now calls home. There’s nothing much in there, but she finds herself growing protective over it anyway, at his gaze.
Max, the traitor, is now cuddled down at his feet. From the side, Robin laughs.
Her and Sebastian move the furniture, as Robin tapes newspaper on the wooden floor. She prepares fresh lemonade for her visitors and helpers before they start painting, and she takes a short break just to water her crops. They do the work in silence, mostly, just her phone turned on to fill up the space – and without mayor Lewis’ fast mouth, she isn’t certain what she could possibly talk about. From time to time, Robin asks Sebastian something – regarding his sister, or some things she asked him about before, which sounds a lot like nagging so she prefers to stay out of it.
She thanks them many, many times before they leave for the day. Especially since it was the weekend, and she’s sure they just threw away a perfectly free day on helping her put together her house. She just feels more and more indebted towards all these people. Even if Sebastian didn’t look her way even once.
***
She starts going to the local library, borrowing books and learning more and more things about the farm. She accepts the quests from the bulletin board, and in exchange she asks for fishing tips or some town history. She starts taking evening walks, with Max, picking up acorns. She gets stronger and better at all the farm work. She places various orders, starting to gather syrup from the trees near her house – and one lazy day, she makes jam, that she then sells.
She starts counting the money, making plans for the farm. She buys two chickens, and the one day when no one in the town sees her, it is because she struggled all the time to build a fence so that they won’t step all over crops and no fox would reach them during the night.
***
Everyone is friendly, showing up at her door with gifts for her new move: a handmade mug from Leah, a beautiful seashell from Elliot, an actual functional first aid kit from Harvey. She suspects the mayor’s doing behind all these kindness acts, and yet it’s with a reverent kind of gestures that she finds a place for all of them in her small house. She starts adding some kind of adjectives to this cast of characters that enter her life.
But with Sebastian, something’s different. She doesn’t know what makes her notice him again; that something that made him stand out from the mass of people she met in the past few weeks. Maybe it’s not even just one single thing, but a mix: like how he is the son of the kindest lady, paler than the farmers or football players, how he doesn’t want to stand out at all, how she has to go out of her way to find him, instead of the other way around.
Most of all, it’s the desperation she can feel off of him. There’s a force in him that cannot make peace with how things are for him at the moment – and it’s the familiarity of it that pulls her in, lets her gaze linger on him for a bit longer, makes her ask about him while smiling in the most innocent way, sipping tea in Robin’s office.
***
They’re not that different; she’s easy to fit in the village life, mostly because she’s so pliable for others, knowing the memory of her grandpa is attached to her as well. She sometimes feels like the older residents of the town look through her, instead of directly at her, and see the ghost of someone else they used to know. And the days pass, things fall together, and yet in her chest, there’s a clock ticking away, counting down the time spent here, because if she was looking for something like belonging, it seems this town buried it away with her grandpa, and things don’t seem that different from how they used to be. She just has dirtier nails now, and some decaying make-up skills.
So she never visits without a purpose, doesn’t get too friendly with most of them. She spends days in a row on her farm, ploughing the land, watering the plants, feeding the animals. Task upon task, she goes through all of them, grateful for how it’s silencing her mind, giving her the time and space to breathe. If she finishes early, she likes to go fishing, the breeze nice against her sun-warmed face, especially as the dusk approaches.
It’s the simplicity of life that lulls her into wanting something more, eventually, tentatively. She visits Robin, as she’s closing the store, so they can share some fresh-picked fruits while watching the sun set. She meets up with the mayor for chess during Sundays, stories of two best friends half a century ago embedded in every sigh, and she wins every time and that’s how she knows he just lets her. When she passes by to drop something for the museum, she spends the remaining afternoon in the library, browsing the collection, reading for the children fresh out of classes that ask her to do so.
But if anyone in Pelican Town would be asked, they wouldn’t be able to tell people that much about their newest villager. In truth, even for those closest to her, there’s an aura of mystery: whatever her life was before, she doesn’t go into details. Whatever and for however long she might remain in their lives, she doesn’t say.
To Sebastian, that’s what makes it easy. He doesn’t expect her to tell him anything, since she’s not pressing her curiosities either. Probably why she opens so willingly, why she creates a routine around his. She always stops at the edge of the river, where she knows she’ll find him in the evenings. They never talk for long, or of important things – but she thinks, the magic is in staring together at the same scenery, feeling much of the same things. After the third time, she asks for a cigarette from him, and she winks at him when he looks just a tiny bit surprised.
This is how it begins. The rest she almost doesn’t even notice.
***
She remembers the Egg festival; she’s sure she took part in one of the hunts back when she was little, though the details are foggy in her mind. She doesn’t remember any of the villagers, but she’s been a very shy child, and not even the promise of bunny chocolates was enough to persuade her back then.
Still, she worked for so long in a corporation, at this point the spirit of competition is embedded into her. She wakes up early, and she wears one of her dresses from before, even if she has to match it with grandpa’s old jeans jacket. She even puts on make-up, manages to water her plants as well before she’s walking towards the town.
She officially meets Maru and Demetrius, as they’ve been so busy during her past visits. Marnie clasps her in-between her arms, exclaims how pretty she is when not trying to imitate her house’s looks, and loudly kisses both her cheeks. Gus waves at her, and keeps presenting various plates to her, and by the time she can excuse herself, she’s glad she hasn’t eaten any breakfast. Jas and Vincent come at her yelling tag! and she spends the next half an hour running around, followed by the sometimes annoyed, sometimes happy smiles of the other villagers.
She buys strawberry seeds, more on a whim, because she was craving for some, and gets herself a cute bunny plush, since she’d had trouble sleeping, and she’s sure Max would appreciate her hugging a non-living thing more. She feels like she fits more, now, that she’s surrounded by everyone else, and she realizes that she knows them all, that they know her back – and there’s no outright hostility.
She greets Sebastian, and meets his friends. She compliments Abigail’s hair, Sam compliments her instead. He’s friendly and outgoing, compared to the other two in his group, but she notices Sebastian’s fleeting smile at the toy in her arms, so she straightens her back even more.
As soon as mayor Lewis starts his announcement, Abigail immediately seems more excited, especially since she is presented as the winner for the past decade. However, by the time the day ends, Pelican Town has a new Egg Hunt winner.
The straw hat doesn’t fit her outfit, and it’s not quite yet a necessary accessory, but she’s beaming at every villager that comes to congratulate her, even if she’s already so old and she shouldn’t be so happy about beating a few 10 year olds. Even Abigail is a good sports and promises she will beat her next year.
Next year – she wonders if she’ll even be around for that long. Her saved-up money is slowly trickling down, as she keeps buying things that she needs, and she has no idea yet how much profit she’ll be able to make at harvest time. She feels better knowing her doubts don’t show to others.
She walks part of her way home with Robin and her family. Maru is happily telling her something about her research, though it goes over her head and she doesn’t understand much of what’s going on. Demetrius and Robin walk several steps ahead, arms linked, and it’s a sweet sight to see, that they can be so close even after so many years.
Then, before she takes her turn to her farm, after everyone else said their goodbyes, Sebastian looks up at her.
“It suits you,” he says, so low she almost misses it, nodding his head at her hat. She blushes under the street lamp, but he’s already turned his back on her and he can’t see, so she can go on her own way and pretend it never happened.
***
She starts going to the mines, even if everyone tells her she better not. But she needs better tools, more resources and something to do on rainy days, so she goes anyway. She comes out late into the night, dirtier than she’s ever been, spider cobwebs stuck in her hair, but her backpack heavy.
The next morning, she struggles packing some presents for Robin and Lewis, for all the help they’ve showered her in ever since she moved. She doesn’t have much to offer, some syrup and a jar of jam, a few eggs. But as she’s going into town, there are three presents that she’s carefully carrying around in her bag.
She stops by Lewis first, sits on his stairs with a steaming mug of coffee between her hands, as he waters his small garden – and they chat about the weather, the fishing days that Lewis has programmed, their favourite Stardrop meal. The days get warmer and warmer, as they’re slowly rolling towards summer, and she’s feeling peaceful, listening to the mayor’s chatter, his grunts as he digs around, his yelling when she offers to help him around.
She drops by Clint to let him examine some of the stuff she found underground, and by the time she reaches Robin’s place, the older woman is taking her lunch break. She’s exclaiming happily at the gift, and invites her to stay for lunch. She helps her with the plates, and while Robin goes to gather the rest of her family, she sends her to get Sebastian.
She has to breathe deep, count to 10, before she has the courage to knock at his door. There’s the sound of something tumbling to the floor, and she winces; more shuffling, and the door finally opens to reveal a somewhat sleepy looking Sebastian. It looks like he hasn’t brushed his hair yet, as it sticks out in odd directions, and in his own space, he’s wearing some old, washed-out t-shirt that is several sizes too large, and sweats. She stares at him, entirely endeared, but also deeply aware that there’s a line she has just crossed by seeing him like this – and she’s not sure she was allowed to.
“Hi,” she says, at the same time he says “Shit”, closing the door on her. She opens and closes her mouth several times, trying to come up with a proper way to reach to this, but her mind coming up blank.
Eventually, she lamely says “Robin said lunch’s ready,” before she leaves for the kitchen again. Demetrius is already seated at the table, looking up at his wife like she hung up the sun on the sky. Maru refuses to show up, as she’s too invested in her research, but there’s the slam of a door from downstairs, and Sebastian eventually shows up, just as his step-father takes his first bite from his plate of spaghetti. Their guest has not yet picked up her fork.
Sebastian is now wearing actual jeans, and his hair looks a bit more tamed. He sits next to her, and the four of them eat in relative silence, though she’s obsessively thinking of her knee, against Sebastian’s, under the table and she wants to fucking swear at herself, for acting like a fucking cowardly high-schooler.
“So, why did you move to Pelican Town?” Demetrius asks her, in the end. She notices him wincing immediately after the dull thud from under the table, and she imagines that was Robin kicking him from asking a question that no one had dared poise to her until now.
She finishes chewing the food in her mouth, swallowing a bit more painful.
“I needed a change,” she says eventually, entirely too vague.
“From? You should tell Sebastian about your city experience, because he’s obsessed with leaving the town.”
There’s a disapproving tone in his voice that makes her wince, but her head snaps up at Sebastian, who looks both entirely annoyed and disappointed. She’d like to press her finger to the frown now so obvious on his forehead.
“Really?” she mumbles lamely instead. Sebastian’s now looking at her, and although across the table his parents are bickering with each other in low whispers, he doesn’t break the eye contact. He just nods at her question, grabs another bite of food – the words won’t make it any better.
She always thought that the people in this town are happy to live here, heck even she’s trying to understand the charm of the place and why her grandpa never left it. She always thought that if there is someone to leave it, that’d be her, in an example of another of her life’s failures. But here’s Sebastian, burning with a yearning for a city just as hers to leave it was.
He takes her back home, assuring her that his lunch break is long enough to allow him to do that. They’re walking side by side in companionable silence. Sebastian, unlike his father, doesn’t ask her anything, so when they reach her property, she hands him her last package.
“Can I?” he asks, a hand already tugging at the ribbon, and she smiles at him. Inside, there’s an assortment of minerals: quartz, obsidians. She’s found them during her time in the mines, and the only thing she somewhat remembers from her dialogue with Maru is that her brother loves this stuff.
“What’s this for?” he says, voice a little chocked, laughing at the end, embarrassed and overwhelmed.
“Thanks for that day,” she says. Then, more unsure… “And good luck for the future?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
She’s already turned around on her feet, a hand up in the air in goodbye.
The next morning, even if Sebastian never eats breakfast, he makes toast and eats it with strawberry jam, from a jar cutely decorated in stickers, where in cursive, their newest villager wrote for Robin and family <3.
***
She goes to JojaMart to buy an electric kettle; she can’t quite yet afford to get her kitchen built in, so she’s been eating at the Stardrop Saloon or lived on oatmeal and salads. But the mornings are dreadful with instant coffee and cold tap water, so she’s finally investing in something to make her life a bit better. This lifestyle reminds her of being a student in the dorms, and it’s not something she thought she’ll ever return to.
Sam looks around for his managers, and when there’s none around, he stops next to her and they chat by the vegetable stall. She’s frowning at the price, way higher than what they can find in the town and what she sells her own products for.
“Capitalism,” Sam says brightly, tugging at his employee lanyard, and she laughs at him.
“Oh, trust me, I know all about that.”
He wiggles his eyebrows at her, which makes her snort. Shane, his co-worker, turns to stare at them, but he’s not telling them on, so she moves one step closer to him.
“I’ve worked in customer care for Joja Corporation.”
Sam mimics throwing up, turning serious again only when she’s elbowing his side. She’s painfully aware of all the cameras in the store, after all this time away from anything of the sorts.
“But for real, you’re way better in Pelican Town,” he says, even if she’s not yet quite convinced.
But he doesn’t continue pressing the matter. Instead, Sam invites her the next Friday for an evening at the Saloon, where him, Sebastian and Abigail are supposed to play live a few of their songs. She clasps her hands together, and agrees immediately. She used to love this kind of thing: but it’s been so long since she allowed herself to take an evening off, both in her life back in the city, and the life here.
***
She’s already a regular, so Emily nowadays greets her with a hug. Though this time she whistles suggestively at her outfit. Since it’s supposed to be a more special night, she chose a low cut blouse to go with skinny jeans, and she’s no more a formless body buried under work clothes. The only make-up is a very dark lipstick. Her… friends, she supposes, are already on the side, tuning their instruments. Sam grins at her, waving her at the table Gus saved up for them, where he ordered pizza for everyone.
They’re not playing for a long time, maybe half an hour, but by the end, everyone is loudly clapping at their performance. She’s the only one whooping, and Sam is loudly laughing at her embarrassed grin afterwards, runs to fall into her waiting arms and twirls her around in the air, feet not touching the floor.
“Who knew our biggest fan would be you?” he says, helping her pat her hair pack into place.
“I did. I mean, your band has Abigail.”
The girl in questions frowns a bit at her, suspicious that it’s less of a compliment than she tried to make it, turns on her feet as she moves to the music box, tosses a coin in and picks a song. It takes a few seconds for her choice to start loudly booming in the saloon, but as soon as she does, she moves to grab at Sebastian’s arm, dragging him to the dancefloor, though he looks like he’s a lamb taken to sacrifice.
Sam laughs at the two of them, then turns back to his new friend.
“Do you think these two will ever hook up?”
She chokes on the slice of pizza that she’s eating, punching at her chest so she can breathe again. Someone slides in the chair next to her to the table, a hand slapping her hard on the back until she can breathe properly again. Then, frowning, she turns towards the newcomer, because she can’t bear looking at Sebastian and Abigail, together, dancing. She doesn’t think she can look at them without imagining them doing exactly what Sam asked her about, and it’s a shaming thought that she burns down. Shane, the one sitting next to her now, has already picked a slice of his own from their order, and nodded in greetings at Sam.
Sam leaves to talk with Penny, spending enough time as it is in Shane’s company, so Shane moves even closer to her, so he can be heard over the loud music. He’s a bit of an asshole, as he’s looking nowhere else but at her cleavage and the skin she’s showing with her choice of clothes. He’s not even trying to hide it, licking his lips, speaking without even trying to lift his eyes.
“Didn’t know the sunshine and the emo buy are hiding such a beauty between themselves,” he says, snaking an arm around her waist, shoving the second pint of beer he arrived with in her direction. He already smells like the stuff though, which means he’s at least tipsy, if not outright drunk yet. There’s offense in the way he said those nicknames, horrible on their own as well, but she’s sitting between the wall and his body and he’s a man showing interest in her, clearly going out of his way to make it obvious.
She takes several big gulps from her beer, and then turns towards him, smiling. He can’t tell it is strained.
“Well, I’m here now,” she says, and the hand around her squeezes in response. She lets him talk, mostly shit about the town, then shit about himself, and she keeps drinking and drinking, glass after glass of alcohol, because then at least she doesn’t have to reply. In the dark, they must look pretty cosy to the others, because no one else returns to the table – and by the time she remembers she is supposed to have friends around, and looks around for them, her vision is unfocused and she can’t make out the shapes and figures all around.
But she can notice the slightly grown stubble on Shane, how he’s now so, so close to her, his lips brushing against her ear each time he tells her something. She feels like she’s about to suffocate. But he tells her about how beautiful she is, how hard he makes her – and he guides her hand to his pants, where she indeed can feel her effect, and it’s a surge of pleasure and power. She squeezes him through his pants, and he groans in her ear. Her nipples perk up. And then his lips move closer, to her neck, where his tongue is lapping at her skin, sucking against the space. She feels hot all over, in a way that she doesn’t know if she likes or not. His other hand is now fondling with her breasts through her blouse, and she gasps – which only makes him to go at it harder. His mouth finds her, his tongue moving against hers immediately. She’s lost in time, doesn’t know for how long he does it – her body becoming lighter and lighter with each swipe of his saliva against her lips.
Then, a cough from behind Shane. She snaps out of her daze, looks up. Makes eye contact with Sebastian, which feels as effective as a cold shower to her fogged mind. She yanks Shane’s hands off her, but he’s unbothered, turns to look at Sebastian with something like disgust and boredom.
“Can we help you?” Shane says. She hates how the word we sounds from his mouth.
Sebastian doesn’t bother to even look at the drunk guy, instead addressing her only.
“Do you want to go home? The others left already, but it’s getting pretty late…” He stops to stare at Shane, and she wordlessly nods at him. He starts moving instantly, shoving Shane away so he can grab her wrist and help her out of her chair. She needs a few seconds to stabilize herself on her feet, stop the dizzying headache that hit her at the sudden movement.
“Come on, man, what do you think you’re doing?” Shane asks, though he also has troubles standing on his own feet. He makes do with leaning against the table, doing his best to look as menacing as possible.
In his arms, she shudders at the sound of his voice, clutches her fingers around Sebastian’s leather jacket. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t want to touch her either, so he just stands still.
“She’s coming with me,” is all he says, and when he starts towards the door, she follows silently. He offers her jacket, which he picked up earlier, before checking on her, and she hangs her head even lower in shame. The cold, outside air is quickly sobering her up, and she really can’t believe she lost herself, just as if she were a college freshman. She burns with embarrassment.
Once out, Sebastian moves a bit away from her, offering her space, though he always extends an arm in her direction when she stumbles on both existent and imaginary obstacles. The silence now is excruciating.
“Say something,” she croaks, her throat hurting from all the alcohol.
“Are you okay?”
His voice is soft, and he stops, looks at her for the first time since the start of all this situation. She knows she probably looks like a mess, lipstick smeared all around her mouth, clothes hanging awkwardly, but his eyes just search hers. She suddenly feels like crying. He must see it too, because he’s moving closer to her.
“Can I-” he tries, sighs, moves a hand through his hair in frustration. “Can I touch you?”
She nods, but he doesn’t move.
“I’ll need verbal confirmation.”
“Yes.”
She’s outright staring at him now, as he makes his way to her, cups her face in between his hands. His fingers are cold against her flushed skin, but it grounds her to the moment. Sebastian’s eyes are moving now, across her face: stop at her jaw, her neck, where Shane sucked painful love bites against her skin, visible even only in the light coming from the street lamps. He hesitates before moving his gaze downwards, where similar marks were left by his fingers against her tits. She feels like used goods, even if there is no judgement from Sebastian.
“Did you want that?” he asks again, sounding deadly serious, so she’s trying to think equally as seriously about his question. It’s hard, her thoughts all jumbled up, a soft kind of edge to everything going on in her head.
“I don’t know,” she answers finally, her head pressing more firmly against his palm. Sebastian’s thumbs are now moving softly against her jaw, and she wants to purr, just like a cat, maybe hang on to him for more of his warmth.
“God,” he says, and it sounds like a swearword. He unglues himself from her, extends an arm that she gracefully takes as they continue on the road to her house. He doesn’t say anything more until they arrive on her porch, though he looks like he’s thinking very hard. She’d like to press her finger to the frown on his forehead.
Max is happily snoring on the warm ground, and she lets go of Sebastian to run the short distance to her dog. She goes on her knees, grabs Max’s head in her hands and coos at him like she would to a baby, talks lovesick nonsense to the dog, pats him all over.
Her voice sounds fucking cute, Sebastian thinks, but instead he fishes something from the pockets of his jacket, bends down so he can press it in her palms. She immediately turns to look at him, eyes big and questioning.
“Take those in the morning, okay? You’ll need them,” is all he says, raising a hand and waving it in a goodbye.
***
Sebastian is right. She wakes two hours later, empties all the contents of her stomach, tears burning at her eyes, and when she wakes again, she thanks all the gods that outside it is raining, because she only gets up to get a glass of water and swallow the pills. Her head is killing her, and her heart aches in embarrassment at the way she acted. She hangs between screaming out in frustration at her own self and complaining about being hangover the whole day, hating herself so, so very much.
She still shoots Sebastian a text, thanking him for taking care of her, in so many ways, the night before. He leaves her on read.
For the next week, she busies herself with work on the farm. She makes another batch of jam jars, which she sends to Lewis for selling. She plants a new tree sapling, harvests strawberries, even builds an ugly-looking scarecrow out of an old broom. She cuts down wood, saves up stacks of it for when she’ll eventually afford Robin’s services. She goes in the mines, once or twice.
Then one of Lewis’ invitations is waiting in her mailbox, for another festival. Spring is coming to an end, already a sweeter, warmer breeze in the air, so the whole town is to celebrate the exact thing.
***
But Pelican Town is a small place, and so it never forgets gossip too easily. On that evening, enough pairs of eyes saw her fumbling in the dark with Shane, and so enough pairs of eyes are now watching her suspiciously as she greets the mayor. She’s wearing some city dress again, though more modest, and ribbons in her hair. She’s forcing herself to smile at everyone she encounters, trying not to seem so affected by the outright cold shoulder.
Sam still greets her, though, grabbing her in his arms.
“Oh, handsome!” she says, and laughs when he’s looking around, to check if anyone else heard her. But he is wearing a suit, his hair is gelled down and he smells like his mother. His eyes are searching hers though, and she thinks Sebastian might have said something to his friend. But thankfully Sam mentions nothing.
She looks behind him, at Sebastian, dressed in a costume as well. Her heart starts beating faster in her chest; his hair is pushed back, and his forehead is now uncovered. He sits relaxed, his hands in his pockets, like he doesn’t really want to be there and she hasn’t seen someone look that heartbreakingly gorgeous.
“You too,” she says. Sebastian raises an eyebrow at her. “Look good, I mean,” she clarifies, and she clears her throat before the awkwardness chokes her.
It’s a big understatement, but it’s the best she can do right now. There’s a small smile that she gets in reply. On the other side of the field, by Robin’s side, Abigail, Penny and Maru look absolutely stunning in their festival dresses, with the flower crowns on top of their heads. They’re laughing at one of Abigail’s stories, and they’re just beautiful and young and entirely enrapturing. She wonders if she didn’t fuck it up so badly earlier, she would have been invited to be one of them.
This time around, there’s not as much mingling with the people as earlier in the season; people are a bit warier, though she supposes she deserves it. She’s busy setting down a mat under a blossoming tree, preparing some kind of picnic and viewing spot at the same time.
“You look beautiful,” she hears from behind her, and she turns around to find Shane. A bit behind him, Marnie is engaged in a conversation with the mayor, and by his side, there’s Jas, who immediately shoves her sandals away so she can step on her mat and sit next to her.
She offers her tea and strawberries, places her own hat on top of the child’s head to protect her from the sun, who squeals in delight that she can show off the winning prize of the egg hunt. Then, she turns back to Shane:
“Is she your daughter?”
“Gods, no. She’s my goddaughter.”
She sighs, relieved a bit. In the morning, Shane looks just scruffy, some kind of sober, but his face is still red and puffy, sign of alcoholism. She knows Jas lives with him and Marnie, and it can’t be a good environment for a child, but she’s heard the rumours that he’s not that much at home anyway. She’s worrying for the young girl, but she also trusts Marnie to handle the subject, not really her place to say anything anyway.
Shane moves closer, his hand grabbing the end of the scarf she’s wearing around her neck, tugging so it comes undone between his fingers. She gasps, palm gluing to the skin there, reaching out for him.
“Give it back,” she all but growls it out, eyes frantically looking around, hoping no one is actually looking their way, since everyone is focused on preparing for the dance.
“I did that, right?” he asks, finally stopping, and she takes back her scarf, hangs her head low, so that her hair can cover her movement, as she ties it back in place.
“Yes, you fucking asshole,” she spits, but doesn’t move away from him.
“I was honest, you know. About you looking beautiful. Then and now too.”
“Thank you,” she says, and stays in place even as Shane gets closer to her. He’s also dressed up, wearing an actual shirt and everything, his jaw freshly shaven. He even looks somewhat attractive, and just like last time, she’s grateful for the attention. Back in Zuzu City, no one bothers with any kind of dating, no one bothers to notice someone else at all – no sweet lies, no prelude, just a dick and a cunt. So this feels new and flattering at the same time.
She sits down on her mat, reluctantly serves Shane too with some of her freshly picked strawberries. Jas moved over to Vincent and Jodi, her hands carefully holding on to the hat that’s still a bit too big for her, so it’s only the two of them in this corner. The music can’t start soon enough, because she can feel stray eyes looking to them.
The dance starts, and she watches, transfixed as the pairs walk towards each other, meeting in the middle in an embrace. Almost immediately the dresses flutter in the air, twirling. There’s an admiring exclamation from somewhere in the crowd, Jas happily clapping along to the rhythm. She looks at Sam, all but drinking up Penny’s laughing face. She looks at Abigail, tightly holding on to Sebastian’s shoulders. She looks at her friends dancing with the girls they have a crush on, and something in her chest rips apart.
“Hey,” Shane says. “Wanna get out of here?”
She nods wordlessly, and he takes her hand. No one looks at them, as they discreetly make their way behind everyone else. Once out the field, Shane breaks into a run through the woods. They stop in a clearing, both breathing hard from their run, and Shane grins at her, before straightening his back, walking purposefully her way and deciding to kiss her. It’s hard and rough, much like he’s been handling her until now too, but she still moans.
His hands are already moving at pulling his belt apart, and he takes her hands and moves them towards his dick.
“Come on, play with it,” he whispers breathlessly, as he’s pulling apart her scarf for a second time today, mouth finding the tender skin, reinforcing the fading marks. She’s feeling needy herself, she’d like him to shove down her panties and eat her out, but she makes do with moving her legs one against the other, seeking some kind of friction, as her hands are moving from his tip towards his balls, slower at the beginning, and faster once he starts grunting in her ear, pumping into her hands.
Then, he grabs at her hair, and she has to bite her tongue to stop from yelping.
“On your knees,” he says, already pushing his weight on her shoulders, and more or less willingly, she gets to the ground. The uneven dirt hurts her skin, and yet she has to ignore it, because Shane is already guiding his dick with his hands towards her lips. She forces herself to open her mouth, hopes he’ll better get down to do the same thing for her.
Her mouth is warm, and she’s fucking good at what she’s doing, sucking hard and taking him all in, like a good bitch, even if tears are forming at the corner of her eyes and her throat is burning. He pulls out, just to slam, hard, back inside her wet, welcoming hole – and in just three shoves, he comes undone, half coming in her mouth, half out just so he can have his fantasy of his cum leaking on her face.
Her dress is stained, and almost all her arousal is out of her. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, presses a palm against the painful strain in her jaw. Shane hurries to put his now flailing dick back inside his pants, and he’s not helping her back up.
“Gotta go,” he says, and he’s patting down his pants, where she held onto and left some creasing.
“What?” she asks, suddenly annoyed. “What about me?”
“Solve it yourself, princess.”
He starts walking away. She screams after him.
“Oh, fuck you!”
“My pleasure, next time!” he shouts back, but he doesn’t stop, as he’s making his way back towards the festival.
She shoves the middle finger up in the air, stomping her feet at the same time, shrieking.
“You fucking asshole!”
He chuckles at her tantrum, but he’s spent and satisfied, while she’s there frustrated and fucked over, so he’s not bothering to take her too seriously.
There’s no way she can go back there without everyone else figuring out exactly what she’s been up to. Of course, Shane looks no different than his usual, maybe he’s even surrounded by some post-orgasm glow, but there’s some bleeding from one of her knees, his now dry cum on the front of her dress, and her hair is nothing but a mess. She can’t believe how fucking stupid she can be, and how she fell again in the same old game of “I give you some attention, you give me some sex” that she’s been playing for ages now. It seems like habits don’t change, no matter if she’s in Zuzu City or Pelican Town.
And for what? Just because she felt lonely and jealous, because she felt like no matter how much she’ll try, she’ll never be anything but a passing fancy to these people that know each other inside out?
She makes her way towards her farm stomping her feet, swearing at Shane and mumbling curses all the way. Once back, she draws herself a hot bath and, in the tub, finally somewhere safe, she touches herself, moans out into the air a name she doesn’t dare to even say out loud, and thinks of someone who never even looked at her in any way to indicate she might want her too.
So, she must make do with fucking Shane?
But as she succumbs to her orgasm, moving lower into the water, maybe she can just order a dildo online and leave it at that.
***
On the first summer days, she takes up fishing. She buys a bottle of mead, because she’s heard from mayor Lewis that’s the favourite drink of their local fishermen, and she goes down the beach to beg.
She wants to learn fishing, she says. Just a couple of lessons, whenever he can leave his store and he’s willing to – she really just wants some new hobbies. It’s dreadfully awful to have only three functional TV channels, and only a dozens of books. Even Max is just a dog, and there’s a limitation to what he is capable of. Willy is funny and wise in the way only old men who love the sea can be, but he’s patient in his explanations – and sure enough, very soon, she catches her first fish.
She takes a picture of it on her phone, proud of her achievement. She sends it to Sam, to boast a bit and to annoy him, because he’s currently stuck at his part-time job. Then she goes shell hunting, because she’s too giddy to do any actual work. The villagers recently rebuilt the small bridge on the beach, and it’s lovely to get to take a walk like this. She wants her house to have the same fresh feeling, so she visits Robin for an upgrade.
And she knows she’s paying for the work, but with Robin, she feels like she’s asking for a favour, so she must give something back. And because she feels guilty, for having thought so angrily and jealously about Sebastian and his life, she wants to say sorry in a way, even if he has no way of knowing why she’s doing it in the first place.
Robin’s outside the house, just having come back from an exercise class at Caroline’s. She greets her visitor just a bit more strained than usual, and well – there’s no doubt that if there’s a gossip mill in the town, that’s probably the weekly gathering of middle-aged wives.
The farmer sighs, agrees to wait in the house while Robin takes a shower, before they can discuss about work.
“Is Sebastian home?” she asks, and the older woman makes a dismissive sign with her hand, which means she can go and check for herself.
The door to his room is slightly open, and he actually asks her to come in when she knocks. She greets him from the doorway, suddenly shy when he speaks, suddenly guilty that she’s interrupting him. She sits down on the couch, starts by watching him work, and then eventually she gets distracted by the posters on his walls, and the huge book collection he is showcasing on his shelves. It’s work that she’s familiar with, the stuff she liked to read before, when she used to have time for her hobbies, about worlds that she could escape to only by reading about them in books, featuring magic and dragons and robots.
He doesn’t seem to mind her looking around, as long as she’s quiet. Then, he eventually finishes, and sighs, stretching out his arms.
“Sorry about that, had to finish what I was working on.”
“Ah,” she nods. “And what is that?”
“I do freelance programming,” he answers. “I just want to save up enough to move from here. You know, if I’d gone to college, I’d probably be making six figures right now… but I just don’t want to be part of that corporate rat race, you know?”
“As a rat,” she says, a smile already on her face, “I totally agree with you.”
He looks at her; this is the first hint he gets – of something more about her. He’s heard from Sam, of course, about her actual job in the city, but it’s different to know it from her, to know he has her trust, to hear the defeat behind her voice, even as she tries to hide it with humour.
Then the moment is broken, the ping from his IM breaking the companionable silence between them. Normally, he’d have to explain to people why he is not in the mood to meet up with others, his introversion something out of a freak show with the villagers, but she just nods at him in understanding.
But the next interruption is almost brutal, Robin returning to pass on Abigail’s message, so filled with dismissal at his work, and indifference at his preferences. The easy air about him, as he was talking about a work he clearly loves and his dreams, is now entirely stifled – and instead he, defeated, just accepts all of this, even if he complains. She’d like to press her finger to the frown on his forehead.
This situation makes her blood boil, though: because she’s been in his exact spot. She’s had people look down at her choices for as long as she’s decided to walk her path, out there in the city – and now that she knows what it’s like not to, she can’t take to be the witness to it happening in front of her. Of course, some people will always have something to say, but it should be different with those considered friends – considered family, no?
From the kitchen upstairs, Robin is calling out her name – now, suddenly, she doesn’t really want to go, especially when she knows her presence is soon to be replaced by someone else’s. So, she acts daringly. She touches his arm, as she raises to go:
“You know, I think you’re doing an amazing job, especially considering your conditions. And trust me, it really is better than being a clog in the corporate system, and your work is important, even if it’s important for you only.”
As soon as she came, she’s gone and he loses his chance of asking for more. She left behind another sloppily packed present on his desk, a piece of quartz inside. He gets up, moves to put it up on his shelves – and shit, he wonders if she noticed the other stuff she’s given him, up there.
***
So Robin starts coming around with her carpenter tools, sometimes so early in the morning that she’s welcoming her still in her Disney pyjamas. They drink instant coffee, warm this time – and they discuss recipes that she’d like to try in her new kitchen, or the kind of animals she’ll grow in the barn. She learns that Robin loves goat cheese, and she shares that she absolutely hates peppers. She asks about Sebastian and Maru’s childhoods, she tells of her grandpa’s favourite magic trick.
The sound of Robin’s hammer accompanies her through her motions, as she’s ploughing the land for the summer crops. She didn’t really understand how lonely she has been all these months, just going through what she has to do. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, even if just for a few stolen minutes.
Sebastian drops by during his breaks sometimes, to bring his mother’s lunch, and both women nag at him so much that he ends up eating with them, Max nestled at his feet under the table.
Once, she walks back with him towards the town; she needs to drop by Pierre’s, to order some kitchen utensils – and by Lewis’ house, to leave him a note with info on her next batch of syrup and honey, that she sells for some good prices. He strains himself to walk in a pace that matches hers, even if he just wants to hurry home and take a nap.
She noticed, how tired he looks lately: hair more dishevelled, the slight stubble on his chin, the dark under his eyes. She knows, from Robin, that he spent even more time than usual in his room, refusing to meet even Abigail or Sam. She’d like to press her palm on his forehead, check for any signs of sickness.
“Are you working a lot these days?” she asks, fumbling with the edge of her t-shirt, feeling shy and worried that she might be overstepping.
“Had a tight deadline, but it’s over now.”
He pushes the hair out of his eyes with his hand, pats the pockets of his jeans with the other. He takes out his cigarettes, and then swears.
“Shit, do you have a lighter?”
In fact, she does. Sometimes, when she goes to the mines, her flashlight flickers and dies out, so she started the habit of carrying candles on her expeditions, and always a lighter in her pocket. She offers the fire; she has to stand on her tiptoes and he has to bend down to make it work.
Sebastian looks at her; she’s determinedly staring at the ground. They’re so close that even in the summer heat, she can feel his breathe on her cheek. Once the cigarette is lit, she almost scrambles away, pressing her palms to her cheeks, complaining about the hot weather.
She starts walking faster, afraid of what she might do if Sebastian looks into her face. There’s a small smile on his face that she can’t notice.
***
Pierre’s store is more of a general hangout spot for his daughter, though – Maru is eating her lunch with Abigail in a corner, and she waves at the two of them as she turns towards the counter. Of course, Pierre convinces her to buy several types of flower seeds – and she walks around the town with those in her arms. She thinks she might actually be his best customer. Or easiest, which in his case, it is one and the same thing.
That’s how she meets Evelyn: in the town square, taking care of the flowers. In truth, she never stopped to think about who maintains the town, and now she seems to have her answer. There are many people around; Penny with the kids, playing in the water fountain. Mayor Lewis and Harvey discussing in front of the clinic, Gus sticking a request on the board.
But the old lady spots her shopping, and sits her down on a bench, where she lectures her on the proper way to take care of them.
Then, the tone shifts – and the older woman asks her about the animals she’s growing (they’re well), how she finds Pelican Town (nice) and what’s her favourite flower (hyacinth).
“You know,” she laughs. “I almost married your grandpa.”
She sputters, unsure how to take this wild what-if she’s presented with. Of course, if Evelyn would have ended as his wife, she wouldn’t be here at all. And still, her curiosity gets the best of her.
“What happened?”
“Oh, George – that’s my husband, dear – bought an old farm here in town and moved one day. The next thing you know, everyone was smitten with the new farmer, me included. And by then, your grandpa was already in the army.”
And when he returned from the army, he returned with a wife – that’s a story that she knows. Grandpa met her grandmother at one of the dance evenings organized for young soldiers, and if the story she was told as a child is to be believed, he danced with no one else that night, the next and all the other ones that followed.
“How was he like?”
Sometimes, when it comes to someone you love, it’s hard to consider them from another point of view than the one you were always familiar with. He has always been just her grandfather to her, yet Evelyn here has seen him growing, becoming all those things to all those many people: son, neighbour, husband, father.
“He always worked hard, stirred trouble wherever he went and loved this town like no other,” she says, a faint smile on her face, lost in memories.
That sounds like the old man alright.
“Th-thank you, Evelyn.” Her voice sounds a little chocked. Just a little.
“Psssh, please. Call me Granny.”
The old man takes her hand, squeezes her fingers in hers – and pats her butt when she gets up to go home.
***
“Hey, mom,” she says, pressing the phone closer to her ear. It’s the first phone call she’s making from the landline, and there are jitters all over her skin. She hates that she has to stay still, glued to one spot the length of the phone’s cable. Her brain goes in override.
“Darling!” her mother exclaims from the other side. There’s some shifting, the sound of a door closing, then a sigh. “How are you? How’s Pelican Town?”
She tries not to sniffle outright, tries not to cry that she wants her mother when she’s a fucking grown-up adult, but that really is how she feels. It was all okay, the construction almost to an end, her crops growing beautifully – and then Max gnawed at her only good pair of shoes, and the thing sent her into a spiral of self-pity. She really has no idea what on earth she is doing here.
Instead, she asks: “Did you like living here?”
She is grandpa’s only living child. After her older brother’s death, she simply packed her stuff and moved to a shitty dorm in city, got married in two months and had her almost immediately after. Nowadays, her father is drowning in alcohol and her mother is drowning in work – and she wonders if the first coping mechanism may be more useful than the latter, though her last experience seems to point to a no.
“No,” her mother says. “But depends on what you’re chasing, or what you’re running away from. So, do you like living there?”
She tugs at the phone cord, shifts on spot, looks at Max sleeping a few feet away.
“M-maybe? I don’t know.”
“That’s not a no,” her mother says, ending the call immediately afterwards.
She sits on the same spot, with the tone dead in the background for a very long time, just staring out the window at the setting sun.
***
With the new barn built, she visits Marnie about filling it with the appropriate animals. She’d like a sheep, just because she thinks knitting would be a useful hobby to pick up by winter. Maybe a goat, so she can make cheese and thank Robin properly for all the overtime work she put in finishing her house so early.
Jas is out with Vincent, but before discussing the price of the animal, Marnie hands her the straw hat and her picnic mat. She burns as she takes those from her, not knowing what to say. It’s been two weeks since she ran from the town’s celebration, and even now, she burns with the shame of that day. She starts looking around.
“He’s not-”
“At work, dear,” she says, and finally she starts calculating and writing down something at her desk.
“So you know.”
“Everyone knows,” she says and sounds forcefully cheerful, although she must understand what weight her words have, because the farmer is slouching in a chair, head hanging in her hands.
“There’s nothing going on,” she wails, looking up at Marnie, begging her to believe her – even if she’s just a stranger, asking for a bias against her own blood relative.
“Nothing going on anymore?” Marnie corrects, moves to pat her on the shoulder, signalling at the same time for the young woman to follow her. She nods her head, defeated, and Marnie has to wonder what exactly did this hard-working farmer see in her drunk nephew. She feels relieved to know that she put an end to it. Maybe exactly because she got involved with her good for nothing boy that she feels a bit more forgiving towards her.
She talks her in getting another chicken too, as an apology for having fucked around with her nephew. She doesn’t have the heart to correct this motherly woman that it was, in fact, the other way around. But either way, she’s forgotten.
She knows that because the next day, Penny calls her and asks her to spend the day together with the kids on the beach. She shouldn’t be that surprised to see Sam there too.
***
She asks everyone she gets along with over, after the house expansion is finished. She spent most morning just preparing various recipes, to fit everyone’s taste. Penny arrives first, dropping an apple pie on her kitchen counter and moving around the house to admire Robin’s work. She’s been thinking of doing something about her trailer-living situation for a while.
Abigail and Maru arrive together, with a plate of Robin’s spaghetti. Her and Demetrius decided it’s better to skip the evening, seeing how everyone else there is the same age as their children. She learns that Abigail is supposed to start her second year of university in autumn, and that Maru is going to do her master’s in astrophysics.
She whistles appreciatively, makes fun of her literature degree on the way. The two then huddle together in a corner of the porch, feeding Max stray bits of food and cooing at him when his tail starts wagging.
Sam and Sebastian arrive the last, each carrying a board game in their hands. It’s smart thinking on their side, because she’s not sure what she would have entertained her guests with otherwise. They huddle around the table, filling up plates with at least five different food recipes, passing iced tea and lemonade around. Abigail has this perfect skill of being able to imitate Lewis’ announcement voice perfectly, which in turn makes Sam snort his drink out of his noise. It makes everyone else lose it, and afterwards there’s no awkwardness hanging between them.
Penny helps Sam clean up in the kitchen, and they’re gone for way longer than necessary, though everyone else at the table is polite enough not to comment on it. Abigail and Maru, sitting one across the other, keep looking at each other while the other is not looking, and Abigail might be eating so much chocolate cake that she risks getting sick.
Sebastian sits next to her, smiling softly at a story that Penny is telling, from their time together in high-school. She should, technically, feel left out of the loop, but each time she mentions someone unknown, or a habit they used to have as a teenage group, Sebastian leans over closer to her, and whispers explanations into her ear. His voice, low and smooth, makes her feel like she’s melting down her chair.
Sam and Sebastian go out for a smoke, and she’s following them too, asking for a cigarette from Sebastian, letting her lighter pass around in a circle. The sun has already set, and there’s only the soft buzzing sound of her lamp in the air. The boys are talking about their rehearsal schedule, ask her over sometime, which she happily agrees to.
“Hey,” Sam says, kicking at her leg with his shoe. “Are you single?”
“What the fuck?!”
Sam raises his hands in the air, talking with his cigarette between his teeth. “Don’t shoot the messenger!”
She was ready to punch his elbow, but is now lowering her arm, frowning at him. Behind Sam, Sebastian continue smoking, refusing to get himself involved in this mess.
“Whose messenger?” she asks, though there’s a teasing edge in her voice, clearly proving that she doesn’t believe anything else but his own curiosity brought him to this rudeness.
“Look man – uhm, woman I guess, we’re all friends here, no judgement zone.”
“You just laughed at Maru for liking math two minutes ago!” she points out, this time her kicking his leg.
“You can just not answer the question,” Sam says, pacifying, turning towards Sebastian to offer him his lighter, as he’s already on his second cigarette.
“No, it’s fine.” She feels embarrassed for causing a scene, when it’s not even such a big deal. “I am single.”
She starts walking a bit away, making it seem like she’s inspecting the shrub just next to the stairs.
“So no Shane?” this time it’s Sebastian asking, which is surprising because she did not expect him to care.
“No Shane,” she confirms, her voice a bit weaker than she intended it to be.
Sam punches the air in a victorious movement, grinning at her.
“Thank God, that guy’s a fucking asshole.”
He shivers a bit in the cold night air, wearing only a t-shirt, and with a goodbye thrown over his shoulder, he goes back inside. Sebastian moves his hand in the air a bit, gesturing to his unfinished smoke, but she’s still not making a move to go back.
“But him and Penny… totally a thing, right?”
“Totally,” Sebastian says, and they both burst out laughing.
***
When Abigail phoned to tell her about Luau, she actually mostly whined that summer festivals are the most boring ones, because everyone is so busy tending to crops and making the most out of the long days. The farmer herself was actually taking a break, at the height of the summer heat, with a glass of iced water, but counting down the minutes before she’d be back in the garden, pulling out the weeds and gathering ripened fruits.
She still gets invited to Luau with everyone else; somewhat of a temporary, potentially forever fixture to their group. There’s a gaping hole opening in her stomach when she thinks of this, anxiety bubbling all inside her body making her feel sick. She feels like something terrible surely must happen soon, considering how much joy she gets from all these people.
She has sent some stuff to mayor Lewis, to add to the potluck soup: fresh tomato, some mushrooms, basil. But still, the thing looks completely inedible.
“Are we trying to kill the governor?” she asks, as she’s carefully looking at the bowl in her hands.
Sebastian laughs, turning his upside down in the sand. She’d really like to do the same thing.
“It’s tradition!” Maru explains, frowning at her brother.
“Are we choosing governors based on the quality of their stomach?” she tries again, this time sniffing at the stuff. Its consistency looks absolutely… gluey.
Sam joins the laughter this time, and Sebastian pats Maru’s shoulder in some attempt at an excuse. Abigail is the only one who actually eats the stuff, though her face turns somewhat pale as soon as she is done. The governor looks like he is perfectly fine, and even praises their soup, which makes everyone visibly relax.
***
Maru’s birthday was a solitary thing; just another ordinary working day, celebrated only with chocolate cake in the evening with the entire family. Robin builds her another bookshelf, Demetrius and Sebastian get the money for a new telescope. No other guests are invited, though random gifts still find their way to her mailbox: a stray astrology book, a new case for her glasses.
Sam’s not that different, though they all heard the rumours that immediately after his shift, he visited the museum, and spent a very, very long time there. They meet on Friday night at the Saloon though, so that the band can play and the others can cheer. They’re spectacular, as usual, and when doing something they love, all three of them look younger than she has ever seen them.
Penny is at her side, an arm looped around her waist, and they’re both swaying their bodies on the rhythm of the music. Sam winks in their direction, though the redhead pretends she doesn’t see it.
***
On one of their river discussions, Sebastian mentions frogs to her once; something she’s been terrified of for as long as she remembers. But there’s just such a soft smile on his face, and his voice is so calm: and as such, she thinks to give it a try. Which is exactly why he finds her one day, as he goes to visit Sam, by the river bank, on all fours, staring into the water.
She yelps when he hears him calling out to her, fluttering her arms in the air in a panic. It’s that movement that makes her stumble forward in the water. She doesn’t know how to swim, but the water is low enough to not be a problem, but as she gets up, sitting on her ass in the middle of the river, she scowls at him.
“I hate you,” she says.
He smiles, and with the sun at his back, it’s the most beautiful sight she’s seen. He offers her a hand, which she accepts gratefully, trying to remain as dignified as possible, considering that her clothes are now stuck to her body and there might be some mud on her butt.
“What were you doing?” he asks, and she immediately reddens under his attention.
She mumbles her answer; she’s a terrible liar, so she doesn’t even try. This time, Sebastian actually laughs at her, and she crosses her hands at her chest, both indignant and cold.
“I hate you,” she says again, this time accentuating each of her words. But there’s no fire behind it, so he ignores her remarks. Instead, he unzips his hoodie and, slowly, places it on her shoulders.
“But-” she starts, already moving to remove it, give it back, refuse the help, her natural instinct kicking in. He hasn’t stepped back, and having him so close, she notices the subtle smell of his aftershave, the dark marks under his eyes. She wants to get on her tiptoe and let her fingers run through his hair, so soft from up this close. Then he speaks, the magic breaking, and she moves her eyes down to her shoes, shy all of the sudden.
“Sam’s living real close, so it’s really no problem.”
He’s trying very hard not to move his eyes away from hers, face burning red with embarrassment – and only then does she realize she’s wearing a white shirt, and she’s wet –
“Oh,” she says, lamely, moving her arms through the sleeves and zipping it up. “I… I’ll wash it and bring it back to you.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he says, before awkwardly saying his goodbyes. Sam will chew him out for being late, and Abigail will frown at him for not letting them know about this ahead of time.
But their new farmer will stand by the river bank for a long time still, looking down at the water, even when Vincent passes her by and laughs at the wet pool that dripped at her feet.
***
She likes taking the mountain path, especially during hot summer days: less people to stop and chat with under the sun, more shade from the trees, chances to see a wild bunny or a squirrel, maybe picking up some wild fruit. She learnt to enjoy these things, that felt like such a chore back in the day, when she was simply a child helping out her relatives. Maybe because, from start to finish, in everything she does for her farm, she leaves a part of herself in there.
She’s as familiar with Robin’s garden as she is with her own, and that’s why it takes her brain a bit to catch up with what she is seeing.
She didn’t even expect to see Sebastian at all, and especially not like… this. Sprawled under his motorcycle, the picture perfect of her dream boy from high-school. It’s then when it dawns on her that she might have some other reasons too, for visiting Robin today, for picking the mountain path, for going to the mines so often, even if she’ll never admit it to anyone else.
For a second, she hates him so much for having been so kind to her, for having taken care of her, for his beautiful smiles and his unending understanding. For having made her like him so much, when this recluse and silent man seems to dislike everything that she is starting to like lately.
She crushes the feeling coming up in her chest; the despair and the need to go and run as far away from him, before they make eye contact, before her beating heart goes into override.
Sebastian heard her approaching footstep though, and as he’s coming up, t-shirt clinging to his chest, she closes her eyes. God help her not to jump this man right here and now.
“Hey you,” he says, the corner of his lips lifting up a bit seeing her.
She waves, taking a deep breath as she approaches him, taking a seat on the outside bench. He picks up the tool that he needed, and goes back to work. She stays put right where she is, watching him.
“You know, it’s fascinating to watch someone do something I know nothing about,” she laughs, thinking of her useless literature degree as well, her dirt stained nails and her dead-end job back in the city, so opposed to his programming skills and the coppery smell of his motorcycle.
“That’s how I feel when you talk about farm upgrades with mom,” he says, and then asking her for another tool – it’s the round one with a yellow handle.
She shifts closer; he gets out from under the metal labyrinth of his bike enough to nod at her in thanks when she hands it to him. But he understands her feeling better than he manages to put it into words, especially since he’s been an outcast in the village for so long; heck he’s not sure anyone else but her even accepts what he’s working, let alone understand it.
But if there’s someone who can get it, it’s certainly the city girl who gave up everything to become a farmer. Much as he wants to drop everything here just for a shot at the big city. It’s the same strangling hope in his voice, that she’s detected the first time they met, when he talks about his short escapades.
He gets up, wiping his hands on a dirty old rag. There’s a dark stain on his cheek that makes him so incredibly cute, and yet the contrast couldn’t be more obvious with his muscles.
“You could come with me next time,” he says, and he purposefully looks at her, digging out her reactions.
She blushes, all red, prettily and opens her mouth to say something, closes it again. Then, with a bit too much eagerness, that makes her seem just a bit too desperate to do the right thing, she says:
“I’d love to.”
“Great,” he says, and this time it’s a full smile that he graces her with.
They move to enter the house now, the sun setting at their back, and he holds the door open for her. She has to squeeze by him, so close that she can feel the smell of oil mingled with his sweat, and the always present soft aroma of soap.
Robin is in the kitchen, preparing hot chocolate for everyone; Abigail is over too, in Maru’s room, the two’s laughter loud enough to be heard from downstairs. Demetrius is in his office, researching something in one of his biology tomes.
She immediately moves to help Robin; now familiar with the layout of her kitchen, with everyone’s favourite mug. His mother yells at Sebastian to go and take a shower before even daring to enter her kitchen, which is exactly the reason why he moves closer to her instead, loudly kissing her cheek.
Robin shrieks, hitting him with the spoon she’s holding in her hand. Their guest watches the scene with a soft smile; she likes it when there’s no bitterness between the two, which is something that comes way easier when no one else in their family is around.
She presents Robin with her first goat cheese; it’s experimental yet, really I have no idea if it’s any good, but she gathers her in her arms anyway, thanking her from the bottom of her heart. She carefully places it in her fridge.
And while Robin goes to Demetrius’ office, forcing a break out of this man as they plan to drink their hot chocolate together, she’s tasked to bringing up the girls’. She knocks, but it still doesn’t feel like sufficient incessant to stop whatever they were doing, because when she opens the door, Maru’s in Abigail arms, having a somewhat lost look on her face. Abigail’s lipstick is all over Maru’s neck, and smeared around her lips, and both their mouths are pulsing red with the pressure of shared kisses.
She blushes under their eyes, hates to have interrupted what she just did. It’s worse than if they were having sex, because the tension in the air is so thick she can choke on it.
“R-Robin said-” she tries, but she’s so embarrassed that she just leaves the tray on the desk, and all but bolts down the stairs.
Shit, she thinks.
“Shit,” she exclaims out loud as well. She’s so wind up she doesn’t hear the footsteps following her, and she almost screams when Abigail’s hand comes down her shoulder.
“Hey, look, let’s be chill about it and keep it a secret, yeah?”
“Of course,” she nods her head. “And I’m really sorry…”
“Our fault for being daring enough not to lock the door. But in our defence, we didn’t think that would happen,” Abigail says, winking at the other woman, before moving upstairs, probably to calm down her lover.
The theme of her life is that she is a big, stupid, idiotic fool. She’s been jealous for months on a relationship that didn’t even exist, and now she feels guilty and embarrassed all over again for what she did when overcome by those emotions. She stands in the middle of the hallway, hating herself so much that she would burst into flames if she had magical powers.
Sebastian finds her eventually, grounds her back to reality with a soft touch against her elbow and a soft call of her name. She startles like she’s been shot, almost jumping out of her skin, before things start refocusing around her. Sebastian, after his shower, smells like pine and mint, and he’s wearing shorts.
“Come on,” he says, slowly guiding her back to the kitchen, where their drink probably went cold already. At the back of his leg, Sebastian has a tattoo: a man lying face down, ten swords hanging above his body.
“That’s cool,” she nods her head at the design, sipping from her hot chocolate.
“Thanks. Sweet sixteen present, teenage rebellion and everything.”
“I ran away from home when I was sixteen,” she says, and Sebastian rises his eyebrows, clearly sceptical.
“For real!” she laughs. “I came here, to gramps.”
“Can’t remember you ever being up here,” he says, but now he’s curious.
“Well, of course, he called my mom the second I entered the house, and next morning she came to pick me up, but still.”
Sebastian snorts at her story, and she’s beaming at him with the largest smile possible, having gotten such a reaction out of him. It seems like it’s so easy for her to rile him up, or to get him involved enough in what she’s doing that he can’t filter his reactions anymore.
He walks her home that evening; she insisted he didn’t need to go through the trouble, since she’s out even later all the time, but Robin pushed, especially since Abigail was to sleep over, so she didn’t need Sebastian to walk her home.
In the end, she had company on the way home.
“Sorry for the trouble,” she says. Sebastian is smoking again, and only shakes his head. They continue their conversation from earlier, about how they used to be as kids and teenagers, periods in time that feels very far-away. Then she tells him of her past job, how she used to want to kill herself every time she entered the building, how there was no more city around her, and just the clutch of overwork and need for money.
She breathes easier here, she says. She hasn’t seen the stars in years, she adds.
She’s looking up at the sky, but Sebastian is looking at her.
She’s seemed lost on that first day, overwhelmed as she looked around at her inherited plot of land, and he’s given her two weeks maximum to survive in there. And here she is, rounding on six months, looking like she’s always belonged.
She hands him his sweater, thanks him again, in that sweet voice that matches her face, but not her personality when she’s swearing. He wishes the road between their houses was longer, longer than to Zuzu City, so long that they could have the entire night at their disposal.
***
“You’re late,” she says, from where she sits on the pier, her feet just a few centimetres above the water surface.
She’s barefoot, and she’s wearing a thin and short dress, and showing so much skin that Sebastian is a bit distracted at first. Technically, they haven’t set a meeting time, but he is indeed the last of the villagers to arrive on the beach for the dance of the moonlight jellies. By now, the others are also grouped together, leaving her alone.
She pats the space next to her. He sits down, yawning.
“Sorry, I was up until 3am reading a new book.”
She lights up then, shoots question after question at him: about his favourite authors and books, hints at the volumes he knows she’s seen on his shelf. They decide to buddy read a book together, and the next day he finds her favourite novel in his mailbox, he sends his instead. His are in pristine condition, while hers are underlined all over, notes scrambled over the margins that he spends a lot of time trying to decipher, corners dog-eared. The first few are a hit and miss, then slowly, as they go through the volumes, writing long texts and handwritten note with their thoughts on it or calling each other late into the night, they start to figure each other’s state, collections growing on each side.
On Penny’s birthday, no one can find the young woman almost the entire day. For that matter, they had the same problem with Sam too.
On Abigail’s birthday, she knocks on the farmer’s door in the middle of the night. The other woman is sleepy, bleary eyed, and she knows that something serious is going on because Abigail doesn’t even make fun of her pyjamas. She opens the door, wordlessly. Makes some tea, as Abigail plops on the rug on the floor, nuzzling Max.
She passes her a steaming cup of tea, sits in front of her in much the same manner.
“What happened?”
It takes Abigail a long time to reply, and when she does, she stumbles over words.
“I-I came out to my parents. Let’s say they didn’t take it too well. Sebastian lives with M-Maru so it didn’t feel like the smartest move, and Sam’s mother already has enough things to worry about. I had no-nowhere else to go.”
She shouldn’t be this surprised when the farmer leans closer, wrapping her arms around her, squeezing her close. Abigail reaches up her hands, tugs at the pyjama top and starts sobbing. There’s a large wet mark on the other woman’s shoulder when she is done, though she doesn’t seem to notice it as she’s running around her house, pulling out a rolled up mattress and building a make-shift bed in the middle of the room. She’s gentle as she moves Abigail to her bedroom, helps her in bed, petting at her hair, and chanting it’ll be okay over and over again.
Abigail’s already asleep when she moves to the kitchen, scrolling through her contacts list. It takes a few seconds before the person at the other end picks up, and Sebastian’s voice sounds muffled. She imagines him for a second, face half-hidden in his pillow, dishevelled hair. Then:
“It’s Abbie.”
The next day, Sam and Sebastian show up on her doorstep at 6am with chocolate cake, and they barely even greet her before moving inside, slamming open the door to the room where Abigail’s sleeping, essentially waking her up. But they also jump on the bed, squeezing themselves in the small space, peppering her face with kisses, even as she screams at them to stop, that they’re gross. But she’s laughing.
Over breakfast (eggs and salad and chocolate cake), they discuss what they should do next. There’s enough space here for two people, and it makes most sense to have Abigail live here for a while, until things calm down a bit.
“Did,” Abigail starts, unsure, playing with a tissue, “Maru tell your parents?”
“Yeah,” Sebastian says, and he feels like he really needs a smoke.
“I guess it went well.”
Abigail ends with a laugh that resounds dry and bitter in the room. Sam’s leaning towards her, holding her hand.
“Your parents will come around,” he says. “They just need to get over the initial shock.”
Except Abigail, everyone else nods. It’s hard to imagine Pierre staying mad at anyone, let alone his own daughter. But Pelican Town is a small enough place that such a thing might take a long time to forgive in the eyes of others. After the guys leave that first day, Abigail spends the entire day in bed. The next one, she joins her host for coffee, asks about the pumpkin patches.
When the Stardew Valley Fair rolls around, she helps the farmer fill Robin’s truck with her products. The older woman hugs Abigail that day like she’s a long-lost daughter, which makes her cry all over again.
***
The Fair itself is nice; the trees around had already started to turn orange, and it gives the place a really cosy atmosphere. Almost everyone in town buys something from her stall, and Marnie even comments that she fits right in. She enters Lewis’ competition with her pumpkins, but she loses to Shane’s chickens, which is a totally deserved win on his side, though she hates to admit.
Abigail makes up with her family that day, because the second she steps in town, her mother drops a crane of jars, swears, and runs up to her baby girl to hug the life out of her, cry and apologize. Pierre is sniffling at his stall, next to her – and she passes him her handkerchief.
Then, because Abigail is Abigail, she kisses Maru in front of everyone. George whistles, loudly and everyone laughs, which ends any discussion on the topic. With this scene, the farmer thinks she has just fallen a bit in love with the man herself.
Shane approaches her, to boast his win.
“Congrats,” she says, though she is pointedly not looking at the bow pinned to his chest. Jas has already been over, stopping everyone and showing it off.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, and she’s glad the stall stands between them, because she knows he would have liked to be much closer than this.
“Glad you took the hint.”
“Is the freak gang that entertaining, little girl?”
There he goes again, with his horrible nicknames and that shit-eating grin. She hopes he’d choke on all the bullshit he’s spewing, some day.
“Yes.”
She sounds firm, serious and soft at the same time. There’s a small smile on her lips as well, and probably it’s that combination that makes Shane realize she’s entirely truthful. So, he laughs. For sure, he must find her stupid and foolish, and yet she only feels relieved as he watches him walk away, shaking his head like he’s disappointed.
As evening approaches, Sebastian stops by her stall. It’s almost empty now, most of her products sold earlier in the day. He sits next to her, smoking, looking at Sam winning the big prize at darts for Penny. She all but swoons.
Sebastian gets up, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.
“Do you want to walk around?”
She nods, he helps her up. She asks Pierre to watch over the rest of her stuff, and when they move from stall to stall, her and Sebastian are so close that their shoulder almost touch, though none moves to put more space between them. She keeps stealing glances at him, as he explains to her about his favourite stalls, and how it used to look like back in his childhood.
They eat Gus’ famous burgers, and her heart almost stops beating when he leans closer, pressing a tissue to the corner of her mouth. He starts by looking her in the eye, but then her own eyes drop to the flutter of his eyelids, the curve of his nose, eventually settling on the plumpness of his lips – and his gaze follows suit, tracing the same path on her face. They sit in silence, staring at each other, until Gus’ boisterous laugh makes them both startle.
She mumbles her thanks, looking at her plate, too afraid to look at Sebastian.
They play darts too, though she only manages to hit the target only once, and only on its furthest ring.
“Sam rigged this game, didn’t he?” she asks, which makes him smile.
Sebastian pays for his turn, raises his eyebrows at her when she’s expectantly watching him. He throws the first dart while still looking at her, and it hits bull’s eye. She screams in delight, clapping her hands together.
He moves his hand to the back of his head, embarrassed at her reaction, even if he so desperately wanted it in the first place. He asks her if she wants any of the prizes, but she shakes her head. As cheesy as it might be, for her it’s enough that she can enjoy the fair, and that she can do it alongside him.
***
When she counts her savings the next day, it’s not as much as she would have liked. So she starts going to the mine again, because she can sell well everything that she finds in there, and for a couple of weeks, it works out just fine. Until it doesn’t anymore.
She knows the place is old, but the crack of the stair giving way under her weight was not an expected problem. The lurking animals and the unmapped areas, sure. But not the wooden step of the stairs.
It takes her by surprise, and she doesn’t have fast enough reflexes to find another footing, so she falls all the distance to the ground. She lands on her side, and there’s a terrible crack in the shoulder that makes getting up so, so painful afterwards. She’s bleeding heavily from one of her knees as well, and several bruises are already blooming on her legs and arms.
Her flashlight also went out on impact, so at first she is disoriented, her head booming with the sound of her fall. Then she gets scared, her heartbeat in her throat, and before she can even think more of her wounds, she forces herself to count up to 100, as slowly as she can, bringing her breathing back to normal, forcing her body to refuse the incoming panic attack just yet.
No one knows she’s in the mine right now, so technically even if they were to notice her disappearance, it will take a while until they find her. And it was already dark outside, judging from the last time she looked at her watch, which makes searching for her unsafe until at least tomorrow morning. She can’t just stay here and wait for someone to find her, even if that is all that she truly wants to do.
She winces when she finally raises to her feet. She’s unstable and everything hurts, but she’s most worried about her arm. She tried to pick up her discarded flashlight, but the movement hurt so much she left out an agonized wail.
Tears start biting at her eyes when she bumps into the stairs, after fumbling through the dark for it. She tries not to think of all the steps until the surface, and then her walk back home – and instead tries to take it one step at a time. She can support her weight only on one arm, and her legs hurt each time she raises them, the skin at her knee ripping open a bit more with each move of her leg up. She takes it one at a time, stops often to breathe deeply, give some part of her body some respite. She struggles even more when she finally gets to the broken stair, and she has to cover twice the distance.
When she eventually collapses on the ground at the entrance to the cave, she can smell the fresh night air, and she can hear the rustling of the leaves, and she starts crying. Somewhere down there, where the mine caved in, trapping workers under the stones and dirt and in unending hallways, is the body of her uncle. Of course, she could have easily shared the same fate today, if she would have been a bit higher, if she would have fallen on one of the sharp stones littering the lower floors instead.
She forces herself, again, to just breathe. But even as she makes herself stand up and walk the long way home, her mind is drifting further and further away, the pain now more dulled at the edge.
That’s why she doesn’t catches when someone calls out her name, doesn’t realize she’s not alone anymore until said person catches her arm to make her stop. Unfortunately, it is her hurt arm, and she shrieks, tears pooling at her eyes, as she’s stumbling away.
Sebastian stares at her, mouth agape, looking like he’s just seen a ghost. He moves his eyes over her body, taking in her state, though he’s unsure in some spots, if the stains on her clothes are blood or dirt.
“Shit, you need to see a doctor,” he says, moving closer again, but she flinches upon his approach.
He passes a frustrated hand through his hair. Dumbly, she wonders what he is doing out here, by the river, in the middle of the night.
“Can I touch you?” he asks. He’s still keeping his distance, though he’s looking at her in a strange way, like she’ll fall off her feet at any moment. Although she nods, this time more aware, more in tune with her surrounding, this time around he approaches more slowly, careful with his movements.
She leans onto him, sighing in relief.
“This will hurt,” he says, and before she has time to think about it, he gathers her in his arms, head at the crook of his neck, her good arm around his shoulder, as he starts carrying her. She just whimpers pathetically, at his chest, blushing furiously and trying not to overthink the gesture, or her weight, or the fact that they’re stopping in front of Harvey’s clinic at fuck knows what time.
Harvey answers on the second knock, looks at the state she’s in and simply mumbles I need my coffee, allowing them inside. Sebastian is still carrying her the flights of stairs up, before finally setting her down on a bed. He’s breathing hard by now, but he’s not complaining. In the light, she can see how wild and panicked his eyes are, how deep his frown is as he searches her body for wounds.
Now that they can see, her shoulder is at a weird angle.
“I’ll have to set it back,” Harvey says, sipping loudly from a fresh cup of coffee, sitting on a chair next to her bed. He looks up at Sebastian, checks the time on his wrist watch. “You can go if you want to.”
“I’ll stay,” he replies almost immediately, making her shiver on the bed, a movement that both men catch. “If that’s okay with you.”
She nods, pleading with Harvey to let him stay, to which he agrees. His job is not made any more difficult, since Sebastian looks perfectly healthy, the weird sleep schedule aside. She doesn’t notice when Sebastian moves, shifts so he can sit next to her on the bed, wrapping his fingers around hers.
Harvey descends like a shadow above her, snapping her bones back in place. She squeezes Sebastian’s hand in her good one, so hard that his bones crack, her fingers digging in his skin until they draw blood. But she only inhales sharply, letting out a string of soft curses, teeth grinding together in pain. When she looks at them, she feels only betrayed, because they both clearly knew what was to come, and did their best to make it as fast as possible.
Harvey hands her a glass of water and some painkillers, and only then does she realize she’s still holding onto Sebastian’s hand. She lets go slowly, smiling at him, patting his hand in silent thanks, though Sebastian cannot smile back at her.
“So what happened?” Harvey asks, moving on to cutting open the leg of her pants, cleaning up the cuts, disinfecting her wounds.
She speaks, evenly, though her panic shows through in some parts, and Sebastian rubs calming circles on her back with his palm. She leans into his touch, swaying in place, eyes fluttering closed, opening them again at a slower and slower pace.
“You should sleep here tonight, so I can monitor your condition,” Harvey says, and Sebastian rises, helping her lay down on the bed, covering her with the blanket, as she’s already fallen asleep.
The two men move downstairs in silence. The clock on the wall shows 4 a.m.
***
She wakes to Granny knitting on a chair next to her bed. It’s such an odd image that it takes her a while to recall all the events of the night before. Then, she startles upright.
“Easy, darling, all’s good,” Granny says, though she didn’t even look up at the younger woman.
She learns that Marnie visited her farm earlier, feeding her animals. Abigail took Max to her place, Penny came by with pie. And Sebastian is downstairs, on his 3rd coffee of the day, not having gone home since he first dropped her at the clinic.
Granny smiles to herself when the patient looks longingly at the door, her skin on fire.
***
Harvey keeps her for one more night, though she is feeling alright, and she insists so to everyone coming around to check on her. She thought Robin will pick her up, something that she agreed to after much pestering from the woman, but instead the one waiting for her in front of the clinic, leaning on Robin’s truck, is Sebastian.
“Mom had something come up,” he says, moving to get her backpack, filled with the stuff from the mine and some clothes that Abigail picked for her. He opens the truck’s door for her.
“I could have just walked,” she says, though her leg is still stiff.
He shuts the door on her, and until he joins her in, she has time to mull over what exactly she wants to say.
“Thank you,” she beings. “For everything and I’m sorry.”
She fidgets on the spot, as he starts the engine and begins driving.
“Why are you apologizing?” his voice is soft, the corner of his mouth tilted up just the tiniest bit.
“For all the trouble?”
It sounds more like a question,
“You know I’d gladly be troubled for you.”
She does not know that, in fact. She turns to look out the window, at the stretch of trees on the road to her farm, and she wonders when she became such a person to others.
When they arrive, she invites him in, but he politely refuses. She needs to rest. But he does walk back to the car, fiddling with the gloves compartment, coming back with something in his arms. He presents it to her, carefully wrapped, and watches attentively as she opens it, catching her reaction.
In her hands, she has the first volume of what she knows is Sebastian’s favourite comic.
Abigail will tell her, later on, that before he came to pick her up, he drove all the way to Zuzu City so he could pick a copy for her. So on an autumn rainy day, she makes herself a cup of tea, and curls in her bed, opening the book.
She takes her sweet time, searching every detail in the art, rewriting particular quotes in her journal. Then her thoughts fly without her even wanting to, to a particular someone she’d like to have next to her, to explain her favourite parts. She’d like to have him by her side more than that though, as she wakes and works, a person that makes it so much easier for her to just be.
She’s a fool – she tries to tell herself, hugging the book close to her chest. There’s nothing she can offer Sebastian that would make him stay in this village he so obviously loathes. She’s just dumb enough to have fallen for the man she cannot even bring herself to ask to love her back. But the image is now stuck on a loop in her mind: stray sun rays filtering through the curtain, and Sebastian in the door frame, with her mug of coffee in his hands, offering it to her as she wakes.
She tortures herself with thoughts like this afterwards, whenever she finds a moment of respite in her work, as she hurries to sell the last of her crops, to preserve the mushrooms, fill the sill with grains for the animals and the storage outside with wood.
***
The first time she gets out of her property after the accident is to attend a dinner on Robin’s birthday. In the town here, it’s not a big deal, so she feels particularly honoured to have the older woman invite her.
However, Robin sends Sebastian to pick her up. She’s on the porch, bundled up in her favourite sweater and a shawl, petting Max, when he pulls up in her courtyard on his motorcycle. He’s wearing a leather jacket, and as he moves to get her helmet, she’s only staring at the way his muscles are straining under the material.
He helps her put it on, clasping it under her chin, his fingers lingering on her skin, and they stare in each other’s eyes for a few long seconds. Then, he holds out a hand, helping her get up, and guides her arms around his waist.
She’s basically glued to his back, and she wonders if he can hear how loudly her heart is beating. He tightens his hold against her arms, signalling that she should hold on tighter, and she does, even though she closes her eyes to will the embarrassment away.
Robin welcomes her with an enthusiastic hug, and she’s delighted to see Abigail has been invited as well, and she’s now sitting next to Maru at the table, discussing something with Demetrius. She’s sent her present in the mail earlier this day, more goat cheese and a few quartz pieces, and the redhead thanks her happily.
When she passes Sebastian on the hallway, she stops for a few seconds to thank him for the ride, warmly clasping his hand in hers. Then just as quickly she lets go, joins everyone else in the kitchen.
Most of the conversation is just the parents dotting on the newly formed couple, though there is a passing comment of the pumpkin soup currently served being Sebastian’s favourite food, so she makes a note to ask the recipe from Robin the next day. There’s an anecdote about how Demetrius and Robin first met, though it makes both their children cringe at how young and lovesick they still sound recalling it. Abigail talks about her studies, Maru continues, though their degrees are vastly different.
The farmer turns to look at Sebastian.
“What about your work?”
The conversation stills, a bit awkward. No one ever asks what Sebastian is doing, since freelancing is such a grey area in their mind – though they fail to see that almost everyone in this town is the goddamn owner of their own work.
“Well,” he starts, playing with the food on his plate. “Actually I’ve got a promotion recently and a really big project coming up.”
She clasps her hands together, beaming up at him.
“That’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
Everyone at the table nods politely, Robin even congratulation her son. But he thinks of her question, and lately the answer seems to be no, because each of his successes brings him closer to leaving Pelican Town, and he’s not sure he wants to anymore.
***
By the end of the evening, everyone is more or less tipsy, made soft by the drink and the warmth of the house. Robin insists that she should sleep over, afraid to let her return home this late. She almost puts Sebastian and Maru in one room, but the daughter refuses so vehemently, that Sebastian instead just tells her he’ll take the couch. Their mother stares for a long time after both of her children, as each turns to their guest, and instead decides to retire for the night, together with Demetrius.
That’s how she ends up sitting on Sebastian’s bed, as he’s searching for a towel and some clothes for her.
“Maru is leaving next spring for a research program,” he explains. “That’s why-”
“She wants to make the most out of it,” she continues.
“Yeah.”
He understands the feeling; it’s why he’s more often than not out of his house these days, afraid that one day he’ll have to root himself out of this place, and he will leave many things behind to regret. And many people he will miss.
He throws the clothes in her direction, points her to the direction of the bathroom.
She’s feeling more awake after the shower, and she’s drying her hair with a towel as she enters his room again. She wears one of his hoodies, but on her it looks almost like a dress, coming down halfway to her knees, sleeves rolled several times over. The sweatpants are equally as large.
“I like your socks,” she says, wiggling her toes, an ugly, green gooey face dancing with the movement.
She’s way too freakin cute, Sebastian thinks, though he only smiles at her as he passes her to go and take a shower. When he returns, she’s snuggled in his bed, a comic book in hands, the sequel to the present he’s given her before. She doesn’t hear him come in until he plops on the couch, and then she looks up at him, cheeks immediately flushing.
“Aren’t you cold?”
He’s wearing a tank top, loose enough around the chest area that she can see his collarbones. She knows she’s staring, yet she can’t tear her eyes away from the skin of his arms, or the taut stretch of his top against his chest. When eventually, finally, she moves her gaze up to his face, he’s smirking, clearly having caught her in the act.
“I never get cold,” he replies, shrugging, though he tenses the muscles on his arm, and her gaze immediately snaps back there.
He’s outright laughing right now, which makes her turn her back to him, pulling the blanket over her entire body and mumble an embarrassed good night.
But she has a very, very hard time falling asleep.
***
“I don’t wanna go,” she whines at Sam, pulling at his clothes, dragging him away from the maze.
He just laughs, tugging her harder instead. His little brother scared her as soon as she arrived for Spirit’s Eve, and since then she refused to leave his side, on edge all the time.
The town is decorated in skulls and supersized spiders, and Abigail took to walking around with a witch hat on and a sword in her hands, which everyone agreed was cool but also relatively worrisome.
She swears, loudly, clinging even closer to Sam’s arm, when Sebastian joins them, carrying two glasses of punch. He chuckles, but still passes one of them to her.
“You don’t celebrate Spirit’s Eve in the city?”
“Well,” she says, taking a large gulp of her drink. “There it’s more about getting shit-faced in a club, and less about your heart going for a run when you turn the corner of the street.”
“Amen, sister,” Sam yells, grabbing her glass and downing it all in one go.
“Hey!” She punches his shoulder.
“It made you laugh though!” he says, leaving so he can get her a refill, and well, he’s not wrong, because now she feels way more at ease than before.
Sebastian shifts closer to her, for which she is grateful.
“Is it really that bad?”
“I just hate jump scares,” she whines, again. “And I’m sure the maze is filled with them.”
“You know you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, right? We can just sit on a bench and watch the skeletons.”
“We?”
He’s pressing his palm to his neck. “Well I’ve cleared the maze every year, so.”
So they sit, together.
***
Back in the city, she can never tell when it will snow anyway – but here in town, the air is crisp and cold for days before. Robin shows up one early winter morning, and helps her isolate the house as much as possible, around the windows and the doors, so that no cold seeps in, so that all the warmth stays. She might need to renovate the house next year, but for now, it will have to be enough.
Robin sips at the coffee she’s been offered, and pretends not to see Sebastian’s books sprawled all around the farmer’s house, on the kitchen counter, on the bed, next to the TV. She also equally doesn’t comment on one of Sebastian’s jackets hanging on the back of the chair that the young girl is currently occupying. Robin takes another sip, and smiles in her cup.
Back in the city, when it snows, it never piles; part car fumes, part all the people walking around doing their business. But here in the town, when she wakes up one morning, all she can see around her house is a wide expanse of whiteness. Max runs past her, jumps into the snow, comes back in so wet but so happy, that she doesn’t mind having to towel him near the fire from the fireplace.
But she’s left with too much time on her hands; she watches Queen of Sauce almost obsessively, following along in her own kitchen, surprised when her food is actually good. She starts knitting, phoning Granny each time she stumbles through a row. She reads, almost obsessively. And she does go to the mines, but for shorter periods now, scared of not repeating her injury, even if the Adventurer’s Guild repaired the broken stairs.
Then Sam calls her over one day and welcomes her to the world of DnD, him and Sebastian more or less forcing everyone else to start a new campaign with them. It’s the happiest she’s seen them both, so she tries to keep up with the characters, stops to ask about plot holes. They explain things in tandem, finishing each other’s sentences, for almost an entire hour, because you see, this race can’t have this magical power. Sam pulls out his guide, passing it around so that everyone can look up the kind of character they want to create.
That first evening together, that’s all they do in fact: filling stat sheets, searching reference pictures on the internet. And they eat Jodi’s delicious snacks, gossip a bit about Marnie and mayor Lewis’ affair, that the whole town knows about but somehow only the two of them missed this detail.
They turn it into a weekly meeting, rotating their meeting place through all their houses, sometimes the Stardrop Saloon in the days when they know it’ll be more empty and calm. They fight imaginary battles, Sam’s voice guiding them through cities and enemies and friends, saving each other’s asses and forging alliances. It’s the best fun she’s had since arriving in the town, though if anyone were to tell her this a year ago, she would have laughed directly into their faces.
They break the tradition only once, when instead they decide to go ice-skating. Each winter, if the temperatures are low enough, the lake freezes, making it a perfect rink. To be fair, it’s her favourite sport – probably only sport that she’s so excited to do, that she jumps on the spot as she waits for her turn to lend a pair of skates.
She’s looking a bit ridiculous, wearing 3 different layers and one of her grandpa’s padded vests, a beanie on top of her head. Sebastian finds her just really cute. She skates around holding one of Maru’s hands, Abigail the other – because she’s the only one who doesn’t really know how to do it.
Then Sam starts a game of tag with Jas. So they start chasing each other around, yelling when they’re caught only to start again. Penny almost trips, but Sam’s catches her hand and stabilizes her, even if he’s it now. Abigail and Maru skate around holding hands, working more like one person than two separate ones, though Abigail lets go only when it’s her turn to chase someone; and she’s fast as a flash, her turn over in under a minute.
She touches the farmer’s back, and she’s left in the middle of the frozen lake, trying to think who to go after. Her intention is to go after Vincent, his voice shrill with happiness when he realizes he has to run away from her, but her skates catch in the ice.
She only has time to gasp out a swearword, preparing to fall flat on her face. But there’s an arm around her waist, though the angle is awkward and her weight too heavy, so both of them fall to the ground.
She blinks, trying to make sense of the new position. She didn’t hit the cold ice, instead Sebastian’s body cushioned her fall. She’s on top of him, hands on either side of his head, and she’s staring into his eyes. She’s so close that she can feel his chest heaving.
“You good?” he asks, a hand moving to settle around her waist.
It snaps her out of it. “Shit, I’m the one who should be asking that.”
She’s trying to get up, though she’s embarrassed and fumbling, and her first movement just positions her ass on Sebastian’s thighs and crotch area. He shudders, inhaling loudly – and she can feel him stir under her.
“Oh,” is all that she can say, eyes blown wide catching his. Though there’s something more there: curiosity, and a growing interest.
“You guys okay?!” Sam’s voice is distant to her ears, though she waves a hand in the air, to both show that they’re okay and ask for a break from their game. Sebastian says nothing, looking up at her like a man found guilty of murder, face flushed, though he hasn’t moved his hand from her waist.
She grinds her hips, pushing harder against Sebastian’s body, watching in fascination as he’s squeezing his eyes shut, a frown on his forehead.
“Stop,” he says, sounding wound up and chocked.
So she does, rolling from on top of him, pulling herself to her feet, smiling when offering him a hand up. Though he’s not smiling back, he takes her hand.
***
“Happy birthday!” she shouts, when Sebastian opens the door to his bedroom, holding up her present to him.
Behind him, music plays loudly, and she can see Sam and Abigail arguing about who gets the last slice of pizza. She’s the last to arrive, but that’s also partially because outside there’s a real blizzard. Penny comes to hug her in greeting, and she high-fives Sam. Most of the time, they just drink and joke around, chatting about random things, his oldest friends telling tales of Sebastian.
After a couple of hours, Sebastian catches her eyes, motions towards the outside. Sam has given up smoking, being more of a social smoker, just like her. But since he got together with Penny, a fact to which they finally admitted after merciless teasing from Abigail, he quit.
They stop in the hallway, putting on their coats – and she hands him the present again, though he hasn’t noticed her coming up with it.
“You might find useful what’s in here.”
So he opens it to find a matching hat and scarf, in a dark navy. They’re clearly handmade, and handmade by her he suspects – and he’s touched by the time and care she had to put in her gift. Nestled between the material, there’s also a frozen tear.
“God, I-I love this. Thank you.”
She beams at him, obviously relieved. He puts the frozen tear carefully in the pocket of his jacket. She helps him with the scarf and the beanie, her hands lingering on his shoulder for a second afterwards, admiring him.
Outside, in the courtyard corner where they’re smoking, there’s a snowman. Sebastian almost feels like kicking it when she mentions in passing that it’s cute.
“I built a snowgoon but Demetrius made me get rid of it, yet Maru’s cute little snowman still stands…”
He didn’t mean to sound this bitter. She shifts, coming in closer, taking his empty hand in hers.
“If I just disappeared, would it even matter?”
He means it like a rhetorical question, just for himself – but she’s strengthening her grip on him, forcing him to look at her. She wants him to understand that she’s entirely serious.
“It would matter to me.”
***
It’s drizzling, a mix of snow and rain, weather suddenly warming up. On the beach, anyway, snow never piles up, and when Sebastian turns around, he finds her standing a few feet away, staring out into the sea. She is drenched, shivering lightly with each gust of wind, and now that her concentration has been snapped by his movement, she’s staring at him instead.
He gestures her closer, and she stops by his side. Now, closer, he can see that she’s shivering more violently than he initially though, and she’s certainly not dressed properly for the weather.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks, softly, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. She closes her eyes, head leaning toward his touch, and he finds himself cupping her cheek without thinking too much about it.
“What are you doing out here?” she counters, blinking up at him.
Maybe it’s the absolutely pathetic state that both of them are into that makes him answer honestly to the question. Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s her.
“Looking out at the bleak horizon… It makes me feel like it’s worthwhile to keep pushing on.”
He shrugs, trying not to look as serious as his statement. Lately, he’s been having more reasons to believe that same thing, but old habits die hard, and there’s a particular calmness in being somewhere where no one else is. Or, he thinks, looking down at her, almost no one.
“I just like the sea,” she says, and any awkwardness that he still felt dissipates with her admission. The water is raging, stirred on by the storm, crashing violently against the pier, and they stand in silence, his hands carefully petting her hair, pulling her closer when she shivers again.
“Fuck, do you want to catch your death?”
He undresses quickly, placing his jacket over her shoulders. It doesn’t make much of a difference, but it’s more waterproof than what she’s wearing, and also carrying his warmth. He pops open the umbrella he’s carrying, and with an arm around her shoulder, pulls her to his chest.
“You know,” he starts, his palm rubbing circles on her back. “I would normally feel anxious doing this with anyone. But somehow, you’re the exception.”
Her head turns, chin resting on his chest so she can look up at him.
“I want to kiss you,” she says, and Sebastian chokes on whatever he wanted to say before. “Can I?”
She’s on her tiptoes now, her lips so close to his that their breathes are mingling, yet she’s giving him the choice of covering the remaining distance. Which he does, hungrily, almost desperate for it, both hands cupping her cheeks as their mouths clash. The umbrella falls into the water, and yet they don’t care enough to notice it.
They stop for a moment, coming up for air, and then they’re back at it, and despite the fire growing at the pit of her stomach, the kiss is languid, exploring, tongue pressing against tongue. Slight movement, a change in their position to deepen the kiss, her fingers now playing in the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands at her waist.
He kisses her like he never kissed somebody else, and went hungry for it all this time. His fingers move under her sweater, and the sudden cold touch makes her break apart. His touch turns comforting, pressing against her skin, and she sighs. Their foreheads meet.
“Fuck, I wanted to do that for so long,” he breathes and she laughs.
“We are two idiots, right?”
“Big idiots,” he nods, and she takes his hand in hers, starts pulling him in the direction of her house.
***
She starts the fire in the house, as he’s slowly undressing layer after layer. In the bathroom, the bathtub is filled with hot water, waiting for him. He’s down to a t-shirt and his boxers when he cups her elbow in his hand.
“Join me?” he asks, voice a bit strained, but firm.
She can only nod, dazed, not trusting that this is not just a dream, afraid that speaking will ruin the moment. He sits down on the edge of the tub, gesturing for her to come closer. She’s standing in front of him, and he’s gentle in guiding her out of her clothes, letting them drop to the floor. He strays from his purpose sometime, to press a kiss against her hip, or at the tip of her fingertips.
When she eventually ends up stark naked, his eyes are hungry, but his touch not, as he guides her inside the hot tub. She sighs in pleasure, closing her eyes. She opens them again when she hears the rustling of clothes, to watch him undress. He’s a bit slow, a bit shy, joining her inside the tub. The water almost spills over. She tries not to think of his cock, the precum leaking. She tries to ignore the uncomfortable heat growing between her legs.
She helps him shampoo his hair, he washes her back. They go off track from time to time, kissing lazingly for a long time, his hands massaging her breasts, her teeth grazing his neck. Until she moans, a loud sound. Until he gasps, her name caught between his lips.
Then, with ease, he helps her out. They share one, large towel, huddling together until they reach her bedroom, giggling like children. They’re almost to the bed when he stops, looks at her.
“We don’t have to do anything.”
He’s a liar, because his cock is pulsing with want and she can feel him against her hip. She pouts.
“But I want you.”
He kisses her pout away, pushes at her shoulder until she falls to the bed with a yelp, hands wrapping against him, taking him down with her. She’s laughing, pleased with having him on top of her, when his mouth moves downwards on her body, kissing against her collarbones, sucking at the skin, biting at the skin, until there’s a dark mark behind. He throws her a pleased grin, moving lower yet again.
Sebastian takes one of her nipples in his mouth, a hand moving up to tease the other. Her hands immediately wrap in his hair and she gasps. He pulls at the sensitive area, with his teeth and his fingers, licking it better immediately afterwards, and she writhes under him. He kisses his path downwards, though his lips kiss at her hips, he bites at her thighs, always circling around where she most wants him.
“Seb,” she whines. “Please.”
He stops his ministrations to look at her, frowning and pouting, hair dishevelled against her pillows, her body flushed all over, his marks so obvious against her skin. He feels himself growing at the sight, though he smirks at her.
“Please what?”
She blushes.
“Please eat me out?”
It sounds like a plead and a question and a prayer and a command all at once, and he’s on her in the blink of an eye, tongue lapping at her folds. Her back arches, but his hands are keeping her in place – and he maintains a constant, slow rhythm.
Until he doesn’t, one of his fingers entering her in full, with ease. Sebastian chuckles.
“You’re so wet, baby.”
Her walls squeeze at the nickname. He adds another finger; watches, transfixed, as it disappears inside with the same ease. He starts pumping them inside her, and the sound of her wet pussy taking it all in is so hot, that he groans.
Buried down in her to the knuckles, he opens his fingers apart. She moans, pushing down, searching for more, more, more. He scissors her, spreading her wide – and his head moves lower yet again, lips kissing against her clit at first.
Then, he adds a third finger. He can feel her stiffen under him, so he pulls her clit in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, just as he starts pumping his fingers inside her. Now her hands are holding on to her sheets, and she’s mumbling some curses, halfway lost to her pleasure, moans louder and louder as he speeds up.
He raises his head just for a second, to chuckle against her heated pussy.
“Come, baby.”
So she does, and he continue pumping inside of her, letting her ride her orgasm. She still sighs when he pulls out his fingers, immediately missing the feeling of being filled up with him. He moves to pepper her face with kisses, petting at her now sweated forehead.
“You did so well, baby.”
He’s teasing her, knowing how much she likes the nickname. So instead she looks down between their bodies, his cock against his navel, leaking – and looking like the most beautiful dick she has ever seen in her life. It’s not the biggest one she’s seen, but he’s thick and she’s never wanted to taste something more than the cum that’d spill out of it.
Still staring, she moves her hands to grab it, her fingers dancing over it, starting with his leaking tip, spreading his precum all over his length, before stopping with a slight squeeze at its base. Sebastian shivers over her, eyes closed, mouth open in an unspoken prayer, because he’s not sure even god can help him now.
Holding his dick in her hands, she helps him adjust at her entrance. At first, he teases against her cunt, pressing his cock between her folds, rocking his hips back and forth as they both moan in tandem. She’s already dripping over the sheets again.
He grabs at her hand, fingers entwined.
“You ready?”
“For that dick? Born ready,” she says, chuckling, but not moving her eyes away from where he’s starting to push inside her.
“Fuuck,” he says, just as she moans, only the tip in. The stretch is painful, but so fucking delicious and she’s a blabbering mess begging for more, pulling him closer with her free arm. He slams inside her, forcing the rest of his length inside in one go, and she swears. He kisses at her eyebrows, at the tip of her nose, apologizing softly.
“Tell me when to move again,” he says, and true to his words, he seems content to just kiss her, tongue at her neck, words whispered and lost in her hair, but making her shiver nonetheless just because there’s the hot breath so close to her skin. She’s trying to adjust to his entirety of him inside her, not hurtful but not entirely comfortable just yet either, and his mouth now licking at her hypersensitive nipple seems to slowly do the trick.
“Move,” she says, and he does.
He’s slow at first, almost frustratingly so, pulling out almost entirely, before slowly filling her up again. She moans, drawn out sounds, with each movement – and she almost doesn’t notice when the speed picks up, when she starts moving her hips to meet his actions. They’re a mess of grunts and moans, gasps and swears – and he squeezes so hard at her hip when she comes again, the orgasm washing over her with an intensity that it’s almost blinding, that she’s sure he’ll leave bruises.
Sebastian looks like a man in pain, inside her as she’s coming back to herself after the orgasm. She kisses his cheek, hands rubbing against his chest muscles.
“Do you want to cum all over me?”
He almost trips with the haste that he’s pulling out of her. She’s waiting, on her back, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Sebastian rises on his knees – it’s embarrassing that he only needs two more pumps to come. Most of it falls on her tits and neck, though she’s happily licking every bit that she can reach with her tongue, swallowing it all like a good girl.
“Fuck,” Sebastian says, falling next to her on the bed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
She beams at him, getting closer. They kiss for a while, bored and tired and messy, teeth clanking together, tongue at the corner of the mouth. There’s a string of saliva between their lips when they separate.
She gets up, goes to the toilet, returns all cleaned up, before coming back to the warmth of the bed, dragging the covers over both of them. Sure, the sheets are dirty, but that’s a problem for her future self, because right now, all she wants to do is snuggle at Sebastian’s back, an arm draped over his waist. So that’s what she does.
***
When they wake, they fuck on the kitchen counter, the angle hitting her just right. Truthfully, half of her butt is in the air, her legs wrapped around Sebastian’s torso, as he snaps his hips up in her, deeper and deeper each time. She’s never been so glad she doesn’t have neighbours in her entire life. Maybe because it’s been so long on her part, or because Sebastian is really just that good, she’s loud – and she loves to feel him stirring inside her, with each of her moans and praises.
“So good,” she gasps, fingers digging almost painfully in his back, and he proves his point by ramming into her, ripping a sob of pleasure out of her.
He’s wearing a condom this time around, so there is no mess to clean up, and they drink their coffee afterwards – talking about this and that, not even skimming the topic of what they’re doing, or why.
He kisses her goodbye though.
And on Winter Star, while she’s getting ready for the feast with everyone else, Sebastian comes by. He welcomes him warmly, and he sits on the side of her bed, watching her finish her make-up and doing her hair, and though he doesn’t move, she keeps catching his eyes in the mirror, looking at her every movement hungrily.
“We’re not fucking after all this effort I just put in,” she says, pointedly plucking her lips and applying a bright, red lipstick.
“I want to take you out on a date,” he says, ignoring her childish theatrics, but shaking his head with a soft smile.
“Sure.”
She tries to sound nonchalant, but her heart is beating in her chest. As much as she’d like to have him bend her over the table and take her like a bitch in heat, she’d much prefer him being her boyfriend while he does so.
“Good, let’s go then.”
“Now?” she yelps, when he grabs her hand and walks her towards the entrance.
“Now,” he says. He helps her putting on her beret, she straightens the scarf around his neck. “I’ve already called Sam and told him we won’t make it to the feast.”
“You did? What did he say?”
“To have condoms on me,” Sebastian says, face serious, which is why it makes her snort.
“And?” she’s wiggling her eyebrows at him. “Do you?”
He slaps her butt as she’s getting out instead of a reply. She turns at him, the slightest darkness in her eyes.
They go for a ride, promise not forgotten. They drive for a long time, and when they finally reach their destination, he tells her to keep her eyes closed, keeps his palms against her eyes as he guides her steps.
When he moves his hands away, she gasps. Spread ahead of her, the lights of Zuzu City against the usual darkness of the night. Sebastian moves next to her, grabs her hand in his.
“I come here when I want to get away from everything and just… think.”
He’s been doing this a lot lately, ever since she came to the valley, became his friend. Torn between his dreams of the city and the familiarity of home, he came here often thinking about what he should do.
He’s fumbling with his cigarettes, before eventually lightning one. Leaning against his motorcycle, she’s still looking out at the landscape in front of them.
“It gives such a strange, sad feeling…”
She’s almost saying it to herself. She doesn’t understand why he is showing this to her, and she can only think of how much he wants to be a part of those lights shining in the distance. She knows, if he is to walk that path, there’s nothing she will do to stop him.
Sebastian gets close to her, slings an arm around her shoulder. His gaze is still fixed to the city out in the distance, but when he speaks, it’s all just for her.
“The city used to draw me in… but now I’m finding myself happier at home in the valley.”
Her head snaps up so fast that it almost hurts. She doesn’t trust herself to say anything, afraid she’s overstepping, afraid she actually misunderstands whatever is going on, afraid to hope too much.
He turns to her, knuckles slowly caressing her cheek.
“You’re the only one I ever brought to this place. You know what I’m trying to say, don’t you?”
She shakes her head; wants to hear it. He leans down, pulling her close with his other arm, covering her sound of surprise with his mouth, kissing her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to his kisses; he’s a passionate but patient kisser, drawing out the movements for as long as possible, biting and licking at her lips, smiling smugly and lazily at her when he is done.
“I want us to be together. For real.”
She jumps in his arms, the move making him stumble a bit, but they’re not falling. She looks in his eyes, the gaze as touching and passionate as it’s ever been.
“I love you, Sebastian.”
“Wha-”
But she kisses him.
***
She’s obsessed with saying those three words. Now that she has the right to say it, it blooms out of her at his every gesture. She says it out loud without embarrassment or care as to whoever else can hear it. She says it as good morning and as good bye. She says it when he stays the night, and when he asks her over to play a new game together. She says it in front of Maru and mayor Lewis. She says it when he comes inside of her. She says it when he lets her borrow his sweater. She says it when he calls her in the evening after work.
It makes him dizzy with how wanted she makes him feel.
It’s the middle of the night and they’re waiting, alongside everyone else from the city, for the clock to strike exactly 12, and the fireworks to blast into the sky. She’s holding onto his arm, chatting happily with Sam about a cover song they’re planning. Her weight, next to him, is something new to get used to – but she’s always fitting herself right there with so much ease, that it seems almost natural.
The countdown begins, mayor Lewis’ voice booming across the square. At 8, she joins in. At 3, he does too. The fireworks blast with a loud noise, and she squeezes herself closer to him, her eyes to the colouring sky, her lips to his ear.
“Make a wish, babe.”
She closes her eyes, thinking of everything she wants in the upcoming year. He looks at her.
“So, what did you wish for?” he asks.
She tugs at his jacket, kisses him.
“You.”
#stardew valley#stardew sebastian#sdv sebastian#sebastian x farmer#sdv farmer#sdv fanfic#i think this is the first part and i might do a 2nd one with them being domestic pieces of fluff#i'm so tired i 'm so glad this fic is DONE#hope you enjoy ~#my writing
336 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mud is Thicker Than Blood:
Sick Day
Summary: I said i’d put all the little shorts I have about the Mud Dogs and Donnie in one story, so here it is!
Gift for: @void-inked-pen birthday a while back. They are a amazing friend and a source of inspiration for me
Characters: Donatello, Loathsome Leonard, Mickey, Dastardly Danny, Myra, April O’Neil
Pairings: You’re in luck! all the pairings for this fic are just past this door [gestures to wall that has a badly painted door under it and the laundry basket above it that’s suppose to be some sort of trap]
“What is this supposed to be?”
Even though Len had been using as polite of a tone as possible, Danny still gives him a heated glare. He uses his spatula to scrape the blackened flat pastry off his frying pan and onto Len’s plate with the consistency of a dried brick. ”They’re called crespelle’s. My Dads used to make them for me and my siblings all the time.”
“Are they supposed to be…” Mickey pokes it with his flipper, “rocks?”
Danny lets out another angry huff. “I couldn’t remember the ingredients, alright??” he says, flipping another burnt disc onto a plate. Len uses his chopstick to poke at the burnt food. For someone who had known the sting of hunger many times and learned to not be picky, he finds himself wondering if he can sneak out back and compare the taste of the burnt disk to dirt.
The sounds of footsteps tells him the last member of their little family was coming down to join them. “Morning,” Danny calls. ”I got a nice big breakfast for my only grateful family member with taste!” Danny says as he starts stacking another plate.
Donnie is pulling on his hooded cardigan as he reaches the bottom step, eyeing the breakfast with a concerned eye. “Doooo I want to know?” he asks before looking to Len with a look that clearly says ‘remember how I never forget ‘best parents day’? you owe me’. It takes more than a little willpower to keep from laughing but manages to duck his head to hide his grin before turning to Danny.
“How about we spare my kid this time? He’ll never hit his height goals if he eats this.”
Danny unties his apron and stomps over and pours himself a cup of coffee all while grumbling about ‘uncultured swine.’ This time Len can't stop the snort that escapes him this time but when Donnie takes his spot at the table his smile falters as Donnie pours himself a cup of hot coffee. Leaning over the mug with a sigh, his normally dark jade complexion feels a shade lighter than usual and more than Len’s comfortable with. “You feeling ok?” he asks, moving his chair to Don’s side of the table. He puts an arm around Don's shoulders and without waiting for an answer he presses the back of his hand to Don’s cheek. The teen squirms at the contact but was unable to pull out of his grip.
“Dad, Dad, I'm fine I just didn’t sleep well. I had a bad dream again.”
“Why didn’t you come get me? You could have slept in my bed.”
“You got home late last night, I didn’t want to wake you,” Don says, still trying to twist his head away from Len’s hand.
“I’m the Dad here, Donnie. I’m supposed to worry about you, not the other way around.” But when he’s unable to find anything close to a fever he pulls away. He looks to Danny hoping he’d see something Len missed but the rat shrugs at him.
“Is it still ok to go tutor April today? Please? I’ve been cooped up here all winter.”
Len wants to say no, but sighs at the pleading look Donnie gives him. It had been a longer winter then usual, he didn’t blame his son for needing some space. He was no longer a five year old but he still had a hard time telling him no for no good reason. “Yeah, but if you start feeling sick you come home ok? Or ask Myra to help you home.”
“Yeah, yeah I know.” As Donnie downs his last bit of coffee he stands back up. Len had turned to poke at his breakfast again when he feels Don's arms wrap around his collar bone and rest his cheek on Len’s head. “I love you Dad. Thanks for being obnoxious and worried.”
“Aw. Love you too, silly gecko.” Len pats his arm in reciprocated affection. Donnie grabs his shoulder back and hurries out the front door. “Have fun!” Len calls after him. Only then did he look back to Danny. “He looked pale right?”
“Yeah but honestly it could have been the breakfast,” Mickey says, picking up a disc, “I even felt sick when I saw it.”
“First of all screw you,” Danny points at Mickey with his spatula, “Second of all, if he’s not feeling well he’ll come home. And third of all, next time you all can make your own crespelles.” Danny drops his last disk onto a plate when the shattering of ceramic fills the air. The three thieves blink at each other for a sec before Danny raises up the food slowly to show the plate underneath had been cracked in half from the sheer force of the crepe. With a defeated sigh, Danny drops his spatula. “Ok whose all for throwing these at trees and seeing if they shatter??”
Len and Mickey both raise their hands with a grin.
(#)(#)\/(#)(#)
“Donnie?”
Despite the softness of April’s voice Don jumps so hard his elbow hits the stack of April’s school books. It’s only by his reflexes that they don’t join the rest of April’s dirty clothes on the floor. It takes him a few moments to regather his scattered thoughts before looking to April. ”Did you say something?”
“Yeah, your name, like five times.” His oldest friend peers at him from over her glasses. “Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”
Donnie would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t painfully aware of the migraine that would return if he did. Unfortunately, it had been haunting him ever since he woke up that morning. “For the last time yes. Uncle Danny made breakfast and it's just hurting my stomach. Now, the compound would be 23.6% more effective if you set the witch fire to exactly 129 degrees cinder.” He scribbles on the paper for a few moments before sliding it over to her. April casts him a suspicious look before looking over the paper again.
“If you ever convince your Dad to let you go to school, my Alchemy teacher would cry tears of joy. Again.” She pauses “They cry a lot.”
Don tries to smile but his aching head only allows him a half grin. As April starts adding his notes to hers he reaches for his yunomi of tea, not thirsty so much as needing the warmth for a subtle cold that clings to his skin.
There’s the sound of a door opening downstairs followed by the sound of a woman shrieking and dozens of items hitting the ground. ”A-April dear!!! I could use some help!” calls the unmistakable voice of the Mayor of witch town.
April was already out of her seat. “Coming Mom!” she calls hurrying for the door. “Don’t do my homework Dee!” she calls behind him.
“I would never!” Donnie says [even though he had already been reaching for her note book]. A few years ago he had the brilliant business idea, in lieu of being able to go to school himself, to do students' homework for them for a small [not so small] fee.
Of course before he could even launch his venture his Dad had found out and outright forbade it.
This time he’s unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The effect is instantaneous as the lights in the room become painfully saturated. He tries to cover his eyes but his world is already spinning.
It’s the last thing he feels before he blacks out
(#)#(#)
“I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed,” Len says in a tone that can only come from nine years of parenting experience. It does its job on Mickey who’s shoulders bunch up to the sides of his head, and even though Danny is trying to pull off ‘I don’t know how you think you can guilt trip me’ by leaning back in his seat. But it's hard to look innocent when the two of them are covered in mud.
“IT WAS DANNY’S FAULT!!” Mickey shrieks pointing at the rat. “After we knocked over a tree with one of his crepy things he told me that he knew alchemy that would make mud into chocolate and-and-“
Danny’s ‘calm bad boy’ dis option went out the window (which was also broken because of a wayward flying crepelle). “Who the hell raised you to be a snitch?!” the rat hisses.
“You did!! I learned it from watching you!”
The rat opens his mouth to argue before thinking. “Ok fine but I always taught you to get paid first.”
Len slaps a hand down his face. Normally he and Danny have reversed roles but he should have recognized that wild look in the rats eyes when Mickey was using one of the leftover crepelles as a tool sharpener. But Len, forgetting they were not in fact grown men but children pretending to be adults, had left them to their own devices.
There is a knocking on the door that makes Len sigh again. ”I have a fourteen year old and he has more common sense than you two.” He says in a way that is probably supposed to make them feel ashamed, but Mickey snorts loudly with his flippers over his mouth.
He opens the door to a flash of light that forces him to cover his eyes for a moment before his eyes adjust to the familiar form of the mayor of Witch Town. “Myrah?” He rubs at his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“I need you to come get Doniel, he has a fever and passed out while tutoring April.”
Len felt as though a cold chill had passed through his body, it was the only reason he hesitated. “Y-yeah just give me a sec.” He ducks back into the house, where Danny is already waiting.
”Len what’s-“
“Donnie passed out, I need you to come with me,” already the air of lighthearted teasing and jabs went out the window. Len is back down the stairs with a quilt from Donnie’s bed as Danny is grabbing his coat and tossing Len his. He almost feels bad for Mickey who can only watch on as the two exit. Myra waves her wand, the bright light from earlier returns, creating a portal in front of them. Len barely waits for the portal to form before stepping through. A moment later he is standing in the familiar oversized living room. He had been to the witch family house many times and each time was always surprised how disproportionate all the furniture was, (which made sense considering how tall Amaranth was).
The child in question was lying on the bright pink sofa under a thick blanket. There was a washcloth hovering over his head, every few seconds wiping at his brow. April looks at them when they enter with panic in her eyes. “I don’t know what happened Lenny, I went to help mom with groceries and-and when I came back-“
“Its ok April, it's not your fault.” Len takes her place by Donnie. His son's brow is furrowed underneath a layer of perspiration. Even though he already knows the answer, he presses the back of his hand on Don’s brow. His already racing heart is now beating so fast it almost hurts in his chest. He replaces the blanket Myra had given him with the one he had brought, wrapping him up in it before scooping him up into his arms.
“I’m sorry Len, if Amaranth had been here she could help but...” her fingers tap together anxiously as she watches the child in his arms. Len was always touched by how much Myra and Amaranth cared for Donnie. He never felt the need to have a partner (though he and Donnie both made enough ‘mom’ jokes about Danny to last a lifetime) it warmed his heart to know someone outside his family loved Donnie almost as much as he did.
“I know, thank you.” He moves past the mayor to where the portal was and in another flash he's back in front of his house where Danny is waiting. The rat reaches out and takes him around the shoulders and herds him inside. “He’s burning up Danny, I-I don’t know what happened, I felt his forehead his morning and he was fine, you saw me do it.”
“I know, I know.” Even though Danny claimed that he didn’t remember any of his medical training he’s already looking over Donnie. Trained eyes looking for anything that could tell him what was wrong. After a few moments Danny says to Len, “Get him into bed I’ll be there in a sec-“
“Ah-shouldn’t we put in him some ice?”
“No, the last time we tried that he almost went into shock before I stepped in. He’s a turtle, he can’t handle it.”
“I-I know.” Len unconsciously cradles Donnie closer to his chest protectively. He could still remember the terror of the time when Donnie got the Fall Flu and had a fever that burned his hand. They had gotten so desolate they had put him in a tub of ice to combat it. They had thought it was working until Don had fallen into a deathlike stillness. It was only then Danny had realized Donnie was going into shock and pulled him out so quickly they had knocked over their makeshift tub.
Now Len couldn’t tell if the shivers he was feeling were from Donnie’s sleeping form or from his own fear. Not until Danny put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to look into his eyes. “Can you get him to bed please? I’m going to mix together some medicine that Amaranth taught me and I’ll be right there, ok?”
Len nods “Ok, ok.” He lowers his cheek onto Don’s scalp as he carries him upstairs. It's only when the parent and child are out of sight does Danny let out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his scalp under his hat and forcing himself to calm down. He had never realized how much he depended on Len keeping a calm head. He hadn’t realized just how much he depended on that til they brought Donnie in. During missions Len had an eerie calm about him that he thrived off of. But it was moments when anything threatened the health or happiness of his child that threw Len in the deep end and forced Danny to step in.
“Mickey,” he says without looking behind him, knowing the poor eel was fluttering around not knowing what to do. “Will you please go upstairs and keep Len calm? Help him how you can til I get there.”
“Y-yeah ok.” The eel hurried to do as he was told. In that moment Danny allowed himself one more sigh before reaching under the cabinet and pulling up an old beaten box, filled with herbs and remedies he had swiped from houses over the years. He pulls out a notebook he had filled with some of Amaranth's recipients and pulls out a mortar bowl and pestle. Picking through a few jars of tiny shards and grinding them together before taking out an empty incense holder and pouring it inside. He made sure to secure the lid and take up the glass bottle under his arm before hurrying up the stairs.
A part of him had been scared that Len’s own fears would drive him to ignore his warning about the ice, but he entered Don's room just as Len was pulling a blanket over him. “Good job.” Danny moves past him to kneel by the bed, turning and handing the incense to Mickey. “Can you light this please? It’ll help clear the bacteria out of his lungs.” As he was twisting open the glass bottle he heard Mickey spark behind him before the smell of lavender filled the air (he ignored Mickey gagging behind him). He tips the tip of the bottle to test how much liquid was inside. Luckily, they still had enough for Donnie (he’d have to steal more later). He dabs his thumb with the light pink liquid before running it across Don’s burning forehead. ”There.”
“Is he ok?”
Danny had to commend Len on not asking him a million questions. He reaches back and pats his old friend on the knee. “The Willow Extract should help take his fever down, but if It doesn’t help in a few hours we’ll go to witch town.” He doesn’t get a response, but when he turns to look at him, he sees Len staring at his son. His dark eyes full of concern and fear that only a father could have. Danny stands up and steps back. “Len why don’t you sit with him for a bit, and I’ll make you some tea.” He makes eye contact with Mickey and jerks his head towards the door. After taking a moment to pat Len on the shoulder he follows him out the door.
Len finally lets his face drop into his hands with a shaky breath before the sound of a weak cough reaches him. When he looks up again he was filled with relief to be looking into Donnie’s feverish dark pink eyes. “Hey,” says a weak voice.
“Hey baby boy,” Len sits up on the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone tried to kill me with one of Uncle Danny’s devil pancakes.” He barely has enough wind to finish his sentence before he has to gasp for air. “Will you sit with me please?”
Len can't help but smile, holding the side of Don’s face with his hand for a moment before climbing over him and laying on his other side. Don turns his head and tucks his head underneath Lens chin. “I’m s’rry,” Don mumbles, “I-I didn’t know I was sick.”
“I know you didn’t, you’re not a good liar remember?” Len lowers his cheek onto his scalp. “You get that from your Uncle Mickey.”
“And you?”
“Nah, I’m a great liar,” he smirks down at Donnie, “I’m not going to teach you how to lie though until you turn eighteen,” he pauses, “Hundred.”
Donnie lets out a laugh that sounds more like a raspy balloon, but Len can tell he’s trying not to fall asleep again. He rubs Don’s arm over his blanket. “Get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” The teen gives a nod of acknowledgement before rolling towards him. A few moments later he's fast asleep again, breathing easier than he had been a few minutes ago.
#rottmnt fanfiction#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#donnie#rottmnt fantasy au#fantasy au#family#loathsome leonard#malicious mickey#dastardly danny#len dad#mud is thicker then blood#sick#compilations#father and son
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
NPCs about Seeds
Full script of Far Cry 5 (except cutscenes)
* What were those Seed brothers like? Can't imagine there's anything like a healthy sibling rivalry going on there.
* John's the baby of the Seed family. His brothers turn a blind eye to his more sadistic indulgences.
* Joseph and John show why it's hard to have a family business. Money and blood mix weird. Even when you're not tryin' to be a messiah.
* When you escaped the bunker... John didn't say it... but you could see it in his face. Failure. Things got worse from there... Like he was trying to make up for something. Prove to his brother he could...
* Kim and I used to throw these weekend BBs. Open invite. All you had to do was bring something. If you can believe it, the whole Seed family came once. They brang watery mac and cheese. I shoulda knew they were monsters when they did that.
* John's on edge 'cause his brother-Father is getting' cranky. What a fucked up sibling relationship those two got.
* Maybe John will go crying to his "father". I wanna see Joseph give John a spanking.
* Joseph's pissed the hell off. I hear John's sweating like a piggy.
* Word's out - Joseph's had it with John. That little punk is backed into a corner now.
* Good thing for us John and Jacob haven't sorted out their brotherly nonsense. I mean if we're lucky, they'll just take each other down. If not, well, I'm going to keep some grenades around with John's name on 'em, eh? It's comin' to a head man.
* Says somethin' that Joseph didn't save his brother. Family really doesn't mean shit to these people.
* Wonder what Daddy Seed is feelin' right now. Oh. Shit. What if he WANTED John dead? Fuck man, I can't think about the big game. We did it here. We kicked ass. That's gotta matter. Okay that’s what I'm telling myself. Yeah, that’s it.
* I'm just sayin': If I was Joseph and I had the ability to see into future occurrences, I woulda warned my boy John that he was gon' get murdered... and made some good bets.
* I'm sure it's only a matter of time before Joseph tries to spin John's death to his own advantage.
* John Seed never had the Father's full confidence, what I heard. But the Joseph loves little sister Faith, and gave her everything her twisted heart desired.
* Jacob always tried to look out for his little brother. Imagine what he's gonna do when he finds out you killed him.
* John was always the runt of the Seed family. I'm not surprised that you were able to get him. But I gotta warn you, Jacob's a whole lot meaner than his little brother.
* Joseph adopted Faith into their family. She's going to be madder'n a wet hen that you killed her brother John.
* John liked to throw his weight around, tryin' to prove how strong he was. Jacob knows he's strong. His actions are more controlled, and he's a lot scarier for it. John was always super emotional, but Jacob's buttons won't be so easy to push.
* All this could have been avoided if only a mid-level cable channel gave the Seed family the reality show they deserved.
* You know, if any of these Seeds ran for office, they'd win in a landslide. Mind control charisma just oozes off of them.
* Come to think of it, the Seeds work just like a political office. You got Joseph, the mayor, and John, Jacob and Faith as his city councilors. It's no wonder they forced me and my people out of office - they already knew how to play the game!
* Each of the Seeds has their own bunker. They call them “Gates”.
* Know how I sniffed out Eden's Gate's bullshit early on? Only the Seeds were allowed to be angry, everybody else had to be calm--even though we all had our asses in that church because we were mad at the same shit too. But now everybody gets to be angry, 'cause it's a weapon pointin' where the Seeds want it. Protect the project. Transparent motherfuckers.
John
Resistance
* John's always been obsessed with the people in Fall's End. And with Mary May in particular.
* Deep down, I think John wants to die. That man has scars that run deep.
* John's got a particular ritual he sticks to. You get marked with a video, then you get dunked in the water. When John wants you found, he doesn't stop. Ever.
* Nowadays, if you're caught huntin’, John Seed'll have ya' killed.
* John's got people getting baptized all across the valley. In rivers, creeks, hell, even in puddles.
* John scrawls a fucking tattoo on your chest, then flays you the fuck alive. He nails it to a wall.
* If the peggies wanted a heap of food, why didn't they drive a ways to the wholesale club and take that over? Everythin' would be canned and ready for them instead of still in the ground. You can tell John Seed never had to raise a kid.
* The cult takes people and then sorts out where they go. Whoever John doesn't keep, he sends to Jacob. Or Faith.
* John really puts the dick in dictator. The fucker just loves calling and leaving answering machine messages, too.
* John's always wearing a key around his neck. He calls it the key to paradise. I don't wanna know what it unlocks.
* I'm pretty sure the family that used to own this farm is long gone. John Seed made an offer. They refused. That's that.
* This fertilizer company was bought by John Seed a long time ago. They ran it as a legit business.
* This one guy, Les Doverspike. House is northwest. He thought he could prepare for everything... Din't count on... JOHN SEED'S LAWYERING SUPER POWERS! In the blink of an eye, Eden's Gate owned Les' land, bunker, arm, leg, dingleberries, ....EVERYTHING!
* I've heard some pretty brutal stories about what happens when John wants you to confess.
* The peggies had to have planned all this way ahead of time - they're harvestin' at record speed. I guess they had little meetings... John probably hunkered over his map gettin' a hard-on for the sound of his own voice. Hm... now there's a thought...
* The thing that always bugs me about John Seed is, who goes to a lawyer that’s tatted up more than a gangbanger?
* You're attractin' a lot of attention, especially from John Seed. John's paying special attention to you.
* John wants you real bad. Have you considered maybe he's in some kinda love with you? He oughta killed you like two or three times already but he's playin' cat and mouse. Just sayin', if you find yourself alone with him maybe a good long somethin-or-other could save our necks.
* Man, that John, he sure does have a hard on for you. So I'm thinking, you guys should probably just fuck and uh get it over with.
* I bet you John gives the best spankin's. Sorry I know that's messed up. What can I say, he brings it outta me. I'm just sayin' maybe we don't kill John is all. Seems a waste of a perfectly good set of buns.
* Before you, John never lost his cool. You're driving John literally crazy.
* I drank with Joey Hudson back in the day. She doesn't take shit from anyone. John's gonna eat her alive.
* I know how these things go, man. Deputy, you better keep skeleton keys and wire cutters and a swiss army knife and anythin' that'll get you outta a hogtie on you at all times, because John is gonna truss you up like a dinner turkey real soon.
* Always thought there was somethin' kinda twisted about John.
* John the Baptist is an amoral predator, end of story.
* John Seed's not gettin' what he wants, so he's pitchin' a fit.
* Keep an ear out for John's fucken' plane. He loves buzzin' around in that hunk of shit.
* I've known men like John Seed before. Real charismatic. They'll sell ya poison and convince ya it's a health tonic. He'd fit in real nice in Washington...
* I had one conversation with John Seed and I knew! I knew... He masks his words as guidance, but deep down there is a selfishness that could only come from pure evil.
* John Seed's a piece of shit. When news spread that I was expecting, that scumbag spread rumors that HE was the biological father of my baby. I don't know if he was trying to create a wedge between me and Nick or if he was just doing it to laugh at us.
* I hear John Seed was a lawyer or something. Used the rules to buy up stuff in the Holland Valley. The cult must have been running damage control already, because think of what a story that'd make. Unless we're already all tapped out of giving a fuck about the shitty economy and its parasites. Huh. Yeah. He's same old, actually. Same fucking old.
* I remember the first time John Seed set foot in this bar. I'm wiping down counters and Ma's countin' the till when I hear her bark, 'What the fuck do you want?' I look up and he's standin' in the doorway. Eyein' me like I'm a meal. Some people 'round here said give the Seed's a chance. I knew they were bad news from the start.
* Eden's Gate took this town right from under us. They started buying up all the land, forcing business to shut down and foreclosing on homes.... My parents and me fought back, but John wanted this bar. Told 'em he'd have to pry it from our cold dead hands. So, the cult paid off the county and made it illegal to transport alcohol. We fought back with lawyers, but those leeches bled us dry, too.
* Whenever there's a neighbor in need, everybody around here pitches in. A couple days after we told some people I was pregnant, we got all this secondhand baby shit from everybody. John Seed stole all of it the next day.
* Heard Pastor Jerome had you saving people from being kidnapped. John Seed did that to me. The fucker made me think he was going to torture me, too. Had me wait in a room for half a day thinking he was going to do it. All that fucker did was give me one of those ink jobs. It was messed up.
* John Seed is just a man. He seeks glory and riches. He immersed himself in a sea of self-aggrandizement. He pounds pulpits. He professes principals he neither believes nor practices. He stokes fear. But he is just a man.
* Before you came along, John Seed kidnapped me. He has his way of getting a person to say things. It's not about my words. It's about what's in his head. When he was done, I was beaten, toed in the woods, and left to die.
* A long time ago, in peaceful times, I asked John Seed what was driving him. He gave me so many answers. All of them lies.
* John Seed is a cruel soul who can't be reasoned with. He enjoys making people suffer.
* John and the Peggies are taking everything and everyone that ain't nailed down. Even then they just come with crowbars.
* After you're marked for baptism and dunked in the fucking river, John drags you to his bunker. God save us from whatever he does in there.
* There must be a reason John almost drowns people in the baptisms. It's a power play but there's more to it.
* If John really wanted to, he could wipe Fall's End off the map. He's toying with the people there, like a sadistic cat.
* John's got a singular mind. Dug up from a serial killer's grave, but still, singular.
* There's something really wrong with John. I don't have a name for it but you can see it in that creepy smile of his.
* When I first saw him on the cult's videos, John seemed pretty harmless. But when I met him in person, he made the hairs on my neck stand up.
* John bought up all the businesses 'round here and promised us jobs but the only people who got work were cultists.
* When John asks you for somethin', he's not really askin'. He'll get what he wants from you one way or another.
* John wants us all to say yes, but I think he actually really likes it when they say no. Gives him an excuse to get mean.
* Anyone who doesn't confess to John gets killed and put on display as a warning to others. It's inhuman.
* John doesn't just mark people with a sin, but their houses too. You can see his calling cards all over the valley.
* I got a package from John Seed the other day. // What was inside it? // A note that said I was favored and that if I admitted to my sin, I'd be cleansed.
* What does John Seed do exactly...? // He messes with your head. Asks you questions. Makes you say shit you don't want to be saying. I... I really don't want to talk about it.
* John was right, we all do have one sin that tends to run our life. In a weird way maybe he did give us a second chance.
* My old house was a piece of shit. It would creak at night, so bad I thought for sure some boogie man was coming to get me every night growing up. // Heh, aw, that's cute. // Yeah. John gutted and burned it to a crisp last week.
* Okay, I need to lighten the mood. This is unbearable. // Oh Lord. // John Seed is so uptight, he takes a ruler to bed to see how long he sleeps. // I'm not in the mood. // John Seed is so uptight, he fell down a coal shaft and found a diamond in his ass a week later. // Okay that's pretty good.
* You seen that John guy? Most aggressive grin I ever seen on a human being. Like a chimpanzee before it bites ya. // God what a creep. // I hate to think what kinda life he's come from. // Who gives a shit? He's evil. // What makes a guy that evil though? // It doesn't matter. There are loads of people out there with troubled pasts but they manage not to run an apocalypse murder cult.
* Not like John was the peak of sanity before, but he's going straight up coo-coo bananas with all you're doin'.
* Sounds like Broseph's mad! Ouuuu, family probs! John's like that little brother who gets held down and farted on, and then curls into a ball and cries.
* One thing about John -- the more you ruffle his feathers, the angrier he gets. He can't deal with embarrassment; being made to look bad. He'll start sending out search parties to grab people like us, so we gotta stay frosty.
* John's lustin' for a dogfight with you, huh. I bet that kid jerked it to Top Gun or something and now it's the only way he can get a stiffie, is in a dogfight. If you have to kick the bucket I hope that's one of your last thoughts, its a good one.
* John's playin' a strange game with you. Dunno what's worse, that sometimes he seems to want you dead, or sometimes he seems to want you alive.
* John's no better than his brother's dog, and we all know what needs doin' to a mad dog.
* John's huntin' you like an animal. He catches you, you're probably gonna join his other trophies on his wall.
* Hey dep, I just wanna say I'm sorry, I heard John's got a partner of yours It's gotta be scary, you know. Probably heard about how John cuts people up and knows all these pressure points and can make you feel pain beyond anything you ever imagined. Anyways don't think about that. I'm sure... I'm sure she's fine. She'll be alright.
* Was John dead behind the eyes when you met him? It's not my imagination, there's no soul back there.
* I heard there's no spare key for the bunker prison. Just one for John. Control freak.
* John Seed, what a fuckin' self-absorbed dick, huh? You just KNOW he jerks off in the mirror, and marvels at his fuckin' facial expressions.
* That's John Seed's Ranch. I heard he loved hiding in that castle of his.
* John had this place built just for him. Even got a hangar for his fucken' planes.
* Look at this place. John's got the worst case of younger sibling syndrome I ever seen.
* John's such a neat freak, it's inhuman.
* Ugh. John Seed's temple to himself. Fucker's got a tennis court. I ain't never seen anybody play. Just another way he's a hypocrite.
* I know everyone's got a bunker out here, but John's is ridiculous.
* John's taste in home decor is... awful.
* John's been stealin' the planes from all over the Valley. He keeps the best ones at the airstrip next to his ranch.
* Of all the Seeds, I think I understood John the least. Inferiority complex, maybe? But he was a lawyer, he could have gone out and, I don't know, been a Wall Street megalomaniac. I guess economic murder isn't as satisfying as direct murder.
* John made tattoos look real bad man, I'm glad he's six feet under. You gotta respect the ink. He didn't even learn a proper letterin' or font techniques or nothing, man. No way I'd have even trusted him to touch up my tramp stamp.
* With John gone, Jacob will have a harder time building up his army. But he's already got a strong force at the ready.
Peggies
* John Seed's a funny guy. But not 'ha-ha' funny.
* Dang, John's bunker is so luxurious. There's parts of this bunker that only John can access.
* Deputy Hudson is one of John's "special projects". Every time John leaves here, he's got a big smile on his face.
* John's got the only key to the deeper parts of the bunker. We really oughtta make a copy of John's key. What if he loses it?
* John knows the human heart. He's been through a lot. It's why I trust him.
* I wonder if John's place will survive the Collapse?
* I could get in trouble for saying this, but it smells funny in John's house.
* Haven't seen John here in a long time. He's super busy.
* I knew John loved planes, but I didn't know he also loved boats. I bet John's boat costs more than my old house.
* I've never seen Brother John on a boat, but I know he likes to get wet.
* You think John fishes?
* We need to keep this place tidy. You know how John gets with his baptisms.
* Bet we're guardin' John's unreleased films.
* I hope Brother John takes me for a plane ride someday.
* John keeps all of his favorite things stashed in the hangar.
* John wants the word Yes plastered all over this place. Gotta attract new brothers and sisters.
* Taking this scrap metal is good forward thinking. John's left nothing to chance. He's a smart man.
* Bet John'll be a king after the collapse.
* If you're marked, John believes you can be saved. I didn't want to admit my sin at first, but John showed me how to accept it gracefully.
* Feels weird turning those people into Angels. I mean, they worked in the store here with us. They cooperated. // Sure, they cooperated. But they were still sinners. There's no going back at a certain point, you know? John said that this was the only way to save them.
* I know it's John's will, but...I don't like killing dogs.
* John's made catchin' that deputy our top priority. Wonder why John wants the deputy alive.
* That deputy's fixin' to get taken into John's special room.
* John's relentless, that deputy don't stand a chance.
* John's gettin' awful mad. I pity anyone who has to deal with him face to face.
* I don't know what's goin' on in John's head, but it's embarrassing.
* I thought John had control of things, but lately it feels like he's got no idea what he's doin'.
* John's got that look in his eye, I almost feel bad for the people of Fall's End.
* John will make everyone atone, even if it kills him.
* John was right, they never saw us comin'.
* John's so smart. Burnin' what we can't take, so people know they need us, spirit and body.
* Last I heard from John, he was real angry. Never knew he had that amount of righteous wrath in him.
* Pray you never see John lose his cool. // He never does. // He has though. Some sinner a while back had words with 'im. I couldn't hear exactly, but I heard 'em say the Father's name - I never seen John go so red so fast. // What'd he do? // Well he gets in his plane and wipes the sinner's property off the goddamned map. He rains fire on'em. They're scurryin' everywhere, screamin'. Like a magnifying glass on an anthill.
* The Seeds lost a good brother in John.
* Maybe John wasn't part of the plan? Maybe this is still what the voice told Joseph?
* John's faith wavered, but mine's never been stronger.
* I'll miss John's pep talks.
* John did so much for the project. He can never be replaced.
* John proved his devotion in blood. How can we do any less?
* John was always larger than life, it felt like he was immortal.
Joseph
Resistance
* Joseph doesn't like it when his family goes off-book.
* I know this is an unpopular opinion, but what if Joseph's right about the end of the world?
* That's the first place Joseph ever built. Back when they pretended to be good. Joseph used to preach here. We could have saved us some trouble if we had just set fire to it years ago.
* Joseph Seed and his whole family are like the politicians who ran this country into the ground. They sell ya hope and change and all these people buy into it thinking it's gonna be different this time. It ain't. Might as well be buyin' magic beans.
* These people in Eden's Gate have been led astray. Joseph Seed claims he loves everyone. Wants them to know the truth. The truth is he preaches vengeance and sows lies. But the words of an evil man ring louder in the minds of the weak...
* You know what really gets me? Cult leaders are usually always in it for the money. Just like a pyramid scheme. Joseph ain't like that. I keep tryin' to break this guy down into what he wants from people. If it ain't money, and it ain't sex, what the hell is it?
* Joseph's a charismatic son of a bitch. I mean, you've heard him. The pitch. The tempo. The way the words roll off his gentle lips. His mannerisms. I mean he's been speech trained, probably more than any politician I've ever seen. That's how you know he's a government guy.
* I know the people of this valley. They're good, hard workin' people. But in bad times, people get scared, start lookin' for someone to blame. Joseph Seed fed on that fear. Told folk the end of the world was coming. Lot of 'em believed him. Truth be told... way things are now? I sometimes wonder if he's right. Folks felt abandoned, grew weary, they needed our help. And we didn't listen, but Joseph Seed did. Joseph Seed wooed people. He told them EXACTLY what they wanted to hear. With those falsehoods, lies, his poison. It's driven a lot of good folks away from the righteous path.
* I knew Joseph Seed was bad business when he wormed his way in here a few years back. I imagine the fucking mainstream media would paint us as two sides of the same coin, because they're either lazy or corrupt or both... But to me, it's simple: I'm willing to sacrifice everything for my family, while Joseph Seed wants to burn down the world for his.
* Y'know, I had a dream last night that involved me, a bed, whips and chains, and Joseph Seed. Suffice to say there were a lot of conflicting emotions and sensations...
* Did you have a vision? Faith dosed me with bliss, and I saw the Father come to me, personally, and tell me terrible things.
* I have a lot of pity for Faith. Joseph is the true monster, manipulating that young woman into a weapon.
* Who the heck is Faith, y'know? Joseph treats her both like his daughter and his sister. How much does she know? How influential is she? It's all twisted together.
* I wonder how many other secret bunkers there are in the county? Joseph procured a whole missile silo and no one saw!
* Faith came to Hope County to detox. Like tourism of hillbilly country for rehab. But Joseph took a shine to her and she was reborn. Hell, her real name ain't even Faith, but something rich, like Riley or Rachel.
* Joseph believes in Faith. He's entrusted her with all manner of heinous activity out here. We need to take her out.
* I can't see what kind of method to the madness Eden's Gate has goin' on. Three heralds of the Collapse? What are they even doin'? // They got a system. Faith sows, John reaps, Jacob... // Steps on your neck? // Deals in belief, I guess. // Nah, that's Joseph's job. He's the charismatic populist motherfucker. Jacob just wants to cull people.
* Joseph's just a nobody from nowhere. How'd he get this many people behind him?
* There was a time no western religious leader would be caught dead with a goddamned man-bun. Fuck I miss those days. Listen, I get that he's runnin' this big old cult and all but if you're gonna run a big old cult you gotta look the part! Long robe that's a weird color, like puce or something, stringy moustache, head shaved bald like a baby. Not like some kind of lovechild between a hipster and a country singer.
* Joseph Seed's family is gone. He's gonna be vulnerable and running on emotion. He won't be thinkin' straight. If we're putting this to a vote, I'd say we close this chapter for good, as soon as possible.
Peggies
* The father's takin' a personal interest in those deputies now... Maybe his visions told him somethin'.
* Joseph said that deputy is special. I wonder what he meant by that.
* Despite everything they've done to us, I know Joseph would still forgive them.
* We have to love the sinners. It's what Joseph would want.
* It's been too long since I've seen our Father's face.
* Joseph is a gifted songwriter. You haven't lived until you've heard Joseph sing this live.
* I heard that the Father got the idea for the Judges in a vision.
* Jacob might teach us to shoot, but Joseph guides our aim.
* President Seed has a nice ring to it. Wonder if Joseph has political aspirations?
* I see why Joseph liked this county. Plenty of silos for what we need to store.
* Everyone knows Joseph will not tolerate idle hands.
* The Father keeps all the best stuff for his Chosen. Leaves us the scraps.
* After the collapse, we won't hear the Father on the radio anymore.
* Joseph's disappointed in us, I can tell. We gotta do better.
* I hope the Father doesn't take this out on us.
* I can't imagine how Joseph feels now, with his brother gone.
* With Jacob gone the Father has to have a backup plan for us. He has to.
* Our Father was supposed to save us. Joseph wouldn't ever abandon us, would he?
* Joseph will know what to do. I just have to find out where he's hidin'.
Jacob
Resistance
* We're in Jacob's territory now. Know how I know? Wildlife is scarce. I'm not one for hunting but this area in particular used to be home to quite a few species. They've either been driven away or taken in for experiments. It's sad.
* Jacob Seed's in charge out here. He's ex-military, he's a combat veteran, and he's a psycho.
* Faith was Joseph's favorite, but Jacob is his toughest soldier, bar none.
* Jacob's got this Chair. He straps people in and breaks them down until their souls are gone. Then he controls their mind. Don't end up in that chair.
* I know Jacob's the bad guy and all, but every bad guy thinks they're this misunderstood hero, right? Has anyone ever tried to just, you know, take him for coffee and talk to him?
* Strippin' people of their mind and freewill to build an army for The Father, that ain't right. I still can't believe Jacob and Joseph are brothers.
* The mind is the most dangerous weapon and Jacob knows that all too well. No one was really prepared for this.
* I've seen him up close once and I'll tell ya' Jacob Seed is one scary motherfucker.
* Jacob had one thing right. Things are only goin' to get worse and you gotta be ready for it.
* I had a dream once that Jacob took me on a hunt. We shot some deer and he asked me to skin them. As I was cutting them open they changed... it wasn't deer. I... I don't think it was a dream.
* Whatever you do, don't listen to the music. That's how Jacob gets you.
* One of the first places Jacob took over is the old Veteran's Hospital. No one thought much of it at the time.
* Careful. Jacob likes to play mind games with ya.
* This was an animal sanctuary until Jacob took it over. Looks like he's got some freaky deaky shit goin' on. Jake-n-Bake Seed really had his fingers up in everything up here.
* Jacob's completely insane. He's not even trying to hide what he's doing anymore.
* Heard that Jacob has been doin' some weird stuff with animals over here... and not just wolves this time.
* Jacob's been putting people in cages. Keepin' them there with no food or water for weeks! Almost better if they just killed you.
* Eli worked on Jacob's special bunkers, did you know that? Turns out they didn't get along. Who would've thought?
* No one is immune to Jacob's fucked up conversion. Once they hit you with that you ain't ever the same.
* Jacob, he's knows everything that I'm thinking. He's got the key to my mind and he twists... and twists... and twists.
* Jacob... his experiments... he takes us... owns us, speaks to us. He hears us. Jacob... he's in control. He controls everything.
* Jacob knows how to get into your head. Twists things around so you don't know what's right anymore.
* If Jacob can't find a use for you in his army, you become target practice for troops.
* Be careful out there. Friends might not be friends anymore after Jacob's done with them.
* I bet the Peggies got an armory here, too. I can't believe how Jacob got them so organized.
* Jacob's using everything he learned in the military and twisting it to suit the needs of Eden's Gate. Son of a bitch is a poor excuse for a soldier if you ask me. As long as he's alive my Pops will be rolling in his grave, all bitter and mad.
* Have to say, you've ticked Jacob off something fierce.
* You wanna bet that Jacob had that three-wolf moon poster as a kid? I bet he was a cub scout, too. Now he's getting his badge for people-skinning and brainwashing.
* I'm seeing a lot more choppers in the air. Looks like Jacob's using them to move troops and supplies.
* You know, I was dumb enough to work for Jacob a few years back. Who you think built him all those Peggie bunkers? You think I saw any of this comin'? Hell no...
* Jacob's new recruits gotta kill someone they care about, just to prove their loyalty. That's messed up on so many levels.
* Jacob will be pied that you and the Cougars freed the Henbane River. He'll need a new source of soldiers.
* Jacob sees himself as beyond the other so-called Heralds. He views his work as the most important, and that the others' purpose was to support him.
* Jacob will break every bone in your body to convert you. He lives for pain.
* Jacob would happily sacrifice everyone and everything in Hope County to feed Joseph's Collapse. He doesn't care about Faith.
* Between John, Faith, and Jacob, I'd say our mind control freak is the worst. He makes people kill their own family. His own mind's twisted. He's a damn maniac.
* I hear Jacob's looking everywhere for you.
* You gotta save us from all this darkness. All this death. Jacob's losing it and he's out hunting down more people. He's gonna do anything for Joseph's plan to work.
* Cult's got the wrong idea 'bout sacrifices. My neighbor killed his old man 'cause Jacob said so. For fuck's sake, you don't do that.
* Jacob's gone nuts 'cause he lost a lot of his precious, mindless soldiers. I'd say it sucks even more to see our own teammates turned against us.
* Jacob's pissed. That's new. He's always been the crazy type, but I'm afraid of what he'll come up with next. Stay sharp.
* Using music to control people is so in bad taste, but Jacob's song pick, that's gotta say something about him.
* How much do we know about this Jacob fella? He seems strong. Got a good setup going on... We ought to take some photographs of him or somethin'. Preferably shirtless... Y'know, for intelligence purposes. Know your enemy.
* If Jacob he had an experienced woman in his life, this shit would not be happenin'. I'll take one for the team if it comes to that. Just don't tell Xander I said that. He'll get jealous.
* I knew Jacob was trouble as soon as he showed up. I mean, did you see his face? It's all burned and twisted like his heart.
* Jacob's got training grounds all over the place. I've seen them out there, shooting anything that moves.
* I can almost understand why people follow Jacob. He's knows what he's doin', that's for sure. Mind you he's also a fucken' psychopath kind of a deal breaker for me.
* Honestly, Jacob scares the shit outta me, even more than the Father. I've seen Jacob up close, I've looked him in the eyes they're empty, not a single shred of humanity anywhere.
* Jacob's one sick fuck. Nailing up bodies? Burning people alive? That's just messed up.
* You know what? I think Jacob's scared of Eli. That's why he's tried so hard to get him.
* Jacob must be getting desperate and crazy. More troops out here than ever.
* Jacob's plan worked. I tried to warn them. I told them not to go back. Jacob's going to win. He always wins.
* Jacob was the big, mean, brute of the Seed clan.
* Jacob was an example of how a vet can go bad without any help. Still glad he's dead of course.
Peggies
* Hope Jacob doesn't have another surprise inspection. Last one didn't go so hot.
* Jacob asks for sacrifices from us all. I gave up my son just so I could understand the Father's pain.
* Jacob can turn these animals into weapons for the Father, I've seen him do it.
* Jacob calls those wolves of his Judges, 'cause that's what they do. If you're not worthy, they tear you to shreds.
* Jacob takes us, molds us and lifts us up to realize our potential. Just like this Judge. Once, it was just a simple wolf. Then it heard the voice of the Father. Now look at it. Stronger, faster... a killer. That's what Jacob does, he makes us better than we were, because only the very best of us will pass through Eden's Gate and on to salvation.
* Jacob has asked us to find more recruits for the Project. We have to make them see the light... by force if necessary.
* Jacob taught me how to bring a boar down will one killshot. Now I just apply the same logic to sinners. Easy.
* Trust nobody, that's what Jacob told us.
* Last time I was here Jacob himself complimented me on my shootin'.
* Jacob will whip the strong ones into shape. The rest of 'em won't survive training. Jacob sure puts you through your paces here. It's how he makes us strong.
* Jacob only wants the strongest of any creature.
* Some of the converts have a hard time losing their old notions, but Jacob has a way of getting them to see the light.
* If you've ever been in Jacob's presence you know just how powerful he really is.
* There is no way anyone would dare stand up to Jacob. They'd be dead in a second.
* Jacob's got this county locked down. There's no way they're gonna take him out.
* Jacob knows what he's doin'. If he says he's got this bastard covered, I believe him. You know Jacob. He's not gonna give up.
* I hear Jacob is furious. We have to try harder. We can't fail the Father.
* Jacob's not dead. There's no way. He's too strong to die.
* The sacrifice of Jacob must be part of the Father's great plan; we must trust in him.
* The guy who killed Jacob. He fucken' cheated. You know Jacob. There's no way he would've lost in a straight up fight. Can't do anything for Jacob, but we can make sure Pratt pays for letting that bastard get away.
* Do you think this the father knew about all this? // Of course. It's all part of his plan. // Even losing Jacob? // Do you doubt the Father's visions? // No! Of course not.... it's just... the guys... they have questions.... // Questions? Now's not the time for questions! It's time for action! Do you want to die a sinner? // No! Or course not! // Then get back to your post. The Father needs us now, more than ever!
* So what the hell are we going to do now? // What do you mean? // What do I mean? Jacob's dead! That's a pretty big deal, if you ask me. // We still have the Father. It's his plan after all. // Sure, but he had Jacob and the others to help. He can't do it all himself. // That's why we're here. We have to step up, do whatever is asked of us. We can't give up, not now. // Yeah, you're right. Especially with what's coming. // Exactly. Get back to your post, this isn't over yet.
Pratt
* Jacob's caught himself a Deputy. I think it's Pratt. Poor bastard, he's not gonna last a day in there.
* Deputy Pratt always came off as a bit of a douchebag, but that doesn't mean he deserves what Jacob's doin' to him.
* I'd sure hate to be that Deputy Pratt right now. Jacob's gonna rip him to pieces. He tried to arrest his brother for God sake.
* Pratt's days are numbered. One of these days Jacob's gonna have him nailed up on some billboard or something just like the others.
* I keep thinking about Pratt, and what Jacob's doin' to him. That poor man's brain's gonna be totally fucked.
* Can only imagine what it's like to be left in a cage with nothing to eat for days. God, do you think that's what they're doing to that Deputy of yours? Poor bastard.
* I don't think that Deputy's gonna live much longer. I hear Jacob's furious and you can be sure who he's gonna take it out on.
* Next time you meet your friend Pratt, be careful. Jacob does things... to your mind... he might not be the same person you remember. Don't say I didn't warn you.
* Can you fuckin' believe that guy? // Who? // The Deputy. Pratt. He was wanderin' around behind the cages. // What the fuck was he doin' there? // Who the hell knows. Jacob's probably got him off doing some shit. // Yeah, he's lucky to be able to put two words together after what Jacob did to him! // Seriously. Sometimes I think it's a mistake to put too much trust in these converts. You should come willing to the light, or be struck down.
* I.. I was told to feed the Judges but I didn't know where their food was. // Jesus, Pratt. Does nothing stick in that brain of yours? Over there, where it's always kept. // Right! Th..thanks Phil! It won't happen again! // It better not.
* I just want go out and hunt down the bastard that killed Jacob and beat them to death.//Don't worry. They'll be here soon enough. We've got their buddy Pratt down here. Pretty sure we're next on the list.//Aren't you worried? They were strong enough to take on Jacob...// Fuck 'em. With the number of guards we got here? They'd be crazy to try to take us on.
* Good thing Pratt's out man. He was lookin' like a hipster in a bullfight man.
* There's not much of the old Deputy Pratt left, Jacob made sure of that. Almost would've been better that he'd died in there.
* Yeah, the Deputy might be free, but I won't say he's okay. No one is okay after they've been through the trials. No one.
* Jacob sure did a number on Pratt. Not sure there's much of him left in there.
* It's gonna take a while for Deputy Pratt to recover from this... if he ever does.
354 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Price of a Bean and the Cost of Love
Summary: With no clue how to defeat a villain the town can’t remember, Hook and Emma venture to the Enchanted Forest to retrieve some magical items from the Evil Queen’s castle. Along the way, they rediscover the connection they shared before they were separated by worlds a year ago. 3B canon divergence, Rated T, 8k, also on AO3 here
A/N: Happy Holidays @phiralovesloki I’m your CS Secret Santa! I hope this little fic will bring you some cheer to this wild year :) Honestly I had so many ideas after revisiting season 3 that I’m definitely down to write more S3 renaissance/divergence fics from now on!
Thank you @cssecretsanta2020 for another great event!
-/-
The more frequently they host these hushed conversations by the fireplace, the more Emma grows to despise the décor of Granny’s B&B, however cozy it may be. It’s difficult to keep Henry safe whilst also keeping him away from these discussions of the Enchanted Forest and curses and magic, so the common area of the B&B is the best option when she knows he is tucked away asleep upstairs.
Her parents and Regina are going back and forth at each other while Hook stands by the fire, raising an eyebrow every time Regina fires an insult or her mother shoots down Regina’s suggestions with judgement.
“Well, even if we could figure out who did this, they’ve done a spectacular job of making sure I can’t fight back by stripping my entire vault of anything magical that could help. I bet it’s all just sitting back at the castle, wilting away like this damn town will under this curse.” Regina bites out angrily.
They all silently reflect on her words and Emma can’t help but wish she were back in New York right now. At least then her issues would be about prying Henry away from his video games long enough to sleep and do homework, not trying to protect him from some unknown fairy tale villain who had cursed their family and friends and was turning people into flying monkeys. God, what is her life?
“What if we could retrieve some things from your castle?” Hook asks, everyone swinging their heads up to look at him curiously.
“What the hell do you mean, pirate?” Regina demands. Hook sighs and pinches his nose; a gesture Emma finds herself sympathizing with when dealing with Regina.
“I mean that I have a way of returning to the Enchanted Forest. I can use it to fetch your magical goods and then you can do your thing with your little bottles and jars and we can resolve all of this.”
“And how exactly do you have a way of getting back there?” David asks suspiciously. Hook fishes in his jacket pocket and reveals a magic bean, rolling it between his fingers slowly.
“I procured two beans, the first I used to get to Emma in New York. The second, well let’s just say I had it saved for a rainy day. Now, this cursed business is really only a slight drizzle for me, but if it will help, the offer stands.” The offer had mostly been made to Regina, but Emma finds Hook’s gaze on her. She’s pretty sure he was not offering this bean for Regina’s sake.
“Well, I don’t trust you to go alone.” Regina shrugs. Hooks rolls his eyes upward in frustration and Emma’s lips twitch a little. The man is not particularly good at hiding his emotions.
“I’ll go too.”
Her words are met with immediate disagreement from her parents, but she patiently waits for them to finish their complaints before speaking.
“Look, you’re all cursed. As far as we know, you can’t leave town let alone jump through a portal. Hook and I are the only people not affected by the curse. He brought me here to help, so this is something I can help with. I’m the saviour after all.” Emma sighs, glaring at her parents until they surrender.
“Is this even necessary? Regina, I’m sure you can cope without your things for now. We can find another way to figure out who cast the curse and defend ourselves if need be.” Snow says firmly, David backing her up with an affirmative nod and a squeeze of her shoulder.
“Isn’t it better to have and not need, than need and not have?” Hook interjects.
“See? The pirate gets it. He’s willing to give up a bean for this. What would the town say if they find out their royal highnesses didn’t do everything they could to protect them?” Regina says smugly.
“Look, guys, enough. Hook and I will go get Regina’s magical crap from the castle, end of discussion. I don’t like not having all the tools possible to face who or whatever this is.”
“Thank you, Miss Swan.” Regina says, her tone indicating it was more of a dig at her parents than actual gratitude.
“Fine. But how will you get back? You only have one bean.” David asks. Emma looks to Hook for answers, considering this was his plan to begin with. He catches her eye and clears his throat with an awkward scratch of his ear.
“I can get another bean from the same seller. I know where he is.” Emma knows he’s hiding something, and she plans on pushing him on it later, but for now she lets it slide.
“Well, how do you know that he has more, or that you can get one from him? It’s a bit of a precarious plan, especially now my daughter is coming.” David replies roughly.
“I trust that Hook will get us back, okay. We should probably get going soon and I want to say goodbye to Henry first. I know you’ll all take care of him, but he’ll think I’m leaving him with strangers, and I don’t want him to worry.” Emma heads upstairs before more disagreements break out, exhaling with relief at the tiny amount of peace the dark, quiet hallway provides.
She wakes Henry to explain that she needs to go somewhere else for work, but she will be back in no time. He’s sleepy and confused, but he smiles when she says he will be treated to all the ice cream from the mayor he wants and some lovely meals from her friends (yes, the one that was apparently her cellmate). Emma hugs him tightly and says goodnight once again, watching over him for a moment before turning off the light and closing the door.
“You don’t have to come along, Swan.” Hook says softly from behind her as he exits his own room.
“And let you have all the fun trashing Regina’s castle? I don’t think so.” She scoffs. They share a brief look, and, in this moment, she is particularly grateful for this uncanny ability they seemed to have developed of understanding each other with a single glance. It’s simultaneously terrifying and comforting to know Hook can read her so well.
Emma says goodbye to her parents while Hook gets strict rules from Regina about what to do in her castle and he looks like he’d rather switch places with her and be hugging David right now. She’s hoping they will be back pretty soon but and she’s putting all her faith in Hook’s suspiciously vague plan to get them another bean home, but her trust in him grows each time he does something selfless, chipping away at her suspicions with his surprising decency and kindness.
They head out the back behind the B&B, the frosty air nipping at her skin as she shivers. Hook’s breath comes out in clouds when he offers her one last chance to back out, but Emma simply shakes her head, and he tosses the bean on the grass. The portal swirls in front of them and a second later they’re jumping through in a dizzy haze of flashing lights and crackling sounds.
With a rough landing in between some trees and a distinct shift in the atmosphere, Emma knew they had made it to the Enchanted Forest. Well, running back to New York wasn’t exactly an option anymore.
-/-
“I walked around the Enchanted Forest in my normal clothes last time, I don’t see why it’s an issue now.” Emma grumbles, fighting with the heavy material of the skirt they had nabbed from a clothing line. Hook had already explained it to her, but he indulges her complaints nevertheless.
“We don’t know what or who has been left here after the curse. Looking like you’re from another world is a sure-fire way to gain attention, and we want to get in and back as soon as possible, right lass?” He smirks at her grumbled response as they continue down the path in the forest, squinting at the peak of the castle ahead of them. They had been walking for some time; unfortunately, the bean did not let him pick an arrival spot closer to the castle. He had thought that perhaps this time alone with Emma would be pleasant, perhaps even a time for them to reconnect after being separated for a year, but so far Emma appears to be preoccupied with her own thoughts.
“Did you miss going on adventures with me while you were in New York?” He asks teasingly, glancing over at Emma as she scoffs.
“You bet. The Big Apple had nothing on trekking through trees and beanstalks in strange lands with a pirate.” She replies humorously.
“The Big Apple?”
“It’s a nickname for New York.”
“Your land never ceases to confuse me, Swan.”
“Yeah, well, staying in New York would have meant not having to deal with the confusion of curses and villains.” He can sense the shift in Emma’s attitude with her bitter words and he sighs.
“So, you would have preferred it if I had left you alone in your new life.”
“I’m glad you came and gave me my memories back, but you have to understand how hard it’s been for me leaving that life of blissful ignorance to the existence of…all of this.” Emma waves her hands around, gesturing at the land they’re in.
“You act like knowing of the existence of magic and fairy tales is a burden. But don’t you ever think about what it has to offer, what it’s already given you?”
“When magic was the entire reason for me growing up alone? For my parents being cursed twice now? For Neal’s crappy childhood and Regina killing a bunch of people and countless other shitty things? Sorry, I’m just a little preoccupied dealing with all of that that see the beauty in it.” Emma speeds up her steps and Hook strides to match her pace. She’s clearly jaded, and she has every right to be, but he feels like he should be doing more to reason with her. He suspects that her dismissal of magic and this world will cause a chasm soon enough, pulling her further away and back into the noisy streets of the city she seems to love so much.
They continue along the path in relative silence, jumping into the trees when they hear the odd carriage or footsteps ahead as a precaution to avoid potential foes or having to explain who they are. Hook can feel the air cooling as the day progresses and he’s concerned about the few hours of daylight they have left. He hadn’t thought that they could achieve everything in a single day, but Emma’s cold demeanor had put him off broaching the topic of resting come nightfall.
The castle soon becomes visible as the trees thin and the path becomes wider. Hook is surprised that no one is around. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he had wondered if some strays left behind from the curse would ransack it or something. From appearances, it had been left alone, which was a good sign for collecting all of the necessary items Regina requested.
“The way Regina talked about this place I thought it would be beautiful, but honestly it’s kind of ugly.” Emma comments, making eye contact with him for the first time in over an hour. He smirks, nodding in agreement and pleased they can at least mock the architecture together.
“Aye, her taste is indeed questionable.”
“It’s weird to think my grandparents lived here, that my mom grew up here. I feel so disconnected from all of this.” Emma admits as they walk up the stairs to the main entrance. It’s so eerily quiet that Hook is reminded of the curse that hit everyone here, snatching them away to the land without magic. Their trek to the castle and his concerns of Emma’s longing for her old life had almost made him forget why they were here in the first place.
“Perhaps that is something you could discuss with your mother. Maybe hearing stories of her childhood and your grandparents will help you appreciate this part of your life more.”
“So that I won’t want to go back to New York you mean?” Emma asks flatly.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that, like you said, you are disconnected from your history here, and maybe understanding it more will help you better accept magic being in your life.” Hook shrugs, trying to pass it off as nonchalant. Emma hums suspiciously and he realizes he really has no ability to pretend anything other than the truth with her.
“And perhaps I don’t want to say goodbye again.” He adds boldly. Since Emma regained her memories, he’s been dancing around his feelings for her, prioritizing her return to town and figuring out the business of this new curse. After all, she was juggling her cursed parents and her son’s own sheltered memories, she hardly needed him making things more difficult.
“There is a lot of New York you haven’t seen yet. There’s more to the city than the inside of a jail cell.” She jokes, giving him a lopsided smile. They’ve reached the main entrance now, the doors grand and intimidating in their aggressive spikes and bolts as deterrents. Hook pulls on the large handle, the door creaking loudly in the otherwise quiet entrance. The immediate hall inside is empty, no guards or thieves in sight, and they step in apprehensively.
“Are you suggesting I should come to the city with you, if you were to return?” He asks as Emma glances around in wonder.
“Well, I-” She starts, but she suddenly stops and slams into him, knocking them both to the floor as streaks of fire blaze above them. The fire singes the floor right where they had stood, fizzling out after scorching most of the entranceway. Hook looks around frantically, not seeing anyone around to cause balls of fire to hurdle at them. Emma’s heavy skirts and cloak are draped over him, her hair tickling his face as she moves off him with a groan.
“I’m sorry, it just came out of nowhere and I reacted.” She sits up awkwardly, looking around to see if any more fire could come their way as she shifts her cloak back over her bodice correctly and puffing out her now red cheeks.
“No worries, lass. I’m impressed by your quick reaction.” Hook replies as he stands, offering her his hand to help her up.
“I deal with some shifty people at work, I’ve got to be fast.” Emma shrugs. He delicately moves a curl of her hair back in place, catching her eyes as he does so. It’s the softest she’s looked since he found her in New York, a look he hadn’t seen since they said goodbye at the town line a year ago. It lasts only a moment before she looks away, but he’ll hold onto it as a sign that whatever formed between them in the cruel humidity of Neverland still lingered in her soul.
They cautiously proceed through the castle towards Regina’s tower, both on the lookout for other apparent protection spells that were still in effect. He wondered if they would find some hint of what happened before the curse, but everything seemed normal, at least for the castle of the Evil Queen. Once they find her room, they quickly grab bottles and books and trinkets from the vanity, tossing them into a sack he had in his pocket.
“Regina said she has a room where she keeps more things, but it’s sealed with blood magic so this will have to suffice.” Hook tells Emma as she sniffs one of the bottles and grimaces.
“And no doubt she will blame us if this stuff isn’t what she needs.” Emma scoffs. The setting sun reflects off the vanity mirror and Emma’s hair shines in the hazy orange glow. He admires her for a moment before stepping away to stand at the balcony, looking out the stretch of land ahead and the pastel colours of the sunset. Emma soon joins him, and they stand together and watch the changing colours of the sky in silence.
“I don’t know how Regina could stand here and see something so beautiful out there and want to retreat into this cold, dark palace.” Emma says quietly.
“Maybe she was scared of the potential life outside of this, so she retreated to something familiar.” He replies, glancing over at Emma to see his meaning was not lost on her by the way she shakes her head. He thinks she’s ready to launch into another defence of her wanting to go back to New York, but she doesn’t say anything. To his surprise, she shuffles closer and rests her head on his shoulder. They stay like that for a while, until a chill settles over them and Emma sighs wistfully.
“So where is this bean seller?” She asks, pulling her cloak around herself with a shiver.
“He should be down by the water. But we should rest for the night. It’s a bit of a walk to the port, even longer and more hazardous in the dark.” Hook replies, his stomach sinking at the thought of the next part of their quest.
“Okay, but I don’t want to stay here. I’m sure the beds in the guest rooms are nice but this place freaks me out. Is there an inn or something close by? Preferably somewhere we could find some kind of food.” Emma laughs lightly when her stomach rumbles mid-sentence.
“Aye, there’s a tavern in a village close by, if we leave now, perhaps we can make it by the light that’s left of the day. I have no idea if anyone will be there, but there may be something left behind we could salvage to eat.” Hook grabs the sack of magical items and swings it over his shoulder, ushering Emma ahead as they quickly descend from the tower.
He keeps close to Emma as they walk in the dusky light, glancing ahead as the individual trees of the forest become indiscernible and form an ominous tunnel of darkness.
“Why did you have two beans?” Emma asks, her voice breaking the quietness of the night.
“Well, why not?” He evades with a cheeky tone.
“You said you were saving it for a rainy day. I get being prepared for the worst, but it seemed like you had a specific purpose for it.” Hook thinks for a moment, deciding whether or not to tell the truth. He thinks of her head on his shoulder earlier and the way it felt so simple and easy to stand by her side in peace.
“I got a second one in case you wanted me to leave.”
“Leave?” Emma asks incredulously.
“You had a life in Storybrooke with the town and your family, and then again in New York with your boy. I came to bring you back to them, but I never had a place in that life of yours. I have stayed for the possibility that I could, but if you wished that I didn’t, I would return here and never burden you again.” Hook tugs on the sack awkwardly as they walk, almost wishing he could see her face but also relieved to be shielded by the darkness.
Emma is quiet, and the longer she doesn’t speak, the more anxious he becomes. She could easily turn around right now and tell him she does want him to leave her life, and the thought makes his chest ache.
“You’re not a burden, Hook.” She says quietly. He takes that as the smallest of victories and relaxes a little. He thinks she’s about to say more when she suddenly trips, slipping onto the ground with a painful groan.
“Swan!” He tosses the sack down and kneels beside her, widening his eyes in the dark as if that would help him see better.
“I think I hit my…” Emma mumbles. Hook gently touches her face, feeling blood already forming at the cut at her temple. He kicks around and feels a rock on the path just as Emma turns on the ground and retches.
“Concussion.” She mutters, slumping against his chest.
“Aye, that was a nasty hit to the side of your head, lass.” He says softly as he brushes her hair away from the cut. She’s in no state to continue walking, but there’s no way they can stop here for the night; she’ll certainly need food and water to ease her discomfort. He reaches for the sack and loops the string over his hook before scooping her up in his arms, much to her disoriented chagrin.
“Down, I’ve had this loads before.”
“Doesn’t matter how often this happens to you, Swan. I’m not having you wander about in the dark in this state. You’ll end up knocking me out too with your stumbling.” He teases lightly. She grumbles something unintelligible, but he takes her burrowing herself against him as resignation. Hook watches her close her eyes and furrow her brows and he hopes he can reach that damn tavern soon.
-/-
A wave of nausea hits Emma when she opens her eyes, the image of the room feeling like a puzzle her brain is too slow to piece together. A candle flickers on the other side of the room, the dancing flame making her unsteady vision worse. She slides up the bed she lays in, wincing in discomfort. Looking around the room at the simple décor, she assumes this is the tavern. To her left is another single bed, the sack of Regina’s things sitting on top along with Hook’s jacket. There is a cup and a pitcher of water on the small table in the middle of the beds and she clumsily pours some and takes a slow drink, her dry lips and throat relieved to feel the liquid.
She tentatively reaches up to touch her head, feeling a small bandage across the cut on her temple, her hair damp from what she hopes is the water used to clean the wound and not blood. The door creaks open and Emma is relieved to see Hook.
“Ah good, you’re awake.” He says softly. She notices the plate he’s carrying and practically salivates at the thought of food, but he puts it down on the table and stands beside her bed, gently lifting her chin up with his fingers.
“Your eyes look alert, I’m sure some colour will come back to your cheeks once you’ve eaten.” His fingers are warm against her skin and she feels cold as soon as his hand slips away.
“I was able to bring up some cheese and a small amount of bread, but Sylvia won’t allow any hot food in the rooms. If you are feeling well enough, we can go down a bit later for something more.” Hook explains as he passes her the plate of the ration sized portions of bread and cheese.
“Sylvia?” She asks before tucking in, happy to have a least something to put in her stomach.
“The owner of the tavern. Turns out, the curse left a few people from different villages all over. A lot of them gathered here after the curse hit and made their own sort of village. It’s a lively little place.”
“Does anyone know what happened?”
“Not in any great detail. Some were outside of the boundaries and saw it descend, but they didn’t know why. They said it was a green fog that seemed to appear from Regina’s castle. They’ve all been too scared to go there in case its dangerous, but no one knows who cast it or why.” Hook sits down on the other bed and slides out the flask from his jacket pocket. She watches him take a drink and longs for the pleasantly warm feeling of his rum.
“Have you eaten yet?” She asks, swallowing the last of the bread guiltily.
“I had some bread and cheese downstairs.”
“We should go get some warm food now. I’m still hungry and I bet you are too.” Emma says firmly as she moves off of the bed. Hook jumps up to stop her, his hand gently holding on to her shoulder like she’s going to break.
“Are you well enough?”
“Hook, I’m fine. It was a concussion; I’ve gotten them plenty of times when a skip is rough on the run and I still catch them every time.”
“Aye, but head injuries can be fatal. Just because you feel fine doesn’t mean you are.” He replies with concern. She rolls her eyes and tugs on his arm as she feels her stomach grumble in desire of more food, pulling him towards the door.
“And if I faint it could easily be from hunger. Come on.”
Hook leads the way down the stairs to the common area of the tavern, the old place dimly lit with candles scattered about, leaving pools of melted wax around them. Emma hears the buzz of chatter from the front room and is surprised to see so many people here. Hook ushers her to the table closest to the fire that was fortunately free and she hums in appreciation at the warmth. She sees him gesture to the woman behind the bar she assumes is Sylvia, who gives her a once over and smiles before leaving through the door behind her.
“The food will be here shortly, Swan.” Hook reassures her as he sits down on the bench beside her. They both soak in the heat of the fire eagerly, Hook holding out his hand in front of the flames for warmth. Emma subtly looks over him, noticing his tired eyes in the gleam of the fire and his tense shoulders. They hadn’t been able to see the light from the tavern before she hit her head, so she assumes they had still been a fair distance from it, which meant that he had walked all that way with her in his arms in the dark. He must have also tended to her wound and made sure she had a soft place to lie down when they got here.
“Hey, um, thanks for making sure I was okay.” She says awkwardly, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze. He seems surprised by her gesture, raising an eyebrow and quickly looking back at the fire.
“Of course, love.”
“And you’re not some stray dog I’m going to get rid of by the way. You’ve helped me and my family out a lot. I said that you could be part of something, and I meant it.” Emma speaks quietly, aware that they had attracted some attention from the other patrons when they came down. Hook nods and puts his hand over hers on his arm with a soft smile.
“Some warm stew for the lovebirds.” Sylvia says loudly as she comes towards them with two steaming bowls and some water. Emma gives Hook a questioning look, but he responds with his own vague expression that tells her to play along. They thank Sylvia and tuck in, Emma too grateful for the warm bowl of food to even care what’s in it. Her body instantly relaxes at the taste of food and she practically inhales the whole bowl, realizing the last warm meal she ate back in Storybrooke felt like days ago. Hook grins at her and asks Sylvia for seconds for both of them. Four bowls of stew later they turn back to the fire, feeling full, warm, and surprisingly relaxed.
“Lovebirds?” Emma murmurs to him, knocking his shoulder with her own teasingly.
“I told her you are my wife. I thought it the easiest way to explain a passed-out woman in my arms that I needed to stay with.” Hook explains sheepishly.
“I’m surprised she gave us a room with two beds then.” She scoffs.
“It was the last room left.” Hook says humorously. Emma hums in understanding but starts gnawing on her lip at the fact that a mild swell of disappointment fills her chest. She hadn’t given much thought to their sleeping arrangements beyond finding a bed outside of Regina’s castle to lie on for the night, but now that they have a room with beds of their own, she thinks about what it might have been like had there only been one. It’s ridiculous and she puts it down to the overwhelming craziness of the past few days making her yearn for some comfort and that is it.
“Disappointed, Swan?” Hook smirks, flashing her the smoldering gaze that obviously gets him a lot of attention.
“Please.” She rolls her eyes; glad her cheeks were already flushed by the fire. The heat of the fire and the tension simmering between them brings her right back to Neverland and she licks her lips at the thought of their kiss. Emma finds herself feeling the same desire to throw caution to the wind and kiss him again. It seems fitting that they are in another world again and away from her home that she can lock these moments away in the compartments of her mind that separate reality and these fantasy experiences.
Loud cheering from across the room breaks the intense gaze between them. Emma exhales and takes a drink of water, watching the group of men begin to play music. They tease each other about their singing voices as they start a song off-key, a couple of the rowdier ones getting up to dance with no coordination. The other patrons clap and cheer them on, some of them joining in with the dancing.
“Go on loves, join in!” Sylvia encourages them with a wink as she clears away their bowls. Hook grins wickedly, taking great pleasure in the way she groans with dread.
“Nope. You can’t get me up there, I have no idea what this jig type thing even is.” She says firmly, watching a couple shake their legs in strange ways as they twirl around.
“Then it’s a good thing you have a partner who knows what he’s doing.” She can’t help but stare wide eyed at Hook as he stands up, offering with his hand with a warm smile. With a wince, she puts her hand in his and lets him lead her to the middle of the room, holding on to him as he positions them for the dance.
“Remember I have a damn concussion, Hook.” Emma grumbles, breathing in sharply when he brings her closer to his chest.
“I’ll go easy on you, love.” He whispers in her ear as his stubble grazes her cheek. He guides her through some basic moves, and she feels laughter bubble up in her chest at the absurdity of the situation. They manage to jump and twist in time to the music a few times, both of them laughing at her lack of coordination despite him practically leading each of her body parts that needed to move. Emma finds herself enjoying it, giggling happily when she eventually starts to pick it up. When the music begins to pick up in tempo she sways into Hook, feeling a little overwhelmed by the fast movements. He responds by holding her waist and tucking her against his shoulder as they sway slightly. They’re no longer moving to the music, but she finds that she doesn’t care that they’re swaying slowly near the rowdy crowd still skipping about.
“How do you know how to dance like that?” Emma murmurs close to his ear.
“The crew and I would frequent taverns like this and picked it up. We even danced on the Jolly some nights, especially in the summer when the air was warm and smelled sweet.” She hears the sadness in his voice, and she realizes she doesn’t know what happened to Hook during the missing year or where his ship was.
“What happened to the Jolly?”
“An illustrious bean seller has her.” Hook says quietly, and Emma leans back to look at him. She searches his eyes, and it dawns on her what he means.
“You traded your ship for me?”
“Aye.”
She’s overwhelmed by this revelation and for the first time stops overthinking and just reacts, her lips finding his with relief. It feels warm and comforting to be in his embrace, and for the first time since leaving New York, she truly feels the spark of her old life reignited. It’s then when she feels the stir of passion and peace swell inside her a wave of exhaustion hits her and she sinks into him weakly.
“As much as I love a woman swooning at my feet Swan, you need to rest now.” Hook teases, kissing her forehead gently. They leave the boisterous fun of the tavern for the quiet chill of their room for the night and Emma practically collapses into bed, her limbs screaming out for rest. She’s already slipping into sleep when she feels Hook kiss her cheek and she dozes off to the burn of desire from the high of their kiss.
-/-
Hook wakes up to a pressure against his right side, twitching his nose at the tickle of hair. It takes him a moment to adjust to the dim light of early morning before realizing it’s Emma, pressed against him and deeply asleep still. She must have climbed into his bed at some point in the night, but he has no memory of being stirred in his sleep (he most certainly would have remembered Emma Swan coming into his bed).
The beds were small and certainly not made for two people, but he’s far from mad to have her body against his in the morning. Their kiss last night had been unexpected to say the least. Hook had been well aware that the truth of his ship’s whereabouts would come to light at some point given that they needed to find the man who had it, but he thought perhaps Emma wouldn’t realize what exactly had transpired. For the sake of their relationship, he was glad she had seemed to know the gravity of it. Hook stays in bed for a while, holding Emma as she sleeps. He dozes in and out until she begins waking up.
“Morning, Swan.” He says warmly, watching as she frowns and takes in her surroundings.
“Um, hi. I’m sorry, I was freezing.” She says all flustered, wriggling out of bed quickly.
“No worries, I was too.” Emma nods apprehensively at him, rubbing her eyes sleepily. They awkwardly dance around each other as they splash water on their faces and shrug on their cloak and jacket, ready to leave as Hook hoists up the sack. Sylvia convinces them to grab breakfast before they leave, shoving bread rolls in their hands as they head out. The port isn’t too far, but it’s another decent walk there and he’s grateful for the sustenance.
This walk feels more comfortable between them than the one to the castle and despite the awkwardness after waking up, Emma seems more relaxed now. He teases her about watching out for rocks on the path, laughing when she playfully shoves him into the grass. He feels these moments from Emma are rare, so he cherishes the sound of her laugh and the curve of her smile. They hadn’t broached the topic of New York again, and Hook thinks it best to leave it until they return to Storybrooke. Perhaps their little quest will help defeat this new foe quickly and Emma can appreciate her exposure to the magical world. Or perhaps she will decide to still go, but he can go with her. The noisy, busy streets of her city would be bearable if it meant still having her in his life.
The brilliant blue of the water rests ahead and before long he recognizes the Jolly, his heart sinking at the thought of his home belonging to another. He had wondered if he would ever see it again, which may have been the less painful scenario than seeing another captain at the helm.
“I’ll do the bargaining, lass. This is personal between Blackbeard and I, so it’s best you stay back.” Hook warns Emma as they reach the ship, still glorious and majestic in comparison to the other ships around her.
“I can hold my own, Hook. This is my bargain too, is it not?” Emma retorts. He shakes his head, wishing she hadn’t taken his words as a dismissal of her strength.
“Aye, but Blackbeard is cruel. If he sees how important this is to you, he will do something vindictive. And quite honestly, I’m concerned he will hurt you if he knows how much you mean to me.” Emma opens and closes her mouth but doesn’t seem to find the words to respond and simply nods.
She hangs back while he walks up the ramp and onto the ship, surveying the small changes made here and there. He did not see a familiar face in the crew, but most of his had been loyal and left when he did, some finding other crews to join and others venturing off elsewhere.
“Hook, as I live and breathe! I did not expect to see your sorry soul standing on this ship ever again.” Blackbeard bellows, an arrogant smile on his face.
“I’m in need of another bean.” Hook says curtly.
“You blew through the two I gave you already? What the hell are you playing at, mate?”
“Do you have another or not?”
“Aye, but the cost…do you even have anything of value left to trade?” Blackbeard inspects him, his eyes landing on the sack of Regina’s things. Hook tosses it to him, watching him catch it with intrigue.
“Take your pick.”
Blackbeard rifles through and snorts obnoxiously.
“Trinkets? Jars? What fool do you take me for? You must be desperate coming to me with this junk in search of a bean. Why do want one so badly?” Blackbeard stares intensely waiting for him to crack. Hook matches his gaze silently, but he sees Blackbeard’s eyes wander to the harbour and with a sinking feeling, Hook knows by the grin on his face that he has seen Emma.
“A woman, of course. The very same woman you needed the first bean for perhaps? She’s a beauty, that’s for sure. Well, in that case, what is she worth to you?” He challenges, smug that he has Hook in such a position.
“Name your price.” Hook grits out.
“Oh, you love her. In that case…your life of servitude for a bean. She gets the bean; I own your soul.”
Hook feels the colour drain from his face. This had been a risky plan all along, but such a bargain was so painfully steep he was taken aback. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been considering he truly does not have anything else to offer beyond his own life. But this was his plan, and he would be damned if Emma suffered because of it.
“Fine. Deal. But I get to give her the bean myself and say goodbye.” Hook says wistfully. Blackbeard actually looks surprised for a moment, but he shrugs and gives Hook the precious bean from a little pouch in his pocket, along with the sack of Regina’s apparently worthless items. He heads back to Emma, trying to keep a neutral face but struggling.
“So, you got it, right? What was the trade?”
“Here it is, Swan. Take it. You’ll be home in no time.” He evades as he curls the bean into her hand, clicking his tongue when Emma glares at him.
“Hook, what did you do to get it?”
“I’ll remain here and work for Blackbeard.”
“Okay…for how long?”
“The rest of my life I suppose.”
“No. Absolutely not, we can find another way to get back.” Emma shakes her head vehemently.
“The town needs you too much. We don’t know what has transpired while we’ve been gone, and you need to get Regina her things and be with your boy.” Hook says softly.
“They need you too.” Emma replies, reaching for his hand when he shakes his head.
“Killian…I need you.” His chest aches at the way she uses his name. Her words both fill his chest with happiness and break his heart; of course she expresses such a sentiment when they must part once more. Her fingers are laced between his and he holds her gentle hand tightly, not ready to let go.
“You don’t, Swan. You did just fine without me the for the past year.” He replies with a short humourless laugh.
“Because I didn’t remember you. If I did…I don’t think I would have started seeing Walsh. Maybe I would have-”
“No use speculating now, lass. It’s in the past, but right now you need to worry about your family and the town. Don’t worry about me.” He makes sure she has the bag of Regina’s things and kisses her cheek softly, smiling sadly when she dips her head and brushes against him.
“Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you.” She whispers.
“Good.” He responds, wishing that perhaps this goodbye will only be temporary like the last turned out to be, but the reality of Blackbeard’s bargain weighs heavily on him and Emma already feels a world away from his damned soul. They linger for a moment longer before separating, Emma exhaling and looking at the bean as she walks away from him and out of the busy docking area, turning back with a wistful smile only once. He waits until he sees her go through the portal in the distance before heading back onto the Jolly, ignoring Blackbeard’s taunts to retreat below deck.
He’s home, but without his freedom and without the woman he loves. A more sensible man would also be without hope, but when he meets the crew, he sees a few familiar faces, and the way they call him captain in hushed tones stirs something in him to fight to get back what he has lost. He’ll bide his time, but after being around the heroes, their penchant for hope has certainly inspired him.
-/-
Things never seem to slow when Emma returns. In the time that she had been gone, Regina had discovered that it had been her sister Zelena who cast the curse and she had been masquerading as Snow’s midwife. She had barely been back a day when they finally found Neal, but she lost him again just as quickly as he had come back. The reasons for returning to New York only grew with every painful and dangerous thing that happened. She even tried working on her magic and learning from Regina, but when Zelena took her newborn sibling in an attempt to cast a ridiculous time travel spell, Emma had had it.
She would be leaving for New York once her parents were settled with her brother, and not a moment later.
But the reported sighting of the Jolly Roger down by the harbour had her pause her exit plans.
Emma had avoided speaking of Hook, simply telling people when she returned that he had decided to remain in the Enchanted Forest. No one seemed convinced, but thankfully didn’t push her on it. In some twisted way she had been pleased to have so much to deal with that she didn’t have time to think about what his absence meant for her, but in quiet moments of respite, she longed for the warmth of his presence in her life.
When she gets the text about the Jolly, she races down to the docks, wishing she had taken her car as she carries Henry’s book with her rather awkwardly. She finally gets close enough to see the little figures of people walking about the deck, and if she squints really hard, she thinks she can see Hook.
It’s unmistakably him when she reaches the ship and she calls his name, smiling at his reaction as his eyes find her. She hurries up the ramp and throws her arms around him so hard the book slams into his back, causing him to chuckle into her hair.
“Hi, Swan.”
“Hi, I’m sorry I just didn’t think I’d ever really see you again. How did you get the ship back from Blackbeard? Did you use another bean to get here? How the hell does he have so many?” She rattles off, tucking the book under her arm after their embrace.
“I’ll explain all later, but more importantly, what happened here? Did you figure out who cast the curse?” He asks with concern, looking over her to make sure she was okay and frowning at the book.
“It was Regina’s sister, the Wicked Witch of the West. It was some sibling rivalry crap, but she wanted my baby brother for a time travel spell and mayhem ensued. We’ve stopped her but…I’ve lost my magic and we lost Neal.” Hook reaches out for her and she leans in to his touch, relieved to feel the spark of comfort she usually feels around him.
“I’m so sorry, Swan.”
“Look, I know how you feel about it, but I just really wanted to go back to New York after all this. Henry gave me his book to remind me of the magic that makes up our family history, and I’ve been trying but I’m just…exhausted.” Emma sighs, sinking into him when he reaches his arm out to embrace her.
“Well, I just got here, you can’t leave now.” Hook jokes softly. Emma is about to respond with a quip of her own when she sees a beam of light flash in the distance.
“What the hell is that?” Emma mutters, trying to figure out where the light was coming from. She has a horrible suspicion that it may be coming from the barn and she groans, tugging on Hook’s jacket sleeve to follow her as she heads over there.
“David left a message, Zelena died and somehow triggered the time portal.” Emma yells over the loud noise of the magic when they reach the barn.
“Emma, perhaps we shouldn’t get too close.”
“We need to close it!”
They swirl around in a magical portal once again, being thrown into another unexpected and unpredictable adventure. But, as always, Hook is by her side, and she’s realizing that despite the pain magic has caused in her life, it has also brought him into her life, and maybe it’s about facing the hardships together.
“You don’t have your magic, it’s too dangerous."
"But-"
She’s interrupted by the sheer force of the magic pulling them toward the portal and they cling to each other as they tumble on the ground roughly. They both struggle to avoid falling in, Hook using his appendage to grip onto the ground. Emma holds on to his hand, but she feels herself slipping away and she’s worried he’ll leave her to fall into the unknown hole of time. She meets his eyes, and he lifts his hook to fall in with her.
And so she decides to do just that. When their little adventure in the past comes to an end, after witnessing her parents fall in love, attending a ball, almost losing her mother, and maybe falling in love with Captain Hook along the way, she decides to make Storybrooke her home. There are the occasional foes in town, but it is a place full of family, friends, and love, and they can face anything together.
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
content: allusions to canon typical violence, all hancock knows is be gay and badly flirt
Fancy Meeting You Here
If you lived in Goodneighbor you knew Jackal, or certainly you knew about them.
Lil ex vault dweller, absolute ray of sunshine that was so sweet it was a wonder they hadn't been killed yet. Daisy told him once that she had a problem with some radroaches and Jackal took care of em.
Literally.
They scooped them up into their arms and just carried em on out. Apparently they also brought em lil bits of food they could spare, looked up at Daisy with those sweet lil puppy eyes of theirs and said that the only reason they got into her shop was they were hungry.
Oh sure they could posture real big, get a lil loud when they needed to, one time he overheard that they yelled up a storm at a gunner who came by and was being rude to KL-E-0, sent the man bolting. But deep down? Hancock was pretty sure Jackal was what happened when you took cotton candy and made it into a person.
Which was why when Farenheit pulled em into his office he was so fucking confused. to listen to Farenheit tell it they had helped break into his store room, Bobbie No-Nose was the one who seemed to be in charge but they had helped. There was a bit of a fire fight but everyone seemed to come out okay, Jackal for their part had frozen up, No-Nose had run off to who knows where. He was inclined to not believe it but they looked...upset. Guilty.
It tugged at his heart strings something fierce.
"...You sure? Look at em Farenheit. They're just a lil man- shit you cool with me calling you a lil man?" They started before giving him a nod, nervously gnawing away at their lip. "They're just a lil man. Shit a, a mole rat is scarier than they are."
Farenheit for her part rolled her eyes at him. "No boss I just thought it'd be funny to drag them in here. Yes I'm sure."
"Alright Fare, out. I wanna speak to sunshine here alone." She gave him a nod before leaving, the door clicking behind her sounding far too loud in the ensuing silence.
He took a moment to just...look at em. He met them only briefly when they first came to Goodneighbor, Finn tried to pull the extortion crap so he.. handled it. They got real pale and a lil jumpy after, made him almost regret his decision. After that they didn't seem to avoid him but they didn't go out of their way to seek him either.
Now? They were back to being skittish, tugging at their sleeves and trying to avoid looking right at him. It was... Actually kinda cute. Course that's because all of them was pretty cute but he wasn't gonna say that out loud.
Could think it though, in the safety of his thoughts.
They were a wiry little thing, the kind he could probably pick up and carry around even if they had a good few inches on him. Big ol dark brown puppy eyes framed by bleached blond hair that kept falling down in their face a little. Had a couple of freckles too that he was filled with the strange deep desire to touch. But. No. he had a job to do. "Spill."
"... sorry?" Shit they were quiet.
"Tell me why you did it. If ya did it, honestly I'm shocked you'd be capable of something like this."
It took a few more moments of fidgeting before they responded. "Bobbie asked if I wanted a job. Said it was gonna just be digging and and like I'm not that. Not that strong? But digging isn't too bad. And I needed the caps, don't have much experience for anything else and I don't..like much else. there were uh mirelurks? the other folks I was down there with got spooked off so she had me go to diamond city and break out an old friend. I." The babbling stopped as they took in a deep breath, looking terrified. of..him?
"she she said we were going to the diamond city store room. I I've never liked the mayor. so I agreed to finish helping but then we came out of the tunnel and and it turns out she lied and I tried to stop her! I told her this was stupid and mrs farenheit said we could just leave and we should and I. I'm sorry hanock I."
Shit, ohh shit they looked on the verge of tears. "Hey, hey, hey. Deep breaths sunshine...there we go. Atta boy." The flush that spread across their cheeks didn't escape his notice. Cute… "I believe you. you...you trust easy don'tcha doll?"
"Not..not really? but bobbie. I mean she was really nice to me.."
"Nice aint always good kid." Another brief pause while he scrutinized them. "Alright this is how it's gonna work: since you honestly believed you were going to Diamond City you're not in too much trouble. But you're gonna be working for me for a little while." A raised hand before they could speak. "I ain't gonna make you do anything you don't want. Really it's just gonna be a lot of busy work, running things to people I don't feel like dealing with, talking to some folks for me. You dig?"
It took them a moment but they nodded. "I. yeah. yeah I can do that." Some of the tension had already bled out of them, leaving them not trying to make themself as little. Shit they were taller than he anticipated. Huh. "Thank, thank you Mr Hancock I was..worried. When Farenheit made me talk to you."
A lil hand wave at em while he fought down his own slight blush. "Just Hancock will do sunshine. If ya don't mind the ask though, why were you scared?" ("I wasn't scared-" "You looked half ready to jump out of your skin and make a bolt for the nearest window."
"...cuz of uh. the guy. Finn?" ah. There was that little stirring of guilt in his stomach.
"Finn was an asshole sweetheart, had been doing that for years. Plus he threatened your sweet self and that's a crime that can't go unpunished. You though...I know you're a good person. I won't hurt you. Well unless you ask real nice o course." Mixing in some slight flirting with his statement seemed to finally fully relax them, getting em to give out a brief little laugh.
"I uh. pff I'll keep that in mind. Thank you. should, do you want me to stay closer or or am I good to just hang out at the Rex?" Have em sleep in your bed a niggling lil part of his brain tried to convince him. Keep em close keep em safe safe safe by your side.
"I'll set you up with a room sunshine, give you a few days to get settled in and then I'll have you working alright? For now just go...do whatever it is ya do on your off days and send me back Farenheit." The smile they gave him was a sincere one before they scurried off out the door and a slipped in.
"..You got it bad Hancock." She gave him one of those sardonic smirks of hers that he responded with by simply flipping her off.
...She was right though.
He'd known Jackal properly for not even a full day yet and he was already head over heels.
Well…..
Fuck.
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bigby x Reader
Request For: @awfullest
Rating: E
Summary: The Mundies think that there are five love languages, and Bigby’s going to need to learn how to speak every single one of them if he’s going to get you to understand how he feels.
Word Count: 4623
Note: i loved this prompt!! i thought it would be super cute to come up with all the ways bigby could try and get the reader’s attention without being obvious :’) big thank you to @punxgal for teaching my dumbass what a taglist is, so i started one! just hit me with a message if you want to be added (or just want to rant about bigby lmao) ily guys!!
Taglist: @punxgal
Five Ways To Say I Love You
“You know, the Mundies think that there are five love languages,” Snow informed him, watching with a faint smile of amusement as Bigby quite literally banged his head against the wall of the Business Office. While usually she didn’t enjoy dispensing love advice; after all, she was a very busy woman, watching Bigby experience any kind of emotion, let alone love, was more than worth it. His pining was probably the most amusing thing that had happened in Fabletown in a long while, so she was happy to be his confident.
“And I can think of five ways to tell Mundies how that sounds fucking stupid,” came Bigby’s gruff response, but he did finally move away from the wall and come around to join her at the desk, which she could only assume was Bigby Speak for her to continue.
“Words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch.” After Snow had revealed them, the wolf repeated the list under his breath as he committed them to his memory, before he huffed in frustration.
“Nothing I do works! Nothing I say comes out right and they’re just so –”
“ – perfect, I know,” Snow cut him off, more than familiar with this particular rant, “maybe if you ever did something about it and made it clear that you were interested, they might actually respond positively. You’ve been pining for months, Bigby! It’s getting embarrassing.” His scowl was lost on her, as she was more than used to dealing with an angry Bigby and his frustration at his own love life certainly wasn’t the worst she had dealt with.
“Fuck off, it’s not pining,” Bigby growled at her, as he produced a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips. Snow didn’t bother to argue the point, because she could tell by the long and hopeless drag he took of his cigarette that the Sheriff already knew that it was true. “I’ll try that Mundy thing.” Bigby admitted after a long time, before he nodded at her and stalked out of the office to patrol the streets of Fabletown, or whatever else he got up to whenever there wasn’t some major emergency that he contacted her about. Well, that was about as much thanks as she could expect. She sighed, and rolled her eyes as she watched him retreat. Men.
Words Of Affirmation
Bigby was head over heels for you. Since Snow had become the Deputy Mayor, there wasn’t much about Fabletown that hadn’t improved. Not everything had changed drastically of course, and there wasn’t a night that went by on the job that the wolf didn’t wish that things could be better for all of the Fables that lived here, but he could console himself with the fact that they were getting better. Slowly was better than not at all, after all. He supposed that he should apply that same philosophy to his feelings for his current infatuation, since he did think that he was making slow progress. You had taken a job casting spells and creating glamours on the thirteenth floor almost half a year ago, now, and it had taken barely any time at all for Bigby to realise that you were everything he had ever wanted.
Every so often, a crime occurred that could benefit from the help of someone who was proficient in magic, such as covering up the scene of a particularly noticeable crime from Mundies or assisting with the aftermath. Bigby had recently found himself running to you every single time a matter like this befell, with the whispers and teasing from some of the other staff at the Business Office being more than worth the chance to spend so many prolonged hours working with you and witnessing your gift. This often came with the additional bonus of being able to show you that he was made the Sheriff for more than his strength. Most of the Fables thought that he was given the position purely due to his violent streak, so to be able to display his prowess at investigating crimes made a nice change.
Tonight, was one of those nights and the two of you had ventured out to cast a spell over a building that had been set on fire by an arsonist. Although the fire had been combatted with the help of some water nymphs, the plumes of black smoke obscuring the horizon were sure to pique the interest of any Mundies within a couple of miles radius. It struck the Sheriff that now was the perfect opportunity to use the first of Snow’s techniques as he walked you back to the Business Office, enjoying the pleasure of hearing you rant and rave about howof all of the possible crimes, arson was certainly the most pointless and dangerous. Bigby loved how passionate you were, how you could probably form a strong and justified opinion on almost any topic. He loved the way you used your hands and gesticulated wildly without even realising, like you were always casting a spell. It certainly felt like you had cast one over him, after all, he was constantly thinking about you. The first thought on his mind in the morning, and the person running through his mind whenever he attempted to sleep.
The two of you reached the business office and entered the deathtrap elevator. He took the opportunity to employ his first method as you had fallen silent when pressing the button for the thirteenth floor, before hitting the one for Bigby’s Office, too. The wolf felt a spark of happiness as he noted how well you knew him, his routines and habits. Although he hadn’t known you for very long, it was obvious that the Sorcerer was the kind of person that noticed the little things, that cared for each and every person that came into the Business Office looking for help, whether it be a standard glamour or something with far higher stakes. The dedication to their job was something that Bigby could very much relate to, and the fact that you often complimented the Sheriff on his duty to Fabletown made his heart warm in his chest – not many people did.
The only problem was, every time Bigby had tried to compliment you back, he failed miserably. Either it came out completely wrong, or it didn’t come out at all. But this time, it would be different. He had used the entire walk to plan what he was going to say, and now was the time to implement it. As the elevator rose, Bigby removed his cigarette from his mouth and met your eyes, trying not to focus on your mesmerising beauty. “Thanks,” he managed to get out, his voice rough, “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re the best Sorcerer I know.” The words were genuine, even if they were a little bit gruff and came out a little fast, and the Sheriff internally celebrated. Finally. He watched closely as your eyes lit up with joy and pride and you stood up just a little bit taller than before. It had made every bit of stress worth it, in Bigby’s eyes.
“Thanks, Bigby. I’d say you were the best Sheriff I know, but you’re sort of the only Sheriff I know,” you teased him with a smile, and leaned forward to punch his shoulder gently. God, everything seemed to come so easily to you, he noted. The way you spoke and joked with him, managing to drag a smile out of him even on his darkest days, the way you touched him so casually. Perfect. The elevator doors slid open, and you flashed him one more bright smile before you were gone.
Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, Bigby slumped against the elevator wall and luxuriated in the feeling for a long moment. On some level, he could recognise that it was mildly insane to feel such euphoria over such a minute interaction, one that you probably wouldn’t even remember when tomorrow arrived, but he didn’t care. The elevator arrived at the Business Office and the door opened to reveal Bluebeard standing there. His eyes narrowed when he saw the Sheriff, and his mouth opened, but he was cut off as the wolf walked right past him, dropping his cigarette at the man’s feet.
“Fuck off, Bluebeard.”
Acts Of Service
“Bigby, you really don’t have to do this,” your voice came from behind him as continued his way down the hall, carrying the large wooden desk in his arms. Considering your hard work, it was really only a matter of time before they got promoted, and Bigby was incredibly pleased that your talent was being recognised. Along with the promotion came a brand-new office, that Bigby was currently help you move your things into.
“It’s no trouble, really,” he insisted once again and that was telling the truth. The desk was really no problem for the wolf to manage, but the praise made it feel even lighter. You followed along behind him with a box of personal affects, pictures and stationery, along with a little cactus that, to quote you, ‘even you couldn’t kill.’
They entered the office, which, like most of the Business Office, was somewhat in a state of disrepair. The lighting was dim, the window dirty and the paint a faded, peeling yellow. Even still, he watched you regard it as if it were a silver palace, a spark in your eyes. Unlike Bigby, you were an optimist, always able to see the bright side of life and the best in people. It was a refreshing change to the wolf, who very rarely had a reason to give people the benefit of the doubt in his line of work. You saw the best in him, having never been afraid of him for a second, and throwing him a bemused look whenever he tried to pull his ‘big, bad wolf’ act around you.
“Thanks for helping me,” he felt a hand on his arm and the warm pressure grounded him, causing him to meet your eyes, “there was no way I could’ve dragged that heavy ass desk down this hallway. You’re handy, you know that?” The compliment was strange, and Bigby huffed at the word. Handy. There was something almost domestic about it, which caused a warmth to spread through his chest.
“Yeah, well, I’m only downstairs if you need me,” Bigby reassured you, the feeling of being needed satisfying the more primal parts of his nature. To be able to help you, provide for you, was what the wolf inside him desperately craved.
“Good to know you’re not just a pretty face,” you teased him with a wink and Bigby almost choked on his own spit. He felt hot under the collar all of a sudden and he cleared his throat before he was able to answer, much to his enchantment's clear amusement. Even though you were clearly fucking with him, the implication that you thought he was attractive was enough to imprint this very moment on his mind for what he was sure was the rest of all time.
“I’m a man of many talents,” the Sheriff managed to reply, his voice rich with sarcasm as he bumped his cigarette packet, making one shoot up out of the box. He raised it to his lips, quirking his eyebrows at the other Fable as means of asking for permission, a very rare honour that was not often bestowed upon. You nodded their approval and the wolf sparked up, taking a deep drag. After all, he was fairly sure that if he didn’t find something to focus his thoughts on, he was going to kiss you here and now. The way that you were leaning against the desk, the one that he had moved for you, was testing his self-control in ways that he hadn’t expected. What he wouldn’t give to just push you over the desk and –
“I think it just needs a new coat of paint,” your voice (thankfully) interrupted his thoughts before they could spiral any further. Bigby grunted and exhaled his smoke.
“I can help with that.”
Receiving Gifts and Quality Time
It had taken him forever to find, but Bigby didn’t plan to admit that to anyone else. He held the cassette tape in his hands, remembering so clearly the first time you had showed him one. One late night, he had caught you leaving the Woodlands as he approached, bruised and tired after a long day. He wasn’t particularly happy that you were here at such a late hour, you work ethic concerning at times; it made him worry that you didn’t get enough rest, which was more than ironic coming from him. Despite how battered he must have looked, it didn’t stop the smile from breaking out on your face at the sight of him, and it made his long day seem just a little less long. As you walked through the glass doors, Bigby noted a strange device in your hands, with wires that followed all the way up to your head.
“What the fuck is that?” He asked, amused at the sight of it. It was cold on the street, but the Sheriff was more than happy to linger outside for a little more time as long as it meant he got to speak to you.
“It’s a Walkman,” you informed him brightly, and it was immediately clear from your tone that this little device brought you no shortage of joy, “it plays cassette tapes.” The wolf had some vague recollection of what a cassette tape was, although he had never heard of the “Walkman,” so he could gather that it had something to do with music at least. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the little thing, when suddenly you were stepping forward into his space. With bated breath, Bigby tensed as you pulled off their headphones and held them up between the both of you, leaning close.
Don't leave me this way.
The music played and provided him with something to focus his mind on and flood his senses with, which was a welcome release now that your scent was flooding his nose so distractingly. When you were this close, Bigby could see every little detail of your face, and he found himself committing every last detail to his memory. The faint scar you had just above your eyebrow that he so desperately wanted to know the story behind, the permanent imprint on your lower lip that you had left from biting it so much, every shade in your eyes.
I can't survive, I can't stay alive.
You met his eyes, clearly waiting to hear his judgement, but Bigby didn’t offer one, wanting to prolong the moment of intimacy for as long as he could get away with it. He couldn’t help it, after all, having you so close to him was intoxicating. It was a feeling of pride and accomplishment to him, that you had chosen to share this part of yourself with him.
Without your love, no baby.
“I like it,” he admitted, although what he really liked was the way his approval made a smile emerge on your face, illuminated by the soft yellow lights of the Woodland. The simple praise was enough, although Bigby wished that he could find better words, more impressive ones. You had a way of making him feel like that way; of making him feel that for all of his inadequacies, he was enough. It was a more addicting feeling than smoking his damn cigarettes.
Don't leave me this way.
Bigby knew that if he stayed stood there for much longer, he would inevitably do or say something that was going to get him trouble, so he cleared his throat and stepped back, watching you click a little button the stop the cassette from playing. You looked almost disappointed that you had to go, but it was late and cold, so Bigby was glad you would finally go home and get some rest. The song’s words came back to him as you bid him goodnight and retreated into the night, hailing a cab. Don’t leave me this way.
He didn’t want you to leave at all.
The Sheriff had laboured over finding the perfect gift for you after that, stopping by many Mundy places whenever he had a spare moment, or his work brought him close to the edge of Fabletown. Gently, he placed the cassette down on your desk, wrapped carefully by Snow after she had seen Bigby’s attempt at it and laughed outright.
Even better, it had become a habit of yours to sit side by side in his office every so often and listen to whatever song had become your recent obsession. He would listen to you talk about what made it good, or why you loved the band and enjoy your company much more than he enjoyed the songs themselves. It had been a long time since Bigby had done something just because he enjoyed it. Not to escape, or distract himself, or to forget, but something that made him grateful for the here and now. Sometimes, he was in a good mood and he offered his opinions, which slowly became more informed over time as you listened and asked for his favourites. Other times, he was exhausted and broken after a day of dealing with the worst that Fabletown had to offer, and he would sit in silence, letting the sound of your music and your voice wash over him. It was like the tide, eroding a jagged stone smooth, corroding away all of his edges and damaged parts so gently that he hardly even noticed.
Stepping back, the wolf smiled proudly to himself and propped a cigarette between his lips. This whole love languages thing was getting easier all the time.
Physical Touch
For all his success, this was certainly the one that Bigby was most nervous about. After all, he wasn’t exactly known for his ability to be gentle. A good chunk of the Fables probably thought that the Sheriff was directly synonymous with bruises and a ringing pain in their heads after he had used force to encourage them to comply with the law so many times.
The ballroom spread out before him, as picturesque and charming as it was every year. Bigby was so nervous that he regarded it more like a battlefield than a ballroom, the polished wood floor masking countless traps and landmines, the spinning and smiling Fables his enemies, waiting for him to slip up. The many twinkling lights gave the room an iridescent glow, but he felt like they were interrogation lights, his nerves rising in his stomach as he waited for you to arrive.
It had been the first year of the Remembrance Ball that Bigby had been the one to convince somebody else to go, considering he was usually the one to be dragged along so unwillingly by Snow. Not this year. This year, he was prepared. He had sacrificed his pride and given up far too many evenings to twirling around the Business Office with Snow once the building quietened at night and while he still lacked a fundamental sense of grace, he was now at least proficient enough that he wouldn’t stand on your feet. For the first time in centuries, Bigby had sought out a brand new suit, one that wasn’t as terribly dated as his previous one, although it was still a simple and understated design. Goddammit, Bigby had even been extra careful on the job the evening before, carefully avoiding taking any hits to the face, so that he wouldn’t be bruised and bleeding. There was nothing else he could do; he was ready.
At least, he thought he was. But no amount of preparation could have prepared him for seeing you walk through the ornate doors. He imagined that the feeling he experienced must have been akin to being struck by lightning, as it travelled through his entire body within the span of a second and paralysed him. It completely broke his brain trying to process how completely and utterly perfect you looked when you were dressed to the nines and he suddenly understood why the other Fables enjoyed this damned dance so much. For in that instant, Bigby would have done it all over again, a million times and lived a million miserable lives just to be given the chance to dance with you tonight.
To his delight, your eyes scanned the crowd and settled on him, so he lifted his glass as a means of greeting, beginning to cross the dance floor so that the two of you could meet in the middle. He quickly lost sight of you in the crowd, but eventually, he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Well, you clean up nice,” the voice was familiar and teasing, which made Bigby feel hot under the collar.
“I could say the same about you,” he returned easily, gesturing to your elaborate clothing. The Sheriff wanted to vocalise it so much better. You looked positively divine, to the point where the other Fables within a visible radius had their eyes stuck on you, either jealous or starstruck. Bigby was overcome with the overwhelming desire to make sure they all knew who you had come for and it was the push he needed to step forward and take you in his eyes. He watched your eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised that Bigby had been so forward and so confident in leading you into an, albeit very simple, dance. All those evenings were certainly paying off.
Emboldened, Bigby made a second and better attempt, “you’re breath-taking. Nobody can take their eyes off of you.” Watching the blush break out on your face, coupled by your closeness, was enough to make Bigby feel that he was in heaven. Your scent was in his nose, even sweeter tonight with whatever scent you were wearing, and you were safe in his arms, his and only his, even if it was just for tonight. Physical touch, he thought, was quite possibly his favourite love language in the world.
It wasn’t enough, he could never get enough of you. He wondered if he would ever be fully satiated, surely not when felt like he wanted to drown in you. Pulling you close, he could feel how rapid your heartbeat was in your chest, and a smile crossed his face. “I didn’t take you for a dancer,” the surprise was evident in your tone, and not at all unjustified. After all, the Sheriff had refused to dance at this damn thing for quite literally centuries, so he supposed he was equally responsible for the stares they were receiving as you spun on, unphased.
“Like I told you, I’m a man of many talents,” Bigby repeated the sentiment from one of your older conversations, which earned him a laugh that he could feel resonate through his body, which was even better than simply hearing it.
“Alright, alright, be all mysterious, then,” you didn’t push him for a real answer any further, which filled him with a sense of relief, because he was certain that once he admitted to begging Snow for lessons, he was never going to live it down. His reputation as the big, bad wolf was already sure to take a large enough hit just from the fact that he had now been seen by almost every Fable dancing, so he really didn’t think it would be able to survive that on top of it all. Slowly, he could feel you relax into his arms as one song turned into two, then three. The orchestra played beautifully, but after a few songs, he felt a murmur in his ear.
“Man, they should have let us pick the music for this thing,” you joked quietly, as not to offend anyone in the near proximity, and Bigby fought to prevent himself from laughing too loudly and causing them to gain any more attention. The novelty of seeing the Sheriff dance had mostly faded by now, the whispers and comments over with for the most part, so he was eager to retain your low profile. He nodded his agreement, struck by how pleasant he found it that you were so similar to him in some ways and different in others. You were not the type to be overly enamoured by the illusion of glamour that the Fables created for Remembrance every year, but more the type to focus on the simple and understated beauties of everyday life. That, Bigby thought, was something truly rare and special and he intended to never let it escape him.
Bigby knew that he wanted to be with you forever. For the first time, he could imagine waking up next to someone every day and falling asleep with them at night. He wanted to be the person on your mind at all hours of the day and the one to comfort you after a terrible day or listen to your stupid jokes after a good one. Bigby wanted to come home to music blaring out of the tape player, instead of the silence and damp of his apartment. He wanted to part ways not just with a smile when you shared the elevator ride to the Business Office, but with a kiss. God, he was head over heels, and no matter how he said it, any one of the godforsaken five ways, he no longer cared. He just had to say it. He needed you to know.
You moved your hand from his shoulder to straighten his tie with a fond smile and that was it for Bigby. Pulling you close, one of his rough hands came up to cover yours, pressing your hand against his chest so that you could probably feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong. The other cupped your jaw, his touch gentler than he ever thought a monster could be capable of. He watched a thousand different emotions flicker through your eyes as he leaned in, too fast for even the Sheriff to be able to process and recognise them all. Your lips met and everything just stopped. It was like Bigby’s mind went completely blank of thoughts and all he could do was feel. His arms tightened around you as he tried to put all he had into it – every last word that he could never find, every smile that he had wished were a kiss, every song that he would never be able to hear and not think of you and this very moment.
Eventually, you pulled back from one another, but not far. You stayed close, your foreheads pressed together as you recovered, breathing together. “The Mundies say that there are five ways to show someone you love them,” Bigby informed you, after a long moment of silence, not entirely sure why he had said it.
“That’s so fucking stupid,” you replied, your voice much breathier than it had been a minute ago, and Bigby grinned widely at how closely your response had echoed his own. It was stupid, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care because it had worked, and he had you in his arms and he had kissed you, and he was never going to let you go. You began to sway again, finding your way back to the music and to reality, as much as he wanted to stay wrapped up in that moment forever.
It didn’t matter how many ways there were, Bigby thought, because he was going to discovery every, damn one.
#the wolf among us#twau#the wolf among us imagine#thewolfamongus#the wolf among us fic#the wolf among us fanfic#bigbyxreader#bigby x reader#bigby wolf#bigby wolf x reader#bigbywolfxreader#twau imagine#twauimagine#bigby wolf fanfiction#the wolf among us fanfiction#sheriff bigby#bigby#bigby wolf imagine#imagine#reader imagine#love langauges
342 notes
·
View notes
Text
Prologue, part 2
BREAKING NEWS
Interview with Justice of the Meteor Brigade
October 24, 1992
I was lucky enough to catch Justice after the Meteor Brigade’s battle with a mutant bear today, and I kept him long enough to ask for an interview with him about life as a superhero and some questions all of us want to hear answered. You’ve all seen the news lately, and now, it’s time for it to be confirmed. Sitting down in the top floor of an apartment building, I conducted the interview everyone has been waiting for. Here is a sitdown interview with Justice, the leader of the Meteor Brigade.
Interviewer: Good afternoon, Justice. Thank you for agreeing to this interview—really, it’s more of an honor than I could ever express. Is it difficult leading the Meteor Brigade? With all the monsters you have to fight all the time, I imagine it must be tiring.
Justice: It’s not as tiring as you’d think! Really, I enjoy it. I get to hang out with my best buds all the time, and really, it’s great! Keeping you guys out of danger is what we live to do.
Interviewer: I see. I’m glad you all don’t see it as too much of a burden. Have you ever worried you all will fail to defeat the mutant creatures? They look terrifying.
Justice: There have definitely been some times where I was worried things weren’t going to go as planned, but with that sort of thing, you have to keep your head up and act like nothing bad is going on. The team and I all have our superpowers for a reason, and we’re going to use them. We’re here to protect everyone. That’s our responsibility.
Interviewer: Scientists as of lately have done more research on the mutant monsters, and they’ve found connections to meteorites that came from space. The properties in the creatures’ blood seems to match those of the meteorites. Would you happen to know anything about this?
Justice: I do, actually. That’s something Vrain has told us about. Vrain is an alien from outer space, you know. Those meteorites are very powerful, actually. They’re what gave the Meteor Brigade superheroes our superpowers, and they’re also, unfortunately, what’s mutating these creatures. I
Interviewer: A double-edged sword. We were very lucky that you all had your own encounters with the meteorites, or else our city would probably be destroyed.
Justice: I don’t like to imagine that! I’m very grateful that the team and I found the meteorites, too. Protecting you guys may be a full-time job, but it’s very rewarding, and the team has all learned so much since we formed three years ago. Learned enough that I’m able to be here with you answering questions.
Interviewer: It is a privilege. You all have been named public heroes, celebrated in the streets, spoken to schools and at conferences…we’re all very lucky you encountered those meteorites. Do you think the power of those meteorites could be harnessed by other humans like you all? Except for Vrain, of course.
Justice: Well…I don’t doubt it could be…
------
BREAKING NEWS
Billionaire Investments Allow for Anyone to be a Superhero
November 29, 1993
Due to recent groundbreaking developments, contributions from a local billionaire and a team of eager scientists have led to a new possibility that will let the Meteor Brigade fight alone no longer— harnessing the power of the mysterious powerful meteorites that gave the Meteor Brigade members their power, scientists have created a way for anyone to become a superhero, no matter who you are.
“It really is an incredible feat,” the man in charge of it all, who chose to remain anonymous, told me when I asked for comment. “Upon the formation of the Meteor Brigade, I was asking myself the question. Why? Where did they come from? Why are they so powerful? I’ve been following the team closely, learning all I can about them, and now I understand. Those mysterious meteorites contain DNA-altering molecules that empower anything they touch, and it works most effectively on humanesque creatures.
That’s the reason why all of these mutant animals keep attacking our city. Those molecules work differently on those animals. They’re not like us humans. And now, any human that wants to be as powerful as a member of the Meteor Brigade can become one at little cost. Anyone can be a superhero! It’s a child’s dream come true.” The billionaire’s dream has already produced results. I’ve seen people jumping abnormally high, super-climbers, and more running around the city. They even help fight against the mutants that try to attack. I watched the Meteor Brigade attack a mutant cat recently with the help of at least five new heroes—they all looked like civilians, but they had super abilities.
I could see that the Meteor Brigade seemed to be faltering a little bit. Understandably, they must be stunned by the new additions to their protection of the city. After the battle, when the large, mutated cat was lying on the ground, defeated, I saw the heroes all descend to flat ground. The new heroes all gave each other high-fives and laughed gleefully, looking very prideful in their assistance with the battle. The Meteor Brigade, however, all huddled together in one big clump, all eyeing the new heroes closely. We haven’t heard much from the Meteor Brigade about the new research and heroes, so I took this opportunity to try to find their thoughts.
I tried to request commentary from Justice after the battle, but, unfortunately, he leapt away from me rapidly after giving me a strange look. I wouldn’t be surprised if soon, every single person in the city has superpowers. Perhaps we all could become a new era of the Meteor Brigade ourselves with these new, incredible abilities, and it’s all thanks to the billionaire and his investments in such a complex field of research. With the new heroes, the world will have even more protection against the strange, mutated creatures that plague our city. Now, any human, regardless of where they came from, can be the hero they dreamed of being when they were a child. Let’s all save the world together, but this time, as superheroes.
----------------------------------------
BREAKING NEWS
President Ruthson, dead! A tragedy befalls the nation.
January 1st, 1994.
It is with a heavy heart we must announce the death of our nation’s leader, President John Ruthson. He was murdered last night, at exactly midnight. The new superheroes that had helped the meteor brigade have betrayed us, led by the no longer anonymous Billionaire beneficiary, Lincoln Little.
What's worse, they are being headed by their own leader, who has sought to call himself “Superego.” This real life super villain broke into our office early this morning, and demanded an interview be published, or else our brave reporters would be killed. Viewer’s discretion is advised in the following interview.
Interviewer: So why? Why did you murder the president?
Superego: It wasn't a murder. It was an execution. But I will tell you the reason he had to die. I will tell you now. Our goal as the utopians is to usher in well...a utopia. *Chuckles* It's simple, really. The president, and his cabinet, the jury, every secretary, every government worker, and their allies, are standing in the way of that.
Interviewer: So you…”executed” them.
Superego: Yes.
Interviewer: Just what kind of utopia are you trying to create?
Superego: democracy is a sham. It works well enough on a small scale, but on a national level? No. It's too slow, too inefficient. It only serves to stop the natural course of evolution. To put it bluntly, and perhaps in a way that fails to capture its beauty, we seek totalitarianism. One ruler, who knows what to do, what best course of action to take the nation. Now, a normal human has flaws, they make mistakes. But a superhuman? Well- A superhuman would make the perfect leader. If we can just find out how to give one the perfect combination of powers, a perfect leader could be born, and would lead our species into the next step of evolution.
Interviewer: (it was at this point i was too horrified to say anything.)
Superego: I will be taking my leave then. (I was disturbed at how gently he said these words, almost shamefully)
And with that the interview ended. I will leave you all with one final warning. If you are a politician, seek shelter immediately, the goals of the utopians are no doubt to take over the world, and their first step is the murder of every single goverment worker and politician.
And for everyone else...be safe, and may god be with us all.
-----
BREAKING NEWS
Thousands dead!
January 27th, 1994
Over the past month, thousands of politicians, government officials, and workers have turned up dead. From small town mayors, to the supreme court. Every official who has worked at the white house is dead, killed by the 10 superhumans who make up the utopians. The meteor brigade has tried to protect them, but unfortunately, they failed to save them. A dark age has descended upon the USA, and other countries are reporting their politicians dead as well.
We had no time to conduct a full interview with the meteor brigade, as they are busy protecting who is left, but we did manage to get a few words from justice.
“Everyone...everything is looking dark right now. And I know it all seems hopeless, but we are going to get through this. We may have failed to protect those who have died, we may have our backs against the wall, but I can see that the utopians are getting reckless. They think that you, the people, are weak. They think they can just push you around. They can't. I know that even if their plan succeeds, even if they manage to take over the world, you will not stand by. You will not watch as they slaughter freedom. You will fight back, even without powers. Because, because everyone is a hero, and everyone has the power to save the world.”
Thank you Justice.
Thank you meteor brigade.
We must have hope.
BREAKING NEWS
Justice has died.
January 30th, 1994
Justice, also known as Quincey James Vonyant, died yesterday at the age of twenty four years.
There are no words to describe the light that we as the people have lost. No words can describe how utterly horrific his death was. He was murdered by Superego, and his body was found under rubble, headless and mangled. He died saving the mayor of Wichita, kansas.
His twin sister, Clairity, who has revealed her civilian identity to be Clair Lily Vonyant, gave a few words at his funeral today. She asked that they not be printed, to which we obliged.
Quincey’s funeral was short, for fear that it would be attacked by the utopians. He now rests in Southwillow graveyard.
Quincey Vonyant was a bright young man, full of life, full of bravery and courage. He was saddled with the duty of protecting the world at only 19 years old, barely an adult. And yet despite his young age, managed to do it with grace and with a smile. He gave up his pursuit of going to college and becoming a doctor in order to be a hero fulltime.
He had a beautiful heart, and loved kids. He often read to them at public libraries across the world. But despite all these good traits, it is important to remember that despite all his powers, his public image, and his heart, he was human, like us. He wasn't just a perfect person with no flaws or sorrows, he had them. I knew him well, speaking to him and interviewing him often has that effect.
I lost a friend.
And the world has lost a hero.
But we must remember his last words given to the press, and words he said often.
Anyone can be a hero. And it's at times like this, we must rise to the challenge that the world has thrown at us. We can't give into despair, we must honor his memory, and hold onto hope.
BREAKING NEWS:
Superego and utopians defeated, and the end of the meteor brigade.
February 17th
In a field out in Nebraska, Clarity avenged her brother and the thousands of people that superego killed. There was snow on the ground as I looked on at the catatonic body of Superego. He was not killed, but his brain was utterly shattered. I think we can all safely say good riddance. He will never use his mind to hurt others again.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Mademoiselle Mari
Insp. by a comment on the Maribat Discord:
Buckle up, biches.
We’re gonna pull deep into DC canon for the French codename for female superheroes, Mademoiselle Marie, in use since the 18th century through the World Wars and probably beyond. Alfred Pennyworth worked closely with “Mademoiselle Marie” in the past.
In this universe, its expanded into a French government-sponsored training program, training little girls in espionage and assassinry since the Cold War. These program heads aren’t monsters; the girls still live with their families, still go to civilian school, they just occasionally “take trips to see distant relatives”.
Their parents are aware that their daughters are doing government work, and there’s a benefit package unlike any other available within the country. Salary is set aside in trust for “Marie” until she hits adulthood (precaution in case of shitty parents) and a stipend besides for her and her parents to use as they see fit. These girls get a full-ride “scholarship” to any accredited global university of their choice. Only the best of the best risk their lives for wet-work necessary for the good of France. These girls become unsung heroes of France, and they receive glowing recommendations when they decide to move on from the program.
Still, it’s not something the Dupein-Cheng family had thought of for their daughter, it’s not a well-known program after all. The handlers don’t have an eye on her until new mayor of Paris, freshly divorced, André Bourgeois brings the girl “bullying his little princess” to their attention. And that is how six-year-old Marinette Dupein-Cheng is brought into the program.
Now, Marinette, tiny little bi-racial girl, is competitive, and this program is something she enjoys, learning from adults and “older sisters” on how to tumble, dance, act, create, and make new friends– both in person with the other girls, and through letters to former agents and outside contacts. They craft a network based on previously established agency contacts and expand upon them as they move out in the world.
Marinette quickly becomes a star student, moving on to weapons training, and eventually becomes one of the first to graduate in her batch and she travels the world as pre-teen superspy “Mademoiselle Marie”. (Whose last name changes by assignment.)
This is how she meets Damian Al Ghul, prince of the League of Assassins for the first time, though he’s introduced to her as “independent contractor” Caracal. He clocks her as trained, and a threat right away, and takes his standard precautionary measure. He attempts to murder her.
Attempts, because Mari is just as trained as he is, if not as lethally inclined. He quickly finds himself pinned under her knee, knife to his throat. (Later, he insists that he was having an off day, helplessly grateful that he hadn’t succeeded.) But in the moment they agree to a truce and go their own way, Marie Simon to her “parents”, Caracal to the shadows from whence he came.
Naturally, the next time they meet they are “distant cousins” on a collaborative wetworks mission in Thessaly, against an uppity German drug lord, and his mad-scientist wife. The mission goes a bit sideways, took more luck than either will admit to pull it off, and they emerge from the aftermath, a grudging respect on both sides. Even if she’s too soft and he’s an arrogant andouille.
Through happenstance and circumstances, they run into each other enough, work together enough, to become friends. Friends, in this case, meaning “person I won't stab on sight and/or who owes me a favor”. A rarity for Damian.
Marinette thinks otherwise; with friendships among those in her organization, and tentative friendships with some of the boys in école, she considers Caracal an Ally. A lonely sad boy, sure, but more a feral street cat then a friend. It takes more than a few meetings for Marinette to consider him a Ride-or-Die Friend.
Through the years, these two baby assassins grow into a friendship that withstands facing each other as enemies to reunite with no hard feelings at the next meeting between them. After all it’s Just Business, and they both know that well.
And then Hawkmoth.
Marinette can’t be Ladybug, “defender of Paris” when “Mademoiselle Marie” travels across the globe networking for her government and taking down European threats. Marinette reluctantly resigns from her position, and she takes up a red-spotted mantle.
Now the Mlle. Marie Organization aren’t idiots. Marinette Dupein-Cheng retires with accolades, offered a permanent place whenever she finishes her “hiatus”. And if the Parisian Police are instructed from on high to look the other way for Ladybug? Well, it’s best to leave superhero business to superheroes.
People in the organization are Carefully Not Thinking About It.
Completely coincidentally, therapy and healthy coping mechanisms are now mandatory for all operatives working within Paris and the surrounding areas.
That said, she still has to tell her assassin that she’s retiring.
Damian does not take it well.
Not like murder not well.
Like communication blackout and regime change in Peru not well.
Damian gives her the silent treatment. After all, she’s Out. (She abandoned him.)
Little does he know, his mother is working to get him out as well.
Marinette, meanwhile is Not Happy that Mothman Barbie decided to take out his issues on her home turf. The Mlle. Marie project is supposed to be foreign support, and last line of defense. So I mean it's in her wheelhouse. She just enjoyed her job as a globetrotting pre-teen superspy.
She doesn’t want to be chained down to the homefront, not when there's so much inspiration out there! Putting all that on hold for Mothman Barbie in Paris, eating into her free time, sleep, and drastically cutting into her social life? Bitch.
Civilian life makes her itch now, stuck in one place with confusing, mandatory, rules. Fictional barriers and preteen posturing, and only one hidden knife? Being Marinette is Suffering™. New friend Alya and pretty-boy Adrien can only relieve it so much.
Yes she has a bit of a crush. He's pretty and a model. Shut up.
Tikki is pleased she's got another loyal warrior, a second coming of Jeanne d'Arc, though she wishes Marinette was kinder. That's something she learns while dealing with Mothman Barbie. Not just how to act kind, to prevent akumas. But how to genuinely be kind. How to unlock the empathy she'd learned to tune out years ago, and how to act altruistically.
During her collège years Marinette juggles the life of a teen superhero, making friends with her class sincerely for the first time in years, something she didn’t get the chance to do with her frequent trips. Beyond Nino and Kim that is.
When Lila comes she deems her as annoying, but not worth her time. Until she’s the one turning her friends into akumas, with broken promises and lies that damage reputations. Marinette has a set future, as long as she keeps to the laws of this land and doesn’t slaughter a bitch. Lila can’t do anything to her. But if she hurts any of her friends, Lila is getting a horse head in her bed, American cliché or not.
Thankfully her crush on Adrien dies a silent death during this time. She can’t see herself with someone who won’t stand up for himself, nor with someone who enables a pathological liar that is one move away from harming the rest of her friends. She’s unspeakably grateful for that when Mothman Barbie is revealed to be his absentee father and Mayura to be the closest thing he has to a living mother. She’s able to focus her attention on his mental state and not how stupidly pretty he is.
Adrien is cemented as her best friend and platonic life partner in a catsuit. Adrien, once he got over his crush on the "idol" Ladybug, is happy to treat her the same. He’s just glad that his Lady won’t leave him for what his family had done.
Despite Mari’s wishes, Ladybug can’t retire just yet. People come out of the woodwork to fill in the vacuum left behind from the fashion-blind terrorist that held Paris in fear for three years. Ladybug is a celebrity, and Paris would be left uneasy if the city’s heroes left them undefended. She trains to be a guardian with Master Fu, to find more permanent Miraculous holders to take up the defense of Paris, and later the world. She finally has the free time to devote to her fashion commissions and to pick up the occasional job with her old organization.
It’s mid-way through lycée that Jagged invites her as his plus one to a charity gala in the United States. As his designer, and as an inconspicuous bodyguard that has combat training (far more than he knows), Marinette is the best choice when Penny is on leave. It gives his favorite niece the chance to network with American big shots, and get her brand noticed by more than just a few fashion moguls in Paris.
Which leads us to today. Marinette Dupein-Cheng– agent on leave, teenage superhero, aspiring designer, and temporary bodyguard of her surrogate uncle– spots a very familiar profile across the room.
Her assassin, dressed to kill, possibly literally. And she resigns herself to once more being on the opposite side of the boy who cut her out of his life, and any attempts to get in touch with him.
She’s dressed in a MDC original (with more hidden knives on her person than people would think), as she goes through the familiar song-and-dance and slips into the mindset of Mademoiselle Marie.
Stolen glances across the room. How have they been? Will they talk to me again even if I left/left her in silence?
Both are on edge. They are professionals and an unexpected meeting won't prevent them from keeping their loved ones charges safe.
It's like they never left the business, the two of them. They don't know each other. I've never seen them before. They can't have been the murderer because I saw them head to the bathroom. Just don't. touch. what's. Mine.
They're Friends after all.
Thankfully nothing happens at the party.
Damian Wayne saw her. How could he have ignored her, magnetic as she ever was. His eyes periodically drawn to her, partly assessment, partly admiration. When nothing happens at the gala, he figures that she’s changed as much as he has. And Damian has changed. He's softer and he knows it. He's been Out almost as long as she has, and in trying to hold to his father’s standards, he doesn’t think he could slip into the mindset of the ruthless prince of assassins so easily any more.
The silence and loss of his first friend on the other hand, was a wound that lingered even as he learned of civilian friendships and built connections with other superheroes around his age. This was a chance to introduce himself to his oldest friend. Without business between them this time.
It's Damian that does the signal.
Mari trips and giggles at the end of the night over to her assassin. It's easy after years of "Clumsy Marinette can't possibly be Ladybug!" She plays up the petite harmless French girl.
"Mon Caracal!" She calls from 3 feet away, stumbling into his arms.
She hugs him, compartmentalizing the muscled form that holds her safely, knowing he can kill her if she plays this wrong.Not without a fight though.
She hugs him more surely, kissing both his cheeks the way neither of them would be allowed outside of acting. "It's been far too long!"
She pulls away to see him gazing down at her, and wow someone has given him acting lessons because he smiles soft, fond, and far more real than he ever had Before.
"Marie."
She boops him on the nose. "Marinette." She teases coyly. She can't tell him her last name. For the safety of her parents, but also to keep cover as close friends.
"Marinette." He nods, crooked smile on his face, and away from prying eyes there's the signal that he'll keep his mouth shut about her name.
Speaking of prying eyes... "Marinette!" Uncle Jagged calls, making his way over to the pair of them. Her assassin is surprised, though few would be able to tell, at the world-famous rockstar approaching them.
"Uncle Jagged!" She answers, facing him but keeping a hand on the muscled arm of her friend to keep him from attacking, just in case.
She plays up the accent. Just a rockstar with his very French™ niece and her boy toy, nothing to see here!
"Jagged," she says again looking up at her uncle, "this is my good friend–"
"Damian" her assassin, starstruck or not, can follow his cue.
Between them is the subtle flash of information-true-hidden as she speaks over it to distract Jagged. "–Damian, my caracal."
Jagged bristles a little, baring his teeth in what those who don't know him would call a toothy grin, rather than a threat.
"And is Damian rock-and-roll enough for my favorite designer, M?"
"He's very kind," she confides with a Marinette-sweet smile. In his own way. she finishes the thought ruefully. A small part of her brain is cackling hysterically.
Jagged relaxes, and drags the both of them forward, holding a polaroid out to snap a picture of the three of them. ("Very Rock-and-Roll!" Jagged had said three months earlier.) He shakes the picture to development, and autographs it with a flourish, before stuffing it into Damian's hands.
"Well any friend of Marinette's is a friend of mine! And M? Car leaves in 10." He smiles, patting them both on the shoulder before sauntering off.
"I." Damian tries. He sighs.
"Jagged Stone? Jagged? Really Marie?" Damian asks, slipping once more into the familiar nickname. Marinette decided to let it slide, Jagged had that effect on a lot of people.
Marinette shrugs helplessly, before fishing a pen and spare notepad for her to jot down her contact information. It had only been a night but that familiar rush and heady friendship was something that Mari didn't want to lose if she could help it. She placed the paper with the photograph, putting the lethal pen back in her clutch, and cupping his face in both hands.
"Keep in touch this time? Please mon caracal?" If her begging was a little more heartfelt, well she’d learned a few things too. She kissed his cheek one final time and stepped away.
A hand caught her wrist.
"It hasn't been the same without you, Marinette." Damian said, hand slipping into hers, thumb gently brushing the back of it. He lifted her hand and kissed the air above her knuckles, before stepping away and towards the exit.
I must not swoon. I must not swoon. I must not swoon. Marinette chanted internally as she left to find Jagged, already looking forward to turning a Friendship into something more honest. More real.
-Meanwhile, In The Lobby-
"What was that, baby bird?" Dick asked his youngest brother.
"An old friend." Damian answered tersely, pointedly ignoring the curious stare from his Father and the more obnoxious kissy noises from Todd.
"Hell of an old friend." Tim commented, sounding almost put out, probably because of the unexpected personal introduction to Jagged Stone and autograph Damien had received. "You let her get close."
Damian raised an eyebrow at Tim.
Tim rolled his eyes, "PDA close!" he expounded like that explained anything.
Dick must have sensed his confusion, " You attempted to judo-flip Kor'i when you first met her. And you let this tiny girl hug you and kiss your cheeks."
Damian scowled, "I'm not that bad!"
"You bit me last week when I went to ruffle your hair!" Jason said, tugging his suit sleeve back to reveal light scarring.
"And?" Damian said, very done with the conversation already.
"We just wanted to know how long you've been pining for her, baby bird." Dick teased.
Damian felt a betraying heat creep up the back of his neck, to his ears and cheeks. "It's not like that!" He hissed.
"I-" he paused, wondering how he could explain the beautiful, cunning girl who knew of his past, was honestly the best part of it, and how she had watched his back, kept him safe and sane, had killed people on his tail even, without making them regard her as a threat.
His grandfather would have made her an example. Vivisected, drawn and quartered for daring to get close to his perfect weapon.
"I've known her for years. We're Friends, and that means I'll allow her more than I would you, Todd."
He stalked forward, as his father called behind him, "You should introduce us when you feel comfortable, Damian."
He stopped, listening but not daring to turn around.
"After all," Damian could hear the grin in his father's voice, "It'll be nice to meet my future daughter-in-law!"
Screw the Joker, Batman ends right here, right now.
#maribat#maridami#damimari#dc x mlb#daminette#marinette x damian#damian x marinette#superspy marinette#superspy marinette dupein-cheng#assassin damian#mothman barbie#mothman barbie is a punkass bitch#my fic
627 notes
·
View notes
Note
Cute fluff for Iceburg/Reader/Paulie just how they met and how their relationship dynamic works! ((Dumbass-no-mi))
here you go.
Iceburg and Paulie have worked together for ages. It was a boss/subordinate friendly relationship at first. Then Paulie became Vice President of Iceburg’s Galley-La shipbuilding company and things changed.
Paulie liked Iceburg for a long time before he became VP. Unfortunately, Iceburg was entirely oblivious to his feelings, and Paulie was always too shy to say anything. It was painfully obvious to everyone else, and Paulie didn’t even try especially hard to hide them. He was like an open book, stumbling over his words and blushing whenever Iceburg did anything even remotely adorable. Fortunately for him and everyone else, he was all business when it came to the job, and it’s probably the only thing that saved him.
Iceburg trusted Paulie with his life, let alone his company, so it was almost a given that he be given the position of VP. Paulie was more than capable, regardless of his weird quirks, which Iceburg found adorable if not a little strange. If he wasn’t so dense– which is something people said about him on a regular basis– he might have recognized it was because he returned Iceburg’s feelings (not they they were well hidden, Paulie was just as oblivious as Iceburg was to his). Although, Iceburg was always oblivious unless something involved his company, ships, or his pet mouse.
You come into their lives in the most typical way Paulie can manage. He calls you a harlot.
You were out running some errands and accidentally trip in front of them, and something about your position– or was it your legs?– sets Paulie off. As you’re picking yourself up, you hear what sounds like muffled yelling and when you look up, you find the mayor of Water 7 and VP of Galley-La in an…interesting position. Paulie was pointing angrily at you, running his mouth behind Iceburg’s hand, who was in turn looking at you with an apologetic smile.
“I’m terribly sorry about him. But, well, it’s just how he is. Are you alright?” he asks, ignoring Paulie entirely.
You can feel yourself blushing. Everyone knew that the mayor was handsome, it was a given. He’s also known to be friendly and gentle, if not a bit childish. He is well loved by the city, and he’s now staring at you expectantly. Paulie’s reaction is…strange, to say the least, but you knew about his weird reaction to women’s skin, and it was to be expected since you were in shorts. “I’m fine, really. Just in a rush was all.”
“Well, where were you headed? We were just on our way to lunch–”
At this, Paulie finally manages to rip Iceburg’s hand off his mouth and yells, “Don’t invite this harlot to lunch with us! Look at her, she’ll attract too much attention.”
Your eye twitches at his words and you react on instinct, pointing at him as you snap back, “Not as much as you do in that stupid jean jacket. They went out of fashion 10 years ago.”
Iceburg laughs behind his hand as Paulie sputters, staring at you in disbelief. After a moment, he stops and looks away, crossing his arms in a huff across his chest. Iceburg then continues, “We were just going to get some lunch, if you’d like to join us…?”
“Oh, it’s ___, mayor Iceburg. And I couldn’t impose,” you answer, waving your hand emphatically. As much as you want to agree, you don’t want to interrupt them.
“Not at all,” he says, walking towards you. When he came to stand beside you is when you realize the significant height difference between you. You have to tilt your head all the way back to see his face, and he chuckles. “I would be glad for you to join us.”
Paulie huffs, watching from the corner of his eyes before he stalks around Iceburg and continues down the street. Iceburg puts his hand to the small of your back and leads you the same way, chatting amicably.
Over the course of the next few weeks, you run into them frequently. A part of it is you, you’re sure. After that first lunch date, you returned to the same restaurant a few times a week, hoping to see them again. Your efforts are rewarded– it seems they frequent the place as regulars. And more often than not– which is to say every time– you’re invited to join them.
Within the first 3 dates, you recognize that Paulie has feelings for Iceburg, but you’re beginning to suspect that Iceburg is oblivious, at least based on the way he reacts to Paulie. Equally, Paulie is very jealous of the attention Iceburg pays you, even if it’s no different than how he treats you. It quickly becomes obvious that they have feelings for each other, but neither are aware of it. Which begs the question of why Iceburg was so insistent on you joining them.
Your bonding moment with Paulie was a harrowing one. He showed up at the restaurant alone and invited you to lunch with him. Prior to that, he had barely spoken a word to you, so you were immediately on edge. True to form, he ignores you for the first few minutes, aggressively tearing up the napkin on the table and giving you dirty looks from the corner of his eye.
The longer you wait, the more antsy you get, until you decide to go for broke. You like Paulie. He’s handsome and, even though it’s never directed at you, he’s funny and friendly. You want him to know that you aren’t actively going after the man he likes, at least not to hurt him. Your personal preferences in a relationship aren’t always shared by others, but you’ve got the feeling that Iceburg does. And you hate to say it but, even if Paulie doesn’t, he’ll have to get over it if he wants Iceburg.
“I know you have feelings for Iceburg,” you say, picking at the corner of the placemat on the table. It’s coming up, ragged at the edges, and you tear off another little piece as you speak. You hear a choking noise and, when you look up, he’s bright red and frowning at you. It seems for a moment that he’s going to explode right there in the restaurant, but then he just…deflates.
“How did you know? You like him too, don’t you?” His question is really more of a statement, and you flush slightly as you nod. Paulie sighs and looks down at his drink, stirring the straw absently as he gathers his thoughts.
“You’re pretty obvious about it. You always turn red when he looks at you, or speaks to you, or just…anything really. It’s cute, actually,” you say, and watch the blush return to his cheeks. He chuckles lightly and meets your eyes fully for the first time.
“He’s an idiot though. Doesn’t notice at all,” he says, and there’s an odd relief tempered by wariness. You have feelings for him too and, though *he* won’t ever make a move, he’s unsure if you will. Though it is strange for you to bring it up like that if you were, unless you were going to *tell him* you’re going too…
“He really doesn’t, does he? He’s adorably dense but it must be so frustrating.” He nods in response and you can see the tension in his shoulders disappear.
It’s a relief to be able to talk about his feelings with someone who actually understands. The others sort of know what it’s like, but the frustration and annoyance of trying to get Iceburg’s attention can only be understood by someone else who likes him. And Paulie finds he isn’t *too* upset by your feelings for Iceburg. You look so understanding and, if he stopped to think about it instead of getting jealous, you really were nice.
The rest of lunch passes in a blink and, by the end of it, you’ve got Paulie’s number and a text waiting for you when you get back to work, and you realize what a sweetheart Paulie really, truly is.
Upon your next meeting with the men, Iceburg immediately sees a difference between you and Paulie. Paulie had informed him of his lunch meeting with you, and he seemed happy about it. Iceburg was immediately suspicious but also happy that you were getting along. He hadn’t fully reconciled his feelings for you yet, but he knew they ran deeper than friendly. His big problem was his feelings for Paulie. He didn’t think he could have you both, but he didn’t know how to choose. Or if Paulie really felt the same. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure you did either.
At lunch, you and Paulie are giggling like best friends, and Iceburg feels left out and more than a little jealous. In his typical manner, he turns childish, throwing things at the two of you and pouting. Paulie is confused, he’s never seen Iceburg act that petulant, but you wait and watch, and the frowns and glares he throws whenever either of you get a little too friendly is a dead giveaway.
It’s almost impossible not to laugh as you lean over and whisper into Paulie’s ear. He almost gives it away and, if it weren’t for Iceburg literally looking the other way because he’s so peeved, he might have figured it out. Paulie doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to get his own hopes up, and on top of that, if what you say is true, things just became a lot more complicated.
Over the last few days, feelings of his own have bloomed for you. It’s the last thing he expected to happen because he hasn’t had feelings for anyone else in such a long time. But when he’s feeling down, or frustrated, or panicked, you always seem to know and find some way of reassuring him. He doesn’t even have to ask and he looks forward to hearing from you throughout the day. Without even realizing it, he’s worried when he hasn’t heard from you in a few hours, and will text you just to make sure you’re okay. You always are, but it makes him feel better.
And on your end, it’s nice to know that Paulie cares enough about you to make sure you’re alright. Sometimes work gets in the way, sometimes you just don’t feel like talking, sometimes it’s something else. Paulie never pressures you to talk, just checks in and if you say you’re fine but don’t feel like talking, he respects it. It’s a total contrast to how he was when you first met him. Sure he still has his random outbursts, but they’re usually preceded by an appreciative look and followed by a flustered apology.
They both notice how quiet you get after you whisper into Paulie’s ear, and Iceburg worries that he’s actually upset. For once, Paulie doesn’t think that and wonders what you’re plotting. Iceburg perks up a little and tries to engage you in conversation, but you’re aloof.
In reality, you aren’t. You’re just trying to work up the courage to invite them to a movie– a date, if you’re being brave– since both of them are obviously too dense and too shy to make a move with each other or you.
After you exit the restaurant, you’re standing around outside while Paulie smokes his usual cigar. Iceburg is still pestering you, trying to figure out what’s wrong. He just wants you to return to your usual, cheerful self, to prove you aren’t mad at him for his childish antics. Finally, you take a deep breath, your heart in your throat as you say, “Hey, guys, there’s this movie I’ve been wanting to see for a while now. Would you…maybe wanna go…with me?”
You’re fidgeting with your fingers and looking at your feet, so you don’t see the reactions. Paulie’s eyes widen and he inhales too much smoke, so he turns around and starts choking. Iceburg just blinks a few times as he stares at you, almost frozen to the spot. He thinks you’re adorable and his brain has just stopped as he realizes you’ve just asked them both on a date.
“What do you think you’re doing, you hussy?” Paulie yells, and you flinch at his harsh words. Usually his outbursts would roll of you like water, but it was hard enough working up the courage to ask and your nerves were frayed and you–
“Paulie, stop. ___, I would love to go,” Iceburg says, cutting off your hectic thoughts. His hand comes rest on your cheek, forcing you to look up at him. There’s amusement in his eyes and excitement on his normally apathetic face and you nod automatically.
Paulie sighs beside you, encircling his waist around your back in a very out of character way. “I’m sorry, ___. If you really want me to go, I will.”
He says it in such a lackluster way, as if it’s a chore for him, but the flush on his cheeks and your intimate knowledge of how he is gives away how much he actually wants to go. He looks up to Iceburg and finds him giving him a strange, almost unreadable look. Or unreadable to Paulie, anyway, you recognize it as hopeful and you can guess what he’s hopeful for.
The movie is terrible. It’s unfortunate, but it happens sometimes. Paulie is walking in front of you, on a tangent about your terrible choice of movie and you’re grinning softly at his nonsense. Iceburg is at your side, watching Paulie push through the thick crowds in the theater when he feels you stumble into him. When he looks down, he realizes you’re being shoved around by the crowd and automatically wraps his arm around your shoulders, holding you close as he uses himself as a shield.
Your face is on fire and you resist the temptation to put your arm around his back for only a moment and when you do give in, you’re rewarded by Iceburg squeezing you tighter. When you finally make it out of the crowd, you’re outside and Paulie is nowhere to be found. You expect Iceburg to let you go, but he only squeezes you closer. You almost trip over his feet and laugh, both out of amusement and nervousness, and then Paulie comes into view again.
He looks annoyed, running his mouth about rude people and getting lost, and it changes to wariness when he sees you and Iceburg so comfy. Before he can get too upset though, you reach out and take his hand. He bursts out with his usual insults and you just roll your eyes, waiting for him to stop. You know he’s just embarrassed because he doesn’t actually pull away, and when he shuts up you tug on his hand to bring him closer.
Iceburg watches without a word, meeting Paulie’s eye over your head and something suddenly clicks. With his free hand, he reaches out and takes Paulie’s, chuckling a little as Paulie sputters and chokes. You’re smiling gently as Iceburg finally makes his move, even though you’re nervous about what this means for the three of you. But Paulie settles and links his fingers between yours, squeezing even though he can’t look at you.
You know you have a lot to talk about, and things might not fit together right away, but you can definitely accept how unbelievably lucky you are to have met these two men. And they won’t say it for a while, but you’ll eventually find out that they feel the same way. Paulie will be first, expressing how he doesn’t think he ever would have gotten with Iceburg if you hadn’t come along
#iceburg#iceburg x reader#paulie#paulie x reader#paulie x iceburg#iceburg x reader x paulie#one piece#one piece headcanons
95 notes
·
View notes
Text
ROTTMNT FANTASY AU
Mud is Thicker the Blood (1)
Sick Day
Summary:Compilation of Donnie growing up being raised by his adopted family the Mud Dogs
He had been feeling fine that morning, but thankfully he has a family to take care of him
Gift for: @void-inked-pen birthday
Characters: Donnie, Loathsome Leonard, Malicious Mickey, Dastardly Danny, April O’Neil, Myrah
Pairings: You’re in luck! all the pairings for this fic are just past this door *gestures to wall that has a badly painted door under it and the laundry basket above it that’s suppose to be some sort of trap*
yes this is the same story twice. but this one shows up in the tags so it stays
“What is this supposed to be?”
Even though Len had been using as polite of a tone as possible, Danny still gives him a heated glare. He uses his spatula to scrape the blackened flat pastry off his frying pan and onto Len’s plate with the consistency of a dried brick. ”They’re called crespelle’s. My Dads used to make them for me and my siblings all the time.”
“Are they supposed to be…” Mickey pokes it with his flipper, “rocks?”
Danny lets out another angry huff. “I couldn’t remember the ingredients, alright??” he says, flipping another burnt disc onto a plate. Len uses his chopstick to poke at the burnt food. For someone who had known the sting of hunger many times and learned to not be picky, he finds himself wondering if he can sneak out back and compare the taste of the burnt disk to dirt.
The sounds of footsteps tells him the last member of their little family was coming down to join them. “Morning,” Danny calls. ”I got a nice big breakfast for my only grateful family member with taste!” Danny says as he starts stacking another plate.
Donnie is pulling on his hooded cardigan as he reaches the bottom step, eyeing the breakfast with a concerned eye. “Doooo I want to know?” he asks before looking to Len with a look that clearly says ‘remember how I never forget ‘best parents day’? you owe me’. It takes more than a little willpower to keep from laughing but manages to duck his head to hide his grin before turning to Danny.
“How about we spare my kid this time? He’ll never hit his height goals if he eats this.”
Danny unties his apron and stomps over and pours himself a cup of coffee all while grumbling about ‘uncultured swine.’ This time Len can't stop the snort that escapes him this time but when Donnie takes his spot at the table his smile falters as Donnie pours himself a cup of hot coffee. Leaning over the mug with a sigh, his normally dark jade complexion feels a shade lighter than usual and more than Len’s comfortable with. “You feeling ok?” he asks, moving his chair to Don’s side of the table. He puts an arm around Don's shoulders and without waiting for an answer he presses the back of his hand to Don’s cheek. The teen squirms at the contact but was unable to pull out of his grip.
“Dad, Dad, I'm fine I just didn’t sleep well. I had a bad dream again.”
“Why didn’t you come get me? You could have slept in my bed.”
“You got home late last night, I didn’t want to wake you,” Don says, still trying to twist his head away from Len’s hand.
“I’m the Dad here, Donnie. I’m supposed to worry about you, not the other way around.” But when he’s unable to find anything close to a fever he pulls away. He looks to Danny hoping he’d see something Len missed but the rat shrugs at him.
“Is it still ok to go tutor April today? Please? I’ve been cooped up here all winter.”
Len wants to say no, but sighs at the pleading look Donnie gives him. It had been a longer winter then usual, he didn’t blame his son for needing some space. He was no longer a five year old but he still had a hard time telling him no for no good reason. “Yeah, but if you start feeling sick you come home ok? Or ask Myra to help you home.”
“Yeah, yeah I know.” As Donnie downs his last bit of coffee he stands back up. Len had turned to poke at his breakfast again when he feels Don's arms wrap around his collar bone and rest his cheek on Len’s head. “I love you Dad. Thanks for being obnoxious and worried.”
“Aw. Love you too, silly gecko.” Len pats his arm in reciprocated affection. Donnie grabs his shoulder back and hurries out the front door. “Have fun!” Len calls after him. Only then did he look back to Danny. “He looked pale right?”
“Yeah but honestly it could have been the breakfast,” Mickey says, picking up a disc, “I even felt sick when I saw it.”
“First of all screw you,” Danny points at Mickey with his spatula, “Second of all, if he’s not feeling well he’ll come home. And third of all, next time you all can make your own crespelles.” Danny drops his last disk onto a plate when the shattering of ceramic fills the air. The three thieves blink at each other for a sec before Danny raises up the food slowly to show the plate underneath had been cracked in half from the sheer force of the crepe. With a defeated sigh, Danny drops his spatula. “Ok whose all for throwing these at trees and seeing if they shatter??”
Len and Mickey both raise their hands with a grin.
(#)(#)\/(#)(#)
“Donnie?”
Despite the softness of April’s voice Don jumps so hard his elbow hits the stack of April’s school books. It’s only by his reflexes that they don’t join the rest of April’s dirty clothes on the floor. It takes him a few moments to regather his scattered thoughts before looking to April. ”Did you say something?”
“Yeah, your name, like five times.” His oldest friend peers at him from over her glasses. “Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”
Donnie would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t painfully aware of the migraine that would return if he did. Unfortunately, it had been haunting him ever since he woke up that morning. “For the last time yes. Uncle Danny made breakfast and it's just hurting my stomach. Now, the compound would be 23.6% more effective if you set the witch fire to exactly 129 degrees cinder.” He scribbles on the paper for a few moments before sliding it over to her. April casts him a suspicious look before looking over the paper again.
“If you ever convince your Dad to let you go to school, my Alchemy teacher would cry tears of joy. Again.” She pauses “They cry a lot.”
Don tries to smile but his aching head only allows him a half grin. As April starts adding his notes to hers he reaches for his yunomi of tea, not thirsty so much as needing the warmth for a subtle cold that clings to his skin.
There’s the sound of a door opening downstairs followed by the sound of a woman shrieking and dozens of items hitting the ground. ”A-April dear!!! I could use some help!” calls the unmistakable voice of the Mayor of witch town.
April was already out of her seat. “Coming Mom!” she calls hurrying for the door. “Don’t do my homework Dee!” she calls behind him.
“I would never!” Donnie says [even though he had already been reaching for her note book]. A few years ago he had the brilliant business idea, in lieu of being able to go to school himself, to do students' homework for them for a small [not so small] fee.
Of course before he could even launch his venture his Dad had found out and outright forbade it.
This time he’s unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The effect is instantaneous as the lights in the room become painfully saturated. He tries to cover his eyes but his world is already spinning.
It’s the last thing he feels before he blacks out
(#)#(#)
“I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed,” Len says in a tone that can only come from nine years of parenting experience. It does its job on Mickey who’s shoulders bunch up to the sides of his head, and even though Danny is trying to pull off ‘I don’t know how you think you can guilt trip me’ by leaning back in his seat. But it's hard to look innocent when the two of them are covered in mud.
“IT WAS DANNY’S FAULT!!” Mickey shrieks pointing at the rat. “After we knocked over a tree with one of his crepy things he told me that he knew alchemy that would make mud into chocolate and-and-“
Danny’s ‘calm bad boy’ dis option went out the window (which was also broken because of a wayward flying crepelle). “Who the hell raised you to be a snitch?!” the rat hisses.
“You did!! I learned it from watching you!”
The rat opens his mouth to argue before thinking. “Ok fine but I always taught you to get paid first.”
Len slaps a hand down his face. Normally he and Danny have reversed roles but he should have recognized that wild look in the rats eyes when Mickey was using one of the leftover crepelles as a tool sharpener. But Len, forgetting they were not in fact grown men but children pretending to be adults, had left them to their own devices.
There is a knocking on the door that makes Len sigh again. ”I have a fourteen year old and he has more common sense than you two.” He says in a way that is probably supposed to make them feel ashamed, but Mickey snorts loudly with his flippers over his mouth.
He opens the door to a flash of light that forces him to cover his eyes for a moment before his eyes adjust to the familiar form of the mayor of Witch Town. “Myrah?” He rubs at his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“I need you to come get Doniel, he has a fever and passed out while tutoring April.”
Len felt as though a cold chill had passed through his body, it was the only reason he hesitated. “Y-yeah just give me a sec.” He ducks back into the house, where Danny is already waiting.
”Len what’s-“
“Donnie passed out, I need you to come with me,” already the air of lighthearted teasing and jabs went out the window. Len is back down the stairs with a quilt from Donnie’s bed as Danny is grabbing his coat and tossing Len his. He almost feels bad for Mickey who can only watch on as the two exit. Myra waves her wand, the bright light from earlier returns, creating a portal in front of them. Len barely waits for the portal to form before stepping through. A moment later he is standing in the familiar oversized living room. He had been to the witch family house many times and each time was always surprised how disproportionate all the furniture was, (which made sense considering how tall Amaranth was).
The child in question was lying on the bright pink sofa under a thick blanket. There was a washcloth hovering over his head, every few seconds wiping at his brow. April looks at them when they enter with panic in her eyes. “I don’t know what happened Lenny, I went to help mom with groceries and-and when I came back-“
“Its ok April, it's not your fault.” Len takes her place by Donnie. His son's brow is furrowed underneath a layer of perspiration. Even though he already knows the answer, he presses the back of his hand on Don’s brow. His already racing heart is now beating so fast it almost hurts in his chest. He replaces the blanket Myra had given him with the one he had brought, wrapping him up in it before scooping him up into his arms.
“I’m sorry Len, if Amaranth had been here she could help but...” her fingers tap together anxiously as she watches the child in his arms. Len was always touched by how much Myra and Amaranth cared for Donnie. He never felt the need to have a partner (though he and Donnie both made enough ‘mom’ jokes about Danny to last a lifetime) it warmed his heart to know someone outside his family loved Donnie almost as much as he did.
“I know, thank you.” He moves past the mayor to where the portal was and in another flash he's back in front of his house where Danny is waiting. The rat reaches out and takes him around the shoulders and herds him inside. “He’s burning up Danny, I-I don’t know what happened, I felt his forehead his morning and he was fine, you saw me do it.”
“I know, I know.” Even though Danny claimed that he didn’t remember any of his medical training he’s already looking over Donnie. Trained eyes looking for anything that could tell him what was wrong. After a few moments Danny says to Len, “Get him into bed I’ll be there in a sec-“
“Ah-shouldn’t we put in him some ice?”
“No, the last time we tried that he almost went into shock before I stepped in. He’s a turtle, he can’t handle it.”
“I-I know.” Len unconsciously cradles Donnie closer to his chest protectively. He could still remember the terror of the time when Donnie got the Fall Flu and had a fever that burned his hand. They had gotten so desolate they had put him in a tub of ice to combat it. They had thought it was working until Don had fallen into a deathlike stillness. It was only then Danny had realized Donnie was going into shock and pulled him out so quickly they had knocked over their makeshift tub.
Now Len couldn’t tell if the shivers he was feeling were from Donnie’s sleeping form or from his own fear. Not until Danny put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to look into his eyes. “Can you get him to bed please? I’m going to mix together some medicine that Amaranth taught me and I’ll be right there, ok?”
Len nods “Ok, ok.” He lowers his cheek onto Don’s scalp as he carries him upstairs. It's only when the parent and child are out of sight does Danny let out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his scalp under his hat and forcing himself to calm down. He had never realized how much he depended on Len keeping a calm head. He hadn’t realized just how much he depended on that til they brought Donnie in. During missions Len had an eerie calm about him that he thrived off of. But it was moments when anything threatened the health or happiness of his child that threw Len in the deep end and forced Danny to step in.
“Mickey,” he says without looking behind him, knowing the poor eel was fluttering around not knowing what to do. “Will you please go upstairs and keep Len calm? Help him how you can til I get there.”
“Y-yeah ok.” The eel hurried to do as he was told. In that moment Danny allowed himself one more sigh before reaching under the cabinet and pulling up an old beaten box, filled with herbs and remedies he had swiped from houses over the years. He pulls out a notebook he had filled with some of Amaranth's recipients and pulls out a mortar bowl and pestle. Picking through a few jars of tiny shards and grinding them together before taking out an empty incense holder and pouring it inside. He made sure to secure the lid and take up the glass bottle under his arm before hurrying up the stairs.
A part of him had been scared that Len’s own fears would drive him to ignore his warning about the ice, but he entered Don's room just as Len was pulling a blanket over him. “Good job.” Danny moves past him to kneel by the bed, turning and handing the incense to Mickey. “Can you light this please? It’ll help clear the bacteria out of his lungs.” As he was twisting open the glass bottle he heard Mickey spark behind him before the smell of lavender filled the air (he ignored Mickey gagging behind him). He tips the tip of the bottle to test how much liquid was inside. Luckily, they still had enough for Donnie (he’d have to steal more later). He dabs his thumb with the light pink liquid before running it across Don’s burning forehead. ”There.”
“Is he ok?”
Danny had to commend Len on not asking him a million questions. He reaches back and pats his old friend on the knee. “The Willow Extract should help take his fever down, but if It doesn’t help in a few hours we’ll go to witch town.” He doesn’t get a response, but when he turns to look at him, he sees Len staring at his son. His dark eyes full of concern and fear that only a father could have. Danny stands up and steps back. “Len why don’t you sit with him for a bit, and I’ll make you some tea.” He makes eye contact with Mickey and jerks his head towards the door. After taking a moment to pat Len on the shoulder he follows him out the door.
Len finally lets his face drop into his hands with a shaky breath before the sound of a weak cough reaches him. When he looks up again he was filled with relief to be looking into Donnie’s feverish dark pink eyes. “Hey,” says a weak voice.
“Hey baby boy,” Len sits up on the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone tried to kill me with one of Uncle Danny’s devil pancakes.” He barely has enough wind to finish his sentence before he has to gasp for air. “Will you sit with me please?”
Len can't help but smile, holding the side of Don’s face with his hand for a moment before climbing over him and laying on his other side. Don turns his head and tucks his head underneath Lens chin. “I’m s’rry,” Don mumbles, “I-I didn’t know I was sick.”
“I know you didn’t, you’re not a good liar remember?” Len lowers his cheek onto his scalp. “You get that from your Uncle Mickey.”
“And you?”
“Nah, I’m a great liar,” he smirks down at Donnie, “I’m not going to teach you how to lie though until you turn eighteen,” he pauses, “Hundred.”
Donnie lets out a laugh that sounds more like a raspy balloon, but Len can tell he’s trying not to fall asleep again. He rubs Don’s arm over his blanket. “Get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” The teen gives a nod of acknowledgement before rolling towards him. A few moments later he's fast asleep again, breathing easier than he had been a few minutes ago.
#rottmnt fantasy au#rottmnt fanfiction#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#donnie#fantasy au#loathsome leonard#malicious mickey#dastardly danny#tmnt#teenage mutant ninaj turtles
28 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
princeaden
Aden
btsinwonderland
Blood Sweat and Tears
lunap999
Fuck Yeah Craggy Dudes
vagaygays
きれいな
lightoftruth
Light of Truth