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writing-intheundercroft · 10 months

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The Night Shift

AO3 Link

Pairing: Auror!Sebastian x F!MC

Word Count: 10,206

Rating: T (just some smooches but plenty of angst)

Summary: You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

A/N: Took a break from my long fics this week to deliver a long angsty Seb one shot. I heard Phoebe Bridgers cover Night Shift and became feral over it. Perhaps it needs a smutty part two???

Night One

“I’m so glad you were able to slip away from work for a bit.” Poppy says, pouring tea into your cup.

You smile up at the brunette girl, who still wears her hair in a cropped bob, albeit a bit more fashionable now that you’re in your twenties. You miss Poppy’s presence in your life, but her career as a mazoologist and yours as a lead healer in the intensive care unit of St. Mungo’s has your schedules rarely crossing.

“It’s nice to be out in the sunlight,” you say coyly, lifting the cup to your mouth. It's the truth–you haven’t been out to tea with a friend, dressed in a pretty lace gown in what feels like ages. Your career usually has you in a tightly pulled bun, hair out of your face to focus on your patients, with bloodied aprons. Magic can heal most ailments, but your ancient abilities make you the best bet for the most gravely wounded. So much so that you’ve worked six nights a week every week for the past five years, sleeping during the day to make it to your overnight shifts at the hospital.

With few exceptions.

But there’s coverage today, giving you a rare Saturday afternoon off to enjoy the warm spring day. You and Poppy are sitting outside a tea shop in Diagon Alley, catching up on all things personal, while people watching. It’s strange, you think, to be surrounded by so many people. You leave for your shift at seven thirty in the evening, when most people are getting home for dinner, and return to your flat far after everyone has left for work.

Poppy had just started telling you a story about a wild herd of manticores she’d encountered on her travels abroad, when a familiar face walked up to your table.

“Merlin’s beard, I never thought I’d see the likes of you two ever again,” Andrew Larson grins.

“Andrew,” Poppy smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

There are obligatory kisses on the cheek as the handsome Ravenclaw pulls up a chair. “What are you doing in town, Poppy?”

“Visiting my gran, of course.” She tilts her head towards you. “And catching up with friends.”

“And you, it’s like you’re back from beyond the grave.” Andrew shifts his attention, teasing you. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just busy keeping people from their graves, that’s all.”

“I’ve heard.” Andrew elbows you. “Youngest lead healer in all of St. Mungo’s.”

“Yet being the youngest earned me the night shift.” You wrinkle your nose. “And very few days off.”

“How’s the auror office doing?” Poppy quips, leaning her chin into her palm.

Andrew shrugs. “Busy; we’re working on a big case right now, but we finally got a few hours off to enjoy lunch. I was just heading over to the Cauldron, meeting Sallow and Clopton for a bite.”

You swallow thickly. It’s been five years since you last spoke to Sebastian Sallow. At this point, you can’t exactly remember how it ended, except that the two of you had screamed at one another. You were fairly certain you’d thrown a book at his head, and he’d knocked over your favorite mug in the process. You still had it, the handle broken off, now used as a quill holder at your desk.

“Oi, Larson! Quit flirting, we’ve just gotten a message. All hands on deck at the office.”

Both you and Poppy turn to the voice; Everett Clopton is standing a few paces away, wearing a smart suit. He still has his gold wire glasses, but he’s grown into them. He’s wearing a hat, tipping the brim to you both in acknowledgement.

You hate the way your breath hitches when you see their companion. Sebastian is also dressed well, sporting a tweed three piece suit, shiny black dress shoes, and a gold auror badge attached to his lapel. He meets your gaze briefly before looking back up to Andrew, who’s moving the chair back to its proper table.

“Emergency meeting,” Sebastian utters gloomily. “Ruined a good lunch.”

Your stomach twists at the sound of his voice. It’s no more than six words, but your insides feel like a wet towel being wrung out. And Sebastian doesn’t even have the decency to look at you, avoiding eye contact with the person he considered his best friend for three years. The audacity of him, to completely ignore the person who once held his fate in their hands–you feel the bile rising in your throat, swallowing down the anger that once consumed you.

No, you won’t let a tiny interaction with Sebastian ruin five years of hard work. You stare at the cutlery on the table, willing him to leave.

Andrew Larson sighs, rapping his knuckles against the table. “It was good seeing you girls,” he smiles. “Hopefully I run into you again.”

The three boys–men, rather, you are all twenty three at this point–shuffle away.

There is a heavy silence between you and Poppy, until she clears her throat.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

You nod, collecting yourself as you smile at her. “Perfectly fine. It’s been ages, Poppy. We’re all over it.”

She grabs your gloved hand, pulling it towards her. “You certainly are,” she says playfully, twisting the sparkling bauble on your left ring finger. “It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

“I never get to wear it,” you admit sheepishly. It’s been a month since your engagement, and you’ve hardly worn your ring; your fiance’s parents are perturbed that the announcement hasn’t been posted to the Daily Prophet yet. Despite having courted for the last year and a half, it still feels like everything has moved too fast, like you’ve fallen off your broom mid flight. For the most part, your engagement ring is safely tucked in its box atop your dresser, at the risk of getting bodily fluids on it during your shifts.

“He’s a lucky man.” Poppy echoes, sitting back in her chair. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

You’re doing fine, you think. You’re at the top of your field. You have a fine flat in a nice part of London, and a promise from a man that’s kind to you. The kind of man who waited for you to get off your shift to bring you breakfast, and took you to a nice restaurant on your Friday nights off. You hadn’t expected a pretty ring from him, especially since you only graced him with your presence once a week, but then again, your last relationship had taught you not to expect anything at all.

A flash of brunette hair crosses your mind; you blink away the thought.

“I’m happy. Very happy,” you say simply, holding your teacup up to your lips again. “So about the manticores…”

You jolt out of bed, a blue wisp of a rabbit bouncing around your bedroom. It’s rare to get a patronus message at this hour; it can only mean an emergency at the hospital. It also must be bad, considering they’re calling you in on your day off.

Without another thought, you tumble out of bed, rushing to your wardrobe to pull out your clothes. Your unit specifically wears a deep purple–dark enough to hide stains. Your shrug on undergarments and petticoats, and a burgundy gown with a high neckline. Your hands know exactly how to tighten your hair into a knot within a minute, having perfected the craft over the five years of your career. Your wand is stowed in your dress pocket; you’ll grab an apron at the ward. Grabbing a fistful of floo powder next to your fireplace, you step in, yelling out for St. Mungo’s.

The ward is in a flurry as you step out of the flames. A nurse hands you a white cotton apron, which you wrap around your waist as you hold your wand between your teeth. There are men all over, gashed and bleeding, as other healers take their information.

“What’s happened?” You bark at an orderly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Auror ambush by some ashwinders,” he says dryly. “It’s awful. Lost a few–even more are bleeding. It’s dark magic, some sort of spell to keep the wounds bleeding.”

“Of course it is, those bastards.” You mutter. “I’ll take the worst of them. Can someone bring me a coffee?”

He nods, pointing over to a bay of beds a few feet away. “Those three–they specifically requested you.” He hands off the charts, promising a caffeinated beverage.

You’re about to start flipping through the charts when you hear your name. Your head flies up at the familiar voice, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You can see Everett Clopton waving his hands at you; Andrew Larson’s voice is yelling behind the curtain. And just your luck, a pair of black shiny dress shoes are dangling off the examination table, twisted in an unnatural way.

Before you even realize it, you’re running to them. The charts are promptly cast onto the side table when you duck behind the curtain, a gasp catching in your throat.

Sebastian looks awful.

Correction–Sebastian looks dead.

“He jumped in front of me,” Everett panics, his hands on his head. “He shouldn’t have–we were talking, we thought we were out of the thick of it–”

“He’s been hit badly,” Andrew interjects. His sleeves are bloodied from trying to apply pressure to a gash across Sebastian’s chest, the blood seeping through his shirt and vest. “You have to do something,” he pleads. “He’s the best of us–we can’t lose him.”

“Move,” you urge the two of them. They scoot out of your way, and you make quick work of Sebastian’s clothing.

Years ago, tearing off Sebastian’s shirt would’ve been done out of passion, out of love. You push those thoughts out of your mind as you rip through his white dress shirt, which is sopping wet with blood. Sebastian’s skin is cold and clammy; even his freckles are pale, disappearing from his face.

“Get me some dittany and shrivelfigs,” you screech at the other healers. “And the blood renewing potions, please.” You run your hand and your wand over Sebastian’s wounds, uttering a healing charm. “Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur,” you mutter under your breath. The spell isn’t healing fast enough, Sebastian is still losing too much blood.

You let out the blue wisps of magic from your fingertips as you channel some of your ancient magic into the healing spell. You’re still mad at Sebastian, of course, but you’ll be damned if he dies on your watch.

To your relief, the wounds start knitting themselves shut faster, but the scars look awful, all purpled and raised. Another healer is next to you, urgently crushing the dittany and shrivelfigs into a paste–an idea you got from the patient lying in front of you during your sixth year. You’d been battered so often during Crossed Wands, the two of you had experimented with salves and balms to lessen the appearance of your scars.

“He appears to be stabilizing,” the junior healer claims. “Good job, as always.”

You suppress the choked out cry that’s stuck in your throat as you think of Ominis, and how he used to scold the two of you for experimenting. He’d be thankful now that you did.

“There’s others,” another healer urges you. “We must move on to the next.”

You don’t want to. Sebastian seems to be stirring, groaning as the healer rubs the salve onto the gaping wound that streaks across his chest. You can hear Everett and Andrew crying and laughing on the other side of the curtain, exclaiming your name for having saved their partner.

There’s so much commotion, you could swear Sebastian uttered your name, but when you look back, his head is flat on the table, eyes shut. The color is slowly returning to him, now no longer pale and gray.

“We have to keep him for observation,” you instruct another healer, handing her Sebastian’s chart. “I’ll check on him later. In the meantime, there are others.”

Without another glance, you move on to the next bay.

“Excellent work as always,” your boss pats you on the shoulder. “You saved six good men tonight with your quick work.”

“I should just move into the ward,” you mutter under your breath before taking a large swig of coffee.

Your dress is stained with blood, fingers aching from all the healing you’d done. From the twelve aurors in the ambush, three had superficial wounds (Larson and Clopton included). Two had passed in the field, another before you’d gotten to the hospital. But all six of the aurors you’d treated, Sebastian included, were now tucked into private rooms, safe and breathing. You were keeping them for observation, unsure of what kind of curse the ashwinders had used on them. Your ancient magic managed to seal the wounds, but all were badly scarring. They’d all have to stay until you could rule out the cause.

After a much needed shower and an owl sent to your fiance, regretfully informing him you’d not make it to brunch with his parents, you start making your rounds. Most of your patients are sleeping deeply, others dizzily asking what happened. You save Sebastian’s room for last; Clopton and Larson, faithful companions, are sleeping in chairs outside of his room.

You quietly shut the door behind you, gulping as you stare at the man laying in the hospital bed. His chubby cheeks are long gone, hollowed and chiseled by age. You’d laughed at him when you were seventeen and he claimed he had a beard coming in; now you can see traces of stubble lining his jaw. His unruly chestnut hair has been brushed out of his face in a way you know he’ll hate.

But you don’t know that, not truly. Because you don’t know Sebastian anymore.

“Oh Sebastian,” you tut, sitting at a stool next to his bed. You hover your hands over his body, a misty blue glow emitting from them. No internal bleeding at least. He’s had at least three blood renewing potions, and his breathing is steady. You would examine the scars across his chest and torso, but the thought of undressing him in his current state is inappropriate to you.

You’re about to get up, leave him to his slumber when you hear it. He whispers your name in his sleep, head falling to the side. And instead of him being the one with a gaping wound, you feel like a hole has been drilled into your chest.

Maybe you’ll ask for tomorrow off.

Night Two

You’d asked for the day off again, but the request was denied. Begrudgingly, you dress for your shift, tucking your hair behind your ears as you walk with your daytime counterpart down the hallway.

“You’ve missed all the commotion,” your fellow healer gasps. She’s filling you in on the day shift, and all that’s transpired since you left in the morning. “There was a memory charm laced in with that blood curse from the ashwinders—some of them have lost weeks, years of memories. Not recognizing their wives or their children; we’ve had to close the doors to all visitors.”

“That’s a nasty curse.” You mutter, flipping through charts. Only someone sick in the head would mess with memory tampering curses—you wonder why no one has petitioned for them to be banned. The long term care wing at St. Mungos is filled with too many people who’d tinkered with memory spells, and you sincerely hope none of the aurors under your care end up there.

“Terrible, of course. But it made for an interesting day.” She hums. “You should’ve seen Rowle’s wife, security had to cart her out after he called her the wrong name. Think he courted her twin sister too.”

You laugh with her as you walk through the hallway, until your heart fills with dread.

“How is Sallow? The patient in 213.”

She tilts her head. “Fine I think–oh, he was asking for you. Do you know him?”

You fight back the red flush that’s creeping up your neck. “We were schoolmates.” You say. Nothing more. Sebastian can’t be more, especially after you’d done such hard work to forget him in the first place.

After your colleague has clocked out and you’ve checked all your other patients, you quietly rap your knuckles against Sebastian’s door. It’s late enough at night that he might be asleep already, and you can avoid the entire awkward conversation.

“Come in!”

Shit.

You open the door, and Sebastian is staring right back at you. He isn’t scowling like you thought he would be–his eyes are bright, a beaming smile on his lips.

“They told me you were working the night shift.” he says happily, scratching at the collar of his hospital gown. “I stayed awake.”

“Right, Mr. Sallow,” You say curtly, eyes down at the chart in front of you. “It is late, you should be getting rest–”

“But I’ve been waiting for you,” he frowns.

You look up at him, and instead of a grown man, you see the puppy dog eyes that got you in trouble the few years you had at Hogwarts. “Mr. Sallow, rest is essential to your healing. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me?” Sebastian asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pet, it’s me.”

You inhale sharply, white knuckling the edge of the bed. “Sebastian,” you mutter (you hate how easily his name rolls off your lips still), “what year do you think it is?”

He rolls his eyes and chuffs. “It’s 1893, duh.”

“It’s not,” you sigh. “It’s 1898. You were in an ambush yesterday, and it seems the Ashwinders are using a memory curse as retaliation nowadays.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before he bursts into laughter. “Really? I’ve lost five damn years in my head? What have I missed? Don’t tell me we’re not married yet.” Only Sebastian could be jovial about such a matter; all the others were utterly distraught at losing their memories.

“Sebastian, darling, we haven’t seen each other in five years.” you confess, moving to the edge of the bed. Your voice is quiet, and although it’s been ages since you last called him darling, you think it might be too much on his poor heart if you don’t. The poor man just asked if you were married, for Merlin’s sake.

His smile fades. “What?”

“We…we went our separate ways five years ago.” You clear your throat. “It…it was a mutual decision.” you lie. Was it a lie? You honestly can’t remember.

“I would never,” Sebastian bites back. “I would never break up with you.”

“Darling, it’s been a very long time,” you say softly, wringing your hands together. “And I’m okay–you’re okay. We’re both doing well…just on our own now.”

“I can’t–this doesn’t make sense,” he jolts away from your touch, and you flinch. “Why would I ever agree to such a thing?”

You can recognize the tell tale signs of panic on a patient’s face, so you hurry over to the cupboard, pouring a glass of water. Sebastian is too far away to see you slip the vial of dreamless sleep into the glass, swirling it into oblivion.

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel much better,” you assure him.

Sebastian absentmindedly takes the glass, gulping down the water as he tries to make sense of the current situation. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters under his breath as he starts rubbing his eyes. He’s fighting the effects, and he looks up at you, a deep set frown on his face. “You dosed me, dammit.” The glass rolls out of his hand and onto the bed, where you scoop it up.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it's sincere. But you’re not equipped to handle Sebastian in such a state–you aren’t equipped to handle him, period. It’s been five years since you’ve had to mind his temper, and your heart can’t handle the pain.

Before you know it, Sebastian is knocked out, the dreamless sleeping draught taking over his body. With his eyes tightly shut, you can finally examine him. The scars across his chest are still purple, bruises lining his torso. Your fingers dance across his skin trying to heal him, but alas, they stay.

You make notes on his chart, letting the other healers know he may be groggy and upset when he wakes in the morning. Even though they’ve put a no visitors policy on the aurors, you remind them to call upon Ominis and Anne to see if they can talk some sense into him.

The last you’d asked Natty about Sebastian, he was happy. He was climbing up the ranks in the auror office, and he’d finally moved out of Ominis’s spare room. You’d cut her off once she started telling you how he was dating–that you didn’t need to know.

That had been two years ago. You wonder what’s changed since then.

Night Three

Your pleas for a night off have gone unanswered. Your boss tells you that you’re too integral to the auror case to be gone for more than twelve hours.

There’s a note left by your fiance’s owl; he’s sad you missed brunch, but he’s excited to take you out on Friday, your next scheduled day off. His mother is insistent the two of you sit for an engagement portrait that will be posted in the Daily Prophet to announce your impending union. You fold the note and toss it onto your desk; when you have a free moment, you’ll write a letter explaining that you would like a lengthy engagement.

Planning a wedding and working the night shift is just too much work for you. You twist your large engagement ring off your finger and put it in its box before taking the floo network to St. Mungo’s.

You’re barely five steps out of the fireplace before a body hits you.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Anne Sallow breathes, her arms enveloping you. “You saved him. He’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Anne,” you sigh into her touch. Similar to her brother, it’s been ages since you’ve seen her. She’s still thin and delicate, but her bangs are long grown out. “What are you still doing here? It’s so late.”

“Ominis and I wanted to catch you,” she claims. “The healers called us in to talk to Sebastian.”

“Right, I asked them to.” you say, smoothing your apron. “How was he today?”

Anne winces. “He’s…he’s still pretty confused.”

You give her a sympathetic smile, biting back the sarcastic words you had in mind. “It must be awful.”

Anne pulls away, digging her toe into the ground. “He keeps asking what happened between the two of you. I’m not sure what to say.” she admits.

You bite your lower lip. “You can tell him the truth. That we ended amicably. That we were fine.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have disappeared for five years.” a voice says behind you.

It only takes you a second to recognize the rich voice of Ominis Gaunt. Whirling around, you throw your arms around the tall blonde. It’s been ages since you’ve given him a hug let alone seen him, so he chuckles into your shoulder when you grasp him.

“I missed you,” you pat his cheek.

“We missed you,” Ominis hums. “I’m surprised St. Mungo’s would call me; I haven’t been Sebastian’s emergency contact for a while.”

You furrow your eyebrows as Anne takes Ominis’s arm. Why wouldn’t he be his emergency contact? Ominis is his best friend, and having been together with Anne for so long, practically his brother.

That’s a question for another time, you decide.

“It’s late, you two should be getting home. Visitor hours are over.” you remind them.

“I’m not leaving before you promise to see me again,” Ominis says sternly. “Five years is far too long.”

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Ominis, I’m sorry. I just thought that when things ended, the two of you were best friends…”

“That was my decision to make,” he says softly. “Not yours. I decide whose side I’m on.”

Ominis’s words warm your heart, but they also leave cracks. Ominis and Sebastian were a package deal when you met them, and you’ve spent far too much of your time with the boys driving them apart.

After much coaxing, Ominis and Anne take their leave. You’re finally able to start your rounds. Rowle is starting to regain his memories and they’ve allowed his wife back into the ward. Travers still has a nasty gash on his leg that’s festering, but he’s otherwise remembering things from last week. Cattermole is fast asleep, so you avoid his room to let him get some more rest.

Your hand falters on the handle of room 213, taking a deep breath before you push in. Just as you thought, Sebastian isn’t asleep. He’s sitting upright in bed, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at you.

“You’re looking much better,” you offer, shutting the door behind you.

“You gave me a sleeping draught last night,” he accuses you. “That’s not fair.”

“You were getting hysterical, Sebastian.” you remind him, flipping through his chart. Nothing particularly new, and no memories back. He’s spent the entire day asking for you, the chart says, and fighting with orderlies. It mentions Ominis and Anne arriving, and that the two gentlemen had sharp words for one another. Ominis was right—he isn’t Sebastian’s emergency contact anymore. There’s an unfamiliar name, a woman.

“Open your shirt, please.”

Sebastian waggles his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure we’re not together?”

You roll your eyes. “Your cheekiness, I didn’t miss it.” you mutter, hands on your hips. “I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your wounds, you idiot.”

Sebastian gives you a familiar grin as he unbuttons his pajama shirt; he’s flexing his muscles, you can tell. A pinch to his pectoral has him yowling, and he stops. You grin at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Perhaps we did break up,” he grumbles.

Sebastian’s breath stutters as your fingers prod at his scars. They’re still ugly and raised, but the color is improving.

“I’m not sure there’s much more I can do,” you frown. “I think they’ll stay.”

“That’s fine,” Sebastian breathes. “You did always say you preferred when I was roughed up.”

You give him a strained look. “Sebastian–”

“Please, listen to me.” Sebastian urges. “Ominis…he told me what happened between us. And I really, truly can’t believe we would let it get to that.” Your name is a gentle whisper from his mouth, and he pushes his brunette hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

You swallow thickly, backing up. “We were so young, Sebastian. Let’s leave the past in the past, please.”

“Ominis and I haven’t spoken in two years.” Sebastian interjects. “He just told me. Annie says we had a fight, and you were part of it.”

You turn around, shutting your eyes. “I don’t want to hear this,” you admit weakly.

Sebastian is rustling in his sheets; he lets out a low hiss as he adjusts his still healing torso. “If the version of me, the one that got cursed, isn’t talking to you, Anne, or Ominis…I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to be that version of me.” Sebastian pleads. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to remember.”

“You have friends, Sebastian.” You remind him, turning to face him again. “You have friends, your job…” you trail off, picking up his chart again. You pinpoint the section with his emergency contact; a woman who is likely sitting at home, worried sick over him. “You have a girlfriend, probably. One who is desperate to see you.” There’s a lump in your throat as you try to imagine her, but your mind comes up blank.

“I don’t care,” Sebastian breathes. “She’s a stranger.”

“I’m the stranger,” you remind him. “Sebastian…I’m engaged. I’m getting married next spring.”

That’s a lie–you and your fiance haven’t even discussed a timeline, but it seems more official to say it with a season.

The hope on Sebastian’s face crumbles, eyes wide as he stares at you.

“You’re engaged,” he croaks.

“Engaged.” The more you say it, the more it’s real. “He’s lovely. You would like him.” Now that's an even bigger lie–Sebastian would’ve called him a prat if he met him. You appreciate your fiance’s softness and meekness, especially after having been with a firecracker hothead for most of your teens.

Sebastian is crumpled in bed, twisting onto his side. “I’d like to go to bed now,” he mumbles. It was textbook Sebastian–whenever something didn’t go his way, he’d turn away from you in bed like a petulant child. It’s almost a relief to see that he does the same thing at twenty three years old.

“If you ring the bell, someone will come to aid you.” You wave your wand, dimming the lights. “You can ask for someone else, if you’d like.”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything as you shut the door, and when he does ring the bell for assistance, he requests anyone but you. It’s stupid to be upset over, it’s what you wanted–for him to stop pestering you.

But you have a nice long cry in the potions ingredient cupboard anyways.

The rest of your shift goes by uneventfully. Rowle has regained his memories and will be discharged in the morning. Cattermole finally woke up from his deep sleep and he’s on the mend, moved out of the intensive care ward. Travers has also been discharged, prescribed a salve to make sure the cut on his leg stays clean. It leaves Roberts, Jorkins, and Sallow as your only three patients left from the case, and perhaps now your boss will let you take a night off.

Night Four

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Sebastian says sheepishly.

“Whatever for?” You mumble, pressing a strip of gauze to his chest wound. You’re trying a new salve recipe you’ve been working on, just to see if it’ll help break down the scar tissue. His bruises are starting to go yellow, and if he works back up on his memory, Sebastian can be discharged from your ward.

“For being rude.” Sebastian sighs. “I’m…it’s starting to come back to me a bit now.”

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. “Is it?”

“We fought that night.” Sebastian swallows thickly. “You and me. I can’t exactly remember what we fought about, but you threw a book at me.”

“And I hit your eyebrow.” You remind him.

“Lucky shot,” Sebastian rolls his eyes, and you have to suppress a laugh. He winces as you press the salve in; his body is still sensitive.

“I’m sorry for that. I never got to apologize to you,” you admit, rubbing the mixture in. “But I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Sebastian asks softly.

“For putting up with all of it,” you pat another piece of gauze over the salve. Sebastian looks like a mess and he’ll have to sleep sitting up, but you’re hoping to salvage his handsome chest. There are a bevy of flower vases strewn across the room, and plenty of Sebastian’s favorite sweets piled on his bedside table.

“I see you had quite a few visitors today.”

Sebastian nods, trying not to move too much. “Anne and Ominis again; he’s warming back up to me, I know it.” he brags. “Clopton and Larson too. I can’t believe I was paired up with two Ravenclaws as partners. That’s probably how I got all bungled up in the first place.”

“Everett said you were quite the hero,” you back away, admiring your work (and his muscles, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him). “And they stayed the entire night when you first came into the ward, so I know they’re loyal to you.”

There is a silence between you two for a moment, until Sebastian breaks the tension.

“She visited earlier.” Sebastian echoed. “Rebecca.”

You turn away at the name; at least it’s not the girl you remember from your last argument. “Rebecca is a lovely name,” you offer. It’s all you can give him without treading into dangerous waters. You’re engaged after all, and stuck patting balm into the chest of your former lover.

“She was distraught.” Sebastian hummed. “Hates the scars.”

You turn around, rolling your eyes. “She’s dating an auror, she should get used to it.” you scowl.

“That’s what I said,” Sebastian laughs, trying not to move the salve covered strips. “But she wasn’t having it. She was worried I would never look the same, so I broke up with her.”

You blink at him. He seems completely unbothered.

“Sebastian!” You exclaim. “You shouldn’t break up with her over that alone.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Y’know, the boys filled in a few of the blanks for me. Apparently, not very many people actually liked Rebecca and I together, so I guess it was impending anyways.”

You put your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe you broke up with your girlfriend because Everett Clopton and Andrew Larson told you to.” you shake your head. “She was your emergency contact, Sebastian. You’ve probably been dating a while.”

“According to Clopton, I was planning on breaking up with her soon anyways.”

“Idiots, the lot of you.” You tut, washing your hands in the basin.

“We’d only been dating three months.” Sebastian interjects. “I put her as my emergency contact because I had no one else. Ominis and Anne…well, they weren’t talking to me apparently.”

You don’t say anything, letting the water run over your hands.

“I guess I’ve been a real arse the last few years,” Sebastian echoes. “Everett said I hadn’t been quite myself since we…well, you get the gist.”

“Everyone is an arse when they’re eighteen,” you remind him.

Sebastian snorts. “I’m sure you weren’t.”

“I think I might’ve been.” You chuckle under your breath. “Poppy always said I had a one track mind. Only ever thought about myself, my career.”

“Well, it’s done a lot for you.” Sebastian offers. “Youngest lead healer in St. Mungo’s history.”

You roll your eyes. “The others think I’m a show off.”

“You’re gifted,” he shrugs, and a slice of gauze slips from his chest. “That’s all.”

“Lay back darling,” you advise him, stuffing a pillow behind his back to keep him comfortable.

Sebastian does as you say, his hands balled up in fists at his side. “So, your fiance,” He trails off. “What’s he like?”

You purse your lips, pulling his sheets over his waist. “He’s nice.”

“Nice. That’s it?” Sebastian snorts. “Surely he has some better attributes, you said yes to marrying him.”

“He’s calm, quiet.” you say, turning your back to put away the excess gauze. “He’s a junior secretary for the Minister of Magic.” turning back to Sebastian, you already know he has a smug smile on his face. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say,” you warn, wagging a finger.

“What?” Sebastian scoffs. “I would never say anything about an esteemed junior secretary,” he says dramatically. “Besides, you’re the one who thought it…”

“I didn’t think anything!” You laugh. “I just knew exactly what you were thinking.”

“And what is that?” Sebastian asks coyly.

“You were going to call him a pencil pusher,” you accuse.

Sebastian fakes a gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “My stars, I would never say such a thing.”

“Stop it,” you laugh again, slapping his hand. “You’re ruining my hard work. I’ll have to do it again.”

“No,” Sebastian groans. “It’s cold. I just want to put a jumper on, I don’t care about the scars.” he pouts.

“I need you to get better,” you hold your hands on your hips. “The auror office will have my head if I keep you here any longer when your colleagues are back home.”

Sebastian fumbles with the edge of the blanket. “And what would consider me healed?”

“Well, I’d say besides the appearance, your physical wounds are fully healed.” You shrug. “But we can’t discharge you until your memories are back–or at least substantially returned.”

Sebastian is quiet, and he stays quiet until you finish putting away all your supplies. You’re about to leave him, implore him to get some rest, when he clears his throat.

“Pet,” he says cautiously (he hasn’t used your old nickname since the second night of his stay).

“Yes, Sebastian?” You ask, slipping your hands into the pocket of your apron. When you look at Sebastian from the doorway, he doesn’t look like a twenty three year old man. He looks like the Sebastian you used to know–the hotheaded eighteen year old who only ever got shy around you.

“Would you…could we be friends after this?” He asked lowly. “I know you said we haven’t seen each other in five years, and I know there’s some blame there on my end. But we’ve been through so much together, and you’ve saved my life.” he rambles.

You once told yourself that if Sebastian Sallow ever came crawling back, you’d slam the door shut in his face. The first year of your separation had been excruciating; the second had been dreadful. Once you’d gotten on to your third year without him in your life, the pain had become bearable. And once you’d gotten on to four years without him, you realized you didn’t think of him anymore. In fact, you hadn’t thought of him at all until you saw him standing a few paces away from your tea table.

“Of course, darling.” You assure him. “Only if you promise me that you’ll actually sleep.”

Sebastian’s face lights up in a way you distinctly remember–the first time you’d seen it was when you arrived in Feldcroft to meet Anne when you were both fifteen. He adjusts himself to the pillows as you wave your wand to dim the lights.

You shut the door behind you, letting out a sigh when you’re out of sight. You feel guilty calling Sebastian darling again–you’ve never even blessed your own fiance with his own nickname. And despite your refusal of the situation, you can’t help the shiver you feel at the base of your spine when you hear Sebastian calling you pet again.

Perhaps being friends is not a good idea.

Night Five

Sebastian is asleep when your shift starts, and you nearly skip over his room. But against your better judgment, you push into the door, knocking lightly.

The brunette man is slumped over, snoring lightly as if he were waiting for you. At the sound of the door, he jolts, rubbing his eyes.

“Why can’t you be on the day shift?” he complains sleepily.

You chuckle. “I can leave you, let you get some rest.”

“No,” Sebastian clears his throat. “I’d like you to stay.” He shrugs off his shirt, proudly displaying his scars. “They still look like hell, but at least they aren’t purple anymore.”

You stride over, running your hands over them. Your ancient magic was able to overpower the bleeding curse, but Sebastian will forever have a dip in his chest and bubbled over scars. They’re at least turning pink, a much better place than they were a few days ago.

“They look great,” you pat his shoulder. “And once we get your memories back in order, we can get you home.”

Sebastian gives you a strange look. “Ominis came again during the day…filling in the blanks again.”

“And?” You ask softly, sitting in the chair next to him.

“Why did we break up?” Sebastian asks firmly. “Can you tell me? And don’t give me the whole spiel about us growing apart. I want the details.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands. “We were eighteen, Sebastian. I was careless, you were lonely, we were both focused on our careers and not on each other.” Truthfully, you had spent years thinking of the many ways you’d address this conversation, how you’d confront him if you ever saw him again. Now five years later and after having almost witnessed Sebastian’s death, the downfall of your first love is easily compounded into one simple sentence.

“You started working the night shift,” Sebastian says.

“I started working the night shift,” you echo. “I wanted to rise up quickly in the ranks, so I volunteered. I was working so many hours, and you were gone during the day at your job, so we barely saw each other.”

“I asked you to take time off.” Sebastian adds.

“And I said no.” you admit. “I told you that you were being insecure. That my job was more important, because I was saving lives.” It’s one of the few shames you’ve compartmentalized over the past few years–that you’d ever downplayed the importance of his career compared to yours.

“I went out that night.” Sebastian whispers, looking at his hands. “And I didn’t come home until the morning.”

“It was my only night off of the week, and you came home at four in the morning, stinking of firewhiskey and perfume.” Your eyes shut, replaying the awful scene in your head.

“Did I?” he croaked. “Did I cheat on you, really?”

“No,” You shake your head, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You said you could have. You said you wanted to.” You add, rubbing the temples of your forehead. “That you were tired of living in half of a relationship, and that you’d wanted to kiss that girl.”

“You threw the book at me,” Sebastian says weakly. “And I smashed your mug.”

“I told you to go to her if you really wanted.” You admit. “And you left.”

“I stayed at Ominis’s that night.” he whispered. “I didn’t go to her.”

“I didn’t know that. So I packed my things and left.”

The silence hangs between the two of you, and all of the feelings you had at eighteen come flooding back. After the fight, you apparated to Natty’s place, while Anne and Poppy had cleaned out your bits in the apartment. What was meant to be a one night stay turned into a week, and then more. After a month without word from Sebastian, you committed to the night shift, forsaking your friendships and social life for work. Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and before you knew it, you were promoted. Sebastian Sallow was a blip in your timeline, a faded memory of teenage love. He’d been just a memory until you saw him in Diagon Alley. Your heart hadn’t felt anything but anger towards him until you saw his shiny black dress shoes.

“Did we throw it all away?” Sebastian asks sorrowfully.

“We became the people we needed to be.” You remind him. “Look at you, an auror. A damn good one. The kind that jumps in front of their partner to save them from a curse.” you assure him.

“And you’re a healer,” Sebastian inhales. “A bloody amazing one, that saved my life and five others. I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian’s lower lip wobbles, and you know your heart is in danger.

“You seem to remember quite a bit,” You point out. “More than you let on.”

“I was talking to Clopton about you. We thought the ambush was over, we were trying to get to a floo point so we could get Larson’s leg checked out.” Sebastian says. “I told him how beautiful you looked, and that you looked happy.” his voice cracks.

“Sebastian.” It’s not a warning, just a statement. A week ago you would’ve never said his name aloud, let alone thought of it. But it feels right rolling off your tongue.

“Everett said something about you being engaged. It’s…it’s fuzzy from there on, but I remember the fight. And I jumped in front of him, but not just to save him.” Sebastian says, his fingers drumming on his stomach.

“Why?” You almost don’t want to hear the rest. It might upend your life entirely.

“I jumped in front of him because I knew I’d be okay. That you would probably be at St. Mungo’s when I got there.” Sebastian said weakly. “And I’d get a chance to see you again.”

“Sebastian, we’re different people now.” You remind him.

“We’re better now.” Sebastian says, giving you pleading eyes. “I was an idiot when I was eighteen; I thought I was being a man, but I wasn’t. And I’m not going to pretend that I’ve been happy the past five years–there hasn’t been another woman who’s made me feel the way you do.” he confesses.

“It’s been too long,” you try to say, but you know it's no use trying to argue with him. From your first fight in the Undercroft at fifteen to the fight that broke you two up, Sebastian has never backed down.

Before you even realize it, Sebastian has reached his hand out, taking yours. He’s rubbing your left ring finger–the one missing your large, ostentatious engagement ring.

“Don’t marry him,” Sebastian croaks. “Please, don’t marry him.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I understand you now.” Sebastian says. “I understand you in a way I didn’t when I was younger. And that’s good–it’s good for us now. It wasn’t the right time then, but we could try again now.” he pleads.

“Four days ago when you saw me in Diagon Alley, you could barely look at me.” You remind him. “I should have you committed to the memory ward at this point.”

“Four days ago when I saw you, I was sick to my stomach with how happy you looked.” Sebastian admits. “I saw you from a distance, smiling at Larson and Poppy. I couldn’t look you in the eye after seeing you smile.”

You want to tell Sebastian that your fiance is a good man. That he loves you, cherishes you, and doesn’t fight with you. But you can’t help being nostalgic as you hold the hand of your first love, who is currently begging you to end your relationship to risk it all again with him. Whatever strength you’ve mustered together in the last five years is about to break as his big brown eyes implore you to stay.

“Your memory seems back to normal,” you change the subject, standing up quickly. You tug your hand out from his, smoothing your clammy palms against your apron. “I’ll put you down for discharge in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Sebastian warns. “Don’t run away.”

“You ran away.” You remind him.

“And I regret it, every day.” Sebastian says mournfully. “You were my first love. You were going to be my only love, and I fucked it up.”

“We both made mistakes, Sebastian.” You say, staring down at your feet. “You need to get some rest. I’ll leave you be.”

He’s arguing as you step through the door, wringing your hands together. The thoughts running through your head aren’t right–no, they’re crazy. Except your feet keep walking towards the ward matron’s desk, gripping the stone top.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, frowning.

“I need to go home,” you confess, scribbling what little notes you have onto Sebastian’s chart. “There’s something I have to do.”

Thirty minutes later (your on call replacement is displeased to have been woken up late at night) you’re back in your flat. Your mind is buzzing as you pace in the bedroom, thinking about the idea gnawing at your brain.

It would be insane.

You haven’t talked in five years.

He’s emotional after having been saved from the brink of death.

He broke up with his girlfriend on the spot, because she wasn’t you.

Sebastian is most well known for his unwavering support and adoration. At least he was when you were younger. Sebastian had always been encouraging, cheering you on through crossed wands, battles in the highlands, and even when you got your first job offer from St. Mungo’s. He’d been crazy about you–obsessed with you, even. The two of you had been the couple of your year when you graduated.

Sebastian had only ever faltered once, and it ended your relationship.

Don’t marry him.

The words replay in your mind. It makes you realize your stomach has flipped more in the last four nights than it has in years. That your even tempered fiance, a kind but boring man, has not once made you feel what you’ve felt in the past week being back in Sebastian’s presence.

It is insane, you think. But you’d rather take feeling than nothing at all.

Digging through your dresser, you pull out the box holding your engagement ring.

Night Six

It has been a long, long day.

What time you would have spent sleeping is spent assuring your now ex-fiance that nothing untoward has happened. That you appreciate his kindness and companionship over the past year, but that you cannot lie to yourself.

You cannot marry him because you don’t love him as you should.

You prepare for the night shift with a spring in your step, because when you get there, you’re heading straight to Sebastian’s room. You’re going to tell him what you’ve done, and hope that he’s still feeling just as crazy as you. You pull your hair into its usual bun, wishing you could wear something a little nicer to what will be your reunion. Sebastian used to love when you wore green; perhaps you’ll buy a green dress the next day you’re off.

When you get to the ward, it’s quieter than usual. Holding your wand between your teeth again, affixing the white apron, your heart beats out of your chest as you approach room 213.

This is it. This is the start of the rest of your life.

You push through the doors of 213, but your breath stutters when you see the empty bed. It’s stripped of any linens, and all of the flowers and candy boxes Sebastian’s colleagues sent are gone.

“Where is the patient in 213?” you whip around, grabbing the closest orderly.

They give you a curious look. “Discharged this morning–you put it in their paperwork.”

You swallow, and it feels like shards of broken glass are tumbling down your throat. “I…I did.”

“Isn’t today your day off, too?” They tilt their head at you. “Honestly, it feels like your head hasn’t been screwed on at all this week. Might want to take some focus potions, ma’am.”

“Uh, right.” You admit, turning red. You were so excited at the prospect of seeing Sebastian again, you completely forgot that Fridays were your nights off from the ward. You were rather busy after all, imploding your life. “”Does it say who picked him up?”

They shrug, flipping through the charts again. “He was taken to his home in Diagon Alley by his sister and brother-in-law.”

You curse under your breath as you try to plot a plan. There’s no way Ominis still lives in the small flat he had when you last saw him, and you have no idea where Sebastian lives. The ward doesn’t have an address either, so you’re shit out of luck.

Unless…unless you were to find one of his loyal partners.

Apparition is frowned upon inside of St. Mungo’s, but you’ll take a scolding from the matron ward on Saturday. You immediately apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where most of the ministry’s aurors spend their evenings. You know this because you’ve been avoiding the biggest pub in Diagon Alley for five years, hoping not to run into your ex.

The crowd stares at you in your St. Mungo’s uniform; you push through throngs of ministry employees, all wearing fine suits and dresses from their day jobs. Your eyes scan the room, heart losing hope by the second, until you spot Everett and Andrew sitting with a gaggle of your classmates from Hogwarts, Natsai Onai included. Andrew elbows Everett at the sight of you, and Clopton beams as if he’s won a bet.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly, approaching the group.

“Figured you might turn up.” Larson teased. “Gaunt, Clopton, and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“What’s going on?” Natty asks, clearly confused. She says your name, tilting her head.

“I need his address,” You gasp. “He wasn’t at the ward when I got there–”

“Anne and Ominis picked him up this morning.” Everett says, pulling out his wand and a paper napkin. He aimed his wand at the scrap, delicately burning an address into the paper. “He doesn’t live far from here. Perhaps you’ll keep him from spending too much time at the pub now.”

“Who doesn’t live far?” Natty asks again, elbowing Andrew.

“Sallow, of course.” Larson winks. “You two had enough time to talk it through, yeah?”

“What the bloody hell–they haven’t spoken in five years,” Natty claims with wide eyes. She gives you a look, and you can’t do anything but shrug.

“Near death experiences will change you,” Everett says smugly, taking a sip of his tankard. “Well go on then, what are you still doing here?”

You mouth an apology to Natty; you’ll have to explain it to her someday soon. For now, you’re pushing through the crowd, trying to get out the door. Looking down at the napkin, Everett Clopton is right; Sebastian lives maybe a stone's throw away from the pub. Your feet are pounding on the cobblestone of Diagon Alley, looking like a blue wisp to any passersby.

Before you know it, you’re turning onto his street, with only the lamps in front of each door illuminating the numbers. You stop, gasping for air, trying to find the right one. Of course he’s at the end of the row, a dark green door with a gold knocker. It’s late now, the sky pitch black, as you start pounding.

It takes only thirty seconds for the door to swing open; Anne is standing behind it, looking shocked.

“You’re here,” she breathes.

“I told you she would,” you hear Ominis yell from the inside. “Clopton owes me ten galleons.”

“Can I come in?” you ask.

Anne bites back a smile. “Of course you can.”

You walk into Sebastian’s home; despite having never seen it, it positively reeks of him. There are touches of him all over the house–from the books stacked in the hallways, to the shoes messily kicked in the parlor room. He has trinkets from his travels on the mantle, and you can see he still leaves his teacups all over the house (something you once fought over–it seems endearing now).

Ominis is in the sitting room, lounging on a chaise. “Took you long enough.” he says teasingly. “I was rather surprised you abandoned him last night. He was absolutely bereft when we picked him up in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you admit sheepishly, digging your toe into the carpet. “I…I just had something I had to do first.”

“A break up and a make up in one day, you’re a busy woman as always.”

“Shut up.”

Ominis gives you a toothy grin; something he saves only for those he loves. “I missed you.” he stood, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can only hope Sebastian doesn’t bungle it all up and we lose you all over again.”

You press your nose into Ominis’s shoulder; it seems silly you ever thought you could live without this group of people in your life.

“I thought you were mad at him,” you say, pulling back to look up at the blond.

“I was mad that he was being stubborn,” Ominis says softly. “That he wasn’t being himself, drinking every day and dating girls who weren’t right for him. I told him he had to pluck up the courage to speak to you again, or get over it and make peace with his life. He’s been rather stuck, as you can imagine.”

You have been too, you think.

“Is he upstairs?” You ask, turning to the slim staircase. Anne is standing next to the railing, giving a signature Sallow smirk.

“He might be asleep,” Ominis warned. “But he is. First room to the left.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks before walking up the stairs. The floor creaks underneath you as you push in the door; Sebastian is laying in his bed, sleeping fitfully. You nearly knock a stack of books over as you kneel next to his bed; you also recognize the book on his side table, the spine dented from when you threw it at his face five years ago. It reminds you of the shattered mug you keep on your desk. Perhaps you two have been subconsciously keeping pieces of each other around.

Sebastian stirs as you brush his brunette hair out of his face. He opens one eye, then the other, blinking furiously as he tries to sit up.

“You’re here,” he groans, a hand flying to his torso. “Is this a good visit, or just a hospital house call? Because my scars are killing me now that I’m home.”

You give a watery chuckle. “It can be both, if you like.” You pull the blanket aside, examining his puckered skin. The scars will stay for good, but that’s fine. You did always like it when Sebastian was roughed up anyways.

“You’re here.” Sebastian repeats, only this time it's softer.

“I had to go to the Leaky Cauldron to get your address from Clopton.” you admit, blue waves emitting from your fingertips as you try to take away some of the physical pain. “But yes, I’m here.”

“By the sound of our last conversation, I thought you were done. That we were just going to have to live with our mistakes.” Sebastian breathes.

“I wanted to say more, but there was something I had to do first.” you sit on the bed; Sebastian adjusts to give you more room, taking your hands in his. “I had to give back the engagement ring.”

“You did?” Sebastian asks hopefully.

“Seeing you…being around you for the first time in five years…” You’re trying to compound all of your feelings in a simple sentence, but it doesn’t feel like enough. “It made me realize I just didn’t love him.” You confess. “I shouldn’t feel the way I’ve felt seeing you.”

“Pet,” he murmurs, putting a hand to your cheek. “You’ve saved my life. I can’t ask anything more from you.”

“Then can I?” You ask, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes as you place your hand over his. Sebastian’s hand is warm and familiar, fitting perfectly against you.

“Ask me anything,” Sebastian echoes.

“Let’s try again.” you whisper.

Sebastian scoots over, making space on the bed for you. You don’t care if anyone else has slept in it over the five years you’ve been apart; something about the way Sebastian melts against your touch tells you he’s only ever belonged to you in the first place.

“Let’s try again.” Sebastian whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips. It feels positively electric, like it’s awoken something that’s been dormant inside you for five long, sleepy years. You take good care not to press too much of your weight onto a still recovering patient, but Sebastian does everything in his power to draw you closer. His hands start pulling pins out of your hair, the tight bun coming unraveled as he weaves his fingers through your tresses.

“You’re still healing,” you remind him as he starts working on the buttons of your dress. “And your sister is downstairs.”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian murmurs into your skin, tugging your collar down to press a kiss at the base of your neck. “We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”

You have, you think. So you let Sebastian ravish you with kisses, blushing when you hear Ominis loudly call up the stairs that he and Anne are leaving. You only leave the bed to unlace your dress, Sebastian eagerly watching as you strip the fabric from your body. He groans in a good way when you press kisses to his chest, fingers dancing across the scars on his chest. Not all scars would disappear, and there would always be reminders of the past. But it was good to acknowledge them, to know that they were there, and that they were healed.

The two of you stay awake the entire night reacquainting yourselves with each other’s body; the sun is streaming through Sebastian’s curtains when you realize you’ve been awake since Thursday night, running off adrenaline. Your eyes begin to droop as Sebastian presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Go to sleep, pet.” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

You’ll have to call in again, you think. You need an entire day of sleep after this week. And the next time you get to the ward, you’ll turn in your official notice, asking to move to the day shift.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #Auror Sebastian #Auror Sebastian Sallow #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #writing-intheundercroft #this one got a little out of hand #should I write a smutty part two?????

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angel-eyes05 · 1 year

Text

bite the hand (chapter 1)

pairing: spider-woman!oc x miguel o’hara

summary: lorena's whole world was taken away from her in the blink of an eye, after she accidentally broke a canon event. lucky for her though, she was able to find a portal watch in her dimension and used it to get out before she glitched out of existence. unfortunately though, running from dimension to dimension, she's been named as an anomaly by the spider society. now, she's constantly on the run from them, their leader in particular. when she eventually gets caught though, she's recruited onto a mission to catch another anomaly who might be from her past. to her dismay though, her partner on this mission is her very captor. will she be able to stop arguing with him for long enough to get the job done?

info: enemies to lovers, maybe a slow burn depending on chapter count, oc is 24 and miguel is 27, both oc and miguel are super sad lmao, they're also both super violent so, they also hate each other what a slay, in regards to my oc you can read her character sheet right here

warnings: there might be spoilers for atsv in this so watch the movie before reading this, emetophobia, violence, blood mention, fangs

word count: 2.5k

notes: i'm super excited to start this series!!! i'll also be posting a copy of this on ao3 cause i wanna start sharing my work there too so i'll put the link up here when i post it. also if you see me use "you" instead of "she/her" just ignore it i probably missed it while proofreading and it's instinct lol

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The stuffy air from inside the bag her head was under nearly suffocated her before she could wake up. Her breath was hot and shoved towards her face by the bag, causing her to sweat a little. As she slowly woke up, she found herself unable to move her arms and legs, bound to the chair by her wrists and ankles. She tried to wriggle herself around, the rope bounded so tightly she could feel herself losing circulation, but it was in vain as she quickly felt a striking force against her ribs as a result. Lorena in her chair was knocked to the ground. The bag was removed from her head, exposing her to the harsh, fluorescent lights in the room.

Another kick was sent to her stomach, knocking a nasty cough out of her. All she could see right now as her eyes were still adjusting was the two feet standing in front of her face. She spat some of the blood forming in her mouth onto the freshly cleaned black shoes. She winced as her head was pulled up to face the man in front of her by her hair. His cold, dead, blue eyes shot daggers into her fiery brown irises. “You’ve turned into quite the problem, haven’t you child?” the old man spat at you, his breath stinging your eyes. “Well maybe you should be nicer to your guests,” Lorena panted out, still recovering from the two kicks. The man nodded to someone behind her and her chair was pulled up to a sitting position.

Lorena grunted as her head was yanked back by whoever was behind her. “Come on Armando, I said I would get you the money, and I am! My guy’s just taking a little longer than usual,” she nervously blurted out, seeing Armando further up in the room by a desk of torture weapons. She wasn’t going to give him the money any time soon, and he knew it. She barely had any money to buy herself food.

Lorena had been stuck on Earth-523, her safe zone, for the past week. Normally, she would be out within a day or two. But with her portal watch broken, she had no way to get out. And she had been glitching a lot recently. Glitching bad. She had asked Armando, a black market dealer she had previous history with, for parts to fix the watch. She had forgotten about how much money she owed him though, and when she failed to have it with her when she asked for the favor, she was knocked out and taken to whatever bunker she was currently in.

She had honestly gotten tired of hopping between so many worlds like this. She had been doing it for the past couple of months and it was draining her. She missed the stability of a home. Her home. Earth-2497. But she couldn’t go back now. It was physically impossible. She watched everything she knew and loved glitch out of existence while she just ran through her portal. Instead of dying a noble death alongside her people, she just ran away. Like a coward. Now she was being chased for it. That was another reason she needed her watch fixed.

Their appearances were becoming more and more frequent. People who looked just like her. She could sense her connection to them. One of them, a woman riding a motorcycle and big yellow sunglasses, said that she was. Lorena had experienced similar things to the others. Like the death of her tio. And then the death of her boyfriend. Her struggles were the same as theirs. But she wasn’t supposed to be here anymore. She explained that Lorena “broke the canon”, whatever that meant.

A man with multiple mechanical arms, almost like an octopus, had come through an orange portal and began wreaking havoc on New York City. Lorena had stopped him, but too early apparently, according to the woman. The man was supposed to kill Captain Stacy, the father of her best friend. But since he hadn’t been killed, she had accidentally ripped a hole in the space time continuum, or something, consuming and ripping apart her entire universe. She was supposed to die with it. But she hadn’t. She ran away. Now she was considered an anomaly. The woman described that most anomalies were sent back to their worlds after they were captured. But Lorena had no world to go back to.

“So what’ll you do to me then?” Lorena asked the woman.

“.....I’m not sure.”

That was enough to convince Lorena to start running. The different Spider-Men would pop up about every week or so. But the gap had been closed to around every day now. She had gotten a break this past week while her watch was broken, what she assumed to be some kind of break from the universe or something. But she knew it was only a matter of time until they found her again. Until he found her again.

Lorena had only been chased by him twice before. But both of those times, she had only escaped by a narrow margin. He looked significantly different from the other variants, sporting a mainly blue suit with a weird red symbol in the middle that warped around to his back. He was tall also. Really tall, with huge, broad shoulders. Lorena couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like under his mask, having not seen his face before. But no matter how much she would probably ask him out if they met under different circumstances, Lorena was terrified of him. She had left both chase sequences with him with enormous gashes on her from his sharp talons. She honestly wondered if he was actually human.

She was brought back to reality when she saw Armando walking back from the table. In his hand was a metal rod, the end of it a scorching orange. Lorena scrambled around in her seat, her head still yanked back. Fuck this is bad, she thought to herself. An idea suddenly snapped into her head.

She rarely used them, as they normally ended up harming her too in the end, but she would rather be burned by her own acid webs once than by this hot plate repeatedly. She repositioned her wrists, pointing one of them out. She braced for the pain. Suddenly, four strings of a radioactive green acid web shot out of her wrist, breaking the rope around her hands and wrapping around the thigh of the man holding back her head. He screamed out in pain as the acid melted through his leg. With him and Armando distracted, Lorena quickly broke out of her ankle restraints, ripped the hot branding stick out of Armando’s hands, and pushed it deep into his face. He let out an inhuman scream and quickly passed out from the pain. She then used the stick and smacked the metal against his partner’s head, knocking him out too.

Lorena stood to catch her breath for a second, bracing her side with her right arm from the pain in her ribs. She hoped they were just bruised, and not cracked. She then took off the gloves from her suit to examine the fresh acid burns on her left wrist. She had developed a bit of resistance from the pain, having had to use them so much recently since she’s been without web fluid for months now, but it still stung a bit and left quite a mark on her skin.

She stripped Armando of his long sleeve t-shirt and sweatpants to cover up her suit, and shoved her mask into the pockets of the pants, before walking outside the door into the night.

She was almost immediately soaked to the touch as the rain poured down on the city. The large t-shirt, absorbing all the water falling onto Lorena, only put extra weight onto her damaged ribs. She struggled to walk through the street as she continued to cough blood into her hand. Fuck, this was bad. Maybe her injury was worse than she thought.

Things only got worse when she suddenly felt her heartbeat speed up. Goosebumps flooded over her body and she was nearly paralyzed from fear. Her spider-sense was kicking in. Jesus, what is it now. She looked into the alleyway next to her to see if that's where the source of her fear was coming from. Her suspicions were confirmed correct when she saw an orange glow interrupt the darkness in the back of the alley, and a red spike ripping through it. She nearly left her heart behind as she immediately started to bolt down the sidewalk.

Great, just my fucking luck, she thought to herself as she ran. The one day I’m in horrible shape to fight is the one day he shows up to get me. Lorena didn’t need to look behind her to know the man was already bounding after her. She didn’t have any web fluid, and her acid webs would cut through the poles, so she was given the disadvantage on the ground this time. She threw her mask on her face from her pocket, that way so in case she did get caught, she could at least keep the dignity of her identity to herself. Her running was desperate and sloppy, her red hair slipping out from the back of her mask and almost slipping in a puddle when she turned a sharp corner.

She could feel her heart rising into her chest and her ribs cried out to her in pain, begging her to just stop and accept her fate. But she wouldn’t go down like this. She couldn’t. She needed to keep going, no matter how much blood she was coughing up while running. She could hear his feet splashing in the puddles behind her as she made her getaway. He was getting closer. She wasn’t fast enough. She needed to do something if she wasn’t going to get caught. And fast.

Desperate for a way out, she ripped her right glove off of her hand and jumped around to shoot an acid web at her chaser. The split second she could see him while turned around frightened her beyond belief. The man was chasing her on all fours, like some kind of wild dog. His claws dug deep into the concrete floor for extra traction from the rain. Yeah, there’s no way this guy was human. She shot the web out of her wrist, burning her more than usual, and aimed for his face. If she was going to shoot for him now, she needed to try to go for the kill. Before the web was even fully out of her hand, she was back facing forward and running. Fuck, did that mess up my aim? She didn’t have time to think about that now. She didn’t even look back to check. She just kept running.

The low scream from him at least meant that she hit him, which was enough for her right now. Her high came crashing down though when she turned another corner. Suddenly, a shattering agony rattled throughout her body as she became a jumble of neon colored parallelograms, all of her atoms splitting apart in a split second. She quickly fell to the floor, shaking in pain. But she still had to fight. Lorena used her arms to crawl into an alleyway into the darkness. If she couldn’t outrun him, she could at least try to hide. She lowered her head to the ground though when she heard puddles lightly splashing behind her. Footsteps. She didn’t hit him hard enough. It was all in vain.

She could hear his pants above her, as she turned her head around to see him standing right above her body, like he was admiring his achievement or something. She still tried to crawl away though. She didn’t matter if it made her look stupid. She still had to try.

Lorena stopped though when she felt him web her hand to the ground though, too tired to keep going. The bright red, glowing web illuminated the darkness of the alley. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him reaching his massive hand down to her. He roughly ripped her mask off her face, exposing her to the outside world. She began to cough again, so much this time, that she ended up losing her limited breakfast. The puke sits next to the man's feet, more blood than partially digested food. He stared at her in disgust. Then he finally speaks. The first time he has to her ever.

“This is the one who’s been causing us so much trouble?” he said, as if it was supposed to be more of a genuine question than an insult. His voice was beautiful. A rich, low, dark tone that rolled off of his tongue smoothly. She could see a small avatar pop up next to his shoulder, illuminated in a yellow aura. “Yup, this is her. Lorena Reyes, Spider-Woman from Earth-2497,” the woman avatar responded. “Huh,” he said, crouching down next to her head. “Thought she'd put up more of a fight.” That one was an insult. “Maybe you just caught me on a bad day,” she croaked out. He looked at the puke next to her. “I can see that.” Lorena started to glitch again, letting out sparse pants once her atoms stopped separately. The man sighed. “Let's just get this over with.”

What he did next took Lorena by surprise. He flung his strong leg over to the opposite side of her body and lifted his mask up to just over his nose, still concealing his eyes from her view. Lorena stared at him confused, too tired and in pain to do anything right now. What she could see from his face was gorgeous. His perfect nose, the slight pout in his plump lips, and his rich skin tone. He placed his hands on her head, one holding the nape of her neck, and the other pushing her head back.

Then they came out. His fangs. A slight fear washed over her body when she saw them. Was this vampire man about to kill her? Then he sunk them into the skin of her neck. She flinched slightly. What on earth was he doing? More fear entered her when she found she was quickly losing feeling in her feet. It slowly moved up her body. Then her legs. Then her hands. Then her arms. Her nerves being attacked by some kind of paralytic venom. It was most likely coming from his fangs. She felt slightly lucky that she still had feeling in her neck though, especially when he removed his fangs from her neck, and used his textured tongue to clean up the blood. It was warm and comforting to her. Then her neck lost its feeling. Lorena was quickly grateful for the venom when she found herself glitching again, but not feeling any pain from it.

She could feel herself passing out next. As consciousness left her body, the last thing she saw was the man lifting up from her neck and wiping her blood off from his mouth.

---------------------------------------------------

NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: thanks for making it this far!!! lmk if you want to be on the tag list for future parts

#fanfic #spiderman 2099 #fanfiction #fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara x oc #spider man #spiderverse oc #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse

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videogamelover99 · 20 days

Text

[Gravity Falls] Waking Days Ch. 1: Waddles

Summary: Bill Cipher is reborn, but not in the way he would have wanted. Stuck as a mortal and relying on those who brought his downfall, he realizes that maybe he didn't lie as hard as he should have. [AO3 Link] Characters: Bill Cipher, Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines, Stanford Pines, Stanley Pines, Jheselbraum the Unswerving, The Axolotl Pairings: None (past BillFord) Rating: T

A/N: Welcome to my self-indulgent, Bill Cipher-centric character exploration that is this fic! First off, thank you all so much for voicing your support over this story. There's so much planned that I want to share.

The format for this story will have an episodic feel. I originally planned these chapters to be 7k-8k words long, with one "episode" per chapter, but dividing them into smaller chunks might be the way to go.

ALSO! I'm currently looking for a beta reader! Preferably someone with a few published fics, but I'm really open to anyone who can read finalized versions of chapters and give me some notes. Send me an ask if you're interested!

Thank you for going on this journey with me. Enjoy!

---

Deep in the redwood forests of central Oregon lay a small little town called Gravity Falls. With a population of a few thousand, low on tourism, and high on mosquito bites, the town was hard to find on any of the maps, and some might have claimed that the town hadn’t even existed.

Fewer still knew of the oddities that made the town their home, passerbys had nothing to say outside of an “eerie feeling” and a glimpse of tiny men in pointed caps in the corner of their vision.

But the town was real, and the oddities were more real still.

In the outskirts of that town, down a dilapidated forest path, in a clearing sat The Mystery Shack, an old scientist’s lab turned tourist attraction. It was in this house, on a stiff, plushy couch, framed by the light of a seemingly empty water tank, that Bill Cipher, the monster with one eye, harbinger of chaos and trillion-year-old mind demon awoke, in a body that was not his and whose irritating human instincts he deeply resented.

“Gah!”

“Screee!”

"Ow!"

Instincts like rapid breathing, sweatiness, and overall shakiness usually meant one of these dozen organs wasn’t working properly. Unfortunately, after waking up for the dozenth time in this manner, Bill had to admit that the organs weren’t the problem.

Not that he could remember what the problem was. Whatever dream or nightmare had caused this current inconvenient bout of terror, whatever remnants of it were blank, fuzzy static on a rotting television screen.

It was more annoying than anything.

Bill started his nightly routine of picking himself off the floor. The blanket he had was tangled around his legs, which were somehow still on the sofa. After a moment or two of clumsily getting the appendages to move, Bill managed to heave himself upright.

Bill rubbed his eyes, he had two now. So weird.

"Oik!"

Mabel's pig sat on the rug next to his head, staring blankly.

"What're you looking at, huh?"

"Oik!"

"None of your business."

"Oik oik!"

"No, what do I look like, a snack machine?"

"O-oik!"

"Ha! So's your mother!"

Waddles chose that moment to get up and trot away, done with the conversation. Well, good, Bill was done with him, too.

He stole a glance at the water tank. Still empty. Figures old Frilly wouldn't be there when Bill had a bone to pick with him. Maybe he should put some mercury in the water. As a surprise.

What was the point of stuffing him in this body, anyway? Did the ol’ salamander really think it would do anything? Was it to scare him? To torture him? To tell him how awful and evil he was and all those other meaningless statements that Bill had found hilarious in his time?

Crimes against the second dimension? It was a crime that the place had existed the way it did. A rotten, broken building called for a demolition. He’d just had the detonator.

Why would you do this?

Ugh, not again.

I-I wish I was dead! I wish I wouldn’t have to see what a monster you’ve-

Bill pulled himself up onto the couch and raised the blanket over his head. As if that could block out the incessant voice that only showed up at the worst of times.

He would not sleep again.

—

Dipper walked into the kitchen and came face to face with his Great Uncle Stan trying to rinse a semi-cooked egg out of his hair under the kitchen sink.

“Wow, Grunkle Stan, are you okay?”

“Huh?!” Stan turned around, anger barely concealing his twitch of embarrassment. “Oh, it’s just you. Gimmie a hand, kid.”

“What happened?” Dipper asked, angling the faucet to better rinse out Stan’s scalp. He’s done worse things for his Grunkle. Barely.

“That triangle freak happened, that’s what. When I get my hands on him I’m gonna-”

Ah, Dipper should’ve guessed. Bill had developed a bad habit of pranking Grunkle Stan wherever he felt like it and then conveniently disappearing in the aftermath. There was that incident with the freezer a few days ago. And the stick of butter last Sunday. Not to mention the spider incident. Ugh.

It had only been a few weeks since Bill had become the Mystery Shack’s unwilling resident, but even in that short time, he had managed to establish himself as Stan’s worst nightmare. Dipper had a feeling it wasn’t the pranks that got to Stan as much as it was that the demon had managed to one-up him in the trick department so many times.

“Look, just- gimmie word if you see the little devil. We’re gonna have a talk.” Stan clenched his fist in emphasis.

—

Mabel came out of the elevator and was confronted by her Grunkle Ford in a futuristic super suit, pointing a sci-fi gun in her direction.

“Mabel!” He quickly lowered it. “I’m so sorry! It’s the reflexes.”

“What’s that?” Not at all fazed by the near-death experience, she pointed at the gun in question. It didn’t look like the one that shot lasers, and it didn’t look like the one that was basically a giant magnet, so it must’ve been new.

“Oh, this? I was just testing this when you walked in.” Ford trained the gun on an apple sitting on his desk. “Would you like to see how it works? It’s quite fascinating.”

She saw the familiar hazard sign on the side. “Ooh, does it fire radiation, like in that one movie with the green guy? Dipper and I have got to sit you down for one of our movie nights! Culture has come a long way since you fell through that portal.” She added sagely.

Grunkle Ford winced. “Maybe later.”

She hesitated for only a moment, looking down at her shoes. “It’s because of Bill, isn’t it?” she said quietly.

“That’s not something you should worry about.”

“I don’t want you to not spend time with us just because he’s there,” she insisted. “We can tell him to beat it if you need us to.”

“It’s not a discussion I should be having with you. It’s just…never mind. Would you still like to see how this works?” He lifted the gun.

“Sure!” She could brag to Dipper about it later.

Ford once again pointed the gun at the apple and fired. A bright blue flash lit up the room, and a small blue box formed around the apple, trapping it inside. Mabel walked up to it and poked it lightly. The box fizzed but stayed where it was. “Cool! A box gun.”

“My newest invention,” Ford said, picking up the box. “A weapon that locks its target in a perpetual state of quantum uncertainty. I call it ‘Schrodinger’s Pistol’.”

“Wow. So the apple is like, dead and alive in there.”

“I’m surprised you know it.”

“We got taught it in school once. It was about cats! I didn’t think it would be dead cats, though.”

“I see. However, a more accurate description would be that the apple both does and does not exist in this box. To affirm one or the other, we would need to remove the box and check, but until then it would remain in flux.”

“So if we open this box, can I eat it?”

“Well, I suppose if you time it right…” Grunkle Ford hit a switch on the gun and pointed it again. A little meter on the side went up and down up and down up and- he fired. The box disintegrated, leaving behind the apple, the same as it was before. “There we go. Perfectly safe to eat. Probably not full of radiation.”

As Mabel chomped down on the apple, Ford tucked the gun into his belt. “So what did you come to me for?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mabel tried to chew. Bits of apple few in different directions. “Have you seen Waddles? He likes to wander down here sometimes. I’m sending an audition for our school band, and I need a backup dancer. The makeup takes a long time.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen him. Why do you need Waddles for you to do your makeup?”

“Not my makeup, silly. His!”

At that, Ford looked slightly concerned.

—

“There! That should do it.”

Jeselbraum the Unswerving, now in the brand-new human form Ford was still getting used to, backed away from the rift, and watched as the clock-like device buried itself in the bark of the tree the rift had originated from. Lines of metal filaments shot out from the device, embedding themselves in the tree and the ground beneath it. They glowed faintly. The clock chimed.

She gestured for Ford to back away, and he did so, staring at the device in wonder.

String-like tendrils hot out from the filaments, weaving together like a transparent tapestry until they formed a bubble around the clock. As more and more strings shot out, the bubble grew until it contained the tree in its entirety, including the tear in reality that had been causing Ford so many sleepless nights. The strings vanished, and the bubble settled, rippling a little in the wind.

“It’s a time bubble,” Ford said, a hint of wonder escaping him. “But it’s…artificially made?”

“Yes.”

“And it was made by that friend you mentioned?”

“No. He had suggested it as the best course of action,” Jess’s smile turned a little bit smug. “But it was made by me.”

“Ah,” Ford turned back to the time bubble. The tree and everything surrounding it had frozen, time moving at a microscopic degree not perceptible by the human eye. “What a simple solution, delaying the decay as much as possible. I don’t know why I haven’t thought of it.”

“It won’t hold forever,” Jeselbraum’s smile faded. “And it’s only a matter of time before more cracks start forming on this side of the dimensional break. Bill Cipher’s realm cannot be contained, and sooner or later it will implode on itself. He knew that very well, which is why he was so desperate to get out.”

“But if crossing into our dimension would only bring the decay along with him, what was the point?”

She shrugged. “Hindsight is 20/20.”

Ford couldn’t help but laugh. But soon the anxiety returned. “I need to ask you something.”

“Hm?”

“Do you think it’s possible for something to pass through that rift? Into our dimension?”

Jeselbraum pondered the question for a moment. “I suppose it is. And if such a thing happens it will only widen the crack. Think of it like a piece of fabric: if you have one with a tear in it, when you wear the garment that tear can only grow. The only way to repair it is to find the right thread, which…”

“Is currently impossible.”

“Yes.” Jeselbraum scowled. “And if the rip in this dimension continues, it will not just be your dimension at stake.”

—

Bill peered past his distorted reflection into the tank. The Axolotl peered up at him, its beady little eyes blinking once, twice.

It looked just like an ordinary axolotl, but Bill knew better.

“Laugh it up, Frilly,” he muttered. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not gonna work.”

And what do you think I am trying to do?

“You know what!”

Clarification would be helpful.

Chiding. It was chiding him. Like he was a child.

“You’re the one who should be-!”

“Uh, who are you talking to?”

Bill turned around. Dipper was growing up at him, one arm clutching that blue book he always carried. His own little journal. I knew the kid was obsessed but this is embarrassing.

“Someone your limited human mind wouldn’t even comprehend the existence of.”

“So…yourself? Didn’t pin you as that kind of crazy.” Dipper leaned to the side to look behind Bill. Of course, it was useless, because Dipper saw nothing but an empty tank filled with rocks and fake seaweed. The Axolotl only showed itself to those he wanted to, and right now, what he wanted to do was torment Bill.

“Kid, I’m every kind of crazy.”

“Lucky us.”

“Yeup. So, figure it out yet?”

Dipper frowned. “That code. You weren’t just messing with me, were you?”

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. Who knows!”

“You do.”

“Ha! Got me there.”

Dipper scrutinized him for a moment. Bill just grinned. Finally, the boy stomped his foot in frustration. “Ugh, I hate you!” Bill laughed.

“Hey guys,” Mabel walked in, in a brand new sweater that sported a small white goose holding a knife, covered in pink glitter. She held a chocolate bar in her hand. “I heard evil laughter. Nothing’s on fire, right? Have you guys seen Waddles?”

“Nothing’s on fire. And no, I haven’t,” said Dipper, “Bill?”

“Sure I did.”

The two twins waited for him to elaborate.

“He’s a pig. Pink, round, the works.”

“I meant today!” Mabel cried. “Have you seen him today?”

Bill flopped onto the couch and searched for the TV remote. “Nope!”

His view of the screen was quickly taken up by Mabel, her hands on her hips. “I’ve got a word with you, mister.”

Bill made a face. “I told you, I haven’t seen your codependent pig. Ain’t transparent, Shooting Star, get out of the way.”

Mabel did not get out of the way. Instead, she became more in the way, stomping her way closer. “Grunkle Stan looked pretty egged up today. Literally.”

Bill grinned at that. He was pretty proud of that trick in particular. “Oh yeah? Sounds like a case of bad luck. Maybe it’s raining eggs, like that one time in 1376! Ask the gnomes. Or the flesh-eating termites that live in your walls.”

Dipper gave the walls a wary look. Gullible.

“We know it was you,” said Mabel. “Grunkle Stan was pretty angry.” She snatched the remote away from Bill, triumphant in the face of his protest. “You need to say sorry.”

It took a bit for Bill to process what she was saying. Then he laughed. Longer than usual. “Good one, Shooting Star!” He wiped a fake tear from his eye.

“I’m serious,” said Mabel, “if you’re gonna keep living with us-”

“Here’s something I’m letting you in on, kid. A great big secret you’re now privy to. Ready? I don’t apologize. That’s not what I do. What I do is cause unimaginable torment and unending nightmares to the people I don’t like. You know, fun times all around! Saying ‘my bad!’ kinda defeats the point, doesn’t it?”

Mabel stomped her foot. “I want you to say sorry!”

“And I want that remote,” Bill shrugged. “Hey! I know, let’s make a deal. You give me the remote and I tell you where your little pig went.”

Mabel blinked. “You will?”

“Sure! Just shake my hand-”

“Do not shake his hand,” said Dipper.

“Fine,” Bill held his hand out. “Your end first, Star.”

Mabel eyed him with suspicion, but after a beat of silence handed him the remote.

“Well?” Demanded Mabel.

“He went out,” said Bill.

“Out where?”

“Out,” Bill pointed at the door.

“Oh no,” Mabel’s face fell “You let him go outside?!”

“Hey, he’s a free pig, he can do what he wants! Although…” Bill trailed off. “Gotta hand it to ya, kid, you sure know how to keep your pets on a tight leash if you know what I mean. Word of advice, if you’re gonna force your minion to do all your bidding, don’t let him run around all willy-nilly on the off times. Makes them start questioning things.”

“I don’t force him to do anything,” Mabel snapped, suddenly defensive.

“Sure, yeah. Bet he loves being shoved into a princess outfit and paraded out on the street. Or forced to lie on his back for hours as you make a macaroni replica of him. Or made to learn the polka. Don’t need the animal rights brigade showing up at your doorstep!”

“But he loves doing that stuff…” Mabel’s voice took on a strange, thick quality. Suddenly, Bill the conversation a lot less funny than how it started. The dream he had that night had taken the joy out of pretty much everything.

Maybe he’d make her go away. “You sure about that?” He looked pointedly at the door. Mabel seemed to get the message, heading toward it.

“Waddles! Waadles!” Mabel raised the chocolate bar again, a waver in her voice. “I’ve got your favorite snack!” She ran out the door.

Dipper kicked Bill in the shin.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Don’t say stuff like that to Mabel!” said Dipper. “She’s gonna take you seriously!” The boy ran after his sister. “Mabel! Mabel, come back!”

Bill flipped to the reality TV channel. Nothing like watching dumb idiots getting at each other’s throats to make him take his mind off…this entire day.

Where was that pig, anyway?

—

Stan settled the new welcome signs next to the porch and checked his shoes for traps before putting them on. No laces not tied together? Check. No superglue on the soles? Check.

It wasn’t like he asked for this.

I did, damn it. I knew it was a terrible idea to keep him here.

They could’ve…well, not killed him. Dumped him in the nearest asylum maybe. One with tight security. Hey, got another one of those psychopathic crazies, no need to thank us, don’t ask questions, just take him!

Stan picked up the poster boards with gaudy Mystery Shark advertisements and slammed the door harder than necessary. Of course, no one listened to him, the guy with any common sense.

It was late afternoon when he was down to his last poster, tired from all the walking. Dipper had, for once, offered to do this for him, but Stan had already given up the Shack to Soos, and this was…nostalgic, in a way. He looked down at the sign, tracing the old, hand-painted groves he’d hastily carved out the first few years he’d gotten this place. Years of hard work had paid off, after all.

Stan shook himself from the memory, remembered that Ford was here, the portal was dismantled, and the Stan of War 2 existed, and felt ridiculous at how emotional this sign made him all of a sudden. Well, time to leave these feelings in the woods, where they belonged!

He raised his hammer when he heard it, the tell-tale growl of some kind of animal.

His grip on the hammer tightened. The sign and the nail dropped, forgotten.

“Darn coyotes, scram, you hear me!”

The growl did not falter. It got louder as if the thing that made it was getting closer.

It was a strange growl. Instead of a continuous roar, it was like multiple shorter sounds, layered on top of each other in a disjoined, continuous harmony. These sounds felt familiar.

Stan did what any sensible man would do in this situation, and hightailed out of there.

He didn’t get very far, tripping over a large tree root and falling face-first into a large pile of wet leaves.

“Oh, come on!”

He tried to stand up, but his shoe was stuck, wedged between two of the roots. He tried to rip his foot out of the shoe, but not dice. It was like his foot was stuck to the sole.

Like someone had glued it in.

“Are you kidding me? That little-!”

The bush next to him shivered, the growl was louder, and he could finally make out what it was. It was…

OInK.

oinkOinkOINKoiNKoinKoinkOINKoinK!

“Aaaagh!”

The forest was silent once more.

—

“Mabel, what are you doing?”

“Shh.”

Mabel sprinkled some more chocolate in the corner of the back porch. Dipper watched, as in front of his very eyes, a small group of ants emerged from the crack in the floor and carried one of the pieces away.

“Mabel, that’s not gonna help! You’re just attracting more bugs.”

Mabel made a frustrated noise and crumpled up the remaining bar, stuffing it in her pocket. “But he loves chocolate, Dipper! Waddles can’t live without chocolate! Why isn’t he coming back? Do you think something happened to him? Do you think…do you think I’m the one who made him leave?”

“Hey, come on,” Dipper put an arm around his sister. “Don’t listen to Bill. About anything. But especially this. You’re a great owner, and Waddles loves you. We’ll find him!”

Mabel sniffed and wiped her eyes with a chocolate-stained hand. “Promise?”

“Of course, Dum Dum.”

Mabel looked out into the moonlit trees beyond their house, the dark forest surrounding the Shack seemed quiet, today. “Grunkle Stan’s been out for a while, too. Do you think maybe he found Waddles?”

They listened as the wind settled between the trees, rustling the leaves and bending the tall redwoods at their tops.

And another noise. It sounded like a growl.

“Did you hear that?” Mabel asked.

“Yeah,” Dipper looked out into the treeline. “Could be a coyote. Or a mountain lion.”

The growl was louder. Whatever it was, it was coming closer.

“Waddles is out there!” Mabel bolted toward the trees, only for Dipper to grab her by the elbow.

“Mabel, hold on! We don’t know what it is!”

“What if it has Waddles?”

“Waddles is a smart pig, a coyote wouldn’t get him.” Dipper let go of her sleeve once he was sure she wouldn’t run away.

The growl came again, and the hair on Dipper’s arms stood on end. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a wild animal. That growl just sounded wrong. “M-Maybe we should get inside.”

The brush underneath the tree line shook menacingly.

“Like, now.”

Together, they bolted inside and locked the doors.

“But what about the Grunkles?” Mabel asked.

“They have the key,” Dipper assured her. “And survival skills, they’ll be-”

The growl was closer, whatever it was, it was prowling outside.

“We should turn off all the lights,” Dipper said. “Maybe then it’ll leave.”

The twins ran through all the first-floor rooms, turning off each light. It was following them, the growl carrying from the front porch to the kitchen and through the corridor into the living room, where they came face-to-face with their previous enemy, watching TV while hanging upside down from the couch.

Dipper shut off the light and pulled the plug on the TV.

“Hey!”

Dipper tossed the plug aside. “Did you not hear the monster outside?”

“The only monster you’re gonna worry about is the one who’ll rearrange your liver if you don’t plug that thing back- Wait. You hear that?”

The three of them went quiet. The growl came, closer than ever, behind the door to the front porch.

“If we keep very quiet,” Dipper muttered, “It won’t know we’re here.”

“Great plan, kid, file that under-”

“Bill! Shut up!” Dipper whispered harshly.

There was a noise behind the back door. It sounded like-

SNIFF, SNIFF.

For a moment, there was only silence.

“Huh,” Dipper said, “maybe it left.”

SCREEEE!

“Aaaaah!”

Dipper and Mabel grabbed onto each other as something slammed against the door, old hinges creaking under the pressure.

Dipper and Mabel scrambled behind the couch next to Bill. “Can’t you do something?!”

“Oh, yeah, lemme just turn your little problem into a nice party hat and- oh wait, I can’t! Gee, I wonder if it’s because someone killed me and made me lose my powers!”

The monster slammed harder into the door. DIpper flinched and grabbed Mabel’s hand.

“So what’s the plan?” Mabel asked.

“I, uh,” Dipper’s voice got stuck in his throat as the unknown creature let out a distorted, hungry roar.

“Set it on fire,” said Bill.

“We’re not doing that,” Dipper said.

“Fine, you got any venomous snakes lying around?”

“We’re definitely not doing…whatever that is.”

The growl faded into an eerie silence.

“Do you think it’s gone?” Mabel whispered.

Dipper strained to hear anything outside of the house. Nothing but the wind and the trees creaking outside.

Carefully, Dipper climbed from behind the couch, Mabel following suit. He walked over to the door and pressed his ear on its surface. He then peaked through the blinds. The porch was empty, and so was the surrounding clearing.

“Haha, it’s gone!” Dipper breathed a sigh of relief.

“Whadaya think it was?” Mabel asked.

“No idea. Some mutated wild animal? A creature we haven’t seen yet?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t run after it,” Mabel joked.

“Didn’t need to!” Dipper grinned. “The security system, remember? Soos updated it recently, it covers even more ground now. Whatever it is, it was caught on tape, we just have to play it back.”

“Then let's do it!”

The office didn’t look that different than it had a year ago. The room was filled with Stan’s old knickknacks, but there was a Soos touch to things in the corners, evidence of the new Mr. Mystery’s influence. The gaming system in the corner, for one, and the little anime figurines on the desk. There was a photo of Melody on the wall, standing on a Portland beach and smiling at the camera. Another photo was of Soos, Dipper, and Wendy in front of that jacked-up go-cart Soos made for his web show.

“Okay, here we go,” Dipper found the remote and wound back the tape playing on the monitor. “Huh, that’s…weird.”

Dipper went frame by frame through the tape. Just a few seconds after Mabel and Dipper locked the door, a strange distortion came over the TV, making the porch appear fuzzy and pixelated. Like the tape itself was corrupted.

The fuzzy spot in the tape moved off-screen, seemingly circling the Shack, before coming back around and lingering on the porch.

“It’s censored!” Mabel said. “Like-”

“Looks like your little Mystery Monster’s got a knack for practical illusions!”

The twins both jumped and Bill’s sudden, grating voice. He was standing near the door, staring at the monitor with a curiosity Dipper didn’t like.

“What do you want?” Mabel snapped. Dipper was surprised by how harsh it sounded. Out of all the Pines, Mabel by far had the most patience with Bill. A worrying amount of patience.

Bill seemed surprised too, but only for a moment. He shrugged, pointing a thumb back a the entrance. “Unfortunately, your WEIRD HUMAN FLESH is also stupidly tasty. And now I’m stuck as one of you! Getting eaten by your guest of the week would just be embarrassing.”

“Do you know what it is?” Dipper asked.

Bill came closer and squinted at the screen. “Fella’s got a knack for bending light, something only 51 species on your planet are capable of.” Bill tried counting on his fingers, then gave up. “Could be a badger.”

“Badgers are capable of bending light?”

“You’ve never met enough badgers!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, it’s gone now,” Dipper sighed, “I should’ve gotten a glimpse while I had the chance.”

“Eager to be badger food?”

“It’s not a badger!”

“Guys,” Mabel said, “I think Dipper’s getting his wish.”

Something was creaking out in the hall.

“It’s just the floor, the wood is old,” Dipper said.

“Yeah, and bendy.”

“Yeah, and…” Dipper trailed off to see what his sister was pointing at. There, on the floor, two of the planks bent up, as if something underneath was trying to get out. That strange growl came, quieter and more distinct. It almost sounded like-

A nail from one of the planks came away and bounced off the wall.

“It can burrow,” Dipper whispered in awe.

“Less gawking more running, Bro-bro!” Mabel yanked him by the hand and they ran out of the office, Bill not far behind.

Dipper found his footing. “Gift shop! If we get into the basement, maybe-”

The planks came away, and wood splinters rained on the three of them. Dipper turned to see what this new monster they’d encountered was, and froze in his tracks.

Mabel beat him to it. “Waddles?!”

#gravity falls #bill cipher #flat dreams #pengychan #fanfiction #the book of bill #human bill au #waking days reboot #a different form a different time #vee's writing #doodledrawsthings

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unseededtoast · 2 months

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Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twenty Two

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross posted on my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those formats. Here is a link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted.

"But that night you got hurt, I enjoyed killing them. I liked hearing them die in front of me, their blood staining my hands."

Joel and I don't stay in the town for another night, we continue on. Our pace is slower than what I've become accustomed to, but Joel's wound isn't completely healed yet. The two of us have been silent after our discovery, Joel didn't have anything to say after I declared my death threat. No, instead of saying anything, he just handed me the photos and nodded solemnly.

With the two of us getting closer and closer to Omaha, I find myself feeling appreciative of Joel's slower pace. This gives us opportunities to find things we may have otherwise missed. And it also gives me more time with him. Since his near-death experience, I find myself trying to memorize the way his eyes shine golden in the sunlight, the way his voice sounds in the morning, how his shirt clings to the broadness of his shoulders, just small details. The small details are the ones I know will fade first, and I want to be able to hold onto them for as long as possible.

I know this to be fact because I can no longer quite remember what Ryan's voice really sounded like, and I can't quite remember just how soft Lucas' hair was. The simple things about them have slowly faded from my mind without me realizing it, until I thought about them one day and could never truly remember. I've never been able to forgive myself for forgetting, and I know I don't want to forget these things about Joel. After all, he's the man who has kept me alive all this time.

A part of me wishes I could be there when he's reunited with his pseudo-daughter. I wonder if he's going to tell her about this, or never mention it to her at all. She would have no idea I exist, or that Joel and I took this trip together. I know Joel is trying to protect her from the people of this world due to her immunity, so it makes sense if he never tells her about any of this. She's still a child at the end of the day, and no child should hear that there's a bunch of crazed men out there trying to find and kill them. Even if she never knows about me, or any of this, I know I'll still be able to rest peacefully at night with the knowledge that I helped protect her.

"This okay for tonight?" We stop walking as Joel points out a small, run-down gas station. It's likely the only building for miles, and so I agree to stop here for the night.

As we set up our makeshift camp, I continue to think about the girl waiting for him back in Wyoming. After hours of on-the-road thoughts, I can't help but to be fascinated with someone who is immune. It's glaringly obvious that she's one of a kind. Sure, I've known for a while that she's immune, but I think it just took some time to process it, to really understand what it means and the ramifications of it. But mostly, I just want to know how it happened. What caused her to be immune and why it's not being replicated anywhere else, that we know of.

My eyes follow Joel's form as he starts the fire for the night, my thoughts anywhere but the present. I watch how he situates the flammable material while wondering what his life is like in Wyoming and if he's excited to be back. Obviously, he's probably eager considering he's got family waiting for him. He lights the fire and the amber glow illuminates his features in soft light. His eyes look warm and inviting, the curve of his nose beautifully adorns his face with unique character, the plumpness of his lips reflect with the drink of water he just took. As if he feels my eyes lingering on him, he looks over and meets my gaze.

"What's on your mind?" He asks, shifting back from the fire a few feet as it takes flame. My eyes dance between him and the fire, debating if I should confess or not.

"I um, I've just been thinking about a lot of things." It's not a complete lie, I guess. Orange flames rise and dissipate, crackling in front of us.

"About what? You've been quiet since this morning." Instead of confiding in him my most recent thoughts, I decide to unload the other thing that's been bothering me for a while now, since he was stabbed. With a sigh and a quick lick of my lips, I tell him my moral dilemma.

"I've never been one to enjoy taking a life. Didn't like it when I was on FEDRA gate duty, and I didn't like it when we ran into the Fireflies. But that night you got hurt, I enjoyed killing them. I liked hearing them die in front of me, their blood staining my hands. And I've been having these thoughts of what it's going to feel like to kill these people. It's almost anticipatory." Our eyes stay locked on one another as I speak, my words quiet and somber. With a shaky breath, I continue,

"And I'm not sure what that makes me. Am I really any different from them if I look forward to killing?" My throat constricts, like my body doesn't want me to voice my fear. The silence between us is palpable and dread grows in me with each second Joel doesn't say something. Not being able to handle the criticism when he opens his mouth, I focus on the fire.

"Doesn't make you a bad person, if that's what you're worried about." He finally speaks, and his words catch me off guard, the total opposite of what I was expecting.

"Then what does it make me? Because it isn't good." My voice cracks. I know it's not fair to be asking him these questions, but, I can't stop from asking them. He shifts his weight to his other side and leans forward slightly, looking deeper into my eyes and I fear if he looks too hard he'll be able to see right into my soul.

"Makes you human. Means you have purpose, something worth protecting. Or, in your case, a ledger to balance." There is no trace of anything but authenticity as he speaks, his words settling into my mind. My eyebrows come close together as I mull over what he's said and I realize he may be right.

"You know I really thought you were going to die that night." I change the subject slightly, not wanting to admit to him that he's becoming my 'something to protect' and a part of my 'ledger to balance'.

"And if I did I suppose it was just my time." He relaxes his posture as if the thought of death is no more stressful than deciding what he's going to wear the next day.

"Don't say that." I shake my head, not wanting any more images of his dead body in my mind. The one from this morning, from the photos, still haven't left my mind. Each time they pop up behind my eyelids, it instills a new fear in me each time.

"You did a damn good stitch job." He tries to lighten the mood, pulling up the hem of his shirt to show the still intact sutures.

"It's a wonder you didn't bleed out. Do you even remember what happened?" I'm not entirely sure how much he saw, or what he remembers. To answer my question, he shakes his head.

"Not really, just remember you gettin' there and the rest is just kind of-" He motions with his hands that his memory of the night has become scrambled.

"One of them got you real good with their machete. I stuffed the wound with my shirt to try to stop the bleed and then I had to get you to another building. On the ground just outside of where we ended up there was one of their torches, barely still burning on the sidewalk. So I took it and heated the blade of my hunting knife, then I cauterized the cut. Found the sewing supplies when I was looking around and just did my best. Truthfully, you lost a lot of blood, like, way too much." I give him the brief recounting of the night. His fingers lightly trace the stitching before he meets my eyes again.

"Thank you." He tenderly says, dropping the hem of his shirt.

"It was the least I could do." I shrug one of my shoulders. The silence between us returns for a few more moments before Joel announces that he's going to get some sleep for the night. I tell him I'm going to as well, but end up staying awake.

After a while, the flames of the fire begin dying off but my eyes remain affixed to the back of Joel. The shirt across his shoulders is drawn tight, battling to stay intact. His dark curls are barely brushing the collar of the shirt, more prominent from the humidity of the day. As my eyes wander down his solid form, the chain around my neck seems to burn my skin. Disgust with myself boils up from within, and I force myself to look away from Joel.

My gaze turns up to the ceiling and I try to flood my mind with how Ryan sounded, how he felt, how he loved me. Bits and pieces come back, like how his hand felt on my cheek, how solid his chest felt when I hugged him, but I cannot remember his voice. I can feel the timbre of it, but can't place the true tone and inflection. Tears well in my lower lash line as I accept that I genuinely can't remember him fully anymore. I've known for a while that certain things have faded, but I never took the time to mourn that loss, I have not allowed myself to mourn Ryan the way I should have all those years ago.

My hands curl into frustrated fists, my nails digging crescent shapes into my palm as silent tears run down my face. Tears of guilt for forgetting, tears of sadness because I can no longer remember all of my husband. Tears of fear because I realize that I may be falling in love with another man; one whom I cannot be with. I grit my teeth together in lieu of screaming and a hollow feeling opens in my chest.

Moving faster than my mind can keep up, I go outside where the air hits the wetness of my face and sends a shiver down my spine. Once I'm sure that I'm far enough to where Joel can't hear me, I let myself cry. With each ragged breath I take my chest heaves up and down unevenly. Tears uncontrollably run down my face and I grip the chain around my neck tightly, wishing I could just have one more second with my family, wishing I could feel the warmth of their skin on mine, to tell them how much I love them one final time. Hoping and praying that my love for them and their absence is enough to stave off the feeling blooming inside of me for Joel.

All through the past ten years I've yearned to have my family back, there's been a hole in my heart, a void that has never been filled since outbreak day. A void that hasn't been hurting as much the past couple of weeks. I've always missed Ryan and Lucas, but lately their absence has been a dull ache as opposed to the sharp stabbing I'm used to. I'm not sure what this means, because I know I love and miss them vehemently. But I also know how I feel about Joel.

Unable to stay standing, I lower myself to my knees, burying my face in my hands. My eyes squeeze shut and the tears fall off the ends of my eyelashes. Guilt overtakes me as I remember how on outbreak night Ryan protected Lucas and I to the best of his ability. How he told me he loved me, and that we were going to be alright. If only I had turned that corner first. Why was I the one to survive, but they had to die?

Guilt burns into anger and I blame myself for what happened. If only I had been brave enough to go first, then maybe they would still be on this Earth. I know they could've forged a life for themselves somewhere. Meanwhile I was content being shipped everywhere and ended up being a lowly pill runner. Why couldn't that FEDRA guard have shot the infected two seconds earlier and spared them? It just isn't right.

Sobs strain my throat while I try to stay quiet and I use the sleeve of my button up to wipe my nose. The stars above me shine brightly and I stare at them, stray tears falling down my cheeks. If only they could reach out to me and let me know that wherever they are, that they're together and they're not suffering, that they're not angry at me for feeling this way about Joel.

Ryan and Lucas will never be able to be replaced, they will always occupy a special place in my heart. I know I can never have them back with me physically, yet I know that they are forever with me, tethered to the very fiber of my being. But I feel that my heart is opening up a new spot, and I'm not sure I'll be able to kill whatever is blooming. I'm not sure I want to.

With wide eyes I search the sky for some sort of sign, some indication that my feelings are right or wrong. But my search is cut short when I hear the door of the gas station open. Quickly, I use the sleeve of my shirt to wipe my face and hope that the darkness of night will conceal my puffy face. As my head turns to face Joel, I can almost swear I see a streak of light in the sky. But by the time I do a double take, whatever I thought I saw, is gone.

"Are you okay?" Joel's voice cautiously asks as he slowly approaches me. The stars are shining so bright tonight that I can see the familiar crease between his brows. His boots crunch softly on the loose pebbles on the pavement and I nod my head, trying to stabilize my breathing.

"I'm okay." My voice betrays me as I speak, it comes out hoarse. Joel comes to my side, and lowers himself next to me, crouching instead of resting on his knees.

"Why don't you come back inside? I'll get the fire started up again." I feel his eyes on me as I stare back at the sky, one last lone tear sliding down my cheek. Joel's words are smooth as honey, calming and soft. A gust of wind blows past us, sending another shiver up my body.

Joel must see the slight quiver as the breeze passes, and he puts an arm around my shoulders, the other under my elbow, and he helps me back to my feet. He keeps his arm gently wrapped around me as we go back to the gas station, and I lean into his touch out of instinct. Before we enter the building, I stop and take one last look at the sky, hopeful to see whatever it was that zoomed past when Joel stepped outside just to confirm what I think it was. But nothing happens.

I step back into the building in front of Joel, who works to get the fire reignited. My body begins to physically calm down from my crying, jagged breaths turn into hiccups. The first one shocks us both, but after the second I think I can almost see a tiny smile on Joel's face. However, when he turns to me after the fire is rebuilt all signs of a smile are gone and is instead replaced with a caring expression. Joel's dark brown eyes are wide and I see how his eyes look over my face, his shoulders aren't tight and rigid, he almost looks relaxed.

He walks over to me and leads me to what I've claimed as my spot for the night, marked by my backpack. Gingerly, he sits me down and crouches by my side once more, moving a rogue strand of hair out of my face that was plastered to my cheek from the tears. His fingers are warm against my face, and he lets them linger there for just a second longer than he needs to. My eyes slowly blink, appreciative of the contact. He licks his lips and his eyes look over my face once more, trying to piece together what's wrong.

"You don't have to tell me why, but I just need to know that you're alright, that you're not hurt." I look into his eyes that are inches from me and I nod with another hiccup jolting through me.

"I'm not hurt." My hoarse voice confirms to him and I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand to dry them fully. I feel that my eyes are puffy, my lips swollen from keeping quiet and I hope I don't look as disheveled as I feel inside.

"Okay." Joel nods and only then does he back away from me. Though I wish he would stay. However, I know that with my uncertain emotions, that it's probably better he that he doesn't. For his sake. He doesn't need to be roped into my personal shit show.

Every few minutes a hiccup interrupts the quiet, and each time I see Joel struggle to keep a smile at bay. I'll admit, they do sound a little ridiculous and if I weren't so upset I'd probably laugh at them too. But as my hiccups calm down, I find myself transfixed by the dancing flames.

Perhaps I needed to come to terms with my reality, accept my losses, and understand how Ryan and Lucas are still a part of me to be okay with something new. And perhaps this something new is for the better. Even if it doesn't work out, at least I know I'm still human enough, capable enough, to keep going.

Twenty Three

#joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou fic #joel miller the last of us fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us joel #joel the last of us #pedro pascal

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nikeshady-blog · 1 year

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Slip

Written for @hinnymicrofic September 15, 2023

Sorry if I'm a day late. I loved the prompt and I really wanted to write this! Sorry if it is also a bit too long (650 words).

Ginny was miserable. The ride from King’s Cross to the Burrow had been a drag. She had not cried or shown any emotion since Harry had broken up with her. She did not want to make things harder than they already were, for herself and for Harry. But she had not had the strength to see him again, to talk to him: it hurt too much, everything was still too fresh.

She had decided not to tell anyone about their relationship: she did not want teasing or anger from her brothers, and she did not need pity from her parents. It was for the best; no one could understand anyway. Harry was what she had always wanted, first as a crush, then as admiration and attraction, finally – no point in denying it – as love. He was everything she had ever wanted, and now that she had seen that reality was even better than her wildest fantasy, she had to watch him slip away. It hurt even more. She knew it was all for a stupid, noble reason. She didn’t blame Harry, and the fact that she couldn’t really get mad at him only made it harder.

Night had fallen now, and Ginny was safely cocooned in the sacred, enclosed space of her room. Now that no one could see her, she could finally cry. She cried for what had been, and even more for what might have been, and then she cried for what might never be. It was silent weeping: no sobs, just the slow, unrelenting trickle of tears. In the absolute silence of the Burrow, a single word slipped from her lips, “Harry”. Barely more than a whisper, it was as if his name had been ripped away against her will from the cage she had built around her heart.

At that very moment, Molly walked past her door. She had known right away that something was wrong with her daughter. She heard her anguished whisper and opened the door. He saw her in tears, slumped on the bed, looking more miserable than she had seen her since the Chamber of Secrets. For a moment, a long look passed between mother and daughter, then, without a word, Molly took Ginny’s favorite brush, sat down on the bed beside her, and began to brush her hair as she had done every night when she was a child. The gesture, so familiar, broke down the barriers Ginny had built up and she told her everything. Molly listened in silence.

“I feel like a baby!” Ginny finally exclaimed, angry at herself for what she considered a sign of childish weakness.

“We all need to feel like children sometimes,” Molly replied calmly, “but you made a woman’s choice. I’m proud of you.”

Ginny turned to see a smile of affection on her mother’s face. She could only nod.

“Let me tell you something.” She added as she finished combing her daughter’s hair. “If you really think Harry is the one for you, if you’re absolutely sure, if you... if you think you love him...”

Molly paused and looked her daughter straight in the eyes, the same shade of chocolate as her own.

“If you think you love him, don’t give up on him. If there is any motherly advice I can ever give you, it is this: never give up on love. If we give up on love, then we have already lost everything. Love is stronger than anything. I know it won’t be easy, I know it may be the hardest thing anyone can ask of you, but you are strong, and love is always worth it. Dare to dream and always dare to love.”

For the first time that day, a small smile appeared on Ginny’s face as she nodded in response. She watched her mother slip out of her room and thought that no, she would never stop daring to dream and daring to love.

You can now read all my Hinny microfics on AO3 and Fanfiction.net as well. Here is the link to the collections:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14278093/1/This-is-Just-for-the-Two-of-Us-HarryGinny-Microfics-Collection

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50063902?view_full_work=true

#HINNY #HINNY MICROFIC #HINNY FANFIC #HARRY X GINNY #GINNY WEASLEY #HARRY POTTER #HARRY POTTER FANFICTION #MICROFICTION #molly weasley

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eryiss · 13 days

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Fraxus Week 2024 - Day 7: Guildmates

Description: Freed kept his private life private. Nobody needed to know he and Laxus were seeing each other. But then Laxus was beaten bloody and unconscious on a mission, and wouldn’t wake up. Privacy meant nothing anymore. Freed would be by Laxus' bedside no matter who saw.

Notes: Day seven, and still this event is hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. The final day, and a bit of angst and emotions. Also their relationship seen from other people's perspective.

Link: Ao3

The Top Of His List

Natsu – Day 1

Quite a lot of people wrote Natsu off in intelligence, and he didn't mind that. The way he saw it, if people wanted to underestimate him, then eventually they'd be proven wrong, and the longer it took for that to happen, the more embarrassing it would be for whoever had been wrong about him.

He wouldn't exactly say that he was book-smart, but there were other types of ways to be intelligent. He was people smart. He could read them, adapt to them, and know what they wanted from him. He didn't necessarily act on what he saw all the time, and sometimes his mind flickered past his insights he'd picked up on; but he was a busy man with a lot to do, he could hardly handhold everyone in the guild and point out what they hadn't seen for themselves.

But, whatever, he was smart with people. That's how he picked up and Laxus and Freed getting together earlier than anyone else had.

Freed had been the one to give it away, actually. Natsu had cornered Laxus and the Thunder Legion and demanded that Laxus fight him. At this point, he didn't expect Laxus to ever agree, but it was fun to get under his skin. Laxus had, of course, told him to kick rocks, but then Freed had smirked and told Laxus that maybe he should get some training in, or else his muscles might atrophy. Laxus had bounced back and said that maybe Freed was the one who needed some extra work before their next mission. Then, and Natsu never could have expected this, Freed had agreed, and they'd spent the afternoon sparing.

That was all Natsu needed to know. Freed doubling down on annoying Laxus, Laxus showing his own teasingly antagonistic side, and then Freed putting his pride to the side and having fun was like a clanging bell. Those were the actions of two men who had put away their years long sexual tension and were happy and sated. From then on, the little smiles, lingering touches, and whispered words were hard to miss.

He wouldn't tell anyone. He'd just gloat when they eventually went public.

Annoyingly, he never got the chance to gloat. The evening was winding down and there was hardly anyone left when an explosion of power filled the space. Everyone still around was on their feet immediately, ready to fight should they need to. Natsu was at the front, hands engulfed in flames as he waited to pounce. He only just managed to stop himself when he realised who the emerging figures were.

Freed was drenched in blood, with ripped flesh and cartilage hanging from him. His clothes were torn, and his sword blade shattered. His eye pulses with darkness and he looked like he was on his last legs.

Laxus though, looked dead. He was unconscious, Freed holding him up with shaking arms, and cut to pieces. He had at least twenty runes plastered on his skin, and Natsu could only assume they were the only things keeping him together. There were burn marks, bite marks, and blade marks over his body, and Natsu had to wonder what the hell had happened to them.

There was no time for that though. Everyone looked at them in shock, and Freed was hardly in a state to take charge. Natsu glanced around, and glanced at Jet, who thankfully was still there.

"Get Porlyusica," he instructed, removing the flames from his fists. Jet nodded and ran off, as Natsu approached Freed. "Give him to me, man. I'll take him to the infirmary."

"No," Freed croaked out, voice broken. "No."

"Let me take him, Freed," Natsu insisted. He went to try and hook his arm under Laxus' legs, but Freed glared at him, sharp and nasty. "You look like you're gonna collapse on us, and I don't think him falling to the ground and smashing his head is gonna help. Let me take him."

Getting Laxus in his arms wasn't an easy feat. Freed was still reluctant to fully release him but must have known Natsu was right as he let Natsu hold him bridal style, and settled on squeezing Laxus' hand tight as they went to the infirmary.

"You think maybe you should lie down too," Natsu suggested once he'd carefully got Laxus on the bed. "You're not in great shape."

"I'm fine," Freed said blankly. "The blood isn't mine."

There was an undertone of threat in there, and Natsu would put money on Freed having gone all out on whoever had put Laxus in such a state. Natsu had never seen Freed fully unleashed, but had always assumed there would be a howling fury trying to break out into the surface. If Freed and Laxus cared for each other in the way Natsu was sure that they did, then anyone who had hurt Laxus so much would have to face the hell of a quiet man.

But now, the adrenaline must have worn off, because Freed was looking down at Natsu with empty eyes, fear radiating off him. Natsu couldn't imagine what it would be like; to look at the man you loved as he might be dying. If it were happening to him, he'd want to burn down the world.

There wasn't much anyone could do until Porlyusica arrived, but Natsu felt like he shouldn't leave Freed and Laxus alone. Freed was running on fumes, and if he collapsed then someone should be there to help. He grabbed a chair and placed it next to Freed. Freed sat, finger stroking down Laxus' knuckles.

"He's getting cold," Freed eventually said. "There's no heating in here. Would you mind?"

Natsu set his hands on fire again without further prompting, holding them close to Laxus and slowly moving them up and down his body. He risked a glance at Freed, and saw unshed tears thorough the gore still painting him.

He didn't say anything. He just kept Laxus warm. Sometimes, you just needed to shut your mouth, and Natsu could do that.

———

Kinana – Day 2

Knocking twice gently on the infirmary, Kinana pushed open and walked through, a pile of blankets, pillows and hot water bottles hefted under her arm. She saw them both immediately, Laxus still unconscious and plastered with bandages and recovery spells, and Freed sat next to the bed, slumped over and sleeping.

She did try not to wake him, but Freed must have been a light sleeper, as the second she walked into the room his head shot up. There was protectiveness, panic, and sadness in his expression all at once. If she knew him better, she might have offered to hug him.

"Evening," she said gently, walked towards him. "I've got these for you."

She placed the blankets, pillows, and self heating hot water bottles on the little bench at the end of Laxus' bed. It looked like it took Freed a lagging moment to realise what they were, and the moment he did, he was placing a blanket over Laxus and wrapping him tightly up with it. He slid the hot water bottle under Laxus' pillow and looked down at him with rough sadness.

Before she'd gone in, Makarov had took her to the side. Natsu had spoken to him in the morning and said not to be shocked if Freed looked more worried than a teammate and a friend might. Makarov had told her to not make a big deal out of anything she saw, and to keep any secrets to herself.

"Keep one for yourself," she instructed gently. "If you're planning on sleeping here again, you should have something to warm yourself up with."

"He needs it more than me."

"There're four blankets, Freed. At some point it'd be altruism for altruisms sake," she took one of the blankets – the thickest, fluffiest one – and wrapped it around Freed's shoulders. "I'm sure he'll cope without it."

"Yes. He probably will," he laughed quietly. "I expect he'd either mock or electrocute me if I covered him in all of them, actually."

Kinana looked down at him, watching as he stroked the knuckles of the man he probably loved. She didn't know Freed well. Other than when he was ordering a drink, he was just another face in the crowd really, but he wasn't exactly the type to be forthcoming with his private life. Even that little statement, that tiny little window into their life behind closed doors, was more than she'd ever known about a man she saw almost every day.

It was also a silent plea. A signifier that Freed needed something from her, even if he didn't quite know what yet. She did, though. She was a barmaid, as well as having lived without a voice for a fair few years. She knew how to listen.

"I don't really know much about him," she admitted, pulling up a seat and sitting next to him. "Tell me about him."

"Oh, he's a nightmare," Freed laughed, squeezing Laxus' hands. "Socially inept, dresses like he's allergic to quality fabrics, and absolutely terrible with directions."

He looked indulgent as he thought over their relationship, and that only made Kinana feel sad for him. She'd never had love like that, but she liked to think one day she would. Being on the precipice of having that taken away from him must be torture, and yet Freed was smiling anyway. She supposed that's what it meant to be in love; there would always be something you could smile about, even on the bad days.

"I expect you've probably only heard about him at his worst," Freed kept on going, and Kinana leant in to listen. She didn't correct him; he wasn't exactly wrong. "I'm not going to deny he has his problems, or claim that what we did was right, but I do sometimes wonder how many people have a skewed view of him."

"I'm not in a rush to leave."

Freed seemed to consider for a moment, then went on. "A couple of years ago – well, I suppose it would be over ten years for you – the two of us went on a mission together. I was eighteen, he was twenty, and we were both just… just abysmal at communicating. With each other and with the rest of the world. We hadn't met Bickslow or Evergreen yet, so it was just the two of us. We were good at the magical element, less so at the interpersonal side."

He looked lost in the memory, smiling as he gently stroked Laxus' torn up arm. Laxus still didn't move, and Kinana seriously hoped that Wendy would be back soon. Anyone who could bring such open fondness from a man like Freed would rip his heart out if he died.

"There was a month where missions were few and far between. The only A-Class mission required infiltration, and we refused to take anything lower ranked. So we took it, and it ended up with us going to a gay bar. I don't remember how, but they were very exclusive. They didn't think we were gay. How, I've no idea. Our clothing doesn't exactly scream heterosexual, but whatever. Frankly, I got offended. I'd only just realised my sexuality and was quite militant with it and was getting agitated.

"I think Laxus saw I was close to breaking cover. He just grabbed me, kissed me, and walked past the club's bouncer," Freed chuckled. "I was too amped up to process it in the moment. That was our first kiss. He wouldn't look at me for the whole night. He was so red. He stumbled over his words. He was just… such a darling. That's what I started to fall for him, I think."

"That sounds nice," Kinana said slowly, unsure. Freed huffed out a laugh.

"It was terrible," he grinned. "We were standing in slush, the club was revolting, and we ended up having to spend the night in a rune army holding cell. We got the wrong man, and he wasn't pleased. Laxus blamed me. I blamed him. We argued all the way home. But I could feel that kiss for weeks." He ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Nice to have memories, isn't it?"

She couldn't answer that. "You'll make more."

"Perhaps," Freed sighed, and looked down at Laxus' unmoving body. "Could I have some time alone, please? Would you mind?"

"Of course," Kinana left as quietly as she came, and only when the door was shut tight did she let her shoulders slump. She barely knew either of them, and yet seeing Freed teetering in the edge of misery, made her want to weep.

———

Wendy – Day 3

The moment she returned to the guild she was guided into the infirmary. She was given a smattering of information, which all amounted to Laxus being on the brink of death, being plastered in Porlyusica's spells to keep him going, and needing the best of her spells to give him a hope of surviving.

She had been tired and ready to sleep when she got back, but the second she saw how bad Laxus actually looked, she got to work. It was like all her magical reserves came back in full force, and she got to work.

Freed didn't leave while she worked, despite her asking. He wasn't a distraction nor a negative, but he clearly cared for Laxus and seeing him healed might have been unpleasant. People tended to think healing magic was made up of soft lighting and warm glowing, but the reality was less pleasant. Flesh needed to nit together, the body jerked and pulsed and spasmed, and the energy needed to heal often made the patient look closer to death than they had been before. It could be hard to watch.

But Freed watched it all, eyes hard and gaze unmoving. He only let go of Laxus' hand when Wendy got close to it with her spells and was holding onto it again the moment she was done. She hadn't known the two of them were anything – Freed hadn't mentioned it on their occasional missions together – but she saw love and fear radiate off of Freed in every moment.

"All done," she said as she stepped back, exhaustion heavy all of a sudden. Freed snapped his gaze to her.

"Really?"

"Really," she confirmed. "I know he still looks beat up, but he's on his way."

"So, he's okay?"

"He will be," she sat opposite Freed. "The body only has a certain amount of energy in it, and we're using that energy to heal him up. If I cast the spells to fully heal him instantly, the calories and energy would start to eat away at him. But doing it slowly will allow him to catch up. But he's stable and getting better every second. We just have to wait."

"So he's not in danger anymore?"

"He should be fine. So long as we keep an eye on things and make sure the spells are working."

"And when will he wake up?"

"I can't say," she apologised. "But he will, eventually, I'm sure of it."

"Of course you can't," Freed whispered. "Sorry, I shouldn't be putting this on you. You haven't had a moment to catch your breath since you got back and I'm just heaping pressure onto you. I haven't been sleeping well. My apologies."

She hadn't blamed him. She was a healer; seeing people stressed and worried and a little selfish was what she was used to.

"It's fine. I understand."

"I doubt it," Freed exhaled, then screwed up his face. "Sorry, that's dismissive."

"It's fine, but I might actually know a little bit about how you're feeling," she said, watching as Freed's eyes tried to settle on her, only to fall back on Laxus moments later. She pushed on. "When I joined the guild, it felt like being a Dragon Slayer wasn't just my thing, so I started researching any way I could. I found every book, I tome and rumour I could about us. There's this one thing, it's called the Snap. Have you heard of it?"

"No."

"It's a little bit like a soulmate, I think," she fidgeted with her sleeves. "But wider. It doesn't have to be a person. It can be a group, or a place, or anything really. But there's something that's… the word they used is fated. Every dragon slayer has this fated thing, or moment, or person that just sort of snaps into their life. It creates a bond. A link. When it's with a person, apparently it gives a kind of warmth. A completeness. That's in the Dragon Slayer and in whoever it is they've snapped with. And apparently, if that snap is at risk of being ruined, that warmth goes away. Makes you feel hollow and scared. It sounded horrible, really. I stopped reading after that. I think the guild might just be like that for me and the thought of losing that would be…" she winced. "I'm sorry you might be feeling like that. That's all I meant to say."

Freed took a quiet moment to think. "It's nice to think we might be intertwined together. Thank you."

———

Makarov – Day 4

While he wasn't proud of it, Makarov had been avoiding the infirmary since Laxus and Freed had returned to the guild. It wasn't just that his grandson was fighting off death the moment he arrived, there was also the issue of Freed.

Freed, who was apparently dating Laxus, and had been forced to reveal their relationship or end up wallowing in fear and panic until Laxus was back on his feet again. They were both private men, and who knew how long they'd been together before this. Coupling that with the natural high emotions of seeing your partner in such a state and, well… nobody would blame Freed for being volatile and taking out his anxiety on whoever came close.

"He'll be all right, you know," Makarov said in lieu of greeting. "He's strong."

"Strength doesn't really do much against internal bleeding," Freed said without emotion. That meant he was angry. When his emotions were overtaking him, he was sharp and vacant.

"You know what he's like. He'd never let something like this keep him down."

"I'm sure you'd say he wouldn't let a dark guild get the jump on us and nearly kill him on the spot. That happened too."

"Well," Makarov walked over, keeping a wide birth from Freed. "I think you should at least get out of this room and have a sleep in your own bed. There's nothing you can do here that you can't do at home, and I promise that I'll make sure there's someone in here at all times watching him." He tried to put authority in his voice. Freed didn't even look his way. "If he were awake; I'm sure there's no way he'd want you-"

"Why are you trying to pretend that you know him better than I do?" Freed snapped, and Makarov halted.

"What?"

"Let's not pretend you've done anything other than keep him at arms length since he became an adult," Freed kept looking at Laxus and he spoke, quick and sharp. "That's why he was able to plot what we did in the harvest festival without you knowing. That's why he was able to walk away from the guild without any real arguments. That's why I never broached the subject of telling you that we were together. Because frankly, I wasn't entirely sure you'd care."

It was hard not to take it personally. It was hard to remember Freed was consumed with worry. It was hard to contend with the fact that Freed had a point.

"And you also shouldn't suggest that he's in control of his recovery," Freed's hands were fidgeting now. "He had no choice now. No actions. Nothing. He's just a body that's ruined and a mind that isn't working, so don't put his recovery on him. He's not in there anymore."

He did look like a corpse. He did. That's why Makarov couldn't look at him.

"I know him better than you," Freed reaffirmed. "I know what he's like when he's sick, and when he's scared, and when he's excited. I know him and I refuse to leave him. Not now. I refuse. I'm not doing it."

The words came out on a sob, and Makarov suddenly wished he had gotten to know the man fighting back tears. This was the man who his grandson likely loved, and yet Makarov didn't know what to do as he cried. He knew Freed as a member of his guild, and as a friend of his grandson, but he didn't know who Freed was when he was caring for Laxus. He didn't know who Freed was as he cradled Laxus' hand and desperately clung to hope as the days stretched on.

But Freed loved Laxus. Nobody could see Freed and not realise that now.

He also realised that there was nothing he could do. Makarov had been quietly thinking that, out of everyone in the guild, he was the person who would be hit hardest by Laxus' state. But what Freed was feeling – the creeping loss of experiences and memories that might never come – was so much worse than what Makarov felt. He didn't know how to comfort Freed. He didn't know what Freed needed from him. He didn't know what the hell he was meant to do now.

So, he left. Freed was nothing if not private, and would cry when Makarov left. Maybe that's what he needed. Maybe that was all Makarov could do. Let the man who loved his grandson cry and grieve and panic in peace.

He'd never felt more limp and useless but, well, there was quiet comfort in the fact his grandson had found someone who loved him fiercely. At least he had that.

———

Laxus – Day 5

Everything hurt and Laxus longed for the comfort of being unconscious again. He felt the buzz and sting of healing magic bubbling under him, and really wished he could be the kind of man who could fall back asleep once he'd woken up. He wasn't though, so he would just have to deal with the pain until his body decided it was done.

The memories of what happened were scattered and messy. There was a lot of pain. And blood. And fear.

Freed was with him.

Where the hell was he?

The second it took for Laxus to see Freed – sleeping softly with his head on Laxus' mattress – was long enough for Laxus to spiral through hundreds of horrible thoughts that passed through his mind.

But Freed was there, and even if he looked a little bit battered and his hair was a mess, he was in one piece and not in an infirmary bed. So he was fine. Laxus had taken the worst of the attacks. Good. He didn't want Freed feeling like he did. Ever. And he really did feel like crap.

When he let his hand fall heavy onto Freed's head, wrapping up those green hairs and holding them, the pain went away just a bit, and his eyes started to droop on renewed tiredness. In the gap the pain left; a nice little warmness snapped into place.

#Fraxus Week 2024 #Fraxus Week #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #One Shot #canon compliant

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hepbaestus · 5 months

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We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when but I know we'll meet again… some sunny day. - 07/05/24

1.4k words|vhs tape night au stardew valley au|TW's apply|ao3 link|

TW: referenced car accident, character death

Fit had been in Pelican Town for twenty years and so much had changed; going from a single father of one to a married man with two kids to a married man with three kids. So much of his life had changed from what it was before and a car crash is what breaks him.

Fic underneath read more

Fit knelt on the wet ground, it was a rare rainy summer’s day. His three kids, now having grown up in Pelican Town, stood behind him. Ramón had become a mechanical engineer and lived in Zuzu City. Rosa was studying to become an astronomer and was the town’s conservationist, a newer role delegated by Mayor Lewis later in his life before having passed. Richarlyson had also stayed in Pelican Town, working from home; he'd continued his passion in the arts with a focus on murals. Fit and Pac had never been prouder of their kids, each of them having known what they wanted to do from a fairly young age. They hadn’t been like that, Fit having spent years in the Joja Mart Corporation and Pac having gone through many jobs in such a short time before becoming an engineer.

Footsteps could be heard on the brick town square not far from where Fit and his kids were. A hand landed on Fit’s shoulder as they shook because of his sobs. Fit’s sobs carried faintly in the wind, having finally been given enough privacy to freely cry.

“Come on Pai, Pa wouldn’t want you to be sad.” Richarlyson speaks, having stepped closer to his dad to comfort him.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Rosa asks, not wanting to stand in the rain any longer, missing the warmth and comfort of the farm. Ramón nods, when Fit looks back at his kids, with them all in various stages of grief like himself.

“Yes. Let’s head home,” Fit stands, before placing a kiss on the marble headstone with his husband’s name carved into it and a rose on the ground, “tchau Pac. See you big boy.” He tugs the cream overshirt that he was wearing closer to his body. It had been Pac’s and he had worn it the first time that they had met at the Flower Dance Festival, he’d worn it to try and feel closer to him, hoping that it’d feel like Pac was giving him a hug.

They walked back to the farm slowly, with the rain picking up as they all mentally recounted fond memories about their life when their Pai was still around. They saw him in the flowers growing in the patch of grass behind Jodi’s old house, broken bricks of the Stardrop Saloon from a too aggressive game of gridball. Everywhere they looked, a memory of Pac would come to the front of their minds, missing him dearly.

They head to Pac’s tinkering room upon arriving home. It was the one room that Pac had spent the most time in, tinkering with both his and Richarlyson’s prosthetic legs, wanting to improve them himself instead of paying an extortionate price to have it done in Zuzu City. On his main workbench lay a half-complete prosthetic arm clearly meant for Fit. It had some wires sticking out clearly still a work in progress but just seeing it on the table had Fit crying once more. He hadn’t known of Pac’s project, he assumed that it was meant to be a surprise for their anniversary.

Fit leaves the room, feeling too overcome with emotions at the sight of the metal arm. He’d been complaining about his current arm, it having not felt right on the fleshy part of his remaining arm for a while. His kids did not fault him, they’d been together for almost 25 years before Pac had passed, it was a long time to be with someone only to have them taken away in a car accident coming back from Zuzu City. They left the room, heading into the living room when they heard the main bedroom’s door close shut.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

They’d sat in the living room for an hour before Ramón remembered that they had some old VHS tapes that their dads had recorded stuff on. Richarlyson and Rosa stay seated as they see their brother rifle through the floor to ceiling tall shelves completely stacked of VHS tapes.

“Found them!” Ramón rejoices momentarily before passing them over to his siblings. They’d never watched them before but they knew the contents of a few of them. They were classic home videos of their parent’s wedding, bringing Rosa home for the first time and miscellaneous videos of the three growing up. The videos were all titled and had their corresponding date next to it on white tape over the label.

“Are we gonna watch some of these?” Rosa asked from her seated position on the floor, surrounded by small piles of the video tapes, all sorted by the year they were filmed. She holds one out to Ramón who had stayed standing for when a video was chosen.

“Feels only right, seeing Pai again.” Ramón spoke, resettling himself in his spot on the sofa. A spot that he’d chosen from the first moment that they had the sofa when Pac and Richarlyson had moved in.

The colours are muted, camerawork shaky and some parts slightly distorted from how old it was but the video plays their parents' autumnal wedding. Both were dressed to the nines, in full sleek black suits with a red rose in their chest pocket. Little Ramón and Richarlyson walk behind the pair before splitting at the altar to stand with their birth dad. Vows were spoken, with Ramón and Richarlyson bringing out the rings when called for. It was a small wedding, only close friends having come. Despite that, it had been a beautiful wedding, with people celebrating their parent's relationship. The video stutters during the kiss and then the camera cuts abruptly, signalling to the young adults that whoever had filmed it had stopped recording.

“I’d forgotten how happy they were that day. It was the only day that week that hadn’t rained so everything was quickly put together by the other townsfolk.” Ramón mentioned, a far away look on his face, clearly remembering the day fondly. The other two hum in agreement, Rosa hadn’t been there so this was the first time she’d actually seen footage of the wedding.

“Next one!” Rosa grabbed a random tape, this one titled ‘Ramón Day 3’ and switched it out before sitting back down once more.

This video was much darker, clearly filmed at night with candles lit to lighten up the shot. In the centre was a young Ramón and, by the looks of the farm, they had just moved in. Ramón sat up on the sofa, not being able to recall this being filmed when a voice, their Dad’s started to speak,

“Look at him. My beautiful baby boy. He’s just sitting there and a firefly just flew past. He’s never seen one before. I’m glad we moved here.” They can hear Fit’s smile in his voice. They’re so distracted by seeing young Ramón on tape mesmerised by fireflies that they don’t hear the main bedroom’s door open and their Dad’s footsteps to the living room.

“I remember filming that. We’d barely settled in and Ramón couldn’t sleep so we sat in the garden and looked at the stars.” The three young adults jump, seeing their dad lean against the wall wearing their Pai’s signature blue hoodie before shifting about to make a spot for him on the sofa where he joins them but not before giving them each a kiss. He kisses Ramón on the forehead, Richarlyson on the top of his head and Rosa on the cheek. It’d been a tradition that he’d started as he’d gotten older, wanting to show his appreciation for his kids when he wasn’t as physically able anymore.

“You know, those you’ve got there aren’t even all of the videos we filmed. There are more in your Pai and I’s room,” Fit speaks before halting momentarily, having forgotten that Pac was no longer with them, “let’s watch some more, eh?”

They spend the rest of the night watching videos of their childhood, of their parent’s relationship, of times simpler than that of their future, of times when their Pai was still with them. Eyes slowly began to droop, each one falling asleep where they sat. Fit was the last to fall asleep, eyes almost staying shut any time he blinked.

“Boa noite Pac, te amo big boy.” Fit spoke to the sky, hoping somewhere Pac heard him, before letting sleep finally take over.

Just before his eyelids dropped for the last time that night, he could’ve sworn he heard a quiet, “boa noite Fitchie.”

#qsmp fic #hideduokisswk #hideduo fic #fitpac fic #stardew valley au #sv!fit #sv!pac #tw: character death #tw: car accident #hep writing

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book-of-baba-fett · 1 year

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Illicit Affairs - Chapter 21

Captain Rex x OC

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary: The battle for Anaxes has reached its breaking point. As the Republic and Separatist forces face off, will Rex and Talia be able to get past their history or will the rising tension between them lead to further broken hearts.

Chapter Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Oral (f receiving), PiV, creampie, canon typical violence, mentions of death.

A/N: Thanks for your patience with the wait on this one. It's a long chapter, but I in no good conscious could split it in half and make y'all wait (which for me, who loves good cliffhangers, is saying something.) Thanks to my darling @galacticgraffiti for beta reading, and for being with me on this journey for TWO YEARS. Won't be much longer for the next chapter.

Ao3 Link

Series Masterlist

19 BBY - Anaxes

The Republic suffered heavy losses on Anaxes, something that Rex couldn’t help but feel a bit of guilt for as he walked through the medical station at camp. Given the chance, he wouldn’t do anything differently, he would always go back for Echo; but he couldn’t ignore the nagging thought in the back of his head that he should also have been in the field for the rest of his men. It was hard for him to not feel like he had the responsibility of the war on his shoulders. After so many years of command it was impossible to not feel that burden. Part of his mind told himself that he should be used to it by now, that this was the way of war. But the other part reminded himself that he was feeling that guilt because he was human.

Echo had been in medical care since they arrived back on Anaxes the night before, and Rex hadn’t seen him since. He had to get caught up on the siege and was also encouraged by Kix to give the medical team some time, and Echo a chance for much needed rest. But Rex came as soon as he had a moment, he wanted Echo to know he had someone there for him. As soon as Rex walked in to see him, he was greeted by the sound of raucous laughter.

“-and that’s not even all of it,” Jesse was saying as he stood in front of Echo, a grin overtaking his face. Kix was leaning on a table to the side, shaking his head but smiling along, Echo sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands as he shook with laughter. “You know how Hardcase could never say no to anything. So, when he was dared to try a sip, he downed the whole bottle-”

“And the whole barracks regretted the dare with how much he puked that night,” Rex added, remembering the story Jesse was sharing as he walked in. Jesse and Kix laughed at the memory and Echo smiled along. “We were lucky to be shipped out the next morning: I feel bad for the cleaning droids that had to deal with that.”

“I’m sure the 501st is responsible for half the contraband rules in the GAR,” Echo joined in, the smile on his face making him look livelier than he had the day before. Jesse and Kix said their goodbyes, giving Rex a chance to talk to Echo alone.

“How are you feeling?” Rex asked tentatively.

“As good as I can be,” Echo replied simply with a small shrug. “Medics say I’m fine, I’ve just been getting some nutrients and solid food for the first time since…well, since it happened.”

Rex nodded, glad to know that there weren’t any flags raised. Echo would still have to go through some conditioning and a psych eval before going back to combat, but there was some relief in knowing Echo would be ok. Echo shifted his seat, a frown creasing on his lips as his face scrunched in thought. He glanced at the door where Jesse and Kix just walked out, then back at Rex.

“Fives is dead, isn’t he?”

Rex exhaled heavily. Of course, Echo was too smart to not figure out why Fives hadn’t come to see him yet.

“I’m sorry. That’s one of the reasons I was coming to talk to you today.”

Echo nodded, his head tilted down, so he was looking at his hand and the scomp link the Techno Union had attached. “The last thing I remember was him calling my name. Next thing I knew-”

Echo’s words choked in his throat, but he swallowed whatever he was trying to say. He glanced back up at Rex and forced a smile. “Figured he would have been on the mission with you guys, that’s how I knew he was gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Rex repeated, because once more guilt was taking over him. It felt too simple just to say ‘sorry’. That one small word couldn’t encompass all the guilt he was feeling, and how it connected to Fives. He forced a low chuckle, thinking of a different world.“Fives would have been the first volunteer, and he might have single-handedly taken on the Techno Union if he’d seen what they did to you.”

“How did it-” Echo started to ask but a knock sounded on the door. Rex and Echo glanced to see Talia standing in the doorway. A pit formed in Rex’s stomach at her sudden appearance; he hadn’t spoken to her since their conversation on the Havoc Marauder.

“Sorry, I can go if I’m interrupting,” Talia quickly said, her eyes flicking once in Rex’s direction before locking on Echo. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“It’s fine. I was just leaving, General,” Rex said quickly. Echo’s eyes darted between the two of them, but he smiled politely at Talia. In truth Rex did have to leave - he was supposed to be in command for a briefing on his next assignment. And Cody was still injured, so he was going to stop by his quarters to see him after checking on Echo. He was also being selfish, because he hadn’t thought of how he would explain how Fives died to Echo before he stepped in. Everything around Fives’ death was painful, and he didn’t want to cause Echo any more potential stress. It was just another burden for Rex to carry.

Since Cody was out of immediate danger, he was allowed to rest in his officer’s quarters and attend briefings, but much to his chagrin, he wasn’t cleared for combat. When Rex entered Cody’s room, the commander was out of the bed, sitting at his desk with a datapad in front him. Rex knew no medical orders could keep his brother from work. Cody didn’t look too bad anymore, he was just bandaged around his chest; it was probably precaution more than anything that kept him on rest. Cody looked up as Rex entered and offered a mumbled greeting.

“How are you feeling?” Rex asked, sitting on the edge of the bed that Cody had abandoned.

“I’m fine,” Cody grunted, uncharacteristically grumpy. He sighed and looked at Rex. “I should be cleared for duty already. It’s ridiculous being cooped up here.”

“I’m sure Kenobi has things under control, and wouldn’t want you to rush yourself,” Rex offered. Cody grunted again.

“You’re right. Hell, he’s probably the one ordering the medics to keep me here no matter how much I try and pull rank,” Cody’s tone had lightened a bit. “Still, I can’t imagine I’ll be out of action much longer. I heard things went well on Skako.”

Rex nodded. “Echo’s still being looked over. He seems to be holding things together well, after everything he’s been through.”

“That’s good to hear, he was always a good kid,” Cody said. He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Never deserved for that to happen to him.”

Rex nodded. He couldn’t think of anyone who would deserve what the Techno Union did to Echo.

“How’ve you been holding up?” Cody asked.

“It’s not easy to see brother in that state, or to know I’m partially responsible for him being left behind-”

“You’re not,” Cody interrupted. “You know you can’t think like that. It was a mission from hell, and we couldn’t have known what would happen to him.”

“Still doesn’t make it any easier.” Rex replied darkly.

Cody seemed to accept that and nodded.

“Still, that actually wasn’t what I was talking about,” Cody said slowly, as if Rex was missing something more obvious. Rex just stared at him in mild confusion. Cody put his datapad down and fixed Rex with a serious stare. “You looked like you saw a ghost when you saw General Riva the other day, Rex.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Rex frowned and shook his head.

“Rex, we aren’t going to sit here and act like you haven’t been a miserable piece of shit since you two ended things.”

Rex scoffed at that, “Bold of you to call that out.”

Cody sighed and pushed his chair back. “Honestly… seeing how you’ve been since and watching you two dance around each other in command meetings this past week, I’m surprised no one else called either of you out before.”

“There’s nothing to call out, we ended-”

“I know it’s over,” Cody waved him off, “But Rex, come on. You look at her like the stars shine out of her ass. How the hell did I never see it?”

Rex stared at him in disbelief. “What does it even matter now?”

Cody sighed and fixed Rex with an imploring look. “I’m saying you do everything you can to look after the 501st, all of our brothers. Maybe I was wrong to call out the one thing you did to look after yourself.”

“What, suddenly I have your blessing or something?” Rex scoffed.

“I don’t give a shit what you do. All I care about is that you take care of yourself. We’ve lost so much. All of us. And we need to fight for something that we believe. Not because we were trained to fight for it, but because we chose to fight for it. It’s what makes us human.”

Rex frowned and looked at his hands, already warring with himself. He opened his mouth to try and find a reply, but nothing came out. He was rescued by his comm beeping - General Skywalker ready to brief him on the next assignment already. Rex sighed heavily, and glanced back at Cody who was still giving him that frustrating, knowing look. If he hadn’t been injured, Rex would have had an urge to slap it off his face. And yet once again, Rex was leaving Cody’s room after a conversation that would stick in his mind.

The air around the base was tense. One didn’t need the Force to sense that something was about to finally give in the battle for Anaxes. They had been stuck in this stalemate for too long, and now both sides were getting ready for a final push. Rex trusted Echo’s plan to feed false information to the Separatist forces, even if Rex was worried Echo was pushing himself back into action too quickly. Rex would also stand by Echo, no matter how much the Batch seemed wary of his intentions, worried that he had spent too much time working with the Separatists to truly be on the Republic’s side again. Rex knew Echo, knew he’d had no choice in what his mind was used for. But now, he did.

The Batch and Anakin had already boarded the Havoc Marauder, and as Rex turned to join them a voice called out, “Wait a second!”

Rex turned as Talia was running over, a little out of breath. She halted in front of him as Rex stood next to the walkway.

“Aren’t you leading the 412th into the assembly complex?” Rex asked bluntly. Talia frowned, but shook her head.

“Storm has it under control. I figured you all could use some extra support here,” Talia’s tone turned stiff. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

Rex couldn’t ignore the slight crack in her voice. He sighed and shook his head, “It’s not my call what you chose to do, General.”

Talia pursed her lips but nodded, “Then we best get on our way.”

She sidestepped him and boarded the ship, leaving Rex looking on as he once again found himself berating every little action he took. Just like when they went to Skako Minor, he knew her help was always an asset. And he didn’t want it to be this way, but he was still thinking about his conversation with Cody, and what had happened on Skako.

It wasn’t his place to question her, especially not anymore, but Rex could still feel the terror-filled awe that had overtaken him when he watched Talia take down the tri-droids with lightning. He had seen many incredible things done by the Jedi, but to see that amount of raw power coming from someone he cared about… it was mesmerizing, inspiring, and terrifying all at once. He had always known how powerful Talia was, even when she doubted it herself, but this was beyond anything he could ever have imagined. And what had scared him the most was that Talia didn’t seem to care about the cost it took on her. He saw how the lightning lit up her body, encasing her in a frightening glow, only for her to fall weak to her knees, exhausted and drained instantly after. Rex was a practical man, and Talia was right that a power like that had its use. He just didn’t think it was worth risking anything that could cause her pain.

As he contemplated this, he was only left more frustrated afterward, unable to convey his worry as anything more than irritation. Especially when it seemed like there had been a chance for normalcy between them again with how they had talked on the mission.

He didn’t want to hurt her, that was never something Rex desired. But he couldn’t resist throwing her words back at her, because even though Rex knew Talia hadn’t meant to be cruel, she had to know how horrible it made him feel. But now he felt even worse for the pain he saw in her eyes, seeing that she obviously felt guilt for the way things had ended between them.

And then there was what Cody said. As frustrated as Rex was by his brother’s sudden change of tone, Rex couldn’t go back on his decision just like that. For all he knew, Talia wouldn’t even want him anymore. Rex had surely done enough to keep her at arm’s length in his own misguided sense of duty, but he also worried he may have lost his chance. Crosshair’s teasing remarks to Hunter still rung in his ears, and he thought of how comfortable she seemed with the Sergeant. It hurt to think that she might have moved on so quickly, but Rex couldn’t fault her for doing what made her happy. In fact, the only thing he wanted for her was happiness.

If only there was time to work out this mess between them before it complicated things on missions even more. But Rex couldn’t ignore the rushing feeling around him, that the galaxy was heading in a certain direction and couldn’t be stopped. He, his brothers, and the Jedi were caught in the middle, ready to crash when this all ended.

Sneaking onto the Separatist dreadnought went almost too smoothly, something that kept Talia’s nerves on edge. They didn’t encounter any droids on the way to the comm vault, aiding their plans for a stealth mission - even if Wrecker seemed to be tired of all their sneaking around. The vault was a small, circular room lined with wiring and electrical lights, and a tall console in its middle that Tech was rigging an interface in so Echo could safely log in. Anakin was checking to make sure there were no other entrances to the vault, ensuring that they couldn’t be attacked by Separatist troops. Talia held her blade in her hand, twirling it in her hand, ready to ignite at a second’s notice.

Talia was playing things close to the chest with this mission. Storm had already sent her a message conveying that the other Generals were not so understanding of her decision to abandon the plan that she should lead the 412th into the assembly complex, and that she had left Storm to command in her stead. But Talia’s mind was in too many places, and her judgment told her this was the place she needed to be. She could deal with the council later, even though she could guess that she would be under criticism for her rash decisions.

Once Tech gave the go ahead, Echo scomped into the mainframe, instantly accessing all the data. He intercepted a request from Admiral Trench, which Tech pointed out they would need to reroute the message to make it seem like the call was still coming from Skako Minor.

Talia stepped into the corridor that was leading to the mainframe, giving some space from the small room. They were lucky to have been undetected this long, but Talia knew that luck would eventually run out. She tapped her foot, glancing around as she tried to keep her mind focused.

“You doing alright?” Hunter’s question cut into her nervousness as he stepped up beside her in the corridor.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Talia shrugged off, her voice more curtly than she had intended, earning a raised brow from Hunter. She exhaled, and attempted to sound more at ease. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve just noticed how…tense you get whenever the Captain’s around.”

Talia stopped in her tracks and turned on her heel to face him. “Your enhanced senses can’t work like that.”

Hunter snorted at how she didn’t even deny it, a grin curving on his tattooed face. “They don’t. Anyone with any sense can see it.”

Talia cursed under her breath. “Here I thought we were always good at hiding it.”

“You probably were before,” Hunter shrugged. “But whatever happened between you two…it’s still hanging in the air.”

Talia huffed a laugh at that, it was such a simple observation, but she couldn’t ignore the truth behind it. “You don’t even know half of it.”

“Well, I know one thing; even if you had never told me you had a history with a clone, I would have still known you were in love with him by the way you two go back and forth. In battle, and in conversation,” Hunter stated as simply as if he were recounting a mission. He made it sound so obvious, , as if it were the most natural thing. “Hell, even the way you look at him when you think no one else is noticing. Same for him.”

Talia let out a mirthless laugh at that, “I think we’re long past the days where he looked at me that way.”

She berated herself for letting that slip. She had already overstepped with Hunter in too many ways to count, but he just looked at her with a somewhat exasperated look. “He’s doing it now.”

Talia frowned and glanced over her shoulder, just to see Rex’s head turn the other way. Talia’s cheeks burned and her heart ached, she couldn’t give herself that hope, even if Hunter was trying to make it feel better. Shaking her head, she mumbled, “We should check what’s going on.”

Walking back into the room, Rex’s eyes flicked in her direction once more, to Hunter, then back to Talia. His lips flickered to an almost imperceptible frown, something anyone but Talia wouldn’t have noticed. She must be imagining it, though. Interrupting her musings, Tech made a confused noise as he looked at his datapad.

“I’m intercepting a transmission,” Tech said, suspicion in his voice, “Trench is ordering all his troops to the assembly complex.”

“All right, Echo, what are you trying to pull?” Hunter asked doubtfully.

“Don’t worry, that’s what I told him to do,” Echo answered with an assuredness only an ARC Trooper possessed.

“But our troops will be vastly outnumbered?” Rex deduced doubtingly.

“Not when I send the feedback pulse that shuts down all the droids,” Echo explained.

“How do we know that’s what you’re really going to do?” Hunter asked suspiciously. Both he and Tech were sharing a doubting look, as if they had been expecting this all along.

“We have to trust him,” Rex jumped in, frustration mounting in his voice as he tried to placate Hunter and Tech.

“Rex is right,” Talia joined, knowing that nothing would be accomplished if the squad was arguing amongst itself. “If Echo says the plan will work, it’ll work.”

“We’re counting on you, Echo,” Anakin said as he lifted his wrist to call General Windu, warning him that things were going to get a lot heavier for the troops in the assembly complex. Echo returned his focus, and Hunter and Tech seemed to accept that if it was a good enough plan for the Jedi, it was good enough for them, even if Talia could still feel the lingering suspicion on them. Rex on the other hand, didn’t waiver in his trust. In fact he seemed grateful that the tension had dissipated.

“We should be on guard,” Talia said aside to Rex, “With what I know of Trench, he’ll probably be suspicious the second things don’t work out as planned.”

“You’re right,” Rex agreed, glancing down at Echo, “I hope he didn’t play his hand too strong.”

“Keep an eye on things here, I can patrol outside and be ready at the first sign of trouble,” Talia ordered, already turning to the exit.

“What?” Rex asked, following her, “Let one of the Batch do it, I know Wrecker is itching for a fight.”

“And that’s a surefire way for us all to be discovered before anything happens,” Talia joked, earning a light huff of laughter from Rex. “Don’t worry: they won’t see me until it’s too late to do anything about it.”

Rex nodded as Talia turned away, her hilt in hand and ready for action.

“Talia,” Rex called, and she stopped; she had almost forgotten how sweet her first name sounded off his lips. She glanced back at him, his hands clenched at his sides, his brow furrowed as if he didn’t know why he called for her in the first place. He exhaled softly and met her eyes, “May the Force be with you.”

Talia nodded in return, a warmth settling in her, “May the Force be with you.”

The eerie calm of the ship was something that might have unsettled a younger Talia, new to war and battle. Hell, even a few hours ago she would have been more unnerved by the prospect of sneaking around, waiting for the calm to break. But she had to be prepared, she knew this calm would not last. It never did. She hid in the ventilation shafts, out of reach of any droids who passed by on patrol, waiting for any sign or signal that would propel her into action.

Talia’s comm chirped and she answered quickly, hearing Rex on the other side.

“Talia, they know we’re onboard. We’re going to have to make a quick evac,” Rex said rapidly.

“Got it, I’ll clear a path for you,” Talia answered. Sure enough, the sounds of clanking footsteps were starting to fill the corridors. Talia kicked open the grate beneath her and dropped below, landing with a thud and ignited her saber. She held the blade in front of her, the glow lighting the corridor as the steps approached. Talia stood still, breathed in and out, and waited for the first droid to round the corner.

Once they turned, they immediately fired, but Talia was ready, redirecting their shots effortlessly with her saber. The hall was narrow, preventing more than two droids from lining up side by side as they approached. Talia sprinted forward, her momentum carrying her up the side of the wall, and she leapt in the middle of the group of droids. Before they could turn back to fire at her, she tossed her saber at the front group, slicing them in half before calling it back. She twirled her blade rapidly, redirecting the shots the second group was firing at her, slowly pressing forward to make it to the end of the hall.

Blaster fire echoed down the corridor; more droid forces must have corned the rest of the squad. Still, Talia pushed forward, hoping that her presence as a Jedi would call more of the droid troops to her position.

She sliced droids in half, used the force to crush them into the durasteel walls of the ship. Their shots danced around her, narrowly missing her as she carved a path through them. Her comm beeped, but she ignored the sound as she focused on the droids. Rapid metal footsteps behind her proved her plan worked, as a pair of commando droids stormed towards her. She held up her hand and slowed them with the Force, still using her blade to take out the droids closer to her. As she lost her hold, they sprinted toward her, but she moved quicker, sliding to the ground on her knees and slicing the droids at their calves, making them crash to the ground. The disassembled droids tried to push themselves up, but Talia Force-pushed them backwards, into the pile of miscellaneous droid parts her fighting had caused.

Talia ran forward down the hall, getting closer and closer to the port the squad had used to enter the ship. Blaster fire still sounded, and she hoped the squad had made it back unharmed.

Another squad of droids found her, and Talia had to give their programming credit for their tenacity. A few more, and this might even grow to be a challenge for her. She raised her blade, ready to strike again when a small round device rolled towards the droids from behind her.

The droid popper went off and the droids crumpled to the ground from the shock. Talia’s blade disengaged as she turned in confusion to see Rex standing behind her, one hand holding a blaster that pointed at where the droids previously stood.

“The rest of the squad is already on the ship, we need to go,” he explained shortly.

“I had it under control,” Talia answered irritably; she didn’t need to be rescued from a handful of battle droids. Rex sighed as he turned.

“You weren’t answering your comm,” Rex said as he stepped away. “And I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Guilt wrapped in Talia’s gut for how harsh her tone was. She quickened her steps after him and grabbed Rex’s forearm. He halted his steps, his helmet locked on where her hand grabbed him as she said, “Thanks…for having my back.”

His helmet lifted and she stared into the back of his visor. “Always will.”

Talia didn’t know what to say. She just nodded, and finally released his arm when she realized she was holding it for far longer than she should have. Rex nodded and turned back down the hall, his blaster raising once more.

It didn’t take them long to reach the Marauder, which dislodged from the dreadnought as soon as they were safely on board. Anakin handed a detonation device to Wrecker, who let out a loud cheer as the dreadnought exploded, and Talia internally echoed his joy: after so much back and forth, it was good to have a victory that meant this siege was over. She stepped out of the cockpit, going to sit in the back of the ship for the quick trip back to base.

“Talia,” Rex’s voice called from behind her, she turned to find him approaching her, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Talia flicked a simple grin back at him, ignoring the way her gut flipped as he came up.

“For the record,” he started, and Talia tensed, preparing for some other fault he had suddenly discovered in her. But to her surprise, Rex;s hand was scratching the back of his neck, his tone more apologetic as he continued. “I know you could have handled those droids. I wasn’t trying to overstep-“

“You were trying to show off,” Talia interrupted, deciding humor was the best way to dissolve yet another moment of tense awkwardness. To her relief, Rex smiled. “I meant my thanks. You know more than most how stubborn I can get.”

Rex laughed at that, then asked, “So, what’s next for you? I’m assuming the 412th will be shipped out pretty quickly.”

“I’m sure I’ll be getting orders from the council as soon as we land,” Talia shrugged, not letting herself feel hope at the twinge of something akin to sadness she felt coming from Rex as he asked her, “That is, of course, if I’m not grounded on Coruscant again.”

Rex raised a brow at her, and Talia sighed, biting her lip before continuing, “I kind of went rogue to join you guys here. Storm covered for me, and things ended up working out, but I can bet I’ll be getting an earful about recklessness.”

“Why would you do that?” Rex asked. His brows were cinched as he tried to read her face. For such a smart man, he could be truly oblivious at times. Talia was sure the same could be said about herself.

Talia glanced around the ship, making sure the Batch and Anakin were still otherwise focused before she met Rex’s eyes. “Look, Rex, I know things are complicated between us right now. But I still care about you, and I was worried.”

Rex didn’t say anything, his brows still furrowed as he listened. Talia gulped and couldn’t hold back the words spilling from her mouth.

“It’s just, I can tell how much stress you’ve been under, and I know I haven’t helped with that, but when you went to Skako I had to be there for you in case things with Echo didn’t turn out as well. And today, I was just still so nervous that something would go wrong, and even if you didn’t want me here I had to make sure-“

Talia’s words were cut off as Rex’s lips pressed into hers, her eyes widening in shock but fluttering closed as she melted into the kiss. His hand was placed against her lower back, holding her close to him; Talia had weirdly missed the uncomfortable way that plastoid pressed into her as her body was against his.

Rex pulled back slowly, his eyes drifting open, that soft, warm brown that still made her gut twist in the best way. For a moment, he looked content, then his eyes widened, and he removed his hand from her back.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-“ Rex shook his head softly but the way he looked at her told Talia that he didn’t believe a word he was saying.

Talia opened her mouth, trying to say a million things back to him. It’s ok. You have no idea how much I wanted that. I missed you.

I love you.

“We’ll be landing shortly, everyone should get seated,” Tech called from the cockpit. Rex pushed away from Talia, returning to the cockpit. She was frozen, still feeling him on her lips and cursing herself for not saying more, terrified that she had lost her last chance.

Some people hated goodbyes, or at least Rex had heard that in sayings tossed around by natborns. But Rex had always felt differently, mostly because he couldn’t count the number of people he never had the chance to say goodbye to. He couldn’t let himself linger on it, it wouldn’t help anything, but sometimes he found himself wondering what he would say with one last word. But Rex was beginning to understand what the sayings meant, as he watched Echo leave.

He knew it was the right call, that Echo knew where his place really was. It just felt like Rex was saying goodbye to a part of him, even though Echo hadn’t been back for long. But Echo was something to hold on to from the early days of the war, ever since he was that overeager shiny from the Rishi Moon. Just a kid when he joined the 501st, now he was a man forged by the harsh clock of war. And with him left one of the few things that tied Rex to an older version of himself he could scarcely remember.

Rex informed the generals that the Bad Batch had already departed, not being the types for the ceremonies of the medals they had earned. The generals didn’t comment, and Rex stood tall as General Windu handed him the medal he had earned. It sounded egotistical to say, but Rex couldn’t count the amount he had gotten in the last three years. He kept them of course, but he never knew what to think of them. At first there was an honor that came with them, and he still felt that, but now he couldn’t ignore the way he was shrouded by a bit of jadedness. After everything that had happened, this was just another campaign to add to the countless he had been in. He saluted as Windu gave him the medal, but the one thing on his mind was Talia, and wondering why she wasn’t there.

Dusk had quickly settled over the encampment, its golden glow and the harsh shadows casting over the men who already worked to pack up equipment. A small force would remain on Anaxes, as was protocol, but the cog of GAR couldn’t slow down, and most of the forces would be quickly redistributed to wherever else in the Galaxy they were needed. Rex had assumed the 412th would be one of the first groups to set out, something seemingly confirmed by the amount of troops wearing black and gold armor that still hustled around the base.

It was reckless and stupid for Rex to kiss Talia, not just because they were in plain view of Anakin and the Batch, but because he had done it without thinking. His feet carried him across the compound, somehow more determined than his own confused mind as they led Rex in a direction with no idea what course of action he could even take.

Three heavy knocks pounding on her durasteel door shocked Talia out of her meditation, or more of her attempt at it. She should be packing; she was heading out first thing in the morning, but when she got back to her room she couldn’t focus on anything. Not the report she needed to fill out, not the fact that she was clearly in trouble with the Council from the tone that Windu and Kenobi had used with her. The only thing she could think about was how she could still feel Rex’s lips on hers, could still feel the pressure of his hand against her lower back, the remnants of his essence tattooed in her memory. She practically bolted to her room after speaking with the other Jedi, trying to rid the confusing moment from her mind to no avail. So when the knocks sounded, in the way that only he ever did, she stared at the door as if that would will it to open, for she was frozen to the ground and unsure if she could even handle being in a space alone with Rex.

Slowly, she rose from the ground, approaching the door with heavy steps before opening it. Rex stood on her step, his helmet clutched tightly in his hands, doubt and questioning etched into his face. His eyes met Talia’s, and for a moment she half expected him to excuse himself and turn away, instead he blurted, “Can I come in?”

With a lump in her throat, Talia nodded and stepped to the side, allowing Rex to enter, quickly shutting the door behind him. It was strange how easily he fit into the room, she was so used to sharing spaces with him that she hadn’t pinpointed how empty her quarters felt without him until this moment. His eyes scanned over the room, shifting his feet uncomfortably as he fiddled with his helmet in his hands. He exhaled, and set it on Talia’s desk, before returning to face her.

“Echo left,” he said with measured words. Whatever he was going to say, that wasn’t close to what Talia expected, and she sensed it was not what he planned on saying first.

“I’m sorry,” Talia offered sincerely, knowing how conflicted Rex must feel about it. “I’m guessing he joined the Batch?”

Rex nodded. “I told him to go, and said that if it was where he felt his place was, then that’s where he belongs.”

“Not everyone’s path is the same one they started on,” Talia said sagely, “After everything Echo’s been through, I’m glad he’s able to choose his own way.”

“You know, it’s funny,” Rex said slowly. “’Choice’ was never something us clones would have thought of. From the moment we’re created, our whole plan is set ahead of us. We train, we fight, and then we die for the Republic. Or atleast, that’s what I used to think. Once I got out here, once I lived, I knew nothing could be so simple, no matter how much my training tried to tell me there was just one goal for me. In fact, the longer I’ve survived, the more confusing it all seems.”

“That’s living,” Talia mused softly, “Even the wisest seers in the Order can misread the future. That’s because there’s no accounting for how people grow, how they can change their minds and their wants.”

“Or how they can be pushed in different directions,” Rex added. He shook his head, then glanced back at Talia. They stood in silence, just the low thrum of the air running through the vents of the quarters, the faded sounds of the camp outside the walls. Rex shifted his stance, and took a breath before addressing Talia again.

“I had to see you before you left,” Rex started, his words weighted and heavy. “I owe you an apology-“

“Rex don’t-“ Talia interrupted, crossing her arms and avoiding his gaze. She gulped. “Emotions were running high, and that can be confusing enough for anyone.”

“That’s not-, I’m not here to apologize for the kiss,” Rex took a deep breath, “I mean...yes, if it upset you, I’m sorry for that. But I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

Talia’s heart pounded, “It didn’t upset me.”

Rex was trembling slightly as he approached her, as if the weight of all the burdens he had been carrying of late were finally releasing from him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Rex said softly, his voice rough and sincere. “That’s the thing I want least in the galaxy.”

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Talia pleaded, the gap between them closing. “Rex, you know I think so much more of you, of all of you, than that you’re just soldiers-“

“I know that, “ Rex offered, “I know you too well to think you meant it. But at the moment, it hurt.”

“I regretted it the second I said it,” Talia continued, “But you left and I realized I ruined everything.”

“You didnt-” Rex took a deep breath, shaking his head as he insisted, “I was the one who fucked it all up.”

“What a pair we are, huh?” Talia forced a laugh before toying with her lip. She glanced back up at Rex, and hesitated before admitting. “We had everything, but it fell apart so fast.”

“We knew it was too good to last.” Rex muttered, but he knew he was lying to himself, trying to comfort the guilt he was feeling.

“Did we? I think I was so blinded, I couldn’t see anything other than you. But then you were gone and…I realized how much of a fool I was…” the words were beginning to roll off Talia’s tongue, faster than her own mind could comprehend what she was saying to hold herself together. “I realized how much I held back and wished I didn’t. How much more we could have had if I hadn’t been such an idiot. Now, when I think of you I’m in pain; because I had something perfect, something amazing. And I lost it because I felt like I didn’t deserve it.”

Rex was silent, and fear crept into Talia that she had admitted too much. That she was speaking to a lost cause, that he had lost any ounce of feeling he once had for her and this conversation was doing nothing but making him pity her.

“I’m the one who pushed you away,” Rex offered, cutting through Talia’s thoughts. Rex avoided her eyes, as if the piercing gaze would be too strong for him to face as he searched for his own explanation. “All because I got scared that we could never have what we wanted, that no matter what I felt, it wasn’t possible. You called me a coward, and you were right. Just… after you got hurt, I was so terrified. I couldn’t deal with the pain of losing you like that. And when Cody confronted me, I gave in. Almost as if I felt that if we weren’t together, that it would hurt less than the fear of losing you.”

“Rex,” Talia said softly, lifting a hand to his face. Rex tensed at the contact, and Talia almost retracted her touch, but his eyes met hers and they were those same soft, warm eyes that she loved. She lost her train of thought, any words of reassurance or doubts of herself that she was about to say we lost as she looked into his eyes. Instead, she blurted out words she should have said long ago-“I love you.”

Her heart pounded as the words escaped her lips, fear and doubt creeping into her mind as she worried if she lost her mind for even saying it now, the same fear that had kept her from saying it before. But now it was out there and couldn’t be taken back.

“I know,” Rex replied softly, stepping so close to her now that barely inches separated them. “I’ve always known. Just like I’ve always known I’m in love with you.”

Talia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, whether to keep spouting her feelings, dating back to all the times she should have said it before, but she just did the thing that felt most natural to her, which was to pull Rex closer and kiss him.

Rex’s arms were around her in an instant, holding her tightly against him, his grasp so tight it was clear he had no intention of letting her go. Talia’s hands wrapped around the back of his neck, fingernails scraping against that small patch of skin not covered by his undersuit or armor as their kiss deepened, hard and needy. Rex pushed her back into the wall, the cold durasteel firm against her back as Rex’s armor pressed into her front. She gasped as they pulled back for air, at first overwhelmed by the closeness, but when she saw Rex in front of her, she just felt comfort and longing. She pulled him back in, desperately seeking his lips, moaning into his mouth as his thigh slotted in between her legs.

The noise awakened something in Rex, and he rushed to start taking off some of the armor from his upper body, his fumbling hands unlatching the pieces as Talia held him for the kiss. He needed to be out of his armor, needed to feel the warmth of her body against his. Talia realized what he was doing and pulled back, freeing her hands so she could help. But Rex’s lips found hers once more as they both clumsily grasped at the armor, dropping pieces of plastoid without a care to where they landed, only separating for air.

“Wait,” Rex gasped once as they pulled back, his lips swollen but a confused look on his face, before he hesitantly asked. “What about Hunter?”

“You know about Hunter?” Talia asked, guilt and apprehension filling her.

“I do,” Rex swallowed and nodded. “I’m not upset…at least not with you. I let you go, and that’s the biggest mistake I ever made. If he’s what you want, I’ll step away now. You’ll never hear from me unless you want to. I’m sure he could make you happier than-”

Talia shut Rex up by stepping up on her toes, cupping her hands on his cheeks and catching his lips with hers. Rex's eyes bugged wide, until they fluttered closed, his arms wrapping around her once more, holding her, taking comfort in the soft warmth of the curves of her body she pressed against the grooves of the remaining parts of his armor.

“I just told you I love you,” Talia reminded him with a slight, teasing giggle. Her face softened as she caressed his cheek with her thumb, “I slept with Hunter, but it was just so I could try and forget you for a moment.”

“I - really?” Rex asked. Talia could almost laugh at how surprised he was, as if he had already accepted the worst. His face then became more serious. “I…you should know. I slept with someone else too. It was just a one night thing, I haven’t contacted her since.”

“It’s okay,” Talia nodded, ignoring the hypocritical way she was hurt. “It doesn’t matter, we don’t have to talk about that now. Just…shut up and keep kissing me.”

“More than happy to follow that order,” Rex leaned in with a smirk and kissed her with a renewed hunger, his hands tightly gripping the curve of her hips. Talia groaned into Rex’s mouth as she pressed as close to him as possible, her hands fumbling for the latches on his chestplate. Rex pulled back to help her lift it away, and dropped it to the floor with a loud clunk. With only his lower armor still on, Talia’s hands ran up Rex’s chest, feeling the firm muscles and warmth of him in her grasp. Her fingers clenched around the fabric, using it to pull him to her once more. Rex’s hands slid down her waist, gripping under her thighs and picking her up, making Talia yelp in surprise.

They stumbled to the desk, Rex clumsily setting Talia on the edge of it, their lips barely separating for air. They were frantic, needy, desperate, as if they were afraid the other would disappear if they stopped. Rex pulled at the wrappings of her tunic, exposing Talia’s heaving chest. His mouth only left her lips then, trailing to the soft skin of her neck, his teeth nipping along the exposed skin and down to the breasts about to fall out of her bra. Talia moaned as Rex slid her bra cup to the side, and sucked at her now exposed nipple. His other hand slid under the other cup, groping at the soft flesh. The cold air left goosebumps over her skin, contrasted by the warmth of Rex’s hands and mouth. Rex could spend hours like this, slowly exploring the body he knew so well yet hadn’t been able to appreciate in so long. In fact there was little else on his mind at that moment besides what he wanted to do to her just in this state of undress, except he had other ideas in mind.

Rex lowered to his knees, kissing down Talia’s stomach and dragging his hands down her torso, relishing in the sweet gasps for air that were leaving Talia’s lips. Rex’s hands stopped as he began to tug her pants down. Pink scars lingered on her hip, trailing down her leg from the flame licked path. He paused, his fingers caressing the slightly raised skin, Talias breath hitched, Rex’s eyes flicked to her face, searching for any sign of discomfort. Talia’s eyes had squeezed shut, enough for Rex to push himself up from where he was kneeling. Talia’s eyes opened.

“I’m fine,” Talia reassured quickly, but Rex was still frozen, searching her face. She pressed a hand to his cheek, “Really, I’m ok. I just didn’t think about them.”

“I didn’t either,” Rex explained, “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Talia leaned in to peck his lips, then checked, “Are you ok? We can stop if you want.”

Rex shook his head, “I’ll only stop if you want me to.”

“Please don’t,” Talia said quickly, earning a smirk from Rex for how desperate she sounded. His fingers toyed along the waistline of her pants where they rested on her thighs.

“Someone’s needy,” Rex teased lowly, his voice thick as honey, slowly pulling at her pants. “Tell me what you want.”

Talia leaned back resting her elbows on the desk, offering up a sweet look, “I think you know what I want. And I think you want to do it.”

Rex offered a low noise of agreement, but taunted, “That some Jedi instinct?”

He slowly pulled the pants down a little further. Talia wiggled her hips, trying to shrug them off, but his hand held her firmly in place. She let out a frustrated noise, but Rex just smirked.

“Use your words, princess,” Rex ordered lowly. Talia’s cheeks burned, and she felt the pit of desire grow in her gut. She was half tempted to curse him for teasing her, and for how well he knew to play her. But she didn’t want to drag this out, they didn’t have time for a back and forth.

“Please,” Talia started sweetly, only to get slightly desperate as she ordered, “I want your mouth on me.”

“Hmm, I could ask you to be more specific,” Rex murmured, to which Talia made an indignant noise when he smirked, tugging her to the edge of the desk, making her squeak and falling to his knees. “...But I’m not patient enough today.”

Rex tugged her pants and underwear down with one swoop, wasting no time to press his face between her legs, his tongue swiping over her slit. He groaned at the wetness already there, and Talia moaned as his tongue flicked over her swollen clit. One hand held to the edge of the desk, the other leaping to the back of his head. It took everything in her to not hold him still as she ground against his face; she knew he wouldn’t have minded. But Rex licked at her like a man possessed, like she was the best thing he ever tasted. His hands held her firmly against him, grasping at the top of her thighs as he positioned her where he wanted her. He may have been the one on his knees, but he was the one in control.

It was surely a talent of Rex’s to have barely started but to already have Talia a whimpering mess. Her tunic was still half undone, her chest still half exposed as a red flush settled over her pale skin. She was biting her lip, trying to restrain her noises in some way but she would fail as Rexs tongue flicked over her clit, eliciting louder moans from her. And all he would do was grin up at her, his eyes almost taunting, before he continued his work.

His grip was tight around her thighs, nails practically digging into her skin as he held her in place. His tongue slid up and down her slit, teasing her by flicking at her clit in between each swipe. Her breaths hitched higher each time, her body reacting so easily to the simplest touch. Rex knew how to set her off, and there were few things he loved more than making her fall apart with just his mouth. He could feel every twitch of her thighs in his hands, hear how she failed to keep herself quiet, and taste just how aroused she was. He wanted her to feel good, wanted to feel her let go, and he worked as if he had something to prove, that he needed to remind her that only he could make her feel this way.

He circled his tongue around her clit, then wrapped his lips around it and sucked, sending jolts of pleasure up Talia’s spine. The wet heat of his mouth was intoxicating, Talia could hear herself begging him not to stop. Her arms shook so much she struggled to hold herself upright. But her gaze was locked on Rex’s face and how he devoured her. She couldn’t look away, even as tears sprung in the corners of her eyes and her whole body trembled. It was impossible to tear her gaze away, she was fixated even as she was falling apart. It was almost embarrassing how quickly she was coming undone, but she couldn’t help the way her body was lit aflame from every swipe of Rex’s tongue. He was precise, practiced, as dedicated to bringing Talia pleasure as he was in every other aspect of his life. He didn’t let up as her breath quickened, as her body tensed and he didn’t stop even as she cried out his name and quaked, coming from just the quick work of his mouth.

Talia’s moans faded, but her breath was still heavy as Rex rose from the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He leaned in and kissed her, pulling her off the desk as he did. Talia’s legs were like jelly as she stumbled with Rex to the bed. Her knees hit the frame of the bed and Rex gently nudged her back, causing her to land with a soft flop against the mattress.

“Take your clothes off,” Rex ordered gruffly, his own hands tearing at the strips holding his remaining armor on. Talia pressed herself up on the bed, still breathless and flushed, but not moving quickly enough for Rex’s liking as he glanced over her, his heaving chest bulging through his undersuit. “Take them off before I rip them off of you.”

“You would just be finishing what you started,” Talia quipped as she gestured to the state of her tunic, still loose around her torso. Rex’s eyes flashed as she still played with the edges of fabric. He stalked to the bed, slowly taking his shirt off; Talia’s mouth went dry as she glanced over his chest, taking in the scarred and muscled form. He lowered himself to the bed, and slowly crawled on top of Talia. Her heart pounded in her chest as his hands ran up her sides and found the edge of her robes. Talia cocked an eyebrow in a challenge as his eyes met hers. Rex rolled Talia over roughly so she was on her stomach, and her hands braced herself against the mattress as Rex’s hands at the top of her tunic’s back and tugged. With a shredding rip, the fabric pulled off her back and slipped off her arms, leaving Talia in just her bra. She half expected Rex to tug that off as well, but instead his lips met the back of her neck, kissing her softly as his hands deftly undid the clasp. Talia sighed as his lips traveled down her skin, the stubble on his face tickling her.

For a moment Talia thought Rex would take her like this, that he would shuck his pants off and roughly enter her from behind, pounding her into the mattress as she sheets muffled her cries. And she wouldn’t have minded; her body was coursing with need, prickling with the desire of his touch. But Rex instead gently flipped her over, opposite of the man who had moments ago torn her clothing to shreds. Rex’s lips met hers as soon as her back hit the mattress, a soft, exploring kiss, the moment slowed once again, as if savoring the moment before they delved back into their pure need. But this was what Talia loved about him, how there could be both sides when they were together. The tender with the tough, the smooth against the rough. She could see the switch flip in his eyes whenever they made love, see how his own desire kicked in. But he was always there for her, reading what she wanted and adjusting off her energy.

The kiss deepened, grew more hungry as they pressed against each other; Rex’s body pining Talia down as she squirmed beneath him, trying to angle her hips so she could relieve some of the tension settling back in her core. Rex ground against her, his still clothed, hard cock pressing against her pussy. Rex groaned into her mouth as he felt how wet she still was, dampening the fabric of his pants. Talia’s hands ran up and down his back, feeling the way Rex’s muscles flexed as he moved against her. Her hands slid down to his waistline, as she tried to nudge down his pants. Rex’s hands met hers as he helped pull them off, rushing to remove them so he could finally have her again. Once they were off, he pressed down against her again, the flame reignited as their naked bodies pressed together, already sweaty and burning with want. Rex’s cock pressed against Talia’s stomach, weeping with precum as he rutted against her, their tongues meeting as they moaned into each other’s mouths.

“Rex,” Talia whimpered between breaths, “Please. I need you.”

He pulled back slightly as he readjusted, a thin line of spit connecting their mouths. Rex was panting, his eyes blown out as he looked down at her. But he spoke with such an assured, put togetherness as he said in his rough voice, “Anything for you.”

Rex entered Talia quickly and forcefully, her breath hitching and her legs spreading wider to ease his access. Rex waited until her body relaxed and her eyes opened, then Talia nodded her head and Rex began to thrust. His hips slammed against hers, his cock thick and hot as it stretched her cunt, her walls gripping around him and practically pulling him in. Rex’s eyes rolled back from the warmth of her, ready to be lost and never come back but he had to last longer, he didn’t want this feeling to end.

His arms wrapped tightly around her, squeezing her against him in a near crushing grip. Her nails were marking his back as she whimpered beneath him, her breaths punctuating every move of his hips into hers. The room was filled with the loud smack of flesh on flesh, the squelch of their bodies meeting, and the moans and grunts leaving their lips in near unison.

This wasn’t the way this should have gone, it was rushed and needy, with no time taken to care about the little details. They were still dirty from the mission, but the time taken to tidy up might have raised more uncertainty between them than either could stomach just yet. But yet this rushed state was perfection, pure desire coursing through and guiding them, an unstoppable force pushing them together.

Talia cried out as Rex’s cock hit a spot deep inside her, making her head bend back in ecstasy. Rex did it again, wanting to see the way her face contorted in pleasure.

“It feels good, doesn't it?” Rex said, continuing to thrust.

“Yes!” Talia quickly responded, her cheeks flushed. “So good.”

“Who’s doing this to you?” Rex asked, a cocky possessiveness creeping in his tone.

“You are.” Talia gasped, her eyes meeting his. Rex’s hold around her loosened, and before Talia could whine from the change of pace, Rex’s hand gripped under her thigh and pulled her leg up to rest on his shoulder, his other arm still wrapped around her. His dedicated pace resumed, each thrust like a promise, punctuated with gasps, moans and words escaping lips like a prayer.

“Who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?” The possessive side of Rex was coming out stronger, as if he had something to prove, or that he needed to hear Talia’s response as much as he knew what it was.

“You are!” Talia answered. She swallowed, her breath heavy as pleasure crested within her. “I’m yours, only yours.”

“That’s right, you’re mine.” Rex echoed, firm and unyielding. He pounded into her harder, a renewed surge of need running through him. “Mine.”

Rex’s pace continued, hitting Talia right where she needed him. Each thrust was a jolt of pleasure that licked up her gut, so deep she could practically feel him in her throat. She was twisted around him, and he was all encompassing. Their skin was dewed with sweat, their chests almost clinging together as they pressed into one another. Talia would give him anything in this moment, ready to sacrifice all of her as long as he brought her that sweet release.

“Fuck Rex, don’t stop please.” She begged, cheeks burning and eyes watering. “ I love you.”

“Say it again.” Rex ordered, his pace unfaltering and his chin set, gritting his teeth as if he was barely holding himself together.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you!”

Tallia cried out as she came, her breath ragged and her body tensing as Rex lost what last bit of self control he had and he released inside her, hot spurts of cum filling her cunt. Rex’s thrusts slowed, exhaling as he hilted himself inside her. Their foreheads met, sweaty brows and panting breath meeting as their lips barely touched. After a moment that they wanted to last a lifetime, Rex pulled out of Talia and fell to the side, their bodies squeezed next to another in the tiny bed. The space was as small as they were used to sharing, but somehow there was a rightness in the way their bodies fit next to each other, even after all this time.

“This doesn’t change anything, does it?” Talia asked, still breathless. The air shifted, the calmness that had settled between them now filled with the unknown. Rex tensed, and exhaled a large breath.

“I don’t see how it can,” was all Rex could think to say. A lump formed in Talia’s throat, tears brimming at the corner of her eyes as she nodded. She rolled over to her side, already pulling off the covers to slip out of the bed and pull her clothes on. Rex’s hand gripped her arm, preventing her from leaving. “Wait, I don’t want-”

“What do you want, Rex?” Talia snapped, “I can’t do this again. I can’t let myself think there’s a chance for something just for you to change your mind. I’m not strong enough to hurt like that again.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Rex repeated for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He meant it, but he knew he had failed that promise in the past. And he didn’t want to mess this up again, to cause her any pain, but he didn’t know what promises he could offer her. Rex sat up, still holding Talia’s arm as he tried to work through this.. “I…I know that things haven’t changed in our situation, but I also know ending things was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. I want you, Talia.”

“I want you too,” Talia sighed, leaning back against the headboard. They sat in silence, stuck in the same moment as a million thoughts rushed through their heads. Talia knew there was only one answer to this, at least only one that had a chance to make them happy.

“What if I left the Order?”

Rex shook his head, “it was wrong of me to ever ask that of you, it’s not fair-”

“You’re not asking it of me - I’m suggesting it. Rex.” Talia said softly. She looked down at her hands, wringing her scarred wrists as she worked to the realization that has been hidden from her for so long. “I’m not happy. This war has taken so much from me. The Jedi were the only thing I knew, and the only possibility I saw for a future. But Rex…I know so much more now. I know you, that you’re what makes me happy. I can’t lose that again.”

“But you could have so much more than me.” Rex insisted. His hand rested on her face making her meet his eyes so he could make sure she wouldn’t lie to him just to make him happy. “ You could be a Master Jedi, could go on to do great things.”

Talia silenced him by leaning in to kiss him, she pulled back and didn’t let her gaze falter. “Rex - you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me - there’s no more that I need.”

“But still-”

“Being a Master was never in my cards.” Talia cut him off before he could go on about plans for a different future for her. “ I had a vision about it once, but I think I understand it now. I was always on the outside looking in, never quite fitting in with the rest of the order, or what the council expected of me. But I can find my own path without them. When the war ends, I’ll leave the order. And I’ll be yours, if you’ll have me.”

“You’ll always have me.”Rex answered quickly, a firm promise. “But, what about now? Our situation hasn’t changed.”

“Now is…more complicated. We need to be more careful than before. So. Not really together but…” Talia’s voice trailed off, still not sure what guidelines they could set. Because it was too complicated. She wanted Rex with everything in her, but she couldn’t abandon her men and leave while the war still raged on. And being with Rex while she was still in the Order was too risky now, they’d had too many slip ups already, too many chances that they would be exposed. “Now just…Just hold me, for a few minutes more and we can pretend like everything is okay.”

“We’re not pretending.” Rex said as he pulled her into her arms. His lips brushed against her forehead, lingering there as he continued. “It’s not perfect, but it’s something. I’ll wait for you, whenever you’re ready to leave. I know it’s a big thing.”

“It is, but I think it’s the right thing,” Talia answered. They settled back lower into the bed, a strange kind of peace laying between them. “This mess has to be over soon, so now we have something to look forward to once it’s done.”

“What do you want to do first?” Rex asked tentatively, allowing himself to think of an ‘after’ the war for the first time in a way that wasn’t dimmed by darkness.

Talia hummed thoughtfully, her lips pursing in before a grin curved on her lips. She glanced up at Rex, a twinkle in her eye as she said, “We should go back to the island.”

Rex huffed out a light laugh, “Better prepared and without the crash landing this time, I hope?”

“Duh,” Talia mocked. She wrapped an arm over his chest, her fingers tracing along the edges of his scars like she had done that first time on the very beach they were talking about. “It’s where we began, it’s where we can start again.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Rex mused, a lazy half smile on his lips, “How about we meet there, once it’s all over.”

“Sounds like a plan, captain.” Talia pressed her lips to his again. “Or a promise.”

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” Rex murmured, his hand cupped on the side of Talia’s face.

Talia thought her cheeks would ache from smiling, that they were burning from the blush that lingered on them. “You might have mentioned it sometime.”

“Not enough, I daresay,” Rex offered with a sly grin. He leaned closer to her, the coarse hairs of his scruff grazing along her neck in a way that sent shivers down her spine even in her exhausted state. He pressed a kiss in the curve of her neck, trailing up to her ear where he whispered once more, “You’re beautiful.”

“I love you so much,” Talia sighed.

Rex huffed a low chuckle. “So that’s all it took? Me calling you beautiful?”

“It’s a fair trade, I think,” Talia teased, lightly smacking his arm. But she set her face straight as she met his eyes again. “I mean it. I love you, Rex.”

“I love you too.”

He leaned down to kiss the spot just below her ear, repeating his words once more. He trailed his kisses, followed by his adorations up her neck, to her jaw bone, as if tattooing the words upon her skin to leave his mark evermore. His lips traced to the end of her scar, pausing when Talia slightly flinched from the contact against the slightly sensitive skin. His eyes scanned hers, waiting for Talia’s nod that it was ok, and he leaned in, tenderly kissing over the raised skin, “I love you, Talia.”

Talia sighed, a warmth of contentment filling her she hadn’t been sure she would ever feel again. She curled against him, feeling the warmth of Rex’s skin beneath hers, listening to the thud of his heartbeat. Her lips grazed the scar in the center of his chest, from the bolt that just missed his heart all those years ago. They laid together under that rough spun blanket, in the far too small cot, their arms wrapped around each other, their skin clinging to each other as they didn’t want to leave the others grasp. They fought off sleep, savoring the small moment they had with one another. It had been so long without the other's touch, but that absence only created a craving, a burning desire for the other’s comfort that would never be satisfied. They didn’t have the answers, not completely anyway. This simple impassé would be enough to hold over, to bridge the road to repair what they’d had before. There was the promise of something stronger, the unknown path of destiny and fate a sweet calling. What further doubts they had were buried beneath the surface, vanquished at the broken walls of their greatest barrier. As she drifted off, Rex’s hand brushed over Talia’s back, fingers grazing over the scars she received at the hand of the Zygerrians. The soothing action propelled her into sleep, no nightmares to be had tonight. Her dreams were filled with contentment and comfort, something the promise of a future with Rex held.

Next Chapter

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waytooinvested · 6 months

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Vengeance, Victory, and Undying Love - pt 12 - Epilogue

12th and final chapter of my Supercorp fic in which Lena still creates something called Non Nocere to deal with her broken heart after finding out Supergirl's identity, but this time she gives the name to a different project. A more personal one. And now she’s coming for Supergirl.

The full story is also available to read on Ao3

...............

The first few days had been intense, both of them desperate for the emotional closeness they had been missing since Lex’s bombshell, and the physical closeness that was proving to be a revelation to their touch starved bodies.

Lena had cancelled appointments and shareholder meetings recklessly, and it was only Kara’s ability to pull a last minute exclusive with Supergirl out the bag that kept her from being fired after the fourth day she hadn’t shown up for work.

They had spent every minute of that time together. Talking. Crying. Kissing. More than kissing. Until at last things had begun to settle, and they found that what was left was…

Joy.

Pure, simple joy in each other’s company and the fact that finally, against all the odds, they had ended up exactly where they had always been heading.

Of course, their bliss bubble couldn’t last for ever, and eventually they both acknowledged that they were going to have to get up, put on their big-girl pants (or really, any pants at all at that point) and go and make things right at their respective work places.

After that things fell more or less into a better version of the way they had been before, only now sleepovers after movie nights were a forgone conclusion, and their sleeplessness included much more than just talking all night (though there was plenty of talking too). During the first one Kara had told Lena all about her fantasy of the picnic basket and the sunrise, and while that particular dawn found them too busy (and much too naked) to go flying about the countryside, they got round to it eventually, and it was everything Kara had hoped it would be.

Even with the amount they still had to talk through and all the emotional processing that needed to be done, when it was just the two of them even the hard parts felt as natural as breathing.

It took a little longer with the others.

There was still some wariness on both sides, and the first games night Lena turned up to, nervous and clutching an excessively pricey bottle of wine as a peace offering, had been… strained, to say the least.

No one had actually said anything against her – had even hugged her and told her they were glad she was back – but the conversation didn’t flow as naturally as it once had, and there were more than a few glances at Lena and Kara’s linked hands, as if they all badly wanted to comment but had been told not to make a big deal over it.

It was difficult, and it made Lena want to ice up and hide behind her old Luthor-trained emotional defences again, but she persevered, and so did they, and bit by bit the tension eased until it seemed as if they had been able to paper over the cracks in their group dynamic and settle into a new normal.

At least, until the night at Al’s when they had all had a one drink too many, and somehow the conversation had gotten on to the subject of relationships.

Kara had taken Lena’s hand and said how happy and lucky she felt to be with someone she could feel fully herself with, and the others had smiled and agreed.

All except Alex.

Alex and Lena had had their own whisky-assisted heart to heart weeks before and had thought the air was clear between them, but now Alex turned to Lena and jabbed a finger at her with the sort of intensely earnest frown only achievable by the moderately inebriated.

‘You know Lena, I am so mad at you’.

Kara froze, glancing between her sister and her girlfriend.

‘Hey, Alex come on, it’s all in the past-’

‘No, no Kara it’s not. I am so mad at her’.

The whole table was silent now, holding their breath and waiting for whatever would happen next, no one quite knowing how to diffuse the pending argument.

To her credit, Lena wasn’t biting back. Her happy smile had faded and she was clutching Kara’s hand twice as tightly as before, but she was waiting, outwardly calm, to allow Alex the space to say whatever she so clearly needed to get off her chest.

‘I mean seriously. How the hell are any of us supposed to make a grand romantic gesture ever again after that? It has got to be the single most dramatic, over the top way of declaring your undying love for someone ever’.

She paused and grinned round at them all, seeming not to notice the tension she had created and the confusion that followed it after this remark.

‘Undying. Get it? Because she literally cured Kara of the one thing that could kill her?’

Alex laughed at her own joke, betraying the fact that she at least, had passed well over the tipsy/drunk dividing line.

‘It’s freakin’ ridiculous. Brilliant, but ridiculous. Still, I’m going to get my own back one day. When I tell this story in my sister-of-the-bride speech at your wedding’.

The tension eased, and a couple of people chuckled along as everyone realised that there wasn’t going to be a fight after all, but they didn’t relax entirely until Lena joined in the laughter and put an arm companionably around Alex’s shoulders.

‘I can’t wait to hear it’.

And that’s when Kara knew for sure that everything was going to be alright.

And also that one day, maybe not for years, but one day, she would hear that speech.

Because she was going to marry Lena Luthor.

#supercorp #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #kara x lena #lena luthor #kara danvers #multi chapter fic #my fic #angst with a happy ending #AND THE HAPPY ENDING IS HERE WE MADE IT #final chapter #thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed the journey

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forsaire · 9 months

Text

Welcome home (Ghost x Soap)

Ghost begs Price to be allowed to re-join the 141 after leaving.

Chapter 45 excerpt from Don't Let Me Go on ao3.

The door at the end of the hallway felt intimidating as it loomed over the two of them, making Ghost feel small and insignificant. The truth of his future was behind it.

Ghost paused in front of the door, hesitating for a second.

Soap linked his hand with Ghost’s and squeezed it reassuringly. He looked down at Soap who offered him a small and hopeful smile of support.

Ghost couldn't believe how stupid he’d been. Having gone so many years without Soap by his side, Ghost couldn’t fathom how he’d made it this far in his life without him. Nothing made sense without him. Now Ghost couldn’t picture a future in which Soap wasn’t a part of it.

Continuing to go on missions until their bodies gave out. Leading their own teams. Retiring from service and getting civilian jobs. Getting a small house by a lake to live out the rest of their days.

In everything, Soap was there, always by his side.

It was the little things too: waking up with morning tea, watching a movie together, going on drives to seemingly nowhere, texting each other about groceries, or celebrating another year around the sun.

Soap was his future.

Ghost squeezed Soap’s hand back and turned his attention back to the door. He raised his hand, took a breath, and knocked.

“Come in!” Price’s muffled voice called out from behind the door.

Ghost turned the knob and apprehensively pushed the door open, the two of them stepping inside. Price casually glanced up at them from where he was sitting. Upon seeing who it was, something shifted in Price’s eyes that Ghost couldn’t quite place. Price put down the folder he was looking at and swiped his glasses off his face, placing them down on the desk.

“I thought I’d be seeing you soon,” he said with a level voice, standing up.

Price slowly walked around until he was standing beside his desk. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest and watched them, a cautious frown on his face. His eyes didn’t give anything away.

Ghost clenched his other fist and gathered the courage to speak.

“I… I wish to come back…” he said with quiet certainty.

“Price, I know th-” Soap started but was quickly interrupted.

“Quiet,” Price ordered. “Let him speak.”

Soap shifted on his feet and shut his mouth.

“It was a mistake to desert the team. I broke the protocols and withdrew myself for selfish reasons. I’m sorry. I accept full responsibility for my actions, there is no excuse. So I will respect whatever decision you make and whatever you think is best for the team. But I’m… I’m asking to be allowed to come back…”

Price remained silent.

“I understand that I have broken your trust. You have my promise that it will never happen again,” Ghost continued, the final plea escaping his lips in desperation.

Price continued to watch him, his steely eyes appearing to look right through Ghost. He pursed his lips slightly as the growing silence continued to eat away at Ghost. He just needed an answer.

Price then flicked his eyes to Soap and down to where their hands were still clasped together. His eyes softened for a fraction of a second before he raised them to look up at Soap again.

“Leave us to speak,” he said. “Alone.”

Soap hesitated for a second, looking up at Ghost with uncertainty. Ghost squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring nod. Soap also squeezed back one final time before reluctantly untangling their fingers. He slowly turned around and started to make his way to the door. He stole one last look behind him before he left the room, the door closing quietly.

“You understand the ramifications of your actions?” Price asked gruffly.

“Yes.”

“On everyone in the team?” Price’s eyes briefly flicked to the door as he said this.

“Yes…”

Ghost felt a rising wave of guilt build up inside him again for lashing out at the only person who’d ever believed in him. He’d regret how he made Soap feel that day for the rest of his life. He hoped he’d have his whole life to try and make up for it.

“Why?” Price asked. “Don’t bullshit me.”

Ghost dropped his eyes shamefully.

“I… I was scared,” he said weakly. “I was scared and overwhelmed. I was scared of what we had and the future and-” Ghost sighed. “I hurt him, and I was terrified of doing it again. I was trying to protect him, but it ended up being selfish and cowardly… I didn’t think anyone deserved that. Deserved me.”

Price continued to carefully watch him, a million complicated expressions flashing behind his eyes. It was silent for several excruciatingly long seconds.

“Despite what you may think, Simon,” Price said carefully. “More than one person was affected by your actions. Not only did you damn near almost break Soap, but the entire team struggled as well. We had to pick up the pieces you left behind and try to move on without you. And it wasn’t easy. For anyone.”

“I’m sorry… I’ve never really felt like I belonged in most places my whole life, but the 141… I was proud to be a part of it. I was proud of everything we’d accomplished. I should have considered how everyone would take my withdrawal. But I didn’t and I regret that.”

“Trust is hard to build and even harder to re-build,” Price said, delicately choosing his words. “So you understand why I wouldn’t want a liability on my team… You have responsibilities, not just as Ghost but as Simon as well.”

The words weighed heavily on Ghost and he couldn’t form any meaningful sentences. So he remained silent.

“But… I…” Price said, struggling to find the words for the first time since their conversation started. He briefly glanced over Ghost’s shoulder at the door again then back at Ghost. With a deep sigh, Price uncrossed his arms, letting them fall to his side. “I’ll have to put you on probation…”

Ghost immediately felt the tension in his shoulders relax as he let out a relieved exhale. Like a tidal wave crashing over him, Ghost buzzed with ecstatic relief.

“And I’ll have to set up bi-weekly checkups with me and Laswell,” Price continued. “And I’m thinking of putting into place-”

Price stopped abruptly, as if losing the words. His face softened and his eyes shone with a touch of sympathy. In any other case, Ghost would have hated the pitying look. But he’d take it a million times over if it meant he could stay.

Stay with Soap.

“But none of that matters right now…” Price muttered quietly under his breath.

Price walked closer to Ghost and stopped in front of him. He looked up at Ghost, a glint of mutual understanding between them, and he put a hand on Ghost’s shoulder.

“Welcome home, son.”

Full chapter a03.

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starshifter · 4 months

Text

my hopes the wind done scattered

malevolent. john/arthur, king in yellow/arthur. 8.3k

Ao3 Link if you'd prefer to read it there

I am currently sick and also I haven't posted anything here in like...fuck eight years? But I finished writing this yesterday and I am releasing it on the world now. It's as cooked as my balloon brain. Let's fucking go

---

The walls loomed up around him, dark and extending up until they vanished completely from sight. Arthur hunched further back against the wall behind him. Across from him, an indistinct humanoid shape watched him.

The bucket sat between them.

Water splashed inside it and Arthur lurched forward. He needed it. If he didn’t get it first, he knew that he wouldn’t get any at all.

Bent over the large basin, he brandished the shard of sharpened bone towards the lurking figure to warn it off. He would fight it. He wouldn’t let it get him.

He reached into the basin and his hand hit the bottom of a dry bucket.

Then the shadow was on him. His legs shattered under him as its hands closed around his neck.

He felt like he was suspended in jello. Moving his limbs was an inordinate amount of effort, but he would die if he didn’t.

He strained harder and then the shadow was pinned under him. Triumphant, he pressed his thumbs into its eyes and began to laugh as it screamed—

Arthur looked up from his well-lit desk at the knock on their office door. “Come in,” he called as he gathered the papers in front of him into a neat pile. A shadow shifted behind the frosted glass on the door and there was silence for a long moment.

The knock came again.

Frowning, Arthur got up and went over to the door. “It’s unlocked, Parker. You don’t have to—” he started to say as he opened the door.

Darkness greeted him. A void stretched out from the doorway, a blackness utterly untouchable by the dim electric light. Faint whispers caught in his ears that he could almost understand. If he could just hear them a little clearer...

He tipped forward, compelled by their words, and something shifted.

He froze.

He couldn’t see a thing past his door frame, but somehow he knew that something was there — lurking in the dark.

Watching.

Waiting.

His breath caught in his chest and his heart pounded as he stumbled back. He needed to get away. He needed to—

There was a flash of color in the void. A whirl of yellow.

“Arthur!” John’s voice called faintly, as if from far away.

“John,” he whispered. Then again, louder, “John!”

He plunged forward into the void.

Something huge and unfathomable closed around him.

Arthur gasped awake.

He stared up into darkness from where he lay and, for a disoriented moment, thought he was still in that void. The past few days returned to him abruptly. He was trapped in a cabin, surrounded by snow with two broken legs, and still completely and utterly blind. John was lost to the King and he was starving to death in the middle of who the fuck knew where.

It had been a dream.

He closed his eyes, not that it made any fucking difference, and reached down to pull the blanket over his head.

It wasn’t there.

“What?”

He propped himself up on his elbows — and at the very least he had all his limbs back, for all the good that did him — and the surface he was lying on tilted slightly underneath him.

He froze.

Something was very, very wrong.

For one thing, it was warm — almost hot, in fact. The cabin he had been trapped in had been cold even with the fire lit. And the surface he was on… It didn’t feel like the cot he had fallen asleep on. It didn’t feel like a mattress at all. In fact, it wasn’t even a flat surface. It almost cupped him, with his head on an incline that scooped gently downwards until it rose back up under his legs, his knees curving gently over another bump.

He carefully rubbed his hand against the material. It was smooth, cool to the touch, and velvety soft with a bit of give to it. Except velvet had never felt so alive before.

“Oh god,” he whispered and sat up.

Immediately, the surface shifted again as it closed around him.

It was a hand, a massive hand, but like no other hand Arthur had ever known. It seemed to be made entirely of fingers, the palm non-existent, but the fingers had no joints. They curled smoothly without bending as they wrapped around him like living prison bars.

“Fuck,” he yelled and started struggling in earnest to get out. The pressure around him increased and he quickly found himself immobilized around the upper torso, only his legs able to kick freely.

“Have you figured out where you are yet, Arthur Lester?” a deep, reverberating voice asked. It was a voice he could never forget.

“No,” Arthur choked out through the sudden surge of nauseating horror. “No, no!” He thrashed violently, straining as hard as he could against the hold around him.

“Calm down, Arthur,” the King in Yellow said in that slimy, manipulative way of his and sheer rage flushed the terror out of his veins.

“Release me! Release me right this second or I swear I will find a way to kill you.” Arthur dug the heels of his feet as hard as he could into the hand holding him.

“If you insist,” the King said, uncaring.

His stomach swooped violently with a sensation not dissimilar to an elevator suddenly ascending, only this was much faster than any elevator he had been on. The wind whistled past him for a split second as he was lifted. To some sort of platform, perhaps?

The fingers unwrapped from around him and he shoved himself up to sitting, intending next to get to his feet.

He never got the chance. The hand holding him tipped to the side and he was falling.

He didn’t even have time to scream before he crashed messily into a soft surface.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasped out. Fingers cupped around him again, though they didn’t close him in the way they had before.

Nauseous, furious, and terrified; Arthur grabbed at the finger closest to him and clung to it with all his strength. He’d been lifted up. There was no way of knowing how high up in the air he was right now. If the King decided to drop him for real instead of tossing him between hands like some kind of fucking baseball, it might just kill him.

A deep, menacing laugh rumbled around him. “Would you still like to be released?”

“Fuck you,” Arthur spat at him and he hated how breathless he sounded. He took a deep breath, forced himself to stop trembling, and tried to think. He couldn’t let the King manipulate him again. “Isn’t this a breach of your deal? I was supposed to go home, which you couldn’t manage either, by the way. That was not Arkham.”

“It was Earth. Humans are capable of traveling between their little cities.”

“Not with two broken legs!” Arthur yelled. Then he paused. His legs had been broken in that cabin. He’d set them himself before passing out from the pain of it.

They were completely fine now though. Even the make-shift splints had vanished. The King had healed him? Why? What did he gain by giving Arthur back his mobility?

“What do you want from me,” he spat at the King.

“You wanted what you called “John” back, didn’t you?” the King asked him.

Arthur went still. “… What?”

Had he heard that correctly? Was the King really offering…?

No. No, this was a trick of some kind. Or some kind of fucked up game he was playing. Arthur wasn’t going to fall for that.

“What are you saying?” he inquired guardedly.

“Exactly what I said. You didn’t wish to be parted from your friend.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if he knew Arthur better than he did himself.

It pissed him off.

“You didn’t care about that before. Why are you bringing it up now? I don’t believe for a second that you’ll just give me John back out of the kindness in your heart. If you even have one of those,” he couldn’t resist spitting out at the end.

The King didn’t sound bothered in the least by his righteous anger. “It changes, actually.”

“What?” Arthur asked, completely taken off guard.

“Hearts. The number of them changes. Right now, I have three.”

“How—” Arthur started to ask before he realized he was being directed off topic again. “No, I don’t care about that. Why aren’t you answering my questions?”

The hand cupping him shifted slightly, the fingers curling in towards him. Arthur tightened his grip on the finger he held. He might be doll-sized to this creature, but he wouldn’t let himself be tossed about like a toy.

“You didn’t answer mine. Did you want “John” back?”

“Of course I fucking want John back!” The words burst out of him before he could stop it. “I want John and I want to go back home!”

“But you wanted him out of your head. You wanted to give him his own body,” the King pressed, as if that had any bearing on Arthur’s answer.

“It’s none of your business what we wanted to do. What do you fucking want?”

“I want you to answer my fucking questions when I ask them,” the King finally raised his voice back and it shook with a sound that could only be described as electric static. The sound thrilled Arthur as much as it terrified him.

Mortal terror wasn’t enough to stop him now. “Well, too bad! I answered one of yours, so now you can answer one of mine! What do you really fucking want from me?”

The fingers closed around him and squeezed. The air wheezed out of him at the sudden pressure and he released his grip in a panic to try to shove the fingers away before they crushed him.

“I will give you one offer. You can either go back to your precious Arkham alone or you can have your “John” back and in his own body here in the Dreamlands.” Arthur opened his mouth to tell the King to go fuck himself, he would have both even if it killed him, and the King cut him off before he could get the words out. “Think very carefully before you answer or you will get neither. My patience for your insolence grows thin.”

And Arthur’s anger faltered. For a moment, the only thing he could think of was lying in the Prison Pits, John silent in the face of his ill temper, and staring up into darkness as he lay slowly wasting away in his own filth. It flushed a deep shame through him as soon as he realized that the subservience the King had worked to instill in him had taken, at least on some level.

But it also served as a wake up call. He was being an idiot. He knew exactly the sort of person he was dealing with and charging forward in a blind temper could only end poorly.

He would never go back to those Pits. He’d already died once to avoid going back to those Pits and he would die again if that’s what it took. But maybe he could avoid reaching that point at all. The King clearly wanted something from him. He needed to figure out what was going on and then find a way to turn it in his favor.

He’d beaten the King once when he climbed out of those Pits. He could do it again.

He needed to play along. At least for now.

There was no way he could trust a word that came out of the King in Yellow’s lying mouth. He knew he wouldn’t get John or a way out of the Dreamlands no matter which he picked, but all he needed to do right now was answer the question.

It was an easy question too. It wasn’t even a choice which he would pick.

“John. I choose John.”

John wouldn't leave him here. John would help him find a way for them to both escape, just as they’d always done before.

The King let out a pleased sounding rumble. “Very good, Arthur.”

The strange elevator like sensation came back, but this time he was being moved sideways. He was pressed up against the softest cloth he had felt in his entire life. Silken wasn’t a fine enough word for it. Silk was far too coarse in comparison. This material felt as if someone had plucked the gentle starlight down from the heavens and woven it into the ideal of fabrics that could only be found in dreams. Even the velvet-soft skin he was cradled in felt rough and unfinished in comparison.

There was an off-putting noise akin to the wind, if the wind could be described as solid, that was accompanied by a faint echo of whispers. Then it changed into something sideways to the sound of a multitude of shuffling bare feet and a flag rippling in the breeze. It made the hair on the back of Arthur’s neck prickle up.

John hadn’t described the King in much detail, but Arthur was starting to think that may have been a kindness. There was something very wrong with the way he moved, like nothing that had ever graced the Earth.

“Let’s get you settled in,” the King said simply as they moved.

“Settled where?” he asked sharply.

“A room, of course. This is your home now. I would hate for you to feel unwelcome,” the King crooned, clearly trying to put him at ease. It only made his hackles go up. He knew when he was being lied to and that tone of voice was nothing but falsehoods laid over a monster’s visage.

A guest. Ha. What a laugh.

He was just as much a prisoner now as he was before, no matter how nicely the King tried to dress it up for this go around. What in the world did he want from him? He’d already taken everything Arthur had left.

But… Wait. He was thinking about this incorrectly. The chance that the King wanted something from him specifically wasn’t likely. No, the only reason the King had ever cared about him was because of his connection to John. And now the King had kidnapped him back to the Dreamlands and was asking him about John.

Was this… Was this because John was fighting back? Was the King looking for leverage over him? Fuck, had Arthur doomed them both by agreeing to stay?

But would the outcome have changed if he said he wanted to go back home? The King wouldn’t have sent him back if he had meant to keep him from the start.

So the choice had been false like he first thought. It had been another clever manipulation because he knew just enough about Arthur to know which option he would pick and was hoping he could pull the wool over his eyes by making him feel like he had a choice. It had been a clever ruse to create some good will.

Well, Arthur was on to him. He wouldn’t find an easy mark here.

The sensation of movement and that brain twisting noise came to a stop. He was lifted away from that dreamlike fabric and tipped gently onto his feet on some sort of solid surface. The soft scent of flowers unlike any he had smelled before washed over him. Underneath their perfume, there was the faint scent of what he could only describe as clean water. It drew him forward a thoughtless step before he stopped.

He had no idea what lay before him. This was the King’s domain. There was an equal chance that some kind of paradise lay before him as that it was some kind of illusory trap that would send him into another monster’s lair.

“You are at the doorway of a lavish room,” the King began, in the same cadence that John had always used to describe what they saw. The sheer longing that ripped through him at the sound made his breath hitch painfully.

“The walls and floor are made of polished, dark stone with veins of violet crystal. It stretches out nearly fifty feet from one side of the circular room to the opposite. Golden tapestries hang from the walls between sconces lit with crystals full of trapped starlight. Right now, the room is lit with a gentle blue light in reflection of the sun outside. It will soon cycle through to red.

“Various pieces of furniture are scattered about the room. There are lounges, desks, bookshelves, and other soft looking surfaces to rest on. A large, circular bed lies set into the floor off to your far right. To your left, there is a large pool set with mosaicked tiles that depict the Hyades. Each of the glass stars glows with their own light. The water steams softly and soft towels and plates with fruit and flatbread lie along the pool’s rim.”

Arthur’s stomach clenched painfully at the mention of food. God, he didn’t even know how long it had been since he last ate. Time was strange in the cabin he dragged himself to. He kept passing in and out of consciousness and he couldn’t see the light outside to estimate the time. All he had to tell time was the number of times he awoke freezing and had to relight the fire.

“In the center of the room is an open circle set with the heart of another mosaic that stretches beyond the initial circle like golden rivers through the rest of the room. Along its edges are a variety of instruments, including a piano.”

It felt like a slap in the face. Arthur’s nails dug into his palms painfully. A piano. What a sick joke. “You don’t have to describe it. I’ll figure it out myself.”

“Very well. I’ll leave some of my Dancers with you. If you require anything, tell them and they’ll see it done.”

“I don’t need their help.”

“Then don’t ask anything of them.”

So they were his new prison wardens then.

There was a rustle of fabric from the King’s direction as he prepared to take his leave.

“What about John?” burst out of him without any further thought.

The King neatly sidestepped the question. “For now, you should bathe.”

Arthur wasn’t letting it go that easily. “And then what? You’ll produce John like some kind of party trick? Or is he contingent on good behavior? Do exactly what I say and you can have your friend back? You promised me John! Let me speak to him! I’d rather have him here than these Dancers.”

“I don’t need to produce “John,”” the King growled. And there is was. Arthur had known it was a lie and he still somehow felt his hopes shatter. He opened his mouth, to say what, he didn’t even know, but the King beat him to it. ““John” is already here.”

“He clearly isn’t!”

“Arthur…” the King said, disappointed and condescending. “You’re smarter than this. I know you understand what I mean.”

And damn it all, it only took Arthur a moment to catch on. “No. No, you are nothing like John. John is a good person. I know he’s still fighting you in there.”

Anger crept into the King’s voice. “And what do you know about me? Do you even know my name, Arthur Lester? Or will you keep calling me John until your final days?”

“I don’t need to know your name to know you’re a right prick. Even a fragment of your own soul wants nothing to do with you,” he spat back.

Silence rang between them for a long moment. An otherworldly growl like the screech of a slipping record echoed through Arthur’s bones and he froze completely still. He couldn’t even breath as the sound bounced back off the room’s walls.

“You forget yourself,” the King snarled, that horrific echo of the unknowable hammering the words directly into Arthur’s brain. “Maybe I should jog your memory.”

The scent of filth and despair flooded his senses and Arthur knew immediately where he was.

“No!” his voice cracked as he threw himself forward to claw at the hard-packed dirt walls. “Fuck! No, let me out! I won’t fucking go back! I won’t!”

Not the Pits.

Anything but the Pits.

The visceral scent and sensation of the walls under his nails abruptly vanished. He stumbled forward and collapsed to his knees. Shaken, he reached forward and patted his hands along the floor. It was hard, polished stone, not hard-packed dirt. Nothing like the floor of the Pit. Tears welled up in his eyes with the strength of his relief. He wasn’t there. He was still out.

He wasn’t there.

A sob ripped its way out of him.

“Arthur, I…” The King sounded so fucking much like John sometimes. It drew another helpless sob out of him.

Arthur couldn’t do this anymore. All he wanted was to go home. But how could he go back without John? He’d seen what waited for him on Earth without John. It was emptiness. He’d been dying alone and blind in a cabin in the middle of nowhere surrounded by snow. He couldn’t even pick a direction to drag himself in without risking death from exposure because he had no fucking clue if he was moving towards civilization or heading deeper into the wilderness.

“What do you fucking want from me?” His voice sounded so fucking small as it bounced off the walls of this fancy new prison.

He’d never wanted to hear John’s voice more than when he’d woken up on the floor of that fucking cabin.

But John hadn’t been there. John was here. John was a prisoner of the King still.

Arthur couldn’t leave him here alone.

He’d given his life up for John once. He could do it again. He didn’t have anything else waiting for him back home.

He dragged the tattered shreds of his resolve back around him and stood up. John needed him. He couldn’t fall to pieces now.

He wouldn’t let the King win again.

“Right now I want you to settle in. Take a bath, eat something, sleep. We can talk after that.” Arthur didn’t even have the energy left to get properly angry at how fucking gentle the King sounded now. The little flare that sputtered up died down almost as quickly as it appeared.

“Fine.” If the King was going to offer him respite, then Arthur would take full advantage of it. He would need it later if he wanted to escape with John.

“Then I will see you later,” the King told him. An unholy screech of electric reverberation and whispers clawed its way into Arthur’s brain and he brought his hands up to his ears with a pained exclamation. It did nothing to block out the noise.

Then there was a sudden sense of absence. He knew down to his bones that the King had departed.

After taking a second to pull himself back together, he stretched a hand out and shuffled to the left until he encountered a wall. Dragging his hand along it, he moved forward, carefully testing the ground with each step forward.

It was obvious when he reached the pool. The gentle caress of steam curled over his skin and the sweet, clean scent of water drifted up with it. He felt out with a foot until he found the lip of the pool. Eagerly, he reached for the tattered remains of his tie, before stopping.

The King had said he left some of his servants here.

He cleared his throat politely. “I would like to bathe privately now. If any Dancers in the room could either leave the room or turn away, that would be greatly appreciated.”

The rustle of cloth came from a few feet away from him and Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped. He’d had no clue they were so close. A new wave of annoyance hit him. The King couldn’t have included the locations of his fucking Dancers in his description of the room?

There was the sound of soft shoes moving away from him and then silence.

“I— Thank you,” he said shortly — hoping the sound had been their full compliance and not merely them moving back while continuing to stare — and started stripping out of his clothes. Though perhaps rags would be a better description of them. Mud, sweat, and blood was liberally encrusted into the fabric and the less said about the smell the better.

He tested the water with his foot carefully. Gentle, soothing, heat had him fumbling forward to get into the pool as quickly as possible. He splashed in and a groan ripped out of his throat. God, he hadn’t felt so good in… He didn’t even know anymore. It felt like it had been decades.

He took a second to just stand there, the water up to the bottom of his ribs, and soak in the heat. Then he ducked down and submerged himself fully in the water.

Suspended there in the water, time seemed to stop. There was nothing but heat and darkness and the sensation of being weightless. He folded himself down until he touched the bottom of the pool and there he sat.

His lungs began to burn with the need for air and, for a second, he considered just staying where he was. A visceral wave of disgust and horror followed hard on the heels of the thought and he shot back up to the surface of the pool.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t end it like that. Even the King in Yellow didn’t deserve to come back and find a corpse where there had been a living person.

The phantom sensation of the knife plunging into his throat burned at him and Arthur choked around it.

Jesus fucking Christ. He’d actually done that. He’d slit his own throat and it had…

It hadn’t been the relief he had thought it would be.

His stomach cramped hard and he dry-heaved. God. Fucking Christ. He didn’t want to think about this. He fumbled back over to the side of the pool and started feeling along the edges of it for some kind of soap.

His fingers encountered a metal platter of some sort and when he felt over it, he found what felt almost like… grapes? No, they were far too large for grapes and their otherwise oval shape ended in points rather than rounded edges. But their skin was smooth and cool like a grape’s. Maybe this was some alien fruit from the Dreamlands. He’d encountered so many oddities here. What were some strange fruits in comparison?

He left them where he found them for now. The thought of food made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

A little further on, he found a glass bottle of some sort. He pulled the stopper out and sniffed it cautiously. It was spicy and intoxicating and far too strong, but it had that soapy edge to its smell that indicated it was what he was looking for.

It wasn’t his preference, but clean was clean and he would use far more offensive scents if he had to. He tipped some into his palm and worked it into a lather before rubbing himself down.

As he worked it through his overgrown bush of a beard, he found himself wishing he had a razor. What he wouldn’t give to get a nice, clean shave right now.

He paused there, soap dripping slowly down his temple. Perhaps…

He cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me, would there happen to be a razor I could use?”

There was the soft tap of shoes moving out of earshot and then a long stretch of silence. Perhaps there hadn’t been any razors in the room. Or perhaps the Dancer had run off to ask the King if it was okay to let him shave. Whatever. He would finish his bath regardless of getting a shave or not.

Not too long later, as he was rising his hair our for a second time, the soft tapping of shoes approached until it was directly in front of him. Hesitantly, he held up a hand and something cool and metallic was pressed into it. Feeling it out, he found that he had been given a straight razor. “Ah, thank you.”

There was a small titter of laughter before the dancer moved back. Feeling strangely self-conscious now, Arthur finished cleaning himself up quickly.

He hesitated when he’d finished. The idea of getting out of the warm water was incredibly unappealing. Would it hurt to stay in the pool a little bit longer? There was food along the rim of it. He could soak a while longer as he ate. His stomach had settled while he performed his ablutions and now was letting him know in no uncertain terms that it wanted attention too.

Mind made up, he felt along the edge of the pool until he encountered the metal platter again. He plucked up one of the strange fruits and turned it over in his hand. There would be no benefit in poisoning him now, so it was likely safe to eat.

He popped it in his mouth. Tart, sweet juice burst over his tongue like a sunburst. His stomach roared at him and, before he knew it, he had demolished most of the bunch.

His fingers brushed along another item next to the fruits and he realized it was the flatbread. Delighted, he tore a chunk off and ate that too. It was freshly baked, soft and warm on his tongue, and it vanished almost as quickly as the fruits had.

He proceeded to clear the rest of the platter and even found a goblet full of what might have been some kind of strange mulled wine next to it. He didn’t know and right now he didn’t particularly care.

Uncomfortably full and warm, a massive yawn escaped him. He bent forward over where his elbows braced him on the pool’s edge and debated the merits of falling asleep right where he was. It was incredibly tempting, but he didn’t feel like dealing with the humiliation when he would inevitably have to be fished out of the pool.

Reluctantly, he dragged himself out of the water. The towels were just as soft as he had been promised and he happily wrapped himself up in one.

God, he felt like a new person entirely. The difference such simple pleasures made in one’s life was frankly unbelievable. He could hardly believe he was in the same Dreamlands that he had spent the last three months suffering through. It felt like he would wake up back in the Pits at any second.

Maybe he would. He was at the King’s mercy here.

The rapid patter of shoes came directly up to both sides of him and Arthur flinched back at their sudden proximity, slipping on the wet tile and nearly falling before he caught himself. “Jesus Christ. Don’t do that.”

There was a rustle of fabric from his right and then incomprehensibly soft, smooth fabric was pressed against the back of his hand that hadn’t gone down to make sure his towel didn’t slip.

Curious, he accepted it and ran it through his hands. It was folded up, but when he shook it out, he realized it was some kind of robe. “Is this for me to change into?”

There was another whisper of cloth from the right.

“Are you… not able to speak?” He tried to remember how John had described the Dancers when they had encountered them before, but the details were largely overshadowed by what came after. Another pointed whisper of cloth followed. “Right, of course, how about… Tap my arm once for yes and twice for no.”

There came two soft taps against his arm. The hand, if it had been a hand, had not felt like skin, but rather more like the flat of a ceramic blade that was body-warm in temperature. It was decidedly off-putting.

He shifted back a step and pulled the garment up against his chest. It seemed fitting that the King would leave him with strange servants unable to answer his questions.

The Dancer to his left reached forward and tugged lightly at the fabric in his hands.

“I can dress myself, thank you,” Arthur told her sharply and unfolded the garment to do just that. It took him a second to work out where his head and arms went, but soon enough he had the robes on over top of his towel. Feeling somewhat foolish, he then let the towel drop.

Pettily, he left it where it fell. The King could just deal with him making a mess of his guest room.

He made his way back over to the wall and let his hand trail along it as he started towards the other side of the room where the King had said the bed was. The Dancers trailed in his wake. It was more than a little unnerving.

“I can walk across a room just fine on my own. You don’t need to hover. Go do whatever it is you normally do.” It was unlikely they would leave, but Arthur could settle for them giving him some space.

Their footsteps stopped for a moment before they moved off deeper into the room. It wasn’t long before the sound of them was lost in the vastness of the space. Somehow, not knowing where they were or what they were doing was worse than having them dogging at his heels, but Arthur refused to call them back.

The walk stretched on and he encountered nothing aside from the tapestries and a few bookshelves on the wall. A few times he felt the smooth marble-like floors under his bare feet shift into the mosaic tiles the King had described, but other than that he encountered nothing.

The room was big yes, but surely he should have reached the other side of it by now. It occurred to him that he had no idea whether the bed was up against the wall or not. He could have already walked past it and was now circling back around to the pool. Alternatively, it could be a few steps in front of him.

He didn’t know and he hated how helpless it left him feeling.

He stopped walking and took a deep breath. At some point he would need to map out the entire room, perhaps shuffle a few items around in it to serve as guidance posts, but right now he was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep. He could find the bed on his own, but he didn’t know how long it would take.

His free hand bunched up in the robe before he straightened it back out and smoothed the fabric down.

“Excuse me, could one of you point me in the direction of the bed?” he called out towards the center of the room.

There was silence for a moment and then one set of footsteps approached. A pair of heavy hands landed on his shoulders.

He flinched back automatically, his hands coming up to defend himself before he stopped. The grip vanished immediately. He took another deep breath before he put his hands back down. He would not apologize for a perfectly reasonable reaction. Not to one of the King’s own.

There was silence for a beat of time and then the hands came back, alighting on his shoulders as delicately as butterfly wings. Slowly, he was nudged about two-thirds of the way around from the wall.

Warmth flushed into his face as he realized that he had indeed overshot the bed. “Ah. Thank you.”

The Dancer retreated again with a flutter. There was a soft tittering sound almost like laughter from deeper in the room. Arthur’s face went even warmer as he clenched his jaw and marched forward.

He hated this. Even more, he hated how much this bothered him. What did it matter if the King’s heralds laughed at the poor blind man? If they underestimated him, it would just make his future escape easier.

He wanted John back so much it felt like being stabbed.

The bed announced its sudden presence by way of changing the hard stone into plush fabric. Arthur yelped and tripped forward. He caught himself with his hands against pillowy cotton that sank down almost an inch with his weight. Laughter rang out from deeper in the room.

“Would the two of you shut up,” he snapped. Hadn’t they said they couldn’t speak? What was this then?

Angrily, he shuffled forward on his knees, feeling around for the edge of the blankets and a pillow. The bed continued to stretch onwards and, before he knew it, he had abandoned his quest to settle down in order to find out just how big the bed was.

The answer was unaccountably massive. Arthur was relatively certain that he could have stretched himself out twice and barely touched the edges of the bed. It was far beyond lavish, it was unreasonably ostentatious. He felt ridiculous just being in its vicinity.

Still, it was soft and he’d earned something nice after everything he’d been through. He draped one of the light sheets over himself — it was warm enough in the room that it was more than enough to keep him comfortable — and dragged one of the many plush pillows under his head.

A long breath escaped him as he relaxed back into the most comfortable bed of his life. He was out in moments.

He drifted slowly out of sleep. It was warm and comfortable and he never wanted to get up. He turned over, intending to settle down and go back to sleep, and something stroked over his arm.

Arthur shot up out of bed with a strangled yell. For a moment, he struggled with the blanket, then he was free. He shoved the thing on his arm off as he frantically scooted away.

He stopped, confused, as his hand met nothing but cloth. “What…”

Cautiously, he patted around for the thing he had felt moving, and his hand closed around a bolt of impossibly soft fabric. A shaky laugh escaped from him. It hadn’t been something trying to kill him after all. It was just some fabric he’d been tangled with.

Then the bolt of fabric wrapped around his hand and tugged him forward.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Arthur gasped and frantically tried to claw it off of him.

A deep, unearthly laugh reverberated around the room. Dread pooled in his stomach and he froze where he was. The King had returned.

He shoved the fear down as far as he could, but he couldn’t help the way his hands continued to tremble at the shock.

“Did you have a good nap?” the King asked him, fond and teasing and sounding far too much like John.

Arthur bristled. He tugged his arm firmly against the grip around it — and what was it? It felt just like cloth, if soft enough that cloth didn’t feel like an adequate word to describe it, but it moved like it was alive — and it curled further up his arm in response. Frustrated, he let his arm go lax instead of giving the King the satisfaction of continuing to struggle hopelessly.

“Are you finally going to answer my question?” he shot back.

“I suppose I should,” the King said, sounding bored by the idea of it. “Very well. You are here because I would like you to be.”

What a non-answer. There were so many ways a statement like that could be meant. “And why exactly would you like that? Because the last I checked, you hated me.”

“Hatred is a strong word for what I felt. Annoyance would be closer. Perhaps frustration. You were like a fly buzzing in my ear and refusing to leave.”

“A fly the almighty King couldn’t even manage to swat,” Arthur said sarcastically, feeling strangely stung by the flippant dismissal. “Yes, I can see why you might call that frustrating. Now stop dodging the question. Why am I here? Truly.”

“I think I swatted you just fine,” the King said smugly.

“Not the point,” he hissed.

The King sighed and there was a shuffling of cloth and the faint hint of whispers carried on an otherworldly wind. The cloth around his hand squeezed once and twisted further up his arm. “I know you had your expectations of what returning John to me would entail and that he shared them, but returning to my whole, unbroken self has had a rather different outcome.”

There was a sudden ringing in his ears as he processed what the King had said.

“No,” Arthur breathed out in horror and then continued, louder, “No, John promised he’d fight you! He wouldn’t give in that fast!”

“Would you just fucking listen to me?” the King hissed at him. “I did— He did fight. Every fucking step of the way. And ultimately it was a draw. I chose to become whole again rather than remain broken, but I am not the same King in Yellow that I was before. I am changed. You changed me. I don’t know if I want to kill you for it or reward you, but it is done and it cannot be undone. You, Arthur Lester, have changed a piece of the fabric of the universe.”

Hope surged up in Arthur. “Then… you’re saying John is still there?”

“Fuck, is that all you care about? Yes, “John” is still here. I remember every step we walked together and every emotion you evoked in me.”

The idea of the King having all of John’s memories was sickening. Those had belonged to John, not a monster like the King. He had no right to them. This had to be fixed. He couldn’t give up on John now that there was a glimpse of hope on the horizon.

“And you don’t want to be changed, right?” he cajoled the King. “So what if you gave him back? Undo the change, so to say.”

“Did you listen to a single fucking word I said? The change is done. I am John and John is me. I might as well rip an arm off and hand that over to you. It would accomplish about the same as ripping another piece of my soul out and stuffing it in your head, you greedy, selfish human!” The King’s voice rose into a brain-rending shout and Arthur froze in place.

“Do you have any idea what that was like for me?” The King continued in a multi-toned mixture of a spitting electricity and a growl of the wind that made every hair on Arthur’s body stand up straight. The fabric around his arm curled agitatedly, sometimes tight enough to be painful and sometimes loose enough that he might have been able to pull free. He didn’t attempt to.

“I was a prisoner! I had nothing but a pair of eyes, a hand, and a foot. I couldn’t speak to anyone, I couldn’t control our actions, I couldn’t even make a single fucking decision except for what I chose to tell you! I should kill you for daring to hold me prisoner!”

As abruptly as the King’s anger surged, it ebbed back down. His voice was firm and deep with a hint of whispers behind it as he finished. “I won’t stuff myself back into you anymore than you will walk back into the Prison Pits.”

“That’s—” Arthur started to say, a lump forming in his throat.

“But maybe that’s not what you want,” the King continued while Arthur tried to breath through the sudden wave of nausea. “Maybe, you just want a harmless little pet to guide your every action.” It was John’s voice, curling comfortably inside his head the way it always had. “A dying branch turned into a crutch for the helpless, blind man and damn what it means for the tree you took the crutch from.”

“Get out of my head!” he screamed. He jerked his arm back hard and the fabric finally fell away.

Arthur panted harshly in the heavy silence that fell over them. He could feel the King’s heavy regard pressing down on him like the stones of the cave under the lighthouse. He wrapped his arms around himself, half to keep them out of the King’s grip and half to reassure himself that he could still move.

After a couple moments to collect himself, he spoke again. “If there is any truth to what you just said, then you never do that again. Never. Do you understand me?”

He waited until he got a response.

“I understand,” the King said tightly after several long beats.

“Good.”

A charged silence fell over them.

Arthur’s felt like his emotions were being pulled in so many directions at once he was about to collapse in pieces. John was gone? For good? Oh god. He was—

He switched tracks. Had he really been imprisoning John? But John had wanted to stay with him! He wasn’t anything like the King and his cursed Pits.

But John also wasn’t really gone and still wanted him around, hence bringing him back to the Dreamlands? Hadn’t he been just as desperate to leave this place and return to Arkham as Arthur? Then the desire to stay here was the King?

It didn’t seem possible for his friend to be the same monster that had left him to rot in the Pits. He couldn't accept that. John was different. He knew it in his soul.

Was this all an elaborate ruse by the King to torment him as some kind of revenge? Arthur didn’t know if he could survive finding out that John was truly gone and this was just the King playing with him. But it felt so much like talking to John…

Arthur didn’t know. He felt like he didn’t know anything anymore. The rug was well and truly pulled out from under him.

But… Arthur had rebuilt himself from lower points than this. He had lost everything before. There was no excuse for falling to pieces now when there might still be something left.

It was likely a fool’s hope, and would come back to stab him through the heart, but he had to believe that John was still in there somewhere.

Unwinding his grip on himself, he wrapped his hands together, closing his right hand over his wooden pinkie. As John had said: there were miles still to go.

It was time to pick the pieces back up and carry on.

He could do this. He just needed to treat this like he had any other problem that needed to be worked through.

Arthur knew he was a damn good detective and very good at reading people. And, right now, he felt like he was being told the truth. Maybe not the entire truth, but very close to it. He could work with that.

“If I,” he swallowed heavily to force the lump down and tried again. “If I was your jailer, then why did you bring me back? Wouldn’t you have preferred to leave me to die on Earth?”

“Because you are also my friend, Arthur. I found that…” He fell silent.

“You found what?” Arthur prompted gently.

“I found that I missed you. As strange as that seems. I did not wish to leave you on Earth, especially when I knew I had injured you.”

He didn’t sound like the King. He sounded like John. Was it possible… Could John have defeated the King? Could he have absorbed the King rather than the other way around?

“John,” he questioned, the entirety of his tremulous hope contained in that single name.

“I suppose that is one of my names now,” he said with a hint of humor. “It’s been quite a while since I took a new one. Perhaps it was time.”

Arthur reached up in the direction John’s voice had been coming from. Hope and a kind of ecstasy he hadn’t know before swelled inside him. “Your hand. Give me your hand.”

Something warm pushed against his hand and Arthur closed both his hands around it. He would guess it was just a fingertip, but it was close enough. “I suppose I can’t quite shake your hand, but it’s still so good to finally properly meet you, John.”

“And I you, Arthur,” John rumbled back. His hand pulled away and Arthur felt strangely disappointed by the loss of contact.

Then John’s hand closed around him and he was lifted so gently he hardly even felt the movement of it.

Arthur still felt his stomach swoop and he clutched at the fingers around him for an anchor. “I’m not a doll. Don’t just go picking me up,” he objected.

“Of course not, Arthur. I simply wish to see you better. You are quite far down. I think I may get a crick in my neck talking to you.” John’s voice shook with suppressed amusement.

“Shut up. You’re the one who is far too big.”

“I prefer the term glorious.”

A finger pressed down on his head for a second and then lifted just enough to stroke over his hair. It was strange, but not entirely unwelcome. John had his own body. How novel. He released his grip with one hand and stroked over John’s finger in turn. How wonderful it was to be able to do something so mundane as touch his friend.

A laugh that was half hysteria and half honest joy bubbled up out of Arthur. This was utterly insane, but when had insanity stopped him before?

John was here. They would figure out the rest together, just like they always had.

#malevolent #jarthur #private eyes #just fucking take it #i finished a thing and i will not let a little fever stop me from posting #i will contribute to a fandom rather than just lurk for once #did i have a tagging system on the blog?#i think it did but it is lost now #my writing #the one problem with cross posting is i like to link them to each other but i cant fucking do that until theyre posted #so sorry if you try to click the ao3 link before the ao3 link fucking exists

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cheerysmores · 4 months

Text

Introduction

Hello all! There's a whole lot more of you now so I thought I'd give a proper introduction. I go by Cheery and this is where I post about the pains joy of writing.

If you're here for my Baldur's Gate posting/fics, you'll find that on my side blog @ponder-the-orb.

You can also find me at @cheerysmores on AO3 as well.

Fics (All BG3 focussed at the moment)

Gale

Stay: Gale x Fem Tav, Act 2 romance scene (non astral), Gale POV, 18+, smut & angst, hurt/comfort AO3 link

Ardently: Gale x Fem Tav, (Kind of a part 2 to Stay but not necessary reading), Act 2 romance scene, Tav POV, 18+, smut & angst, hurt/comfort AO3 link

Just as you are: Gale x Fem Tav, post-canon (pre-epilogue), hurt/comfort, fluff, Gale POV, Gale has chronic pain. (Now with artwork by @laserlope) AO3 link

The definition of home: Gale x Fem (illithid) Tav, post-canon (pre-epilogue), emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, reassurance, Gale would still love you if you were a worm, Tav POV AKA I saw that Gale is still 100% on board with marrying Tav even if they become a mind flayer so THIS was born. AO3 link

Broken Horizons: Gale x Fem Tav (named), post-canon, orb destabilises, ANGST, Major Character Death, heavy Tara feature, happy ending (I promise) Prologue The night before Day one Two months Eight Months AO3 link

Astarion

Shades of red: Ascended Astarion x Fem Tav, 18+, smut and angst, biting (whole lotta biting), blood, choking, Tav POV AO3 link

Isobel x Aylin

Moonlit quiet: Dame Aylin x Isobel Thorm, hurt/comfort/fluff, spoilers for Act 2, Isobel POV, Isobel and Aylin take some time for themselves following Ketheric's death AO3 link

Broken Horizons Drabbles

Common Ground: Gale x Fem Tav (named): some Act 1 sorcerer/wizard bickering. Fluff

Wash me Clean: Gale x Fem Tav (named): Tiefling party tension and some river bathing. 18+

Choose me: Gale x Fem Tav (named): 18+, smut and angst, post/during Act 2 romance scene, non-astral scene.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #my writing #intro post #blog intro

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unseededtoast · 13 days

Text

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twenty Seven

Chapter Directory

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross posted on my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those formats. Here is a link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted.

The amber glow from the fire gives his dark brown eyes a bit of life, like they've been touched with fresh honey. He licks his lips and I find myself unable to focus on anything else except for the man in front of me. My eyes look over the broad expanse of his shoulders, how his shirt bunches up around his biceps, and how he looks at me as if I am the last person on Earth.

Sunlight filters through the boards on the windows, warming the skin of my face. If it weren't for the uncomfortable ground I'm sleeping on, it would be quite peaceful. Keeping my eyes closed I soak in the warmth and relish in the peace while it lasts, for I know shortly things could change drastically.

I shift around on the sleeping bags and feel Joel behind me, pressed up against my back. With the realization of how close we are, my eyes shoot open and my body freezes. Breath catches in my throat as I focus on just how warm and inviting he feels. His broad chest is up against my shoulder blades, and it would be easy for me to lean back into him.

But I don't melt into his touch like I so desperately want to. Instead, I scoot further away from him, knowing he'd likely feel uncomfortable if he woke up and we were that close. Plus, if I did give into my temptation, it would make parting ways that much more difficult.

Sitting up, I go to look out of the window covered with boards to see if anyone is lingering around, alive or infected. My eyes dart back and forth for any sign of movement but there's nothing to be seen out there. Everything is utterly silent.

The silence is welcome after the last few days. My body still feels tired and worn, and I find myself missing my excuse of a mattress back in Boston. But soon I may be back on it once more. I wonder what all has changed in Boston since I left. I wonder if James was able to pick up where I left off and is still running pills, or if he passed it all on to someone else. I know his wife would be more than happy to see him put the pills down.

"Good mornin'" Joel's voice startles me out of my thoughts and I turn to face him. He's sat up and looking at me, an unfamiliar light in his eyes.

"Good morning." I answer, a small smile on my face. Leaving the window, I sit across from him and wait to see what he says.

Nerves tingle all over as I brace myself for the inevitable "it's time we go our separate ways" speech. Knowing Joel, that speech will likely only be a sentence or two. But in the back of my mind, I can still hear the way he told me I was family. And for a split second I wonder if our paths are not going to diverge after all.

"You ready to get out of here today?" He asks, rubbing his hands together. I nod my head in response.

"More than ready." I say, glancing back at the window knowing that anyone could be lingering out there right now.

"Good. How about we crack open some of these cans and then hit the road? We've still got a ways to go." He says, getting up and moving towards his small food stockpile.

"Where are we going?" I ask, watching as he grabs two cans.

"Jackson, Wyoming." He answers and hands a can to me. I see that he's kept the beans for himself and handed me some tomato soup.

"Wyoming?" I ask, unsure if I heard him correctly. He nods his head.

"Yeah. Unless you don't want to come?" His eyes glance from the can up to my face, where I can tell he's searching for my answer. I take a moment to digest what this means, my heart feels so full like it could just fall out of my body at any given second.

"I would love to." I finally answer. A ghost of a smile finds its way onto Joel's face and he pulls out his knife to open our cans.

"I think you'll like it there." He says and curiosity gets the best of me.

"What's it like?" I ask, having only heard bare minimum of what his family's living conditions are in Wyoming. Throughout this entire journey he's taken specific care to remain vague about his family and now it seems like he's ready to lay it all out in the open.

"The summers are nice, the winters cold. We've got ourselves a compound of sorts. When we get there you'll see what I mean." He answers, still too vague for my liking, but I accept it nonetheless.

It looks like Boston is forever in my rearview mirror. And that is fine by me.

We eat our breakfasts in silence and I prepare myself for the road we still have ahead. Hopefully the worst is behind us and we won't run into any more Tribunals on the way there, or ever again. And as I finish up the soup, I look over at Joel and remind myself that we will be okay as long as we have each other. Wherever he is, is home to me.

-----

"We've got about one day left." Joel breaks the silence.

It's taken us a little over a week to get close to Jackson from Omaha. The road has been surprisingly desolate. Sure, we ran into a few infected here and there and even saw some other people, but we steered clear of them and had no issue.

The only real issue we face is exhaustion. It's become quite clear to us that our bodies are not as forgiving as they once were. Both Joel and I ache all over from the extensive travel. Really, we haven't stopped since we left Boston, not for very long at least.

"This is our last night out here?" I ask, my throat dry from lack of water. He nods,

"Yeah, this is our last night." He says and the evening critters begin singing their songs.

It's bittersweet, to think that this is our last night out here all alone. It really doesn't seem like too long ago we were in Boston. I still remember seeing him for the first time in James' apartment and I still remember our first night together on this journey in the high rise.

From the very beginning Joel has shown me that he will take care of me. It's now clear as day to me that since that first night he's always shown that he cares enough to make sure I was safe. And knowing him like I do now, I realize just how much that meant. I was blind to it, but now my eyes have been opened.

My eyes stay glued to the back of his jacket as we walk towards our nightly destination. His hair has grown out since we started as well, and it's starting to curl towards the nape of his neck. And because it's growing out, I spy the little strands of grey that pepper his otherwise dark brown locks.

The necklace around my neck bounces with each step, but this time, it doesn't carry the weight of guilt around with it. No, instead it offers clarity, assurance, and love. I look down at the locket and for the first time I realize that I no longer feel guilty about my feelings towards Joel. Instead it almost feels like Ryan and Lucas are looking down at me, giving me their approval.

I know that they never would want me to isolate myself like I have for so many years. They would want me to be happy, to thrive and live life to the fullest. And my only regret is that it took me this long to realize that.

As we approach the steps of an abandoned house, I look up at the stars in the sky and say a silent thank you to Ryan and Lucas, who are no doubt with me always.

"Come on, it's gettin' cold out here." Joel urges me inside after opening the door. My eyes break away from the sky and enter the house.

The inside is dust-covered, I don't see any footprints on the floor which means that this is likely completely abandoned. After listening for a few moments and hearing nothing, I'm confident that there are no infected here either.

Joel sets his things down by the old couch and immediately begins clearing out the fireplace. While he does that, I go around and check for anything useful. The kitchen cabinets hold nothing of use much to my dismay. I look around and see the photos hanging from the wall, seeing another once-happy family. My heart aches for them, like it has ached for all the others.

"Fire's going." Joel calls out after a few moments. I rejoin him in the living room and see the fire he started going strong.

"Nothing useful in the kitchen." I say and sit on the worn-down couch. Joel stands from in front of the fire and wipes his hands on his jeans before he sits next to me.

"It's probably already been searched." He states and I nod my head, staring into the flames.

While I'm excited to see Jackson, I can't help but be nervous. What if the people there don't like me? What if his family doesn't like me? Will we get there and Joel leaves me to my own devices? And if he does, what will I do?

"Hey, what's wrong?" Joel asks. With a sigh, I look into his chocolate brown eyes and see nothing but concern within them.

"It's stupid, really." I say with a shrug, hoping he finds this as an acceptable answer. But unfortunately, he does not.

"I doubt it's stupid." He presses further. I bite on the inside of my cheek before I answer, trying to find the right words.

"I'm just worried is all." I say, unsure of how far he's going to push me for answers.

"Worried about what?" He further asks and it's at this time that I almost miss his nonchalant, don't care attitude towards me like he had on our first night. But on the other hand, it's nice to know he actually cares. I know it takes a lot for him to open up to people, and it's for that reason I decide to stop beating around the bush.

"What if they don't accept me there? I mean, if they find out what I've done, I wouldn't blame them for not wanting me there. I did bad things, and I mean seriously bad things, to those people." I try to keep my voice from wavering. I see Joel's shoulders relax, and he reaches a timid hand out to rest it on my thigh.

It feels like electricity courses through my veins where his hand is, and I hold his gaze, never wanting to look away.

"Hon- They will love you. I promise you. If they kicked out everyone who has done something in self-defense, there would be nobody there." He answers, cutting himself off once. His hand on my thigh squeezes slightly, sending butterflies soaring through me.

"What if your family doesn't like me?" I ask, knowing it's a little redundant, but needing the reassurance. I look down to where his hand rests on my lap and he uses a finger to lift my chin up so that I'm looking right at him.

"My family will love you as one of their own." He says with the utmost confidence.

His finger hasn't left my chin and between that and his hand on my thigh, I feel something within me awaken that's been dormant for too long. And I wonder if he feels it too. I place my hand atop of his on my leg, and grab onto his wrist with my other, not wanting him to let go. My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest, but I know that this is our last night where it's just the two of us, and I intend to make the most of it.

"Thank you Joel, for everything." My words carry a weight to them that I'm sure he picks up on. I see his eyes dance from my eyes to my lips.

"You don't have to thank me for anything. I would do it all over again for you, in a heartbeat." He says, his eyes searching mine. My breathing picks up and my adrenaline spikes.

Without giving it a second thought, my hands move from his to cup the sides of his face. His beard is scratchy under my fingertips, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Our lips connect and his hands find their way around my waist, bringing me impossibly closer to him.

Our first kiss is tender, yet holds so much pent up emotion. His fingertips dig into my sides, like he's reminding himself that this isn't just a figment of his imagination. One of my hands moves from the side of his face to his hair, where I grab a handful and tug on it just ever so slightly.

Joel is gentle with me, and he trails one of his hands up my body until it rests on my cheek. He cradles my head like I'm made of porcelain; afraid that one wrong move may break me. His other hand pulls me on top of him, so that I'm straddling his lap.

His hand on my hip holds me in place and a fire within me ignites, not one of anger, but one of love. My lungs begin to burn and I pull away from Joel, leaning my forehead against his. We're both out of breath and as we look into each other's eyes in a way we never have, I admit to myself for the first time,

I am in love with Joel.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear before letting both of his hands rest on my hips. I let my own arms rest on his shoulders and I lean forward, tucking my face into his neck. His familiar smell makes me feel right at home, like this is where I belong.

Joel's hand rubs up and down my back, comforting me in a way I haven't felt in over two decades. It feels so right, to be held by him, to be loved on by him. And though I've seen him kill people with his bare hands on this journey, I've never felt safer than right here in his arms.

He presses a tender kiss to my forehead, and I practically melt into him. I lift my head from the bend of his neck and sit up straight to really look at him. I notice all the small details like the smile lines by his eyes and the faint wrinkles on his forehead. And while others may not find them to be attractive features, they're the most beautiful things I've ever laid eyes on.

I lean forward and press our lips together once more, needing to know that he wants this, and that I didn't just catch him off guard. The way his lips chase mine tells me everything I need to know.

After a while, we move the couch in front of the fireplace and position ourselves comfortably. I lay between Joel's legs, my head resting on his stomach and his head resting on the arm. I'm sure our bodies will protest this positioning in the morning, but for now, there's nowhere else I'd rather be. The pain will be worth it.

-----

"You ready?" Joel asks, turning around to face me.

We had gotten somewhat of a late start this morning. I think both of us were dragging out the limited time we still have together. The two of us had woken up around the same time, the smell of smoke in the air from the fireplace. Joel was keeping me warm, and I could've stayed in his arms for an eternity.

But, after we had procrastinated long enough, I could tell he's ready to be back home with his family. And I couldn't be selfish and try to keep him all by myself any longer. It's time we both go home.

"Ready as I'll ever be." I say, eyeing the tall wooden gates in front of us. One corner of Joel's mouth turns up in a smile, and he steps back to me, putting his arms around my shoulders.

"They're going to love you." He says, kissing the top of my head. I smile up at him and finally move forward.

Joel and I take our final steps of our journey together and we stand side by side in front of the tall, strong, wooden walls of Jackson.

"Joel, is that you?" Someone at the top of the fence yells.

"It's me." Joel calls back and the man hurriedly jumps down from his post. Moments later, the gate opens up.

The man rushes to meet Joel, a wide smile on his face. And while they greet each other I look beyond, into the town. There are lots and lots of people. My chest tightens with anxiety, remembering how big the Tribunals group was.

"And you are?" The man's voice brings me back from my lapse in attention. I clear my throat and smile at the man.

"I'm Noelle, it's nice to meet you." I can only hope my smile is convincing and doesn't show just how nervous I am.

"Beautiful name. I'm sure you'll fit right in here. Tommy's gonna be ecstatic to hear you're back." The man beams at Joel.

"Yeah, I'll find him soon enough. Gonna try to get cleaned up first." Joel says. The man nods.

"By all means." He motions for the two of us to enter the town entirely, and shuts the gate behind us.

I turn and see that we're closed in here, totally surrounded by the walls. And while I know I should feel safe and secure, I feel almost claustrophobic. My palms feel clammy and I remember what it was like being trapped by the Tribunals.

"Hey, hey it's okay." Joel says quietly, stepping in front of me. He tilts my head so that I have no choice but to look at him.

"Come on, follow me." He says, guiding me by the small of my back.

As we walk through town I take in the enormity of the place. There's a child care center, a bar, a school. It's like another world in here, one that I thought was long gone. Here there's order and civility.

Kids run around playing and others walk around talking and joking. My eyes scan over everyone looking for something out of place. And I'm acutely aware of people's eyes on us as we move through the town.

Eventually Joel leads us to a two story brown house. We go up the stairs and enter, and it's a lot cozier inside than it looks from the outside.

"This is my house, I've got some spare clothes you can have until we get you settled, if that's okay?" Joel asks, slinging his bag on the floor without a care in the world. My aching shoulders rejoice as I place my own bag on the ground.

"Yeah, yeah that would be nice. Thank you." I say, appreciative of him taking care of me.

All this time I've been hoping for somewhere safe and I've finally found it. I just didn't think it would feel this weird, this foreign. Instead of being able to relax and assimilate, all my mind can ponder is when shit is going to hit the fan. Places like this just don't exist anymore. Places like this are usually homing groups like the Tribunals or other groups that do vile things to newcomers. What if I just walked into one big trap?

As Joel moves around to find what he's looking for, my heart hammers in my chest and my palms still feel slick with sweat. My chest feels heavy and I wonder if I'll be able to do this. I wonder if I've come all this way just to realize that I don't fit in anywhere anymore. The thought constricts my airways and I feel myself beginning to spiral.

"Hey, hey it's okay. I'm here. I've got you, you're okay." I hear Joel say but his voice sounds muffled. I feel his hands on my shoulders and I feel my feet moving, but it doesn't feel real. It's like I'm trapped within a twilight zone inside of my own mind.

Joel puts me down on something soft and the edges of my vision blur. My chest hurts and I can't get enough air. I can't breathe and I can't focus. The thoughts in my mind don't make sense. And I can't even ask for help, it's like my tongue tied itself in a knot.

What did I just walk into?

#joel miller tlou #joel tlou #the last of us joel #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #tlou fic #the last of us fic #joel miller x oc #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal

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coltermorning · 1 year

Text

Wanted: Day Two (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: After bringing you to his gang’s camp, Arthur deals with the consequences while you plan your escape.

Author’s Notes: Short chapter but I have to segue to the good stuff somehow ;) Part two of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, eventual smut, enemies to lovers

AO3 Link

Wanted: Day Two

Word count: 3066

You woke up tied to a tree. The memory of the past day moved through you at the same moment your pain did—if you ever got free, you would kill the man who captured you first, shortly followed by the horse that had landed you flat on your back. You didn’t think anything was broken, but you were sore enough that when you pulled your head up, even your neck screamed in protest. You gritted your teeth and took in your surroundings.

The night prior, you were surprised to find that your captor didn’t work alone at all. In fact, he ran with a gang so big you were willing to bet the price on his head was larger than the one on yours. You also watched closely enough to see that he treated these people like family, something you tucked away for later use. For if you were going to escape this troublesome turn of events, it wouldn’t be under the eye of the man who caught you—he was too smart to allow for that. No, it would have to be at the hand of one of the many other outlaws in this makeshift camp.

You had studied those still awake all night before your tiredness and aching body wore you down enough to sleep. Most were curious about you and had come to have a look, like you were some animal on display. A few teased about how harmless you looked, a few picked at your captor over letting you get the upper hand and land him such a blow to the head. Some remained quiet, studying you closely in the dark. Those were the ones you wouldn’t have any luck out of. They were too sharp for you to trick, recognizing just what it was in you that had resulted in such a high bounty in the first place. You would need those first few, the ones foolish enough to think you harmless, to help you escape. You were narrowing down which one to begin with when the man who had chased you across the state the day prior sauntered over.

“You hungry?”

You were, but like hell if you were going to give in to that so quickly. “How’s your head?” you said with a smirk.

He smiled right back, the jab bouncing off of him. “That’s too bad. I was feeling generous.” With that, he spun on his heel. You didn’t trust that he would have actually given you something to eat and were halfway to feeling grateful for his absence when a man you hadn’t seen the night before walked over.

“This the bounty you went after?”

He met your captor who seemed annoyed that he had to pay you anymore attention. He rounded and looked at you. “Sure is.”

The second man was older, having an air of respectability about him if the way the younger was regarding him was any indication. “What’s your name?”

You debated whether or not to answer him. When you considered it, you at least needed to decipher what kind of a man he was. He may be just the one you needed to escape. “Y/N.”

His expression didn’t change—not taunting like the man at his side, not suspicious like the others. “Well, I would welcome you, but it seems you got yourself caught on the wrong side of things.”

“Seems all of you have too.”

You thought you saw a trace of a smile light his features. He turned to your captor. “You’d do well to keep her quiet, Arthur. Or else I may just start to like her.”

The younger—Arthur—whipped his head around to the other in accusation, like this was the very last thing that needed to be said in your presence. The older man just waved him off and turned, heading back into the camp.

Arthur turned to follow, but before he was out of earshot, you said lowly, “You’d do well to keep a close eye on your fellow gang members, Arthur.” He stopped in his tracks at the use of his name. But he didn’t take the bait, walking on without a word. That was no matter. The words had the effect you wanted them to—if you could convince the man being away from camp was easier, your chances of escape skyrocketed.

Sure enough, your words had weight, as a woman from the night before who had been too drunk to say much of anything coherent walked over to you, looking over her shoulder as she did. “Arthur says we ain’t supposed to talk to you.” You reined in your satisfaction and let her speak. “I don’t see why, you being tied to a tree and all.”

“Probably because I stepped on that fragile ego of his.”

She barked a laugh. “Shit, that’s my favorite pastime.”

You gave her a small smile, not speaking, letting her carry the conversation.

“Listen, I figure you’re a lot like us. Any one of us could be in the same tight. A lot of us have been.” That much you figured. “I just wanted to say…I ain’t as agreeable on leaving you tied up. We have other ways of getting money.”

You cocked your eyebrow at her, unbelieving your luck. “You’ll set me free then?”

She gave a small laugh that said otherwise. “Are you kidding? Arthur’d skin me alive. I may not like it, but I won’t risk my neck for it.”

You looked to the ground, wanting to point out that her sympathy was unhelpful. But you needed to keep that sympathy, especially if you only had four days to change their minds about you. “It was worth a shot.”

You met her eye and she smiled—one step closer. She turned suddenly when Arthur’s voice came booming from behind her. “Karen!” He appeared, storming over madder than ever. That seemed to be a common theme with him. “I told you to leave her be. What part of that wasn’t clear?”

To her credit, Karen only let out that same lazy laugh, not intimidated by Arthur in the slightest. “Relax, I’m just talking with her. Gotta know your enemies, Arthur.” She smirked at him before passing, throwing a wink your way while his back was turned. You couldn’t resist—you smiled. And Arthur’s frown deepened when he saw it.

“Dangerous thing, letting me talk to these people,” you taunted. “You may as well stand guard.”

“I can trust them,” he said, the irony of that statement not lost on you. “It’s you I don’t trust.”

You shrugged. “Guess we’ll see.” Just as you said it, your stomach let out a loud rumble, betraying how hungry you were.

Arthur’s face split with a satisfied grin. “Good luck with that.” He left you alone to think about that hunger and how damn thirsty you were too. It was starting to get to you.

A few hours later, the gang leader sought you out. You were leery of the man and his conniving way, each moment in his presence putting you on edge. It hadn’t taken long the night before for you to set him apart from the folk he ran with.

“Arthur mentioned you were over in New Austin when he found you.” He said this as he slowly approached, eyes locked on you in curiosity, the words demanding somehow.

You decided then it would be better for you to go along with him. He wasn’t a man to be trifled with, and getting in his good graces would be beneficial. “Yes.”

“You ever see any law out that way?”

“Not often. Country’s still wild, and there’s not many folk around anyway, much less law. You get some in the towns but not anything real impressive.”

He studied you a beat. Then, “You telling me the truth?”

“I don’t have reason to lie, seeing the state of things.” You leveled him with what you hoped was a look of vulnerability. “The truth’s the best chance I got.”

He smirked, the sight not as satisfying as it should have been. It made your heart race with unease. After too long of him staring at you, he turned to walk away. “All right then.” You knew then and there you wouldn’t have any luck with him. He was above it all, talking all his followers into his bidding. It helped to be on his good side, but he would have to be convinced by the others not to turn you in. And that constant greedy look in his eye didn’t bode well for that.

More hours passed, and at last, someone took mercy on you. A handsome man with an intimidating height and a surprisingly gentle hand brought you water.

“Here,” he said, helping you drink. You accepted his kindness without pause. When you finished the cup, he stepped back and studied you. Then he left, a man of few words. You saw Arthur in camp shortly after arguing with him.

“You’re wrong for this,” the man told him, the words surprising you as they seemed to hold weight with Arthur.

“What would you have me do? We need money, Charles. She’s a criminal. It ain’t like that bounty weren’t deserved.”

“So are we. And we’d be in a bad way too if the law got wind of us.”

Arthur ran a hand down his face, preparing to push the subject. But before he could, he looked up to find the man gone. Charles. You liked him already.

You considered all that those defending you were saying and wondered, if you did manage to escape, if they would pursue you to the ends of the earth. You figured Arthur would, but his hatred for you was born of spite and revenge. Could the others talk him out of it?

You pondered this for hours as well as just where to go if you did escape when darkness fell over the camp. You watched one of the men bring in a deer and nearly collapsed with hunger, your knees wanting to give out at the pain in your gut. But you fought it, knowing you would be fed eventually. Arthur wouldn’t risk bringing you in dead if he had taken such care in keeping you alive thus far. At least, that was what you hoped. The man didn’t seem to see reason where you were concerned. You made a mental note that if you were ever in another bind like you had been in that canyon to leave the charge lines unscathed and aim for your captor instead. If you had killed Arthur then, none of this would be happening, and you wouldn’t have a grudge so cutting working against you that the man was willing to ignore all else in favor of watching you swing.

Arthur made up his mind as the night dragged on enough for most of the camp to be asleep. He was getting you out of here. If he heard one more word about being a hypocrite, he was going to start punching things.

Yes, you were like them in some ways, but did a thousand dollars mean nothing to these people? Did they not know what it took to support over twenty people? Dutch knew and agreed with him. Hosea had been decidedly quiet about it but didn’t call him on it. That was enough for him and should have been for the rest of them. And he was again angry that it wasn’t just the three of them and John, as all the others only wanted to whine and complain, no matter if it was about a lack of money or getting it for the wrong reasons. To hell with it.

Arthur left a note for Dutch telling him where he was going and made for you. You were asleep, held against the tree by the rope around your middle but otherwise halfway to falling over. He got his knife out and pushed you up before freeing you, making you stir.

“Arthur?” you asked sleepily, in a tone much too gentle for his liking. It was easier when you were at his throat.

He didn’t respond, quickly tying your legs back together and picking you up. You didn’t protest, a fact that worried him. As if you preferred being taken away. He would have to keep a damn close eye on you.

Arthur had you on his horse and out of camp in minutes, avoiding the guard, noting you had already fallen back asleep. And damn you for doing it, because he knew it was from lack of food and water and rest, and he was dangerously close to feeling guilty. He tried his best to justify what he was doing but only kept hearing the others’ words in your defense. They repeated over and over in his mind until he realized that he had been keeping his horse at a walk so as not to wake you. He scoffed at himself for being an idiot and kicked the horse into a lope, riding into the night.

Within the hour, he arrived at Lake Owanjila. He rode to its south side, knowing he had less chance of intruders riding on top of him on the pathless side, and stopped to set up camp. He hadn’t realized you were awake until he heard your voice rise up from the back of his horse.

“Get me off of this thing, would you?”

“What, you don’t like horses now?” he said with amusement, referring to your rough ride the day before.

“I like horses fine, but I feel like I got hit by a train, and it smells like horseshit back here.”

Arthur chuckled. He would get you down when he finished with camp. He continued his work, setting up his tent. He may not need it, but this place was notorious for plummeting temperatures at night and occasional rain. He didn’t want you dying over something as stupid as that when he had gotten this far.

After finishing up with the tent, he searched the nearby woods for firewood, staying close enough to keep an eye on you. You tried wiggling off the horse at one point and startled when he said, “I wouldn’t do that if I was you. Good way to get your neck broke. Prematurely, I mean.”

“You’re insufferable,” you shot back, though you stilled and he didn’t hear another peep out of you while he finished building the fire.

Once he got it going, he finally gave in and got you down, sitting you beside the fire. He pulled some dried meat out of his satchel and put it in front of your face, as your hands were still tied and you couldn’t grab it yourself.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you chided. “Untie me.”

“Like hell I am. Eat. I won’t offer it a second time.”

He could nearly see the steam coming out of your ears as you swallowed your pride and did as he said. It didn’t take long for that anger of yours to be replaced by blatant hunger though—you finished the food in under a minute.

“Like a damn wild animal.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” you snapped. “I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t starving me.”

“I ain’t starving you. I just offered you food.”

“Oh, how thoughtful.” Then, “Don’t think I don’t know why you brought me out here. Why you feel the need to give me food in the first place.”

“Why’s that?” Arthur sat back with a grin, taking a bite out of his own food.

“Because you felt like a piece of shit back in that camp. Because everyone was telling you you were one.”

He narrowed his eyes, trying not to let you get a rise out of him. “I brought you out here because it’s easier to keep an eye on you. I got too much shit to do when I’m in camp.” You laughed, the sound a bitter one, and turned to the lake.

“Lie to yourself all you want.”

He was done with this. He stood and walked to his horse, checking his saddle bags for the extra stake for his tent. He fished it out and walked straight to you, rearing back with it. You yelled your fear before he brought it down at your back, driving it into the ground just behind you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you yelled.

He didn’t answer, going back for the mallet he used to drive the stakes in. He drove the thing into the ground deeper than he ever had, his anger fueling him, then yanked the rope tied around your hands. You protested once more, but he ignored it as he twisted another length of rope through yours, tying it to the stake. Tight. If that didn’t keep you held, nothing would. Not to mention it put you at a terrible angle to sleep in. Good. He preferred it that way. Just when he started feeling sorry for you, your smart mouth reminded him why he was doing this. He thought back to the canyon collapsing in on him and gritted his teeth as he ignored your protestations and entered his tent.

He sat, annoyed when he realized he was faced straight at you, and you were faced straight at him.

“You piece of shit,” you spat. “I’ll get out of this, and I’ll be long gone before you can so much as feel sorry for yourself.”

Arthur leveled you with a flat stare before getting up and yanking the tent flaps shut with enough force to send the whole thing shaking.

“Oh, real mature,” you taunted, your voice slightly muffled but still loud. “Captured by a goddamn child of a man.”

Arthur tried his best to ignore you and laid down, knowing if he was quiet enough, you would give it up soon.

After five minutes, he was close to snapping while simultaneously surprised you knew so many foul words. It would have been laughable if it weren’t so goddamn irritating. He finally covered his ears and shut his eyes tight, hoping for sleep to come and for the night to tire you out. He wasn’t sure which came first, only that his annoyance seemed to wear on him more than he thought, as the darkness around him soon gave way to nothingness.

_________

Part three is here.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

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vilandel · 6 months

Text

Not A Rival

Summary Surprising her boyfriend at Headquarters seemed like a good idea, but little did Vanessa know that 1. three captains were going to find out she was dating Nozel Silva and 2. that they weren't the only secret couple...

A/N Wrote this two years ago, one of my first oneshots for Black Clover... So, it was way before the famous Lucius plot twist, which is why Julius makes an appearance here

Ao3 link

♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣

“Nozel, stop, it tickles.”

“I highly doubt that this is the reason why you always laugh when I kiss you there. And… may I doubt as well that you really want me to stop?”

Gosh, that sounded hot. Vanessa swooned a little. Well, more than a little. He was right, she didn’t want him to stop. Nozel just let a smug smile appear on his lips before he lied them back on her neck. She couldn’t help but to giggle again.

Well, it was true, it didn’t really tickle. Maybe a little, but that wasn’t the reason why Vanessa laughed. She was just happy. Happy to be in Nozels arms. Happy to see him again after three days. Just happy.

It wasn’t easy to be in a secret relationship with a royal. Even more with a Head of House, who happened to be also the captain of the Silver Eagles. Not to mention that a relationship between a prince and a witch wouldn’t be well received within royal and noble circles. That was one of the reasons why Nozel and Vanessa kept their relationship a secret for now.

One day, they will make it official and be out in the open. Face those rules and all those stupid things that were expected from royals. Vanessa might be a tiny bit sorry for all those nobles with daughters they would have loved to see engaged to the Head of House Silva. That she could understand, Nozel Silva was a catch. But at the same time, Vanessa wasn’t sorry at all. It would be arranged marriages, no place for love. Nozels heart was hers and her own was his. She refused to give that up.

But right now, Vanessa didn’t want to think about nobility and those stupid, complex circles full of bigotry. Nozel was far more important to her and his lips way more enjoyable. They made their way across her jaw before finding her lips. Nozel didn’t waste any moment, kissing her deeply. Vanessa put her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. Heavens, she missed his kisses so much!

“You should relax more often, honey. It does you good”, she giggled as they parted.

Nozel simply tucked some of her pink curls behind her ear, a soft smile on his lips. Vanessa sighed happily. She could swoon for that smile. They were together for a few months now. Getting used to see those genuine expressions on his face, usually hidden behind his cold mask, had been surprisingly easy.

“It is very easy to relax, when you’re with me.”

They kissed again, much softer, but still passionate. Vanessa was decided to savour any moments, to not miss one single second.

Three days without seeing each other, that was long. Vanessa had been on a mission at the border to the Diamond Kingdom, but most of the time, Zora, Gordon and herself had been more preoccupied to stop Luck to destroy anything. And when they came back, she just had learned that not only there was a captains meeting, but that all nine of them plus the Wizard King had been called for a meeting with King Augustus, because… well, the reason was most certainly something stupid and forgettable.

This had frustrated Vanessa quiet a lot. She hadn’t seen Nozel for three days and even worse, she didn’t have the chance to really say goodbye.

But then, a chance appeared. Noelle wanted to go to the capital to meet up with her sister, so Vanessa jumped on the occasion to accompany her.

Noelles bond with Nozel had become better and stronger, her relationship with Nebra was also on the way for betterment. Noelle was taking one sibling at the time to mend those broken bonds. After some awkward meetings, the relationship between the Silva sisters became slowly better, today Noelle and Nebra were on good terms.

Vanessa left Noelle with her sister at some noble but nice café, pretexting to go shopping at the Black Market. Nebra had made a confused face and Noelle began to explain while her squadmate let them be. But of course, instead of going shopping, Vanessa went headfirst to the Magic Knight Headquarters, determined to finally see Nozel again.

She just came right when the first meeting was over and when the captains had a bit time before the second one with the King. Surprising her boyfriend of a captain right when he was alone in a hallway, Vanessa dragged him into an empty room, where they fully enjoyed their reunion.

“Don’t you have a meeting with the king coming soon?”, Vanessa asked innocently as they parted from another kiss.

“That’s not of importance”, Nozel answered quietly, before rubbing his nose against hers.

But just as they were about to kiss again, the door to the room opened suddenly.

“Wha-… Oh, my! Oh my!”

Nozel and Vanessa turned abruptly towards the intruder, who was none other than Dorothy Unsworth, captain of the Coral Peacocks, very much awake, for once.

The other witch looked very surprised, but had still the biggest smile on her face.

Vanessa saw Nozel turning beet red and she suspected to be a bit flushed herself. Until now, only the Wizard King and Nero knew about their relationship; as well as Gordon, but he learned it by accident. Which had been enough for now, both weren’t ready yet to go out of secrecy.

Although, with captain Dorothy here, their secret was at risk to be no longer one.

“Oh well, that is unexpected. But how cute are you two! I mean, I suspected you to have a lover, Nozel, but I’ll never would have thought this person is a fellow witch! Congratulations! Aww, did I mention that you’re both cute together?”

“Yes, you did.” Nozels voice was calm and he straightened himself, like a proper royal. But he was still blushing a lot and he didn’t let go of Vanessa.

“How… did you had suspicions?”, the Black Bull witch asked. She didn’t know what else to ask.

“Oh, it’s subtle, but I had the feeling that Nozel was more relaxed those last few months. Happier too, he smiled more when he thought no one was looking. Besides, he took much more free time, which says a lot. Did you two knew that it is a mystery my squad wonders about right now? Why would captain Nozel Silva of the Silver Eagles take more free time? There’s a few bets concerning this and it seems that I won mine.”

Dorothy babbled, chipper as always. Vanessa was blushing again, though she couldn’t help but smirk a little. The thought that some Magic Knights had running bets about Nozel being in a relationship or not was a funny thought.

Her boyfriend, on the other hand, didn’t seemed very pleased. “Dorothy, I would be most grateful if you would keep to yourself what you saw.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait until it becomes official, I’m patient. And you know me, Nozel, my lips are sealed. You at least asked me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you’re actually the second secret couple I discover today. That’s way I came here in the first place, to take cover.”

But before Nozel could ask what she meant, there was a voice thundering through the hallway, “COME BACK HERE, MISS POINTY HAT, WE’RE NOT FINISHED WITH YOU!”

One moment later, a very angry Yami crashed in. Vanessa flinched. That wasn’t good. Her captain was surely one of the last persons she wanted to find out about her relationship with Nozel. Looking at the silver haired man, she just knew that he was thinking the same. She sighed. Hopefully it won’t be too difficult to continue to meet.

But then, captain Charlotte appeared just after Yami. Holding his hand.

Oh… Oh. Oh!

In that case, it maybe won’t be too difficult to continue to meet. She just needed to don’t screw this up.

“Listen well, Sleepy Hat. If you ever dared to tell anyone one single word about what you saw, I’ll personally-“

“Yami, please, you can ask her nicer.”

“Rule number 1, Prickly Princess, NEVER take any risks! I don’t want my entire squad coming after you. Or your fangirl getting overly upset every time she sees me.”

“We’re not there yet. None of our squads knows.”

“I know my brats, there’s only a matter of time until one of them finds out. And besides your fangirl, all your girlies might discover it soon as well.”

Dorothy just interrupted them with a cherry giggle, “One of your squad already knows, Yami dear and it has nothing to do with me. At least directly.”

“Dorothy!”

Nozels warning came a tiny bit late. Both Yami and Charlotte realized that Dorothy wasn’t alone. Slowly, they turned to the other couple in the room.

It was a bit an intense yet awkward silence. Vanessa didn’t know if she felt excited or embarrassed. Maybe a mix of both.

While Dorothy smiled like she had the time of her life, both couples just looked at each other, slowly trying to understand what was happening.

Silence.

Dorothy giggled.

More silence.

“What the fuck!”

That was exactly what Vanessa was thinking. Nozel and Charlotte probably had the same thought as well. But none of them would have said it out loud like Yami did.

“Hello there, captain Yami. Captain Charlotte, nice to see you.”

She had a joyous voice, but Vanessa knew that her cheeks were still burning. Hopefully, the other two wouldn’t notice it. After all, they were also flustered.

“Um… nice to see you… too… um, Vanessa, wasn’t it?”, Charlotte stuttered. She looked like she didn’t quietly understand.

“What the hell are you doing with a member of my squad, Bird Braid?”

Nozel straightened himself again. Despite the blush and the fact that he was still holding Vanessa, he looked very royal.

“Probably the same that you did with your own… girlfriend, Yami.”

“Girlfriend?”

Both Yami and Charlotte looked like their minds went blank. Which was quite a sight to see, but Vanessa was still a bit too flustered to laugh. Not like Dorothy, who couldn’t stop giggle right now.

Vanessa looked up to Nozel, a happy smile on her lips. “So… does that mean that I’m your girlfriend?”

“What else should you be?”

The captain of the Silver Eagles was still blushing, but when he looked at her, he was softly smiling. Vanessa couldn’t help but put a kiss on his lips.

She heard Charlotte gasping and Dorothy letting out something that sounded like an aww.

“For fuck’s sakes!”

The couple parted as Yami yelled.

“What is even going on? Braids is smiling and you hug him, kiss him? Did I miss the end of the world or what?”

“If it were the apocalypse, we wouldn’t be here, Yami.”

“Shut up, Birdie, I wasn’t talking to you!”

Nozel sighed, tightening his hold on Vanessa. Holding her helped him a lot to calm down.

“So… you’re together?”, Charlotte asked, a bit pale and probably still processing what was going on.

“Oh, come on Lottie, no need to ask, it looks pretty obvious, don’t you think? I mean, look how they still hold each other, even after getting caught.”

“Lottie?”

Yami forgot shortly Nozel and Vanessa to look at Dorothy, apparently stunned that she had such common nickname for his girlfriend. But Charlotte didn’t react to Lottie, she simply continued to stare at the two love eagles, who were indeed still holding each other tightly.

“Since a few months.”

“Months?”

Yami stopped to look at Dorothy to glare back at Nozel and Vanessa. Well, mostly at Nozel.

“And how long have you two been together?”, Vanessa asked, before either Yami or Nozel would say something insulting.

“Well… a few… weeks. Not as long as… you both”, Charlotte answered, with a very stuttering voice. Vanessa frowned a bit. Why was the captain of the Blue Roses this shocked?

“Oh, in that case… congratulations, captain Charlotte.”

“For you… as well, Vanessa…”

“Oh, for fucks sakes, to hell with the congratulations!”

“Language, Yami dear.”

Captain Dorothy seemed really to have too much fun right now.

“Vanessa, really? Hanging out with Braids for months? Come on, you have better taste than a wall of bricks!”

“Excuse me?”

Nozel was about to retort something, but Vanessa was faster.

“Captain, who I’m dating is my business, not yours. And Nozel is anything but a wall of bricks. Trust me, I already get countless proofs that he’s not made of stones, given how many times we-“

“Vanessa!”

Nozel put a hand on her mouth, while blushing even harder than before. But it was too late. Dorothy, Charlotte and Yami perfectly understood what she was going to say.

Charlotte blushed furiously, Dorothy giggled again and Yami looked like his mind went blank, surprisingly.

“Wait, Bird Braid. Does that mean that you’re not prude?”

Silence.

The two witches burst into laughter. Well, Dorothy already had a lot of laughs in the last few minutes, but this time Vanessa couldn’t help it, despite how flustered she still was. She didn’t even know if it was funny and why, she just laughed.

The other three captains didn’t laugh, though. Nozel simply sighed, resigned, flustered and still holding his girlfriend of a witch. He softly caressed her rosewood curls and seeing Vanessa this happy helped him to calm down a bit.

“Vanessa, would you please don’t speak about… this in front… of others? This is very… private.”

“Sorry, honey. I just don’t like that he insulted you, so I got heated a bit.”

“Not only is Bird Braid not prude, but he said please?”

Dorothy burst into laughter again. She really seemed to have the greatest time ever. All she needed at this point was popcorn and to sit down.

Just in this moment, the door opened again and Julius came in, visibly content. “Ah, there you are. Good news, I managed to persuade Augustus that the second meeting wouldn’t… Oops, did I interrupt something?”

“No, nothing at all, Wizard King. I just discovered that three of my captain colleagues are in a happy relationship and one of them even with a fellow magic knight witch.”

Dorothy couldn’t help it, it seems. She was lucky that the Wizard King knew about her and Nozel, but what if it had been someone who didn’t know? Vanessa knew that her boyfriend wasn’t eager to tell any of the captains for various reasons, especially Fuegoleon. But he had admitted that if one captain would not so much of a problem, it would be Kaiser. For Nozel to came to such a conclusion and to admit it, was already big.

Vanessa looked at Yami and Charlotte. They weren’t really disturbed by the present of the Wizard King, it seems. That might would mean, that Julius knew about their relationship as well.

Where there other captains in secret relationships he would know about?

“Vanessa, nice to see you. You’re really lucky, the second meeting won’t happen, so Nozel can take you directly on a date. Which is really less, less boring than the meetings, even for him, I’m sure.”

“Wait, Julius, you knew that Braids was dating one of my brats?”

“Yes.”

“So why didn’t you tell me?”

“They wanted to keep it secret, just like you and Charlotte.”

The Wizard King answered with a very happy smile, so that even Yami couldn’t bring himself to retort something. So, he decided to glare at Nozel again.

“Okay, but listen, Birdie, if you-“

“I know!”, Nozel replied, interrupting the captain of the Black Bulls. “If I hurt Vanessa, you are going to hurt me, no need to tell me. But it is not in my attention to hurt her. Besides, she can defend herself. She’s a very capable Magic Knight, after all.”

“Thanks, honey,” Vanessa chirped, kissing his cheek. Nozel blushed again, but he couldn’t repress that a small smile appeared on his lips.

“I can’t even threat you properly, Braids? No fair!”

Dorothy laughed again, clearly having a very fun time. This time, she was joined by Julius.

The couples, on the other hand, were still looking awkwardly at each other. That is, until the captain of the Blue Roses seemed to get a hold on herself.

“There is something I need to clarify. Vanessa, since you and Nozel are… well, in a relationship, that would mean… um, that you’re… not a rival, right?”

What was Charlotte talking ab- Oh!

Their contest at this Star Festival when the Black Bulls came in second. Back then when she and Nozel weren’t together yet, not even really acquaintances. When her crush was still lingering and given how she challenged the captain of the Blue Roses back then while she was already a bit drunk, Charlotte must have come to this conclusion.

Vanessa looked at Nozel and from his glance, she knew he understood as well what Charlotte meant. Of course he knew, she had told him about this crush on Yami. He had been a bit jealous, but he made big efforts to fight against it. After all, that crush was the past and Vanessa had countless occasion to prove him she was now his. And her feelings for Nozel weren’t a crush.

“Rival? What kind of rival?”

Of course Yami would ask. He had been oblivious to her crush on him and for someone who was able to read Ki, he had been wrong for long about Charlottes true feelings towards him. Even today, the captain of the Black Bulls seems to have no idea what his girlfriend was talking about.

On the contrary of Dorothy and Julius, who had known basically nothing about this, but still seemed to have put the dots together. The captain of the Coral Peacocks was still smiling cheerily, but now with a knowing glance. The Wizard was still smiling as well, but there was some worry in his eyes and he seemed ready to step in if something might happen.

Alright, time to put this non-existent rivalry back where it belongs.

“No worries, captain Charlotte. I’m not a rival and given the circumstances, I might never had been one. I found my luck somewhere else and I couldn’t be happier.”

Relief washed over Charlotte and for the first time since she entered this room, she smiled.

“That’s good to hear. I mean, um, well… I’m happy to hear it. And sorry that I think… that you were… well, my rival. Well, what I mean-“

“I think I get it and there’s really no need to apologize.”

“But when I believed it, I thought kinda badly about you and I was afraid that you would take… well, I’m sorry to have believed it.”

“Well, sweetie, you won and I’m really happy for you. Although I don’t consider myself as a loser, on the contrary”, Vanessa smirked while looking at Nozel with a wink. He smiled again softly, but not without getting flustered.

“Wait, Prickly Princess, what kind of rivalry did you had with Vanessa? Who’s the better knight or what?”

“Yami, for someone who reads Ki, this could sound rather stupid coming from you”, Charlotte sighed, slightly blushing and now holding his arm. Dorothy and Julius burst into laughter again.

Vanessa felt Nozels arms tighten around her. Oh, he must still feel a bit jealous, maybe. She grinned, leaning into him. She wasn’t mad, he made such efforts to come over it, even though it was in a Silva way. And even better, it would give her one more reason for staying at his place this night and prove him again that she was now his, only his. Something she loved to do.

“Don’t worry, honey. Even if he finds out today or another day, it will be not such a drama. I’m sure of it. Consider it something that you know and he ignores.” This made Nozel smile softly. “And I’ll show this night that I’m yours only.”

“Your place or mine?”

“Yours, we’ll clearly need some privacy after this.”

“Good, but let me take you out on a date first.”

“I’d love that, honey.”

“Oh, sweet love eagles, what are you whispering over there?”, Dorothy called out, causing Yami, Charlotte and a very grinning Julius to turn back at them.

“Just sweet nothings, captain Dorothy,” Vanessa chirped, leaning more into Nozel.

“Ugh, gross- Ouch! What was that slap for, Prickly Princess!”

“You never find it gross when I say sweet nothings to you, so stop being so contradictory!”

“I’m not contradictory, since it comes from Braids, after all. It doesn’t suit him!”

“It doesn’t suit you as well on the first glance, but you’re still doing it when we’re alone, my dear Dark Knight.” Somehow, captain Charlotte managed to sound angry and flirtatious at the same time.

The captain of the Blue Roses seemed more confident now. Was it because of the relief that after all, she didn’t have a rival to Yami’s heart? Vanessa couldn’t help but smile. She was really happy for them.

And she had something to use in case Yami would made some difficulties about her dating someone he respectfully didn’t like. After all, Vanessa loved Nozel, she wanted to be with him and she won’t let anyone take this away from her, not even her squad.

“So… who knows about those juicy little secrets? Besides me and Julius dear, of course,” Dorothy asked, with the biggest grin on her face.

“Well, Goldie Guts knows. He might have even known before Charlotte and I did. And that fat, winged Blue Rose there. Molly Something, I don’t know.”

“Yami, please, don’t call her fat! And her name is Puli, not Molly. Puli Angel! And don’t you dare whatever me, she was a great help for our relationship and still is.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Vanessa, Dorothy and Julius burst into laughter again at the couples bickering. Even Nozel was smiling a bit.

“In our case, it’s Nero. I don’t know how she find it out, though. And Gordon, he stumbled on us by accident, when Nozel visited me at the Hideout.”

Vanessa still had no idea how Nero found out, but she was glad that this dear, silent girl did. Nero’s own story with the first Wizard King was heart breaking. Even more that the black-haired girl wanted to help Vanessa with her own prince. Her words. Vanessa has been very touched by Nero’s story, so that she offered her to be there whenever she needed to talk about her lost love.

As for Gordon, it had been an accident. He basically caught them in a heavy making out session while they were in one of the rare, not so crowded places of the Hideout. But it didn’t cause any problems. Vanessa couldn’t imagine if it had been Gauche, Magna or especially Noelle. Gordon at least was a silent guy, even genuinely happy for them. After giving them his congratulations, he had promised to keep the secret and left them alone. The next day, Vanessa got a glimpse of a new doll in Gordons collection.

“Don’t tell me you invited Braids to our Hideout?”

“Alright, I won’t tell you.”

Dorothy giggled.

“Did you never invite Charlotte at your place?” Nozel asked, as calm as possible. He was probably trying hard to not start a stupid fight. He was really trying so much and Vanessa was ready to generously reward him tonight, as thanks.

“Sometimes, but… well, it needs acrobatic measures to have some privacy back there.” Yami looked like he was himself trying to not start a fight. The fact that Charlotte was holding his arm tightly might helped.

“I have to agree on that.”

“Hey, don’t you dare insult my Hideout, Braids!”

“I swear, I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“Leave my boyfriend alone, captain!”, Vanessa pouted. “He was just stating a fact and I agree on it as well!”

“Me too, actually,” Charlotte added and that made Yami close his mouth.

“How amazing! Nozel, Yami, what a treat to see you agree on something!” Julius exclaimed, clapping his hands.

Nozel and Yami just looked at each other, not sure how to react about that statement. Vanessa sighed, those two might never change in their opinion about each other. At least, they respected one another and that was a lot already.

Charlotte looked at Vanessa, who looked back. There was some resigned acceptance and understanding in their eyes, probably due to their respective partners. But also a new affection. Maybe now that this non-existent rivalry question was out of the room, maybe they could become friends. Vanessa would be happy about it.

“So, um… We agree to not tell anyone about our little secrets? At least, until we’re ready,” Charlotte suggested.

“Yes. I love my squad, but I’m not ready for them to learn about my relationship with Nozel yet,” Vanessa giggled. Oh yes, she definitely wasn’t ready for that. Well, Nozel and Vanessa were talking lately about to finally tell Noelle about it – a topic that Nero and Gordon were coming up as well from time to time – but they were still postponing. Noelle was surely going to have a shock learning this and well, she might overreact a bit like the Silva she was.

“Yep, you can count on me, cuties! I won’t say anything!” Dorothy added, making a peace sign. She was having so much fun, obviously.

Nozel only added in agreement. Yami said nothing, glaring at the captain of the Silver Eagles, but at the end, he nodded as well.

“Okay, I won’t say anything. But I’m not over with you two!”

Vanessa sighed. Like every Bull, she appreciated that Yami was protective of his squad. But sometimes, like now, she was maybe slightly irritated by it.

“Captain, please worry about your own captain. And just in case, leave Nero and Gordon out of it.”

Yami gagged a little. Either he didn’t even think about Nero and Gordon or he might had thought about scolding them as well. One day.

Nozel sighed, before he straightened and turned to the Wizard King. “Since the meeting with Augustus is luckily cancelled, Vanessa and I will take our leave. Have a nice evening.”

He took delicately her arm and lead her out of the room, like she was a real princess. Vanessa smiled happily. Nobody else treated her that way and she came to enjoy it a lot since she started dating Nozel.

They were out of the room, when Vanessa turned one last time. “Oh, captain, just so you know, I might not coming home this night, so don’t wait for me. Good night, everyone!”

“Bye, love eagles, have a good night!”

This undertone in Dorothy’s voice. She was really having too much fun. Vanessa was ready to bet that was going to tease Nozel, Yami and Charlotte endlessly during the future captain meetings.

Charlotte and Julius waved, the first with a small smile, the second happily grinning. As for Yami, he shot Nozel a warning glare, before sighing and giving them a nod. The door closed and they both were now alone in the hallway.

“Can I borrow one of your pigeons, please? To warn Nero and Gordon, just in case.”

“Of course.”

Oh, what a sweetheart. Vanessa really considered herself lucky with that boyfriend. She might have won the lottery. As thanks, she went on her tiptoes and kissed Nozels cheek quickly.

The silver haired man blushed a bit, but a small smile appeared on his lips. Yes. Charlotte has Yami while Vanessa has Nozel and tonight, she’ll will show him how happy she was to be with him.

#Black Clover #Black Clover Fanfiction #My Writing ☘️♣️#Vanessa Enoteca #Nozel Silva #Yami Sukehiro #Charlotte Roselei #Dorothy Unsworth #Julius Novachrono #Nozel x Vanessa #Yami x Charlotte #Nozessa #YamiChar

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