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slytherinbarnes · 4 years

Text

Sub Rosa [81]

x. matryoshka

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: violence, death, fighting, angst, language, anxiety.

Summary: The race to save Clarke is on as the time she has left begins to rapidly run out.

a/n: here is sub rosa a few hours early since i have not fallen asleep. also i am going to nap now. the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You quickly uncuff your wrist and then Bellamy’s, keeping your eyes on the injured leader as you do.

As soon as you’re both free, you and Bellamy exchange a look, and he nods, letting you know to attack together. You motion for him to hold the leader still and you’ll take care of the rest, and he nods in understanding before he starts to sneak up behind Asher. You come from the side, moving just as quietly, and when the two of you are within a couple of feet from him, you lunge at the same time. Bellamy reaches out and grabs him around the neck, holding him in place as the man looks around with a panic, quietly struggling. You come and stand in front of him, dropping to your knees and reaching out to grab the knife attached to his side. He has a split second to realize what you’re doing, and his eyes go wide with panic as he begs, “No, please, don’t!”

You push the knife into his chest anyways, straight to his heart, killing him quickly as you mutter, “You put up a hell of a fight, but now, yu gonplei ste odon.”

You watch the life drain from his body quickly, and once he’s no longer a threat to you, you search his pockets for anything useful. Surprisingly, the only other thing you find is your other knife. You shake your head and give the smaller knife to Bellamy, in case he needs it, and you take the Grounder knife and slide it into your waistband. You can hear the sound of the motorcycles that the Sanctum guards use outside, and you look to Bellamy, getting an idea. “Do you remember when I went after Clarke when that Azgeda army was crossing?”

You see his face light up, catching on. “You wanna disguise ourselves as Sanctum guards.”

“We’ll need to kill them quietly so they don’t alert the other guards, any ideas?”

“You play bait and I'll capture? Breaking their necks will be the quickest and quietest way to do it.”

You nod in agreement, trying to ignore the war within you, a battle raging between wanting to do better, and wanting to save Clarke. A battle between wanting to retire Wanlida, to stop killing, and to do better versus the need to kill to save your twin’s life. Ultimately, you think of your promise to Clarke, and the Universe, that you’d do anything to save her, and you resign yourself to the fact that, at least for now, Wanlida is here to stay. You and Bellamy slip out of the cave, keeping an eye out for Sanctum guards and the Children of Gabriel. As you’re running through the woods, you hear the staccato of bullets puncturing the air, and you and Bellamy exchange a look before turning towards them, sure that the Sanctum guards are the only ones that could have guns.

As you get closer to the sound, you pass a trio of motorcycles on the ground, along with Josephine’s guard, Jade. Everything about the scene screams Clarke, and you can see a line of tire tracks driving away from the scene, indicating that there was a fourth bike before Clarke stole it. You kneel down beside Jade, checking her pulse, looking to Bellamy who is gazing down at you expectantly. “Still breathing, and we should probably keep it that way. It’d be much easier to pass as a guard that isn’t the one leading the cavalry.”

He seems to agree, and the two of you sneak back into the woods again, looking out for the guards who must be close by. It’s not long before you find one of them walking around a small clearing, and Bellamy motions for you to be the bait so he can sneak up behind them. You take off running parallel to the clearing, right past the guards view, and you hear them turn towards you before they call out, “Hey! Stop!”

You freeze in place and they yell, “Turn around, hands where I can see them!”

You lift your hands, turning slowly, your eyes passing over Bellamy as he creeps towards the guard. The guard keeps their gun pointed at you, their hand shaking slightly, and your gaze locks on the movement, brows pulling together. “Have you ever used a gun before?”

“Shut up!'' They take a step towards you, preparing to take you down, but Bellamy reaches them first, swiftly breaking their neck and allowing them to drop to the ground. You and Bellamy descend on them and quickly strip them of their clothing, and Bellamy changes into the uniform and grabs the helmet and gun before the two of you walk off in search of a second guard. You find one quickly, and you and Bellamy set up another bait situation, this time with you pretending to be held captive by him, and you repeat the process, luring the guard in, killing them, and then stripping them of their clothes and weapon. Once you are dressed and ready to go, you and Bellamy both pull your helmets on and head back to the bikes, just in time to see the other guards gathered there.

Luckily for you and Bellamy, you don't have to pretend to know how to ride the motorcycles, because the group is two bikes short, so you each hop on the back with another person as Jade turns and yells, “We follow her tracks!”

You all tear through the woods on the bikes quickly, making short time of Clarke’s head start, and the tracks in the dirt end eventually, a crashed bike at the end of them. You all come to a stop and Jade turns to look back at all of you, her helmet still missing because Clarke took her helmet with her. “Keep your helmets on and your guns ready, these are the enemy's woods.”

All of you nod and dismount, following her as she jogs over to the bike and places a hand of the metal. “The engine's still warm, she can't be far.”

Jade leads the way through the woods, all of you spreading out to search for Clarke. After a few minutes of searching, one of the other guards calls out, “Over here, I found something!”

You tense up, growing worried as all run over to her, eyes landing on a hatch, hidden beneath a wall of leaves. Your mind flashes to the map of Sanctum that Bellamy showed you and Murphy, remembering the small buildings drawn on the paper, marking the research posts in the area. You think Bellamy is remembering them too, because his hand is hovering near his gun, prepared to take out everyone if Clarke is inside. Your hand does the same, hovering near your weapon, but the need to use it never comes. The hatch is pulled open and it’s empty, nothing inside but dust, vines, and old books. Jade turns to look at all of you, a fire lit within her. “Look for more outposts!”

Everyone splits apart and begins to search, and you and Bellamy keep enough distance to look like you’re playing along, but you stay close enough that you can help each other if necessary. Because you both have vague memories of the location of the research hatches, you and Bellamy find them first, peeking inside and searching for Clarke before you call out to the others to take a look. You search for hours, until the suns set in the sky, and even then, you keep searching. You find a few more hatches as the hours pass, all of them empty, and you start to wonder how you and Bellamy are going to get out of this situation if you can't find Clarke soon. Luckily for you, the Universe offers you a gift.

One of the other guards yells, “Hey! Over here, I found another hatch.”

You all rush towards him, pulling the hatch open with another wave of disappointment, this one just as empty as the others. But as he closes the door back and you all start to split up again, a voice floats through the woods, heading straight for you. “Help! I'm here!”

You turn towards Bellamy, both of you recognizing the voice, and you take off running towards it, the other guards following closely behind you. All of you pull out your weapons as you draw closer, your eyes landing on Clarke, flanked by two people. One is a man that you don't know, the other, much to your surprise, is Octavia. Luckily, with your helmets still on your heads, you and Bellamy are able to hide your shock of seeing the other Blake, though you can sense it rolling off of him in waves. You all come to a stop in front of the trio, weapons pointed their way, and Jade yells, “On your knees! Octavia, drop your weapon!”

The other two guards rush towards Octavia, and one of them grabs her while the other points their weapon at her. You and Bellamy aim at the unknown man, but you’re both closely watching Octavia, who drops her sword and holds her hands up in surrender. The man looks to Jade, his expression pleading, “Listen to me, she needs medical attention. If I don't operate soon, she'll die.”

Fear washes over you, as you peer at your twin, afraid that you won't have enough time, and you’ll soon lose her forever. The guard holding Octavia turns to the man and snaps, “Take your hands off her, cog.”

You pull a face beneath your helmet, the unoriginal nickname almost making you laugh, but all of your amusement washes away when Clarke opens her mouth. “Okay, enough talk. Kill the girl, take Gabriel prisoner, and get me home.”

The sentence hits your hard, the Josephine tone of voice back. And if that wasn't enough to clue you in, the fact that she referred to Octavia as ‘the girl’ and the man as Gabriel is enough to convince you. Gabriel? Your mind starts running a million miles a minute as you all turn to look at the man, clearly not the old man that Josephine warned you about.

“Gabriel?” Everyone starts moving at once, and Jade makes a beeline for Josephine, pulling her out of Gabriel’s grip and starting to walk away with her. The other two guards split apart, one of them coming to stand behind Gabriel and one of them pointing their gun at Octavia, and Bellamy nudges you slightly, letting you know that now is the time to act. The two of you work in tandem, and he takes the guard on the left and you take the one on the right. One of them starts to yell, “For the glory and grace-”

But her words are cut off by you sending a bullet into her chest as Bellamy takes out the man threatening Gabriel, both of the guards falling to the ground. You both turn on Jade, leveling your weapons on her, and she releases Josephine and slowly removes her gun, tossing it away. You and Bellamy tug your helmets off, and Octavia whispers both of your names in shock, not expecting either of you to be the ones to save her. Josephine rolls her eyes, muttering, “Because of course it is.”

Octavia rushes towards her brother, wrapping her arms around him, laughing with shock and relief, and he awkwardly pats her back with his free hand, still struggling with his feelings towards his sister. You turn away from the exchange to glance at Gabriel, who is watching all of you in confusion. “Take her.”

He nods, walking to his former lover that is trapped in your twin’s body, and he wraps his arms around her. As he does, she collapses a little, her voice sounding small and scared, “I can't feel my legs.”

Gabriel looks to you and Bellamy, as he scoops her up into his arms, already backing away, “We have to hurry, come on.”

“Right behind you!” You swing your gaze back towards Jade, who watches Josephine leave with a look of anger. Your anger, however, is stronger, and you sneer at her, “Go back to Sanctum. You tell Russell that if he hurts any of our people, he'll never see his daughter again.”

She looks at you, still angry, still deciding if she can take you, before moving her gaze to the place she last saw Josephine. Bellamy looks at her, just as angry, and pulls her out of her head by yelling, “Go!”

She turns and runs off, and you watch her until she disappears into the trees, leaving you alone with the Blake siblings. As soon as it’s clear, you turn to Octavia with a smile. “Now what the hell are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.” She smiles back at you, happy to have a warm welcome from one of you, and the two of you briefly hug before you pull away and nod to Gabriel’s retreating figure. “C’mon, let's go save my dying twin.”

The Blake’s both nod and jog off, and you follow Octavia back to the camp, since she obviously knows where it is. As you run up on the camp, you see a large sculpture made of radios, some of them repeating lines over and over, all of them playing over each other, and suddenly Josephine's comment in the cave makes a lot more sense. For one, there’s not enough time to worry about that, because your concern is for your twin.

When you get inside the tent, you see that Josephine is already laying out on a surgical chair, hooked up to a variety of monitors, a brain monitor chief among them. You and Bellamy quickly strip off the top layer of your Sanctum uniforms, leaving you in matching black long sleeve shirts and matching black pants. All three of you settle around Josephine, her body shaking as she nears the end, before you shift your gaze to the monitor that Gabriel reaches up to point at. “Two wavelengths, one brain.”

He looks away from the machine and down to Josephine, his expression curious. “You mind telling me how Clarke's consciousness survived?”

“There's a neural mesh in her head.” You and Bellamy exchange a look, your theory correct. “Her mind latched onto it during the procedure. It's pretty cool, huh?”

You look down at Josephine anxiously, ready to save your twin inside. “What can we do?”

Gabriel looks at you, turning to grab a few tools, “Once I remove her drive, I'll need you to quickly bandage the wound before I restart her heart.”

You give him a surprised look, the worry creeping up in your voice. “You're stopping her heart?”

“Death causes her mind to back up onto the drive. I take it out, then start her heart.”

“And then we get Clarke back?”

Gabriel nods, and you feel a touch of relief that soon this will be over, soon Clarke will be saved. Josephine shifts in the seat and turns to look over at you and Bellamy with something akin to admiration. “She was right to depend on the two of you. Believe it or not, we're actually friends.”

You snort, “We'll see about that if you ever meet in the real world.”

“Real world?”

Gabriel freezes, and you all look at him in confusion as Bellamy nods and clarifies, “Yeah. After we use her mind drive to bargain for peace.”

Octavia speaks up for the first time, clearly noticing something in his tense stance. “What's wrong?”

He doesn't answer, but Josephine answers for him. “He knows that means I'll be resurrected again, and he's not sure if he can let them take another innocent life.”

Gabriel walks back over to her side, a syringe now held in his hand. As he starts to slowly lower it to her arm, reminding you of the time you spent in Becca’s lab, Josephine reaches out and grabs his arm, stopping him. “Aye, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come? But I guess that was okay for you, huh, old man?”

Gabriel’s face gets hard with hidden emotions and haunted memories. “No. It wasn't.”

“You know that there's another way. If you let me keep this body, nobody else has to die.”

“For you to keep that body, someone does have to die. Clarke. Now, no more talking.” You glare at Josephine, the option not an option at all, because Josephine keeping Clarke’s body means that Clarke will be gone to you forever. You shift your gaze up to Gabriel, “Do it.”

Josephine locks her eyes on her lover, making one last ditch effort to keep Clarke’s body. “I know that I've done bad things. I don't remember them all, but I do know that you hate me for it.”

Gabriel’s voice is soft and full of love, and in any other situation, you’d feel bad for the doomed couple. “I could never hate you.”

“I know it. We can still be together, my love. We can take out the drives just like you wanted.” Bellamy and Octavia both turn away from them, annoyance apparent in both of their expressions, but you keep your eyes locked on them, hand hovering near your knife, prepared to intervene if you have to. “We can grow old together.”

Tears well up in Gabriel’s eyes, clearly feeling the impact of Josephine’s words. “I've loved you for centuries.”

She smiles and nods, thinking that he’s coming around, but he surprises all of you by answering, “We had our time, I have to let you go now.”

And before she can object, he injects her with the liquid from the syringe. You watch her expression morph into shock before it drops, and her eyes slowly flutter closed until you hear the heart rate monitor flatline, letting all of you know that Clarke’s heart is no longer beating. Gabriel leans down and whispers, “La muerte es la vida.”

You don't have time to ask him for the meaning of the words, because he immediately pulls away and gathers his tools, coming back to Clarke’s side to finish the process. “Help me turn her over.”

You and Bellamy reach out and help lift Clarke, and you hold her hair out of the way as Gabriel quickly removes the mind drive from her head. He hands you a wad of cotton squares to hold against the wound, before he turns away with the mind drive, saying, “Cover the wound, we need to restart her heart.”

You press the cotton squares to the incision on the back of her neck before you roll her back over with Bellamy’s assistance. Gabriel prepares a new syringe, this one much larger than the last, and then he quickly pushes it into Clarke’s chest and empties the syringe of fluid into her body. You all watch Clarke with bated breath, her revival supposed to be instant, but she lays completely still, eyes still closed. The flatline warning on the machine continues beeping, and you feel anxiety prickle across your skin as you look at Gabriel in alarm. “Why isn’t she waking up?”

Gabriel turns to the screen monitoring the wavelengths in her head, and two lines are still etched across it, both Josephine and Clarke still inside Clarke’s mind. Meaning that Josephine isn’t in the drive, she’s in Clarke’s head. Meaning that the battle for Clarke’s body isn’t over yet, and Josephine is still inside, vying for control. You look at Gabriel in alarm, wondering what he’s going to do, how he’s going to save Clarke, but he just gives you a sympathetic look. “I'm sorry, but her brain can no longer support two minds.”

You feel anger rise up, “What are you talking about?”

Octavia does too, because she looks to the screen and then glares at Gabriel. “Do something! They're both still in there.”

“Latent neural activity continues for a short time after death, but once the head stops working with the heart, it's over. The two organs are stronger together, and without them working together, it’s over, okay?”

Your eyes go wide as you process his words, one phrase sticking out to you the entire time. Stronger together. You look at Bellamy, whispering the words to him, “Stronger together.”

And then you nudge him out of the way so you can start CPR, pressing on Clarke’s chest in a steady rhythm, before lowering yourself to her mouth and filling her lungs with air. You repeat the process, pushing down on her chest, tears springing to your eyes with each passing second as you realize you’re getting closer and closer to her eventual death with the passing of time. You hear Octavia call your name, but you cut her off, voice rising with desperation. “No! I’m not losing her again!”

You ignore the others around you, continuing your desperate CPR, talking to Clarke the entire time you move, “Come on! Clarke, I need you. Madi needs you. Mom needs you. Now wake up! I should have fought harder for you, Clarke. I should have burned Sanctum to the ground and killed everyone that got in my way, but I’m fighting for you now, god damn it!”

Octavia puts her hand on your arm, trying to stop you. “La lune, she's gone.”

“No, she's not!” You turn to Bellamy, tears falling down your face now, giving your fiance a heartbroken look, the reality of your loss starting again. For the second time in the last few days, you are faced with the possibility that your twin is gone, and you’re not sure your heart can take it again. You aren’t sure you can face that heartbreak again. You stare at Bellamy, your voice a broken whisper, “She can’t be gone.”

He sees the heartbreak on your face, knows the pain you went through days ago when you thought she was dead, and remembers the pain he felt too. He stands at your side, turning to face your twin, his approach just as desperate as yours. He brings his fist down onto Clarke’s chest in hard, heavy beats, trying to forcefully restart her heart. “Wake up, Clarke! We’re not letting you go. You're a fighter, now get up and fight!”

You see his desperation reaching a peak, his voice starting to crack with heartbreak, and he hits her one last time, one solid blow to her chest as he practically yells, “Get up and fight!”

Clarke takes in a loud, wheezing breath, her eyes flying open to look around in a panic. You feel a rush of relief as you lower yourself to her, helping her sit up as you whisper, “You’re okay, shining star, just breathe.”

Behind her, the heart rate monitor consistently beeps, confirming that the organ in her chest is steadily beating, and she looks at you with a confused expression. You meet her eyes, looking into the face of the girl that has been your other half since birth, and you whisper, “Clarke?”

She nods slightly, before jumping towards you slightly, wrapping her arms tightly around you. You start to cry, big, fat tears of relief rolling down your face, and Clarke tucks her head into the crook of your neck, whispering, “Stronger together.”

Your tears start to flow harder, reminding you how much of your strength truly comes from your twin, and how broken you felt living in a world temporarily without her. But all of that is over now. Because now, your twin is held tight in your arms, her left hand reaching out to take Bellamy’s hand, squeezing it in thanks. Octavia watches your trio with a smile, relief evident on her features. Only one person in the room is mourning, and that’s Gabriel, his eyes locked solely on the brainwave monitor beside him, only one wavelength on display.

Josephine is gone, dead to the world, dead to history, and Clarke Griffin is back and better than ever.

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

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hysterialevi · 4 years

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Hjarta | Chapter 2

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE TEMPLE

Walking underneath the white sun, Eivor worked his way around the village as he scanned the surrounding buildings, keeping an eye out for Randvi’s bright head of hair. Roughly half an hour had passed ever since Thora first approached him on the hill asking for his assistance, but he had yet to catch a glimpse of his younger sister anywhere.

According to some of the people Eivor had spoken to, Randvi was last seen heading towards the town’s temple. She was accompanying the local seeress on an “urgent matter,” and apparently hadn’t returned since. Eivor didn’t have a clue as to what Ingrida could’ve needed help with on a day like this, but nonetheless, it was the only lead he had. And so, he took it.

Pushing himself up the steep incline that led to the temple’s archway, Eivor slowly ascended a dirt path decorated with ceremonial bones and charms, causing a soft chime to rattle in his ears as they swayed gently in the wind.

His boots dug deeply into the many layers of snow blanketing over the path, and with every step he took on his short journey, a sharp crunch emitted from his feet, alerting nearby hares and birds.

Up ahead, Eivor saw a majestic line of wooden statues standing proudly in front of the temple’s lake, towering over its still waters like a row of guardians. Piles of snow had gathered on their heads and shoulders as a result of the frostbitten weather, and in the bowls that lay at their feet, Eivor saw a handful of fresh offerings left by some of the locals.

The main thing that caught his attention however, was a toppled statue of Freya lying motionlessly in the snow. The base of its structure had broken somehow, and now, it was garnering the care of their seeress, as well as Randvi herself.

Eivor stopped briefly in his tracks, feeling a sense of relief.

“There you are.” He whispered under his breath.

Approaching them from behind, Eivor hurriedly made his way to Randvi as the two women covertly bickered with each other, speaking in a hushed manner. At first, he simply assumed they were trying to figure out how to get the statue back on its feet, but once he got closer, their conversation suggested otherwise.

“....You’re not listening to me,” Ingrida insisted. “It’s a sign! We must not ignore it.”

Randvi crossed her arms in disagreement, attempting temper the seeress’ fear. “I understand that, Ingrida, but there isn’t much we can do about it now. What’s done is done.”

“You must cancel the wedding,” the older woman reiterated. “The gods have made it clear that this joining will ensue nothing but chaos!”

“A king is coming to our shores at our invitation, Ingrida. To turn Styrbjorn away would be a grave insult to him and his clan. We have no choice but to go through with this.”

Still, the seeress was unconvinced. “An insult holds little weight in the face of death. The arrival of the Raven Clan will bring naught but misery and conflict. The gods have shown this to me.”

Eivor stepped in the middle of their altercation, trying to get a grasp of what was going on.

“Randvi,” he called out, earning a glance from the woman. “What’s going on? Why haven’t you joined father at the docks yet?”

She sighed in frustration. “I apologize for the delay, Eivor, but Ingrida is concerned about the nature of this wedding, and nothing I say seems to ease her nerves.”

Eivor turned to the seeress, curious to hear her side. “What troubles you, Ingrida? You look perturbed.”

The elderly woman scoffed. “Perturbed is an understatement, young man. Last night, the gods visited me in my dreams, and showed me visions of things to come. They were not good.”

“What did you see?”

Ingrida took a moment to recall her memories. “...There was a man. He appeared human in my dream, yet carried a monstrous nature to him. His eyes burned bright with the heat of Muspelheim itself, and his hair was so red that, at first, I mistook it for fire. There was a strange mark etched into the flesh on his neck, and one of his arms had been severed clean off. Lurking behind him, I saw a white wolf whose snout was stained by the redness of his blood.”

It didn’t take long for Eivor to make the connection. “You dreamt of Tyr?”

The seeress seemed unsure. “Perhaps... but I did not get the impression that this man was a god. He seemed too earthly. Too... familiar. That’s not the part that frightens me, though. What worries me is, when I awoke, the statue of Freya had fallen to the ground, despite the fact that it was still standing mere moments ago.”

Eivor shrugged. “I fail to see what’s so alarming about that.”

Ingrida gestured to the statue. “Use your head, Eivor! Freya is the goddess of love. Her collapse -- paired with my vision -- signifies what this marriage will bring. War.”

“How could this marriage bring war? The whole purpose of this joining is to forge an alliance between the Bear and Raven Clans.”

“I’m aware. But our plans do not always match what the gods have in mind.”

Randvi tried to defuse the situation. “Have faith in our jarl, Ingrida. I know these are frightening times, but our father is simply trying to eradicate Kjotve’s people from our waters for good. We would have killed him ourselves long ago, but we alone do not have the strength necessary to do that. We need Styrbjorn and his people.”

“What we need is to avoid more bloodshed. We have had enough.”

The seeress sighed in annoyance, deciding to put an end to this argument. It was clear that her message wasn’t getting through to the other members of the clan, and despite what she may have believed, she couldn’t deny that Randvi had a point.

Ingrida may have been skeptical about the outcome of this wedding, but Styrbjorn was already on his way. His entire clan was accompanying him to Bjornheimr’s shores, and there wasn’t much she could do about that now.

“...Alright, you two.” Ingrida finally said. “I can see that this is going nowhere. If your father believes this is the best way forward... then I suppose it is not my place to defy him.”

The young woman beamed at her. “Do not fear, seeress. Everything will be alright.”

“I certainly hope so. Our people have suffered enough at the hands of Kjotve and his men. I pray that this joining will put an end to that.”

Randvi nodded in agreement. “As do I.”

Eivor smirked humorously at his sister. “Well, it’s never going to happen if you don’t make haste to the docks.”

The woman chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll be on my way soon. Just...” Randvi took a breath, “...give me a moment.”

Her brother grinned. “Nervous, are we?”

Randvi gave him a friendly shove. “Yes, and you are not helping.”

Eivor smiled at her. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Father wouldn’t promise you to this man if he thought he couldn’t be trusted. You know him.”

The woman remained somewhat anxious. “I know he would never do anything to put me in harm’s way. I’m just... nervous about what the future holds. What if my husband and I don’t get along? What if we’re miserable together? What if this only brews more animosity between our clans?”

“All the better,” Eivor replied. “You’ll fit right in with the rest of Norway’s royalty.”

Randvi let out a laugh at that. “You certainly know how to make light of any situation, don’t you?”

Eivor leaned against a tree, crossing his arms in a jesting way. “It’s my blessing and my curse.”

Ingrida rested her hands on her hips. “More often a curse, I would say.”

Randvi rolled her eyes in a playful manner, finally deciding to return to her duties.

“Alright,” she said with a troubled sigh. “I’ll go find father at the docks now. He’s probably wondering where I am. I’ll see you and Thora at the feast this evening. Try to keep things orderly, will you?”

Eivor nodded reassuringly. “Of course.”

“Good. Father’s counting on us to make a good impression. I trust you won’t scare anyone off before the feast starts?”

“Now that, I can’t promise.”

Randvi snickered in amusement and threw a casual grin at Eivor before taking her leave from the temple, following the trail of dented snow that her brother left behind. The sun was nearing the center of the sky at this point in the day, and if Eivor squinted hardly enough, he could’ve sworn he saw the miniature silhouettes of distant ship sails billowing on the horizon.

The Raven Clan had arrived.

“Ingrida?” Eivor said, continuing his talk with the seeress. “Can I ask you something?”

The old woman took a seat on a nearby bench, placing herself in front of the statues.

“Of course, young cub. What’s on your mind?”

Eivor strolled towards Ingrida’s position, keeping his eyes nailed on Freya’s fallen figure as he put his thoughts into words.

“Do you truly think this wedding will bring more chaos to our clan?”

The seeress shook her head in uncertainty. “I cannot speak in absolutes, for I do not know what the gods are thinking. All I can tell you is that this marriage sparks a sense of worry in me... and it stems from the man in my dreams.”

Eivor sat beside Ingrida. “Is there anything I can do to tame your fear?”

A warm smile radiated on the woman’s face. “You are kind, but I suspect that this situation is now in the hands of the Nornir. If they wish to lead us into battle, then it would be pointless to cower behind our shields.”

The young man recalled a conversation he had with the seeress many years ago, bringing up one of her own quotes.

“Ingrida, do you remember what you said to me? After my parents were killed, and Arngeir took me in?”

She shook her head, staying silent in response.

“We are all bound by the threads of fate,” Eivor reminded her. “Any attempt to deviate from the path--”

“--will simply be met with what was always destined to be.” Ingrida finished. “Yes, I remember now. And it seems that I would do well to follow my own wisdom.”

The woman chuckled softly, gazing at Eivor with a motherly twinkle in her aged eyes. “You have grown into a fine young man, Eivor. It seems that your mind is as sharp as your axe. Varin would be proud of you. I know Arngeir certainly is.”

“...Thank you, seeress.”

Ingrida rose from her seat, ready to head back inside. “Well, I should return to my duties. We have a busy day ahead of us, and this statue isn’t going to stand up on its own. I’ll see if I can find my son. Perhaps he could help me.”

Eivor mirrored her actions and removed himself from the bench, offering assistance. “I can help you now, if you’d like.”

The woman raised a hand of refusal. “No, no. It’s alright. I’ve occupied enough of your time. You just focus on tending to your own family, and seeing that the Raven Clan receives the welcome they deserve. In the meantime, I will stay here, and do what I can to prepare the temple before King Styrbjorn arrives. It’s possible he will want to make an offering before the wedding.”

“Very well,” Eivor said, making his way through the temple’s arch. “I will speak with you later, then.”

“Farewell, Eivor.” Ingrida replied. “May you carry Odin’s favor.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE DOCKS

Rushing down to the harbor, Randvi weaved her way through Bjornheimr’s crowds and hurried to join her father as the Raven Clan steadily approached the docks, drawing everyone’s attention.

By now, there was a canopy of clouds hovering in the sky, slowly inching its way across the ocean’s vast length as it passed through an array of sunbeams.

Meanwhile, underneath them, an impressive collection of longships glided over the sea’s rolling waves, causing spurts of white mist to spray in their wake as they crashed into the tides.

It was an armada fit for a king, Randvi thought. Even though she had never made contact with the Raven Clan before, it was clear that they carried a strong sense of pride and honor with them, similar to the one that her own clan held.

It made her wonder if, perhaps, it wouldn’t be such a difficult task to bring their people together, after all. For many days now, Randvi had spend most of her nights twisting and turning in bed with the worry of causing more trouble like Ingrida suggested, but after seeing the Raven Clan face-to-face, it managed to put some of her fears to rest.

Her heart still hammered with the nervousness of meeting her future spouse, but the anxiety in her chest was no longer as debilitating as before.

Freya willing, it would stay that way.

Finally reaching the harbor, Randvi came to a halt when she spotted Arngeir waiting by the edge of the pier, standing quietly as his fur cloak danced wildly in the breeze.

Arngeir Hallbjornson was a tall man clad in fierce armor that broadened his already stocky build, causing him to stand out from the clan like a walking giant. Most of his visage was hidden behind a grizzled beard and mane that had been twisted into multiple braids, and the parts of his face that remained uncovered were creased with years of experience.

Despite the boldness that his presence carried however, Arngeir did not wield an intimidating temperament as others might have expected. Instead, his pragmatic nature only enhanced the fatherly spirit in him, and a firm sense of nobility stood proudly in his eyes.

A certain kindness radiated from his stern expression, but due to the plethora of burdens that came with being a jarl, there was also a rougher edge to him like thorns on a rose.

He was no stranger to the idea of mercy, but he wasn’t able to engage with it as often as he wished.

“Father!” Randvi exclaimed, taking her position beside the man.

Arngeir turned around at the sound of her voice, slouching his shoulders in relief.

“Randvi. There you are. I thought you weren’t going to show up.”

The woman replied with a humorous response. “I wasn’t. But then Eivor found me.”

A chuckle escaped her father’s lips. “I understand if you’re hesitant to go through with this wedding, but trust me. Everything will be fine. Sigurd is a good man. I believe he will be a worthy husband.”

“He’s also a prince,” Randvi added, “which means someday I’ll be...”

“...his queen. A daunting task, indeed, but I have faith that you will live up to the challenge.” Arngeir rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Do not fear, Randvi. You are ready for this.”

“I hope so. I’m just worried about the future of our marriage. What if Sigurd and I don’t go well together? What if this turns out to be a disaster?”

Arngeir gave her a reassuring smile. “These thoughts you’re experiencing are quite normal for someone in your situation. Fear is a natural part of change, and marriage can be a life-altering event. But as I said before -- I would not have chosen Sigurd if I did not think he was suitable to be your husband. Even though this wedding is for the good of our clan, I also want to ensure that you are happy as well.”

Randvi took a deep breath, attempting to conceal how much she was shaking.

“I suppose I won’t know for sure until I meet him myself.”

“Exactly.” Arngeir paused for a moment, suddenly realizing that King Styrbjorn had reached the dock. “But enough of that. The Raven Clan is here. Keep your head high, and do your best to stay calm. The gods are watching over us.”

Turning away from his daughter, the jarl swiftly approached the opposite end of the pier with open arms as Styrbjorn stepped off the longship, eager to return to the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet.

He appeared to be a man of great stature and etiquette just based on the elegancy of his demeanor, but it was no secret to Randvi that he had seen his fair share of battles throughout the years.

There were many faint scars hiding beneath the surface of his weathered skin, and even though Styrbjorn spent most of his time occupying a throne these days, his hands remained hardened with the callouses of a soldier, implying that the hilt of an axe once sat in his palm.

Though, as age would decree, the muscles that once sharpened his physique had softened over time, and the shaved hair sitting atop his head had been washed with silver. The lids of his eyes hung slightly low with with a tinge of fatigue, and sitting between his brows, Randvi saw the wrinkles of a serious man embedded into his skin.

“King Styrbjorn!” Arngeir called out in a convivial tone. “Welcome to Bjornheimr!”

The older man returned his smile, beaming brightly as he adjusted to the land beneath his boots.

“Arngeir Jarl!” Styrbjorn said boisterously. “Now there’s a face that I haven’t seen nearly enough of.” He pulled Arngeir into a tight embrace, greeting the man with a warm hug. “You look well, my friend. It is a blessing to see you safe in times like these.”

The jarl welcomed the gesture, immediately picking up on the smell of sea salt. “And you, my lord. I trust you had a safe journey from Fornburg?”

Styrbjorn nodded, separating the hug. “We did. Njord graced us with calm waters and strong winds today. We were also lucky enough to avoid Kjotve’s men during the voyage. I’m glad to say our journey was rather uneventful. Though, I fear it may have been too uneventful for my son’s liking.”

Arngeir chuckled. “A warrior’s heart beats inside his chest, just like yours.”

“Indeed,” the king joked, “and it will be the death of me someday.”

Styrbjorn diverted his gaze to the woman at Arngeir’s side, instantly realizing who she was.

“Ah, and you must be Randvi.”

The young viking bowed her head politely, admittedly unsure of how to address Styrbjorn.

“...Yes,” she answered. “I-It’s an honor to meet you, my lord.”

Styrbjorn gently took Randvi’s hand into his grasp, shaking it in an affable manner. “The honor is mine, my lady. Your father has offered nothing but praise in response to the questions I’ve asked about you. I’m certain you’ll make a fine addition to our family.”

“Thank you,” she said, slightly more relaxed. “You’re too kind.”

An extra pair of footsteps thudded on the pier’s wooden surface, causing Styrbjorn to throw a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Ah, but enough about me. Allow me to introduce you to your betrothed.” He placed a hand on his son’s back, presenting him to Randvi.

“My lady Randvi, I’d like you to meet my son. Sigurd.”

Staring silently at the person in front of her, Randvi was met with a young man clothed in noble attire and light armor, similar to the image she had in mind. His face was embellished with a handful of neatly-drawn tattoos, and in the middle of his forehead stood an unfamiliar rune resembling the shape a tree.

The strange part about Sigurd’s appearance though, was that he happened to match the exact description Ingrida described to Randvi earlier. He wasn’t missing an arm like the man in the seeress’ dream, but everything else seemed to be identical.

A certain type of ferocity enhanced the raw ardor in his icy gaze, and with the sun’s light getting trapped between the strands of his red hair, it almost looked as if his head was surrounded by a ring of fire.

He was certainly a sight to behold, even without the context of Ingrida’s vision. He cradled a peculiar flame inside the breast of his soul, and even though he appeared as human as anyone else in Bjornheimr, Randvi couldn’t help but sense something more otherworldly in his presence.

“H-Hello.” Randvi said, sounding much more nervous than she intended. “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

Surprisingly, Sigurd shared her timidness. “As am I. I’ve heard much about you, my lady.”

Styrbjorn laughed softly at his son’s quiet response. “Have no fear, Randvi. That shyness will wear off soon enough.”

Arngeir agreed with the sentiment. “The same could be said for my daughter.”

The king began making his way off the pier, growing weary of the ocean’s chilled winds. “Well, I think I’ll go help my clan settle in now. We’re planning to pitch camp in the woods outside of Bjornheimr, but I hope it won’t be a bother if some of my men need to share a roof with your people?”

Arngeir shook his head. “Not at all, my lord. Bjornheimr is open to you. We have plenty of open space in the village should your men require more shelter. You’re free to use it.”

“Thank you, my friend. Your hospitality is appreciated. In the meantime,” Styrbjorn looked at his son, “Sigurd, why don’t you stay here with Randvi? Take some time to get to know her, and the locals as well. In two weeks from now, these people will be our family.”

“Of course, father.”

Arngeir’s face lit up with a look of remembrance. “That reminds me -- my people are preparing a feast to welcome your clan. It should be ready before this evening. Your men are welcome to join us at the longhouse.”

Styrbjorn seemed pleased. “A perfect opportunity to bring our people together. I’ll be there.”

“As will I.” Sigurd promised.

“Wonderful,” Arngeir said. “I’ll let my oldest know. Her name is Thora. She and a few others will make sure the tables are laden with food. You should introduce yourself to her when you find the opportunity, though I fear she’s not quite as sociable as Randvi. I also have a son who’d like to meet you as well. His name is Eivor.”

Styrbjorn made a mental note of that. “I shall keep that in mind. Until then, let us dig our boots into the soil here, and thank the gods for our safe arrival.”

The jarl joined his king as the two of them ventured deeper into Bjornheimr, ready to tackle the rest of the day. “And may they bless us in the days to come.”

Strolling off into the distance, Arngeir and Styrbjorn returned to their lengthy list of duties as life carried on in the village around them, causing the small crowd that had gathered at the harbor to disperse.

Meanwhile, Sigurd and Randvi stayed behind at the docks, rendered silent by an awkward lack of conversation. Neither of them really knew what to do with themselves from here on out, but in spite of that, the young woman had to admit that she was feeling far more relieved than before.

“So,” Randvi started, “I’m curious. Am I what you expected?”

Sigurd turned his head towards the young woman as he examined her, revealing a strange mark on the side of his neck.

“Yes, actually. Though, you are a bit taller than I pictured.” An inquisitive expression spread across his face. “...What about me? Did you think I would look like this?”

“No,” Randvi answered honestly. “Not at all. D-Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m not disappointed.”

Sigurd chuckled lightly. “Glad to hear it. I must admit -- I was somewhat nervous before coming here. I had no idea what I would be walking into or what kind of person you would be. So far though, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

The woman found some comfort in his words. “I’m relieved. These past few days have been filled to the brim with stress. It’s good to finally set things in motion.”

“Agreed.”

Randvi gestured to the other areas of the village, beckoning Sigurd to follow her. “Would you... like me to show you around before the feast starts? Bjornheimr has many places to see. I could also introduce you to my siblings, if you like.”

The man smiled cordially. “Of course.”

“Great. Thora should be at the longhouse, but... I’m not sure where Eivor is right now. He was at the temple the last time I saw him, but if we can’t find him, I’m certain he’ll show up at the feast. He’d never miss the opportunity to get a fresh cup of mead.”

Sigurd smirked in amusement. “A man after my own heart.”

Randvi returned the jest. “You might change your mind once you meet him, but I digress. Shall we?”

“Lead on.”

Finally removing himself from the ocean’s vicinity after a long day of traveling, Sigurd stuck to Randvi’s side as she led him away from the bustling harbor, enthusiastic to spend more time with her betrothed.

The two of them had only known each other for a few moments, and yet, Randvi got the impression that Sigurd was far gentler than his exterior suggested him to be. His appearance resembled that of a war-weathered vikingr who knew only stoicism, but his personality seemed to stem from a heart of honor and compassion.

The one thing about him that concerned Randvi so far was how accurate Ingrida’s vision had proven to be. Nothing about Sigurd gave off the impression that he harbored any malicious intent, but that didn’t stop the young woman from wondering if the seeress’ instincts were correct.

The timing of Freya’s collapse struck Randvi as somewhat odd now that she thought about it, and the fact that Ingrida dreamt about the god of war beforehand did nothing to ease her nerves.

She had to admit that she was beginning to understand the old woman’s fears surrounding this wedding, but alas, it was too late to back out of it now.

And so, with a quick change of the subject, Randvi brushed off her worries for the time being and simply focused on getting to know her betrothed. She was just as clueless as Ingrida when it came to the events of the near-future, but she figured it would be pointless fretting about it now.

The fires of this alliance were already being stoked, after all, and there was little she could do to snuff it out. She may as well have just drifted off with the waves, and allowed the tides of fate to do their job.

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

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siennahrobek · 3 years

Text

Future Past

19 BBY

Obi-Wan’s farewell to everyone he had left was rather numb.

He felt numb, even though he knew everything was breaking inside. It was all just movements and motions, barely thought provoking as he strode through the facilities of Polis Massa and later, Bail Organa’s ship. He felt like he was choking on air and nothing at all, breathing was difficult.

He only had a few minutes with Leia, and he had a feeling that he may never see her again. He almost wished he wouldn’t. He would love to, of course, because he loved her so much, but if he did, that probably meant she was in grave danger. He would go the rest of his entire life without seeing or talking with her again in exchange for her being safe and happy. That’s all he wanted.

That was all he had ever wanted for those he loved.

He wondered if he would ever stop failing.

Luke was set within a hospital cradle bed while Obi-Wan said his goodbyes to the tiny girl, the little shining light that should have been his family. Bail had assured she always would be, even if she never got to meet him again. Obi-Wan would be forever grateful that he had a friend in someone like Bail Organa.

Cradling Leia in his arms, she had paused from her constant wail and screeching, rather attempting to reach up and grab his beard. She had gotten a fistful but had not pulled too hard and he let her. Perhaps it was the start of a bad habit, Obi-Wan didn’t know, but he figured this would be the last time with him. Her hair was already a little mop upon her head, dried off with a soft towel. The color reminded him of Padme, especially when she had been younger. When Obi-Wan had met her during her teenage years and reign as Naboo Queen.

Rocking the child gently, he wrapped her up within part of his cloak, although a bit tattered and dirty. She didn’t seem to mind, one hand grasping his beard. She had taken his pointer finger with the other, tightening as much as her little grip would allow her.

He nearly tried to tug it away, but Leia’s face just scrunched up in determination as she held even tighter. Obi-Wan just found a chair to sit in. Perhaps this goodbye would be slightly longer. It was okay.

“I didn’t think babies much look like anyone in particular but you seem to look so much like your father. I know everyone would say your mother,” he started quietly. “But I know, I think. Perhaps I didn’t spend enough time with babies; I wish I did. Now…now they are all gone,” he whispered, lowering his head closer to hers. “Just you and Luke are the only younglings left. I am so sorry that you don’t have anyone else. But Bail will give you a good life, he will always do his best. That you can count on.”

Leia just gargled, blowing out little raspberries in his face. Obi-Wan just chuckled. “Anakin would have loved you so much. So would Padme. Once upon a time, you had wonderful parents, my dearest.”

One of her hands left his beard and traveled up to his cheek, patting it gently.

Something shifted on the ship and Obi-Wan could feel presences coming forward quickly. “I must leave you soon, darling,” he murmured and kissed her forehead. She didn’t have much strength in her tiny hands but what little she did, she tried to bring him closer. “This is my farewell to you; I know you will change the galaxy; it has always been your destiny. How you will do it is completely up to you. You will be beautiful and stronger than anyone else, don’t let a single person tell you otherwise.”

Leia just stared at him, her dark eyes wide and curious. Her fingers moved and curled around his singular pointer finger.

“May the Force be with you, dear Leia, always,” he whispered, projecting the one feeling he knew he wanted her to feel for the rest of her life. If she was to associate his presence with anything, he wanted her to feel this, know what he felt for her.

Complete, unadulterated and untainted love.

***

Leaving Polis Massa was harder than Obi-Wan had expected. Yoda left with little fanfare, a few words of wisdom and the notification about his old master’s presence, with more lessons to be taught. Obi-Wan had always been for learning, he was a seeker, not a saint. He loved to learn and to teach, to see and explore and study.

But for some reason, this felt more like an obligation.

He wondered what it would be like, feeling his presence and hearing his voice again. Qui-Gon Jinn’s. Obi-Wan had thought about him often but tried his very best to keep those memories happy and bright. To remember him in the best light he could.

The goodbye to Bail was a bit bitter, as he was taking away one of Obi-Wan’s loved ones, but he trusted Bail to treat her well. He didn’t think he could trust anyone else more with her. He seemed to understand, at least to some extent, and consistently reassured him of that his love and care for her.

They set up a contact system for the two, just in case. Obi-Wan hoped with all of his heart that it would never be the case. “If anything happens, contact me, Master Jedi,” Bail Organa insisted even going as forth to squeeze his shoulder as for reassurance.

“I will,” Obi-Wan promised, quietly. “Hopefully, that will not be necessary.”

Bail glanced at him, sympathetically and pressed a case in his hand. “There is some currency in there. It was a rush job, getting wuipipi and the transition isn’t exactly great, but it was what I could get on such short notice. If I can, I can try to send you more later.”

“Don’t worry about it, Bail,” Obi-Wan shook his head, keeping his voice quiet. A makeshift slung was created and looped around his neck and shoulders, baby Luke snuggled up closely to his chest. He shifted from foot to foot, hoping to keep the child asleep for at least a while longer. “We shouldn’t attract any more attention to ourselves than necessary. I will make do.”

“You always seem to have a way of surviving, Obi-Wan,” Bail nodded. “But if you need anything, just, try and let me know. I will always help you.”

“Thank you,” he dipped his head. “I should leave before anyone tracks us here. It has been quite some time.”

“May the Force be with you, Master Jedi,” Bail took a step back and bowed lightly.

Obi-Wan nodded, unable to risk such a gesture with Luke to his chest. “And with you, Senator. Be safe.”

He took a few more steps back. Obi-Wan turned and walked to his ship, or, rather, General Grievous’ old ship. He would get to a planet to sell it so he could receive passage to Tatooine. It would be quite the undertaking his imagined.

Bail had watched him leave, even after he had left the station, Luke and a few other supplies tucked away.

The next couple of weeks were spent selling the little ship and finding passage to the planet he needed. He had to work extra hard to find a buyer that would give him a fair amount, away from the new Imperials. His heart cracked a little more every time he saw the blank faces of the clone troopers, now in shifting armor. It was changing. Everything was changing.

He accepted them as family. The jedi had accepted them as family. They had tried so hard. Perhaps it wasn’t enough, but they had tried. Obi-Wan could eventually understand them wanting to shoot down generals, him especially, for how many had he brought to war? How many had he sent to their deaths with his plans in war. How many were sacrificed in the name of the greater good. He could understand their seething hatred for him. He was the one who had done that.

He had been the one who led them.

He could accept that.

He would have gratefully and happily given his life in exchange.

If that was what they had demanded.

But they had marched on the Temple. There were few warriors in the sacred place. In their home. There was the elderly, who had spent a lifetime helping people, who had no part in the war and never had. There was the injured and sick, helpless to fight back. There was no reason to murder them. There was…there was the children, the younglings, the babies.

He couldn’t imagine the clone troopers they had trusted so much to have gone to their home and massacred all of their children. Their babies: those who didn’t do anything wrong, nothing to them. Who didn’t know better.

The youngest baby at the Temple had been three months old.

She had been even smaller than Luke in his arms.

He had seen her, or, at least, what was left of her.

The thought of it nearly made him throw up and his throat gagged at the thought. Tears swelled up in his eyes and suddenly, they were streaming down his cheeks, steadily.

He tried to stop, he wanted to stop. There were other people on the ship, being smuggled across the galaxy. It wasn’t there were many; as there wasn’t, but there was enough to notice. He choked back a sob, trying to stay as quiet as he could.

He could feel their stares.

A warm hand barely brushed up against his cheek. Trying to will the tears away, he blinked several times and glanced down. Luke was awake, bright blue eyes staring up at him, wide and curious. He murmured something unintelligible and reached up again. Obi-Wan lowered his head down to grant Luke better access. The baby just giggled and waved his hand over the older man’s face, apparently liking the texture.

After so many hyperspace trips of crying and wailing from the cold, it was nice to have a moment of quiet.

“Isn’t that a rather darling boy,” an older Mirilan woman cooed, leaning over to glance at the bundle against Obi-Wan’s chest. “You and the missus must be very happy and proud.”

“He’s not mine actually,” the words tumbled out of Obi-Wan’s mouth before his mind could catch up. “He’s my brother’s, but he and his wife are…they can’t take care of him anymore. We are going to a planet with more family.”

“I am so sorry,” the woman said, sympathetically. It laced her voice into something that made his heart crack. He hadn’t felt that from someone else in quite some time.

The woman was pleasant and even helpful for the rest of this leg of the trip, even snapping at other passengers when Luke’s wailing got too loud, in their defense. She scooted closer sometimes, her presence bringing some comfort to the baby; perhaps because she was a female. Obi-Wan knew that babies tended to bond with females closer due to the nature of their relationships.

When they parted ways, she gave him a little knitted hat for Luke…and then even one for Obi-Wan. He hadn’t even seen her make it, but he took them gratefully. They had fit perfectly.

The weeks were long and difficult, hopping from one smugglers ship to another, doing his very best to avoid the imperials but, eventually, he got himself to Tatooine. There was some investigating he had to do, in search of Anakin’s family. He had known that his mother had been freed not terribly long after Anakin had left; a reason why when Padme sent one of her handmaidens to free her, she hadn’t been able to be found.

Ben had picked up a few things from Quinlan, as his old friend was into more investigative and shadow work. He had even done a few of them with him. Ben wondered if the Kiffar was even still alive. Everyone else he loved was dead.

Although Shmi had passed away a few years ago and not terribly long after, her husband, Cliegg, her stepson and daughter-in-law still held up their moisture farm out in the deserts. Ben had eventually learned this, but it had taken some time. He found refuge wherever he could but unfortunately, most places to stay temporarily were around, above or connected to bars. And there were a lot of bars around the planet, especially in the city.

He supposed they had to do something to pick themselves up on such a wretched planet.

It had only been a couple of days since he and Luke had finally arrived at the planet of his family’s origins. Or at least, what was left of his family. It was the cheapest place, but it wasn’t a beautiful hotel either and it was, of course, above a bar. Luke didn’t seem to mind the noise, even trying to clap with some of the music sometimes and the heat didn’t seem to bother him. It was the cold that he really hated.

Ben had been scouting the bar, Luke strapped to his chest, playing with a little toy he had made during their travels. He loved that thing, for reasons Ben couldn’t quite understand.

He wasn’t sure how it had started or who started it or why but of course, with his luck, he ended up in a bar fight.

A bar fight.

With baby Luke strapped tightly to his chest.

Although he certainly disliked being the warrior that he was, Ben was grateful for his education, capacity and competence in the martial and combatant arts. The bar had ended up in an uproar and Ben had restrained himself from pulling out his lightsaber. For the moment he did, he would reveal himself as a Jedi. The destruction of the Order was too new, the bounty on Jedi head too high, for him to make that risk just yet.

The Empire may not have gotten to Tatooine yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Ben had been extremely careful when fighting off brawlers. None of them could particularly fight well so taking them down or avoiding their blows was probably the easiest thing Ben had done in years.

He had nearly been the last one standing. Any others had fled.

Apologizing to the bar keep, he tried to get away, but the Rhodian just laughed, loud and hearty. Ben didn’t quite understand but he wasn’t one to look a gift Tooka in the mouth.

Eventually, he had gotten enough information to buy a steady eopie and start his travels to the Lars homestead.

His heart ached. He knew he was dreading the hours to come.

And honestly, he nearly turned back.

He didn’t know these people. He had never even met these people before. He wasn’t even sure if Anakin had met these people before. To put Luke in their hands may…may have been safer from the Empire, but would it be safer with them? Were they good people? Would they teach Luke well or would they teach him to be resentful and have hate in his heart?

It had taken hours to get to the homestead, even on the strength of the eopie, but Ben had just mulled over this continuously. His heart was breaking, and his chest felt like it was going to be ripped open. Luke was fairly quiet, only babbling softly once in a while and trying to grab at anything near Ben that he could, generally his hair or his beard.

It was sunset when he had finally saw the homestead.

And he nearly turned back.

Giving Luke away was amongst the hardest things Ben had ever done and all he could give him was projecting the strongest feeling he had for the boy and once in a while, throughout the years, small little hand carved wooden ship toys, that he would leave on his grandmother’s grave.

***

The Lars couple, Owen and Beru, were good people. Even Ben could feel that.

Owen just hated him.

He wasn’t exactly subtle in his feelings either. No matter what Ben tried to do over the years, to help, to protect, anything, Owen lashed out at him, blaming him for the death of his stepbrother.

Stepbrother, Ben thought. How could a man be so angry and hate him so much on the behalf of someone he didn’t even know. Ben had spent over thirteen years with Anakin, training and raising and loving him. If Owen had met Anakin, it must have been very brief, and probably only once.

Ben tried not to be resentful.

He found an abandoned little hut cave out in the Judland Wastes, far enough for Owen’s liking but close enough that he could keep a feel for any dangerous the Lars may face over the years. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He didn’t mind. He never needed much anyways.

He had always wanted a peaceful place out of the way to spend his time meditating.

It took Ben quite a bit of time to open up to hearing Qui-Gon’s voice.

It took even longer for Ben to accept his tutelage.

But, like everything else Qui-Gon had ever asked of him, he did so.

18 BBY

It had taken Ben bare a few months to start protecting the Lars and surrounding areas and farms from Tusken Raiders and Jabba’s men. The Tuskens, although ritually and historically furious at the offworlders (even though technically many of them were born on the planet now) taking over their planet and taking their water, had been easier to work with. Once he had figured out some of their language, it was easier to communicate. He always had a knack for languages, he knew. Not only did he learn to be fascinated with them and cultures in general, but when working with and travelling with someone like Qui-Gon Jinn, one had to learn to apologize and ask not to be killed in nearly every foreign language of every planet they had been on.

Because if there was one thing that Qui-Gon Jinn very often did, it was making trouble.

It was exhausting but in the end, Ben had learned a valuable skill and found an enjoyable hobby of learning new languages.

Learning the Tusken sign language wasn’t too difficult, but what had really gotten them to be more open to negotiating was simply a test of strength and prowess. Ben, as much as he was loathed to admit it, was a warrior in the end. And to that point, he could take down near anyone on the planet just with his experience, knowledge and training.

The Tuskens had learned that quickly and ended up leaving him alone.

But it didn’t protect Luke.

That would happen a few months later. One of the Tusken tribes had been having a terrible time with a krayt dragon, a native beast to the planet and one that was said to be even force-sensitive in some cultures. Ben didn’t know if it was true, but the Tuskens were losing people and had resorted to taking others from outside the tribe as sacrifices.

This, of course, had put Luke in grave danger. Whether it had been that year or any year in the future. The Tuskens at first, were skeptical, with his offer to become the next sacrifice, but in the end, his manipulation worked.

The Krayt dragon was a bit bigger than Ben had heard from the stories, but its ferocity was no small thing. But, in the end, Ben had always had a small talent for bonding with beasts of all kinds and in the end, the krayt dragon was no different.

He had sent her on her way with the quiet request to leave them alone.

He wouldn’t reveal what had happened between the two of them, or how the communication went, but he came back in one peace, telling the Tuskens that the dragon would leave them alone, but they had to leave the locals alone as well, for if they didn’t, they would be responsible for their actions. This in turn, protected most of the people around the Lars homestead, including Luke and any friends he may have in the future.

Sometimes, when Ben meditated out in the middle of nowhere, he could feel the rumbling of the dragon under the shifting sands.

14 BBY

Once upon a time, all Ben wanted was to sit in a quiet cave and meditate.

Now, five years later, he just wished he could be back. Even if it was the war, as horrible as that time was, the Jedi would still be around, he could still feelthem and he would have the loyalty and care of his troops, even if it did end up being fake.

Tatooine, at least with its terrain, wasn’t the worst Ben had ever encountered. Yes, the sand got everywhere but it never seemed quite as course and rough and irritating as Anakin had made it out to be. The storms were terrible, don’t get Ben wrong, and he disliked them quite passionately. Sand stung at his eyes, whipping at his skin mercilessly. It was a pain.

But lying in the sand when there was little wind, just a gentle breeze, not enough to stir the land, he could feel some peace. Sinking into the soft grains and able to let everything else melt away.

He just wished it could have been sand in the Jedi Temple, surrounded by loved ones and the light of the Force.

11 BBY

He was too late.

He was always too late.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was even surprised anymore.

Because it seemed, in the end, he would always to be too late. He would always be not quite fast enough, not quite smart enough, simply not quite enough. Never quite enough.

It wasn’t exactly the Force that gave him the warning, but it did give him awarning.

Let’s just put it to rest that he now believed the krayt dragons were force sensitive.

Plenty.

Ben’s eopie was old now but she did her very best to get to the Lars homestead as quickly as she could. She gave it her all, that was for certain. Ben remembered him cursing himself for letting Owen force him to live further away, further from Luke, further from the homestead. If he had lived closer, perhaps things would have ended up differently.

The Empire had come to Tatooine barely the year before and Ben had done a fairly good job of keeping out of the way.

But somehow, for some reason, they suddenly had it out for the Lars family.

And whoever sent them, they sent clones.

Ben felt only sympathy for the soldiers as he cut them down in defense of Luke. Owen and Beru were already gone, sprawled over the floor, bleeding and glassy eyed. He had let go of his bitterness and anger quite some time before. It was no use. What was done was done. No one could change anything. And revenge, even being not the Jedi way, would do nothing for Ben. It wouldn’t bring the Jedi back. It wouldn’t bring the younglings and babies back.

There was no satisfaction when he fought them.

Although, honestly, it wasn’t much of a fight.

For the first time in years, as Ben bundled shocked Luke up in his cloak and robes, grabbing some of his things, worrying over the fact that more may come, he had ended up contacting Bail Organa.

Ben knew Luke didn’t remember much of that time and in all honesty, neither did Ben himself. It was like going through some slogging motions, but Bail had come on his word and sent him a nondescript space craft.

Ben had sold it and bought a different one. Just in case.

Everything had changed now, and he knew things were never going to be as simple as it had been on Tatooine. No matter where they went, no matter where they would go.

Luke was eight or nine, Ben had thought, musing to himself. Was it ironic, that it was around the age Ben had started teaching Anakin?

Was the outcome to be similar?

Or was Ben to lose yet another Skywalker?

He supposed, like nearly all things, only time would tell.

Present Past

Ben

His head is full.

Awakening was a cloggy mess and a sluggish, laborious process, like trudging through the impossible terrain of the Dagobah swamplands. His feet felt as if he had to relearn rudimentary functions and relearn them in a hurry. The Force pressed against him, light and warm and impatient. Taking the largest and longest inhale he was capable of, he forced himself to open his eyes and then sit up. Step one complete.

Rolling his shoulders and arms indistinctively, he noted they felt sore but lighter than usual, cleaned of sand and grime. The cracking of joints he had been so used to hearing every time he moved, especially after sleep, had ceased significantly.

Looking down, he caught sight of his hands, encased in lack gloves. He hadn’t worn gloves with fingers attached much anymore, he thought absentmindedly. He wondered where they had come from. Bringing them closer in his sight, he studied them further. These were standard issue GAR gloves. And attached to the standard issue GAR gloves was standard issue clone trooper vambraces. These had not worn these in years, certainly not by him. He still remembered the day he had to sell his armor pieces which included the vambraces. His finger trailed up one of his arms through a groove in the plastoid, up to the scratched and slightly faded paint in the middle. His breath caught as he lightly traced the open circle symbol.

Taking a deep breath to fill his lungs, he attempted to stand, keeping a firm grip on the cot and tried to steady himself. His legs were a bit weak and his head a bit dizzy – adding to the full feeling in his mind, but it only took a few minutes to regain his balance and equilibrium.

Even sixteen years later, the medical bay of a venator was still familiar to him as he looked around at his surroundings. Now, what did that say about him? Taking a tentative step forward, his feet slowly started to move and took him to the lavatory, where he filled a cup of water and guzzled it down. Running a hand through the water from the faucet, he raked it slowly through his hair and down his face.

He didn’t want to look up. He didn’t know why. But he did anyways.

There was not a time he could remember having seen himself with so much color. Color in his hair, color in his skin, color in his eyes. His hair had brightened, no longer bleached by nearly ten years under the twin suns of a desert planet, a mix of blonde and brown and ginger. His greying and stretched skin were once again flush with pigment and peach colors. Eyes that were usually tired and dull and grey had a stone blue color come back to them. The wrinkles on his face had lessened considerably. Taking another deep breath, he stepped back to study himself. Amor parts were stuck to his body, not just the vambraces but the pauldrons and gorget and greaves as well. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed this; the mix of soft robes and the protection of the pauldron, the vambraces, the greaves. He should have worn them when he had fought Grievous, he mused.

He was dressed for battle, for war. It was not quite how he was during the beginning of the war, but more of the middle of the fighting, a bit into the skirmishes and conflicts. Hands trailing down the armor and robes, they came down to his belt and the clip that was attached there. His lightsaber wasn’t on his belt. He wasn’t particularly worried.

He sighed, unsure of what to make of this.

In the mirror, it was him, for sure. It looked like Obi-Wan, but he knew he was Ben.

Quinlan

Quinlan wondered how this invasion had gone through the first time.

He felt rather out of place throughout the entirety of the incursion. He was present for the briefings, barely putting in his two cents, generally when it came to anything resembling sneak attacks or espionage. The Resolute and the Negotiator had both broken through the Separatist blockade with surprising and remarkable ease, swiftly rendezvousing with General Tiin’s venator and his forces. He was on his own ship, calling most of the shots as the most senior available general present, and directing the battle within the space around the planet. Although Master Tiin portrayed mostly calm during his calls with the other leaders coming to help him, he looked determined but still a bit rattled and definitely tired. General Krell was on the surface, getting battered down by the local militia. His communications kept cutting in and out, but he demanded reinforcements.

That would come in the form of the 501st, much to Skywalker’s displeasure.

Quinlan could understand, to an extent. He had worked with some clones before, but he didn’t have his own battalion or legion or squad. He would work with whoever was on hand and whoever could work on his current mission, if anyone. But he did know that many of the generals were rather protective of their respective troopers. Not only did generals often get used to the type of troopers and personalities, but troopers themselves often got used to the type of leadership style their general had and often tailored their ways and plans around that. Switching up leaders and troops didn’t always work out incredibly well, especially with invasions and long campaigns.

Commander Cody would leave Quinlan, taking much of his forces of the 212th down to the surface with him. Not to reinforce Krell and his side attack, marching for the Capitol, but rather to assault from the other side and box the Umbarans in. It was a good plan that Commander Cody had come up with, although by the look on his face, General Krell clearly wasn’t entirely convinced. Quinlan apparently had a lot more faith in the commander than Krell did, which seemed rather odd considering Quinlan probably had a lot less experience with the clone troopers.

Just as Master Windu had claimed, Anakin Skywalker himself would lead fighters to pick off the forces in space and if needed, provide direction for the bombers, if necessary, on the surface below.

Anakin himself would lead much of the space fighters as well as the bombers for the surface below. Quinlan had heard plenty about how great of a pilot Anakin was and how much he loved to fly. He found it rather amusing since, once upon a time, Obi-Wan himself had felt the same way. It was almost interesting on how things changed.

Quinlan felt uncomfortable and odd in the position he was in, standing on the bridge of his best friend’s ship, trying to help and order out calls that would bring them closer to victory. He was used to small forces, sneaking around with more missions that included investigating and espionage; it was something that he was good at now. Undercover, intelligence. He was usually the one giving the Generals advice and plans; next and vital places to hit or defend. He wished Obi-Wan was awake.

His friend was much better at this sort of thing.

“Let me know when Obi-Wan wakes up?” Anakin asked gruffly as Quinlan escorted him to his fighter. They had talked a bit on what would happen as time went on after the briefings and breaking easily through the blockade, and Skywalker hadn’t been exactly intently keen on leaving his master to fight in space as much as it was fairly obvious that he was eager on flying.

“Focus on the mission,” Quinlan answered instead, trying to sound like he could give good advice. Somehow, he always felt like this was easier with Aalya. Maybe it was because she wanted to hear his advice and actually tried to listen to him sometimes. “Keep your attention in the here and now. Obi-Wan is safe and he would want you to be too. At least, as much as you can be in this scenario. If you worry too much, it could put you and your men in jeopardy.”

“Fine,” Anakin huffed.

“I’m sure you will be one of the first people he will want to see when he does wake up,” Quinlan pointed out and then paused briefly. “And figures out that he has time traveled.”

Anakin shifted uncomfortably as he glanced at the Kiffar master. He looked rather uncertain, most likely about this entire thing. “If that’s what happened.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I’m just saying that it might… not be the case,” he pointed out, a bit slowly, watching Quinlan like he could get all the answers that way. Quinlan couldn’t really tell what the knight was thinking, for someone so passionate and emotional, sometimes he could be hard to read. Maybe because there always seemed to be toomuch emotion there. Did Anakin not want Luke to be right?

“Luke is telling the truth,” Quinlan answered and looked for Anakin’s reaction. There was very little to work with, he just kind of stared. “However,” Quinlan shot back, gravely. “It is not a bright future.”

He looked away, his brows furrowing. “Well, if it is time travel… then we can change it,” Anakin suggested in some form of insistence, but he didn’t seem too sure on what to think about this. Quinlan thought back to their earlier conversation how their friend may have changed. It wasn’t exactly something either of them wanted to think about too hard. “Obi-Wan won’t be on the run again.”

“We will try our best,” Quinlan agreed carefully. There were no absolutes, no guarantees. He didn’t want to make the future worse but with what he had learned from Luke, he wasn’t sure if that was possible. It was, deep in his heart he knew it was, but he couldn’t quite imagine them changing things so poorly, knowing what they knew, and it coming out even worse than the future that Obi-Wan and Luke knew.

“Is he still with Obi-Wan?”

“Luke?” Quinlan asked before his brain could catch up with his mouth. Of course, that was what he meant, and Quinlan knew it. His mouth just ran off with him. “Yes. I figured if he just stayed there, it would keep him out of trouble.”

Anakin hummed but didn’t seem completely convinced. They had arrived at the docking bay were fighters and their pilots were doing last checks before they would head out and join General Tiin’s forces. Anakin’s togruta padawan shouted and waved him over. Anakin glanced at her with a gesture before turning back towards Quinlan. “That is my cue. See you at the end of this, Vos.”

“May the Force be with you,” Quinlan nodded.

“And with you, master,” Anakin winked.

Ben 2

Regaining his complete composure and erasing the wrinkles within his equanimity and clothes alike, Ben glanced around the medical bay just to sate his curiosity. The door wasn’t locked, medicine and tools, even ones that could conceivably be used as a weapon were not taken away or padlocked and sealed away. Pulling on his boots and making sure his greaves went over them, he simply just walked out the door. The venator and star destroyers were not completely different but there had always been noticeable differences. Whoever was doing this certainly did a good job of restoring the old Republic ship. If Ben didn’t know better, he would have even thought that this was his own flagship, the Negotiator.

It even feltlike the Negotiator.

He nearly felt dreadful for feeling like he missed it. He walked down the halls, they were mostly vacant, although Ben couldn’t say he was terribly surprised. Whoever had set this up did a remarkable job with the ship itself but finding any clones, especially ones that would be willing for this little charade would have been more than just a little difficult. There was also the little obstacle that the clones looked quite a bit older now than they had during the war. All the same, he avoided those that were through the halls, although there weren’t many. They were even dressed in clone trooper armor, much to Ben’s bitter surprise. The armor type itself was a rare find these days.

Often finding himself running his hand along the smooth walls, Ben could only feel mournful. It was a terrible time, the war, of course. He abhorred what they had to do, even though he knew it was right. To protect. He hated what they had been forced to do, he couldn’t stand that he had to lead people such as the clone troopers to their deaths. There was no choice on any end and then, once it was all said and done and the jedi and cloens had done their part, they had been just disposed of.

And no one had even cared.

The Jedi had been exterminated, murdered by those they tried to protect and those they had loved as family.

The clones had been brainwashed and enslaved, stripped of their minds and free will and forced to kill the people that cared about them and loved them as family. Then slowly, as the programming ate away at their mind and psyche, they were killed off on desolate planets as canon fodder and sacrifices.

Tears swelled up in his eyes, his feelings bubbling up in his chest and mind, pressing, pressing, pressing against him in such a terrible friction that he couldn’t get away from. He had tried not to think too hard on what he had lost for some time, there was no use on thinking about it so much. No use on dwelling on things one could not change. No matter how much he wanted to. If he could change anything, what he would give.

Ben hadn’t even realized he had stopped, leaning against the wall, his forehead cooling against the metal of the hallway barriers. He took deep breathes but it didn’t seem like enough. Nothing felt enough.

Sometimes he regretted forcing Boil to leave them. Luke had loved him and having another person around had done wonders for him. Boil was a friendly face, despite how grumpy he often acted during the war, and his skill and loyalty was somethings Ben had always admired from him. He remembered the clone’s desperation, begging him to stay, giving all the reasons he could be useful.

As if usefulness was the reason Ben would have wanted him alone.

Ben knew that it was much too dangerous. Vader would just take another loved one away from him and Luke was in danger enough as it was. But he couldn’t keep Luke away like he could with Boil. He hadn’t been able to subject Boil to the life he was forced to lead, running from and fighting off someone as the likes of Darth Vader.

He still regretted it sometimes though. It had been so nice to have someone else around.

Ben hoped he was happy with Rex. Happy wherever he was, with whoever he was with.

“Sir?” an achingly familiar voice asked, uncertainly.

He sighed and turned, still leaned against the wall. In front of him was a clone trooper, mostly within armor sans his helmet, which was hanging on his belt. With a fairly standard haircut, his face was void of tattoos, but he sported a small scar near the hairline. A bit of scruff was starting to come in around his chin.

“Hello there, trooper,” he greeted, pleasantly. There was no need to be mean to any of these actors or constructs. It was an incredible likeness, he noted. Whoever or whatever this was, the resemblance was uncanny. “May I inquire your name?”

“Seven, sir,” the trooper saluted, perfectly. “But most brothers call me Sev. You can, if you want. O-Or not, that’s fine too. I don’t have much of a preference,” he rambled, shrinking back and a little with a slight flush to his cheeks.

“Thank you, Sev. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

He didn’t remind Ben at all of Alpha-17, but his name had made his mind call back to him. Ben wondered what may have happened to the old captain. Was he stripped away of his free – and very strong – will and forced to become nothing but a droid made of flesh and bone, bowing to the whim of a government and military that used him like he wasn’t even a person? Ben had a hard time thinking the programing and brainwashing would even work on Alpha-17, just because of who he was, how independent and intense he could be. But then again, Ben mused, it had completely erased Cody’s steadfast loyalty and determination, it had taken everything from one of the strongest people Ben had known.

The trooper hesitated; eyeing Ben like he wasn’t sure if he should speak. “Are you alright, sir?”

“Just a little tired,” he admitted. “I’m not entirely sure where I am.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. Sev certainly seemed to have an idea.

Sev straightened and brightened a little. “I can help you sir! I know this ship like nobody else! Don’t get me wrong, I fight a lot, I do my part! But I don’t sit still very well so when I’m not in the field, I’m going around the ship. Sorry, I’m kinda rambling again aren’t I. I can take you to the bridge, sir, if that is where you want to go. I mean, I’d imagine you would want, considering we are in the middle of a battle, but you know, ya never know…”

Although he continued to ramble, Ben’s hearing faded. In the middle of a battle? How did one construct that? It seemed a little extreme in attempt to convince him.

“That would be nice, Sev. Thank you,” he announced suddenly, breaking whatever sentence the trooper was in the middle of. “I would love your help, mind escorting me?”

The soldier nodded, eagerly and Ben straightened, launching himself to stand next to the youngster. He offered his arm. “I’m just a bit unsteady, would you mind?”

“Of course, sir!” Sev nodded and wove his arm through Ben’s so the older man could lean on him if wanted or if he fell, Sev could easily catch him. He took a careful step, just to make sure that Ben could move with him. Ben wasn’t sure if he had surprised the trooper or not but their steps in time got quicker to a normal, but abit brisk, pace.

Few soldiers that they had passed, as limited as there were even, batted an eye, although many of them had their faces covered in helmets. He wondered, although a bit absentmindedly, where one had gotten all these actors to play their parts in such armor.

He wanted to reach out into the Force, if only to try and feel the unwavering and constant calm he knew that had once practically oozed, the sense of loyalty that made him truly believe that they would always be by his side, no matter what they had gone through, no matter what they would go through. Once upon a time, he had taken such comfort in knowing he had such good men watching his back, and his sides and he, theirs.

Closing his eyes briefly, he imagined him feeling it, but he didn’t reach out. He couldn’t be disappointed like that again when he didn’t feel it, when all he would feel was the murky, cold harshness of the dark side, smothering all good things.

“It’s good to see you up and at ‘em sir!” another soldier greeted as he passed. Ben opened his eyes and trailed him. He sounded like a trooper too.

He tried not to think too hard on it.

“Oh wow! General, you are up! You gave us just a tad bit of worry there,” yet another clone they passed spoke as he slowed his gait. “We weren’t that worried, we had complete faith in Helix and that you would wake up.”

He sounded like a trooper too.

Something felt caught in his throat.

“Are you alright, sir?” Sev asked, shooting him a concerned glance.

It felt so real. He could almost feel the trooper’s concern in the Force. Ben pulled back. No, he wouldn’t go through that again. Even if there weretroopers here, even if Sev was somehow a clone from back in the war days, there wouldn’t really be anything to feel if did reach.

He wanted to reach.

“I am fine, thank you,” he replied politely.

It was mostly silence from then on to the bridge but Sev had pause to swipe his card for the door open so they could get inside. Ben had stopped and took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever was on the other side. He didn’t believe he would like it.

***

Quinlan 2

“Which system are we currently in, Admiral?”

Out of all the things Quinlan had expected to hear at that very moment, Obi-Wan’s voice was not anywhere near the top of the list. In fact, for a moment, he had even thought that it had been just him hearing things, maybe some wishful thinking. But no, looking over – everyone looking over – Quinlan’s childhood friend stood at attention nearing the front of the bridge, gazing out at the space battle before them.

“Obi-Wan!” he yelped, wide- eyed as he reached for him. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised and shocked.

Obi-Wan shifted away from him, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Hmm,” he hummed, dryly. “Fascinating.” Then he turned back, no longer interested, towards the admiral and other troops at the helm. He looked tired, even more so than when he was asleep or in his unexplainable coma, but he held himself the way Quinlan had always seen him carry himself during the war, or when he had been with politicians, even before the war had started.

Next to him was a young trooper, face and armor barely marked or scuffed up. Either he was extremely new, or he just kept his armor nice and clean. It could have been either, if Quinlan was being honest.

“This is Seven,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing to the clone that he was attached to. It was a matter of fact, as his tone had been thus far. There was no room for debate for whatever reason. “Harm or touch him, I will take off your heads.”

That…was not a threat that one heard from Obi-Wan very often but by the way he said it, Quinlan had believed him. He was, in fact, quite good at relieving appendages. The stares had gotten even wider and incredulous. Even Seven’s expression was shocked as he stood still with the general. Quinlan was impressed; he figured most would have tried to flee by then.

But then again, Obi-Wan was threatening for Seven, not at him.

“Hey buddy,” Quinlan lowered his voice, as if trying to placate him. He kept his hands a bit casual but open where Obi-Wan could see them. He knew that something would happen when Obi-Wan woke up, although he hadn’t been sure what and he had thought that he wouldn’t have woken up now, of all times. He was probably just confused. “Look, Obes. It’s me, Quinlan Vos, your friend.”

“I know who that is,” Obi-Wan scoffed.

“Alright cool,” Quinlan nodded. “So, you were in this unexplainable coma for a bit, not super long. Not even a day really, but it did kind of freak people out.”

“I would request your hallucination end, please,” Obi-Wan interrupted, his voice cold as steel his eyes flashing in reflection of that. “I am aware of what is happening, and I am telling you, it is not necessary.

And wasn’t Obi-Wan just full of surprises today. Time travel, new padawans, and now belief that this was a delusion or mirage.

“This…this isn’t a hallucination, Obi-Wan,” Quinlan sputtered, trying his best to keep his disbelief under control. It was rather uncharacteristic of him but the thought that his friend didn’t think any of this was real, it broke his heart more than he would dare to admit. It was such a contrast between Luke’s sure thinking and Obi-Wan’s intense cynicism and skepticism.

“Oh yes, I’m sure,” Obi-Wan just hummed, his words biting on sarcasm, but he didn’t even glance over at Quinlan. “This is very real, Sidious. That is fine. You probably used this battle thinking you could use it to torture me and one of my great many failures. But the joke is on you, emperor, I will move forward to save as many lives as I can, even as this is an illusion.”

“You think…you think I am a Sith,” Quinlan’s response ended up falling a bit flat, somewhere between an observation and a question. He wasn’t completely in on all of the Council’s theories and findings but knowing one of the Sith’s name was something that higher level shadows knew, especially those who were investigating it. It appeared, from how Obi-Wan was acting, he knew exactly who that person was.

That was going to change everything.

“Hmm. Well, Vader would certainly not care for this type for mind manipulation,” Obi-Wan pointed out plainly, tightening his grip ever so slightly on his clone companion. “He is much rather the type to just torture and kill me. Especially me. You understand. So yes, Sidious.”

“Why is he me, specifically?” Quinlan asked. He knew who Vader was and the fact that he did made what Obi-Wan said all the more horrifying. What could have possibly been done for Anakin Skywalker to absolutely loathe and abhor Obi-Wan, someone he was generally fairly possessive of?

“My first wartime assignment with Master Vos was the hunt for Ziro the Hutt, which you should know, since it was public record,” Obi-Wan listed, calmly. He seemed a little irate, however, like he didn’t want to explain something that shouldn’t have to be explained. “And I remember any other times I’ve worked with him after that. It was not on a planetary campaign such as this,” he paused, his brows furrowing as he seemed to think more about what he was saying. “…what system is this trooper?” Obi-Wan suddenly asked, his question turning kind and soft as he directed it towards one of the nearby clones.

The clone glanced between the two of them. “Umbara, sir.”

“Master Vos,” Obi-Wan replied confidently, still continuing with the bite of sarcasm. He would have been nearly proud if his friend hadn’t been disillusioned by what was happening and thought that this wasn’t real. “Had not been present at the invasion of…” he stopped abruptly and stared at the planet through the viewing board, his arm dropping from the clone trooper he had been hanging onto.

“Obi-Wan?” Quinlan questioned, taking a small step forward.

“Umbara,” he whispered, breathy and horrified. His pupils dilated and his brows scrunched up into something of dread, like this was worse than he was imagining. Something terrible happened here, Quinlan could see.

“Sir?” Sev questioned, nearly poking at him to get his attention.

“Where are my troops?” Obi-Wan seemed to drop from his trance just as quickly as it had come and asked instead, his voice low and demanding, his gaze sweeping along the entourage of clone troopers at their stations.

“Obi-Wan?” Quinlan tried again.

“Where is Commander Cody and the 212th? Where is Lieutenant Waxer and his platoon?” Obi-Wan barked, his lip curling in the demand, eyes flaring into something of pressure, importance, and panic.

“On the surface sir,” a trooper replied quickly, sensing the urgency. “They’re launching a strike against the capitol. They intend to box the natives in alongside General Krell with the 501st once the latter take the airbase nearby that is supplying the capitol.”

Obi-Wan’s face completely paled, nearly devoid of color as he seemed to fall into that trance again. It lasted even less time this round as his diminished face did something odd, nearly darkening alongside his eyes, which had turned absolutely stony and cold. “Krell.”

The name had sent shivers down Quinlan’s spine. It wasn’t the name itself; he knew, Quinlan barely even recognized the name aside from his position in this invasion, but the way Obi-Wan had said it? Quinlan suddenly wanted to rip the besalisk’s head off. Which, even for Quinlan, that was rather extreme. He quickly realized that the feeling was coming from Obi-Wan. Something happened with General Krell and Obi-Wan did not appreciate him for it.

“Sir?” the trooper who had answered him, queried.

“Get me General Krell,” Obi-Wan demanded, his lip curling. “Get communications up with him immediately.”

“Sir, we can’t,” the brave trooper shook his head, biting his lip a little. It wasn’t exactly fear emanating off of him; Quinlan had yet to find a trooper that truly feared for themselves when it came to their general, but it was something else. Fear for the situation, perhaps. “The local militia has cut off communications, we can barely get anything through, barely a few words, much less consistent transmission.”

Obi-Wan cursed loudly in a language Quinlan wasn’t completely familiar with. The other troopers looked vaguely uncomfortable and glanced away. Perhaps they recognized it.

“Obi-Wan,” Quinlan stared, as he stepped even closer. “Calm down. We can figure this out, whatever it is,” he said, trying to placate his friend when he…he noticed something was not quite right with this. He paused and straightened himself, looking around, curiously. This…this didn’t make sense. Where was… “Wait. How are you up anyways?” he asked, his brows scrunching up together in confusion. “I thought Luke was supposed to be with you?”

His friend stiffened and for the longest moment nothing happened. It was as if time itself had just completely shut down. Obi-Wan’s head swiveled around slowly towards him until finally, Quinlan abruptly found himself pinned to an open wall.

Everyone around them had jumped but didn’t dare make a move.

“How do you know that name?”

His voice was low and deadly. Quinlan hadn’t heard that since…since Anakin had been kidnapped when he was a teenager. It had not been a pretty time and Quinlan had nearly been the only other person who could keep Obi-Wan from completely destroying everything in the way of him and his padawan. Quinlan hadn’t thought he would ever hear that tone again.

“Obes….” Quinlan struggled out. Obi-Wan wasn’t choking him, per say, but his grip was enough that Quinlan didn’t dare to even try to move away with his friend’s armor digging into his chest. He didn’t actually think Obi-Wan would do anything to harm him and schooled his body to quiet himself. “Calm down, he appeared…. he appeared with you.”

Quinlan wished he had better words to explain.

“What have you done with him?”

“Nothing, Obi,” Quinlan stressed as he even leaned forward into his space. He stared straight at him, serious as he had ever been with this childhood friend of his. “I swear nothing. He hasn’t left your side since we found you.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment. He seemed to believe him and found something in his gaze so let him go and cursed again, although less loudly this time around. He looked back at the troopers and then surveyed the battlefield of space in front of him. “Umbara. Boil. Waxer,” he muttered to himself as he came to some realization. He straightened again and took another quick glance around before spewing out some words and orders that Quinlan didn’t quite understand. The others on the bridge certainly did and they took it completely to heart, using the communications to lay out a different plan of attack and defense than what was used previously.

Apparently, the plan must have been a good one.

Quinlan wondered if it was the same one Obi-Wan had used the first time.

No one dared to move when he stormed off the bridge, the only one immediately following being Seven, the clone trooper that had brought Obi-Wan in. The jedi had given the trooper a gentle tug and he had assumed that meant he had wanted Seven to follow him. Quinlan guessed he was probably right.

It was only moments before Quinlan ran after him.

“Obi-Wan!”

Said man did not stop, just storming through the halls, projecting a cloud of determination and fear. The trooper he had brought with him was no longer led around, just followed dutifully, keeping pace with his general.

He finally caught up but hesitated to touch him. Even though Obi-Wan was covered, from his feet all the way to neck, he didn’t want him to lash out.

“Stop!”

Obi-Wan did and spun around, blue grey eyes flashing. “If you truly aren’t a Sith Lord, you will let me go save my kid,” Obi-Wan snarled, his eyes flaring in such resolve that Quinlan hadn’t seen since Anakin was a teenager and still adored his master. His hiss held such vitriol, shoulders rolling into some kind of subtle stance, waiting for a fight.

“Of course, Obi-Wan,” Quinlan said, softening his voice. Obi-Wan eyed him warily. “I’m sorry I lost your padawan, I told him to stay by you for you when you woke up but apparently, he had other ideas. But if you are going to go after him, you need to calm down,” he insisted, gently, keeping his hands out where they could be seen. “You know how you get when you are all worked up before a conflict.”

Obi-Wan paused, mulling this over for a moment. Quinlan didn’t move while he closed his eyes momentarily, taking a few deep breaths. It was a start, he suspected. It wasn’t Obi-Wan’s completely usual mediation, as he would generally rather find a quiet place – he was fond of gardens and caves – to sit and stay, to calm and meditate. He exhaled.

“That feel better?”

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan glanced at him, his expression smoothing into the calm and pacify. “That was sound advice,” Obi-Wan hummed, although Quinlan knew him, he was wary of the ulterior motives.

“I would like to come with you, to find your padawan.”

“Absolutely not,” Obi-Wan snorted, turning away and starting back towards what Quinlan assumed would be the docking bay. “I cannot trust you.”

That hurt, Quinlan thought but he told himself it was only because he thought this whole thing was fake and staged by an evil Sith. Quinlan wasn’t entirely sure how that would work but then again, Obi-Wan was the one from the future, he would surely know better than Quinlan would.

“You can trust me,” he insisted, pressing forward. “I know who Luke is, he told me.”

Obi-Wan stiffened and his stride had skipped a little.

“We met in the future again, after the fall of the Order on a tiny planet at a café,” Quinlan explained easily what he had seen in Luke’s memories. He ahd seen several but it Luke had seemed to make sure Quinlan had been able to see his and Obi-Wan’s reunion after the fall of, well, everything. He hoped this would help convince Obi-Wan that he was real, that he knew this and could help. “It was by chance, but it was almost sixteen years after the Empire rose.”

His intended target had slowed his gait a little more as he looked down and away. Quinlan ushered the soldier accompanying them away quietly. The trooper looked a little hesitant as he glanced at his general but eventually did what he was told.

“How…no one knew that,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked a little.

“Obi-Wan, I am here to help you,” Quinlan insisted, stressing the phrase. “You can trust me. Here,” he unclipped and offered his saber, pressing it into Obi-Wan’s gloved hand. “Since I’m pretty sure the kid took yours,” he gestured to his friend’s belt.

Obi-Wan looked down and cursed once again, shaking his head. He was full of such colorful language, Quinlan would have loved it and teased him about it mercilessly if it hadn’t been for the circumstances. He took the saber and hooked it to his belt, carefully.

He looked at Quinlan and studied him, staring intently. “It’s so hard to tell,” he confessed. “I don’t want to lead the Sith to Luke, but you act just like Quinlan, you are doing things that a Sith probably would never do, you know things that only Quinlan would know or, if Luke had actually talked to him. And if he had, then why would you need me to lead you to him?”

“I’m not a Sith, Obi-Wan. I am just Quinlan Vos, always have been and this time, always will be,” Quinlan asserted.

The next thing Quinlan knew, they were tucked into their respective Jedi starfighters, making last checks to get to the planet surface. A little red and silver astromech droid spun over to them, screeching and beeping at him. Obi-Wan just stared.

“Hello Arfour. It has been quite some time, hasn’t it?”

The reply was slow and a bit mournful.

“Would you mind accompanying me on a mission? Just to the planet surface, your flying is much better and often fancier than mine,” Obi-Wan replied, looking down at the droid as his gaze softened. Quinlan wondered when he had lost the droid, to see it as some kind of familiar face. “I have lost someone quite dear to me and I need to find him.”

Quinlan couldn’t actually make out the droid’s beeps and whirs from where he was standing next to his own ship, but he could hear some sounds coming out. Obi-Wan just smiled, faint and tight and nodded. “I would appreciate that, Arfour.”

The droid got settled into the nest and port of the starfighter and Obi-Wan jumped into the cockpit of his ship. Quinlan quickly followed suite in his own.

Space never really ceased being cold.

To his credit, Quinlan had waited until they got into a lull of the battle. Shots were still being fired but they hadn’t been in the thick of it while he asked.

“Hey Obes, you mind asking me askin’ you a question?” Quinlan asked as he spun around to avoid some fire that chased in his direction.

“I imagine that no matter my answer you will ask nonetheless,” Obi-Wan just replied, rather dryly.

Quinlan took that as permission. “Look, I know it is a war zone and all, but why are you so frantic? He’s an older teenager and with you being around, I’m sure he has had plenty of training, enough to definitely hold his own no doubt. And besides, he’s got a bunch of the 212th around him, I have no doubt they will protect him as much as they can. They’re quite the bunch of guys you got there, buddy. I kinda like them.” In honesty, Quinlan had met very few of the 212thattack battalion at this point but he had met Commander Cody several times and rather liked him.

There was silence from the other fighter.

“Look buddy. I already know you went through this already.”

There was another moment of silence. Quinlan nearly thought that he wouldn’t actually answer but eventually Obi-Wan’s voice came over the commlink and communications, just one between the two of them. “Luke is friends with Boil. He knows Waxer dies during the war. I don’t know how he figured out this invasion is where it happened.”

“Are they your troops?” he knew the answer, really, but it was enough to keep the conversation going, at least for a moment.

“Boil and Waxer are some of my best.”

Quinlan didn’t doubt it. Obi-Wan did not just give out praise that high and blatant lightly. And if Boil had met and befriended Luke, that also meant he had survived the war. At least some of the clones did.

“Well, I suppose we should save them, shouldn’t we?”

There wasn’t much talk after that, as the two of them were more focused on not getting shot and blown away from enemy ships, avoiding them even more so as they breached the atmosphere, even taking out bombers and enemy ships on their way.

Quinlan had gotten a brief message through and even a short response with a place where the two jedi starfighters could land. Obi-Wan had nearly flown out of his cockpit once he had barely touched down. Commander Cody approached, having waited for their arrival with confused concern.

“General Vos, is there-,” the Commander started, his voice thick until he stopped, both verbally and physically once he caught sight of Obi-Wan. “General Kenobi! You’re up, sir, I…”

“Where is Lieutenant Waxer’s platoon?” Obi-Wan ignored him and walked up, although Quinlan had saw a flash of grief and sorrow in his face. He still thought this wasn’t quite real, he realized.

He could feel the hurt thumping from Commander Cody but to his credit, he took in stride. “My apologies sir,” he replied, rather stiffly, but otherwise completely cool and professional. “They had been at the southeast corner when, last I heard, they had received intelligence about natives coming up on their flank, trying to appropriate a sneak attack on them,” his voice turned mournful and wavering as he tried to keep Obi-Wan’s gaze.

Ben stared at him for a brief moment, his breath becoming quicker. His head whipped around, as if looking for the battle. “No,” he whispered. “It’s already happening.”

“Sir?” Commander Cody’s voice shifted. “What has happened?”

The jedi just spun around towards the southeast. “Commander, I need you to stay here. I trust your orders and plan will pan out; you know what you are doing,” he said quickly as he started towards the direction. Quinlan shot after him.

“General! Where are you going?” Commander Cody called after him.

“It’s a trap!” Obi-Wan yelled back. “Those aren’t Umbarans! It’s the 501st!”

The men they find are jittery and a just a tad bit slow.

They were on their way back to rejoin with Commander Cody’s forces and although jumped and pointed their blasters at the movement that was Obi-Wan and Quinlan barreling through the terrain, they didn’t fire.

They seemed to fear to.

When Obi-Wan demanded for the appearance of their leader, Lieutenant Waxer, a different clone appeared. That was rather apparent by the look on Obi-Wan’s face. “Where is your platoon leader, Freefall?”

The clone saluted easily but Quinlan could tell his hand was shaking. “He’s not here, sir. We…we nearly shot our own men. If it hadn’t been for the little jedi…” he drifted off, his eyes and voice a bit dazed at the notion.

Friendly fire, Quinlan realized.

Somehow, he doubted this was poor and unfortunate coincidence.

“Where is he?” Obi-Wan pressed, edging on the side of desperation. He looked on the verge of near shaking the clone as if answers would just fall out of him. “Where is your Lieutenant?”

“Lieutenant Waxer told us to hold the ridge,” Freefall explained, trying to quicken his words to appease his general. “To protect Commander Cody’s flank. He and a few others went with the 501stand the commander.”

“The commander?” Quinlan questioned.

“The little Jedi,” Freefall pointed out with an unsure glance at him and then looked back at Obi-Wan. “We assumed he was a commander.” He hesitated and winced, clearly not wanting to speak what else was on his tongue. “Is…is he a General?”

“NO!” Ben cried, the sound tearing from his throat in some mix of emotions. “He doesn’t hold any rank! Where did they go?”

“They went back to the air base where the 501st had made their base.”

“Why?” Quinlan asked but for some reason, he feared the answer.

There was a hesitation so long that Quinlan nearly thought they wouldn't answer at all. Freefall and a few of the surrounding soldiers glanced at one another, something of fear and a touch of sympathy. "We think…they are going to arrest General Krell."

Quinlan blinked. He was missing something.

One of them continued. "He, General Krell, set this up, he told the same thing he told us to the 501st. We almost killed one another. The commander… the little jedi, he saved everyone."

Once again, Obi-Wan's skin paled into something greying and ashy. "No," he muttered under his breath, loud enough for at least Quinlan and Freefall to hear. "He's going to get himself killed."

Quinlan wasn't entirely sure if Obi-Wan's fear was completely founded. For some reason, he felt as though Luke stood, he better chance than he was giving the boy credit for. Then again, these were fairly extraordinary circumstances and Obi-Wan was worried, which was probably overreaching his usual calm and faith.

“Obes,” he said quietly, barely touching his friend’s arm. “How long have you been training Luke?”

Ben stared at him.

“Obi-Wan,” Quinlan repeated, a little more forceful. “How long?”

“Since he was nine,” Obi-Wan choked out.

Wasn’t that just fascinating.

“Is he any good?”

Obi-Wan nodded. Good, he had some faith then. His worry, coupled with the extreme circumstances were just clouding things. Quinlan could work with that.

“Then he has a chance, bigger than you probably think.”

“Krell has double lightsaber staffs. Luke hasn’t even seen that before.”

Quinlan suspected that Luke hadn’t seen barely any lightsabers before, but he didn’t say anything to that. Skywalker had always been extremely talented with a blade. Although it wasn’t guaranteed his son would be the same way, he speculated that it was the case.

He has a chance,” Quin repeated. “Let’s go, okay? Let’s go to the airbase and find him.”

Freefall gave them a speeder. Obi-Wan had even let Quinlan drive without saying a word. Finding and getting to the airbase wasn’t difficult at all but it was eerily quiet. As Quinlan skidded to a halt, Obi-Wan had jumped off before the engine had stopped and jogged into the airbase.

It was dark.

Quinlan had a bad feeling about this.

He caught up with Obi-Wan as they pushed through, going through levels and the doors of the base into an open room where communications and ships alike were held. They both had stopped near in time together.

It was so quiet.

Obi-Wan stood silently, looking and watching, almost in shock but Quinlan moved around to take a peek. There were a few bodies of troopers sprawled on the ground, most of them missing an arm or a leg or worse, a head. It wasn’t a massacre, exactly, Quinlan thought. There were only a couple, as horrible as it was, but over all, it was incredibly messy. The wounds and killing blows had been made from a lightsaber, that was for certain. It certainly wasn’t Luke who did this, even Quinlan knew that.

“Quin.”

Quinlan barely recognized his own name coming from Obi-Wan’s lips. He hadn’t called him that seriously since he had woken up. He hoped that Obi-Wan was coming to realize that this was real, that he had time traveled and it wasn’t a dream or hallucination or cruel Sith trick.

He looked over to where Obi-Wan was kneeling and jogged over to his side.

Obi-Wan hadn’t touched it and Quinlan surely wouldn’t.

It was an arm, thick and burly. It wasn’t a human’s, that was for sure. If Quinlan had to guess, it was Krell’s.

“It’s Krell’s arm,” Obi-Wan answered his unasked question and then carefully used a nearby prod to pry open the hand. A lightsaber tumbled out. “And one of his sabers.”

“He’s a bit like you,” Quinlan muttered, vaguely amused.

Even if Obi-Wan had heard him, he didn’t dignify it with an answer. “They are not here. Everyone is gone. There aren’t nearly enough bodies for this to be the entirety of the 501st.”

“That begs the question,” Quinlan added. “What happened and where did they go?”

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direnightshade · 3 years

Text

You & I

The golden rays of morning sunlight stream in through blinds that have remained closed since the night prior, basking everything they touch in a warm glow. The shift in the room’s brightness, coupled with the blare of a car horn a few stories below, rouses me from my restful slumber. My eyelids flutter open and immediately I am met by a familiar hazel gaze. A lazy smile begins to stretch across my face whilst I turn simultaneously onto my side.

“Last night was wonderful,” I murmur as I close the gap between where you lie separate from myself.

Your body is a welcomed warmth against the coolness of the sheets that we find ourselves in still, and much to my delight you do not seem to be uneasy about my movements when I curl myself against you. In fact, you are rather the opposite the moment that I nip at your neck; an arm curves around my shoulders to pull me impossibly closer just as I tuck my head beneath your chin. There are no words, no verbal responses to my statement upon waking up and I am on the verge of asking what’s on your mind when suddenly I find our positions reversed. The mattress dips beneath our combined weight when you settle yourself atop where I now lie, your hands grasping my forearms, lifting them both above my head to better inspect the welts that are still just as red and present as they were last night.

A breath is inhaled through clenched teeth, the sound much like a hiss, when your thumb makes a gentle pass over the irritated skin of my left wrist and I watch as your expression shifts, a range of emotion filling your face—from curious interest to remorse—whilst you murmur an apology in response. My own fingers flex, though I make no attempts to escape from your grasp nor from the place in which you have me so effectively pinned down.

“I meant what I said,” I say with a hushed tone, careful not to break what feels like a delicate peace that has formed in the early hours of a new morning, “about last night.” Your focus shifts from my wrists down to my face and I can’t help but note how the space between your brows has creased the tiniest fraction, just enough to be perceptible.

I know that look. I have been where you are more times than I ever care to admit.

I understand, I want to tell you. But rather than speak, I attempt to move my hand from your grasp only to find that your hold has tightened enough to prevent me from reaching out to touch you, to trace the lovely contours of your face, to soothe you. “Charlie,” I whisper, allowing the words that I want to tell you to go unspoken. “Please…”

There is a moment of hesitation, but soon, you release your hold on me entirely though it is not to allow me to grace you with the touch that I have intended. Instead, you duck your face and bring those lovely lips to my own. The distraction of your hands now dipping beneath the hem of the shirt that I wear in order to drive it up my body is a tactic that works flawlessly. Any and all tenderness that was nearly bestowed upon you falls to the wayside when my hands clutch at you insistently, nails clawing at the skin of your back after clothes are yet again shed and our bodies are joined once more.

By the time our tryst concludes, the sun has relocated to hang much higher in the sky. This time, it is not I positioned on or against the bathroom vanity, but rather you. Our hair is damp from the shower that we have just dried ourselves off from, and we are once again devoid of the modest coverings we’d both worn upon waking up this morning.

A cotton pad dabs gingerly against the red markings that mar nearly the entirety of your back eliciting a hiss of displeasure from you as the peroxide makes contact with the scratches. It would seem—now that the haze of our lust-fueled moments have lifted—that you are not the only one who has been rather heavy-handed, so to speak. Unlike the markings that you have littered my body with, however, the ones that I have left on you will heal rather quickly; they are nothing more than superficial wounds, ones that should be gone by the end of the week.

“There,” I say, turning briefly to cast the cotton pad into the nearby trash can, “all done.”

When you right your posture I can’t help but admire the way the muscles of your back flex with the movement; before my mind can process just what it is that I am doing, I reach out with a hand to delicately trace one of the red welts that carves its way across your back. With my hand still following the line, I lift my gaze to catch your own in the reflection of the mirror. Smiling sheepishly, I pull my hand away as quickly as if I have been burned. “Unless you’d like some neosporin on it, that is.”

Your head shakes from side to side slowly, and I take a step back to give you room as you turn around in front of the counter. “I think I’ll live,” you quip, the remark eliciting yet another smile from myself whilst I bring my gaze up to yours.

“I should hope so.”

The smile that curls your lips upward is heart-shattering, I think to myself. I wonder how many others you’ve charmed as easily as I.

“Are you hungry?”

Your question pulls me from a train of thought that could send me spiraling as effortlessly as you’ve managed to make a home in my thoughts and a place much more vulnerable. I nod in the affirmative before verbalizing a response to your inquiry. “I could eat.”

***

The scrape of a pan against the burners of a gas stove can be heard in the near distance as I step out of the bathroom, now dressed in the black dress I’d left discarded on the floor ever since you’d peeled it off the night prior. Upon an earlier glance in the mirror I’d noticed that quite a few of the bite marks littered across my chest remain visible, and the imprint of your grip on my neck only remains partially visible thanks to the velvet halter that wraps around my throat. I have done my best with my hair, never more grateful for the length of it than I am in this very moment. My wrists, however, are still quite raw and still on full display for anyone who may look in my direction. All in all, I look every bit a victim.

When I step out of the hallway and into the larger room that houses both the living area and dining space, you are on your way out of the kitchen with two plates of food in hand. Your steps falter and then you slow to a halt altogether once you reach the table. Unlike me, you are in a decidedly much more relaxed outfit. Where I am dressed for the finest of galas, you are in nothing more than the grey sweatpants that you’d worn to bed last night.

“You’re dressed…” The words leave you slowly as you simultaneously lower the plates down onto the table in front of you, almost as if you are attempting to process the thought whilst verbalizing it all the same.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other and lift a hand to rake my hands through my hair, pushing it up and away from my face briefly. “Yes, well, I don’t think it would have been particularly prudent of me to sit naked at the table.”

This seems to break you free of whatever thought has just been pinging around in that mind of yours. You huff out a laugh and shake your head as if to clear your mind. “No, I suppose not.” You wave a hand towards the plates before rounding the table to take a seat. “You’re just in time. Breakfast is ready.”

This time when I step forward it is to close the distance between where I stand and you now sit until finally I, too, am seated at the table. The food that you have prepared is heavenly, and as I begin to dig into the eggs that you have piled onto the plate, I find that last night has left me far more ravenous than I had initially suspected.

The silence that fills the space is a comfortable one, and though we barely exchange words, we do cast more than the occasional glance and smile in one another’s direction. By the time we have concluded our meal, I am utterly stuffed and convinced that I cannot eat one more bite though quite a lot still remains. You, on the other hand, have cleaned every bit of food off of your plate, not leaving so much as the tiniest piece of egg behind.

“Thank you,” I murmur from where I am seated across from you.

For the breakfast.

For this morning.

For last night.

For everything.

“I suppose I should help you clean up.” I push myself back away from the table and rise up from the seat before stepping to my left and pushing the chair in towards the table. “It’s the least I can do after you going out of your way for me like this.”

Just as quickly as I have stood, so too do you. “No,” you say, the word sounding rather stern. I must be looking quite shocked, though I swear that I do not feel it, judging by the way in which you clear your throat and shift the tone of your voice to something softer. “That won’t be necessary. You’re a guest after all.”

I offer a small smile and nod once in acknowledgement of your statement. “Speaking of which…” Inhaling a breath, I rub absentmindedly against the outer portion of my wrist—a self-soothing gesture to help quell the nervousness of what may very well become an awkward conversation. “I’m afraid I’ve overstayed my welcome so I should probably get going. Thank you for the breakfast,” I say, leaving the rest unspoken.

The expression that passes across your face is so quick, so fleeting that I nearly miss it before your stoic mask slips back into place—but I have caught it nonetheless. Perhaps you are feeling rejected by my sudden need to depart. If this were to be true, I were privy to your thoughts to know that without a doubt this is what you are thinking, then I would most certainly dissuade you of such a sentiment. No, this is not at all rejection. If it were up to me I would stay. I would stay and listen to you speak about everything and nothing, I would let you keep me tethered to your bed for as long as you like—which, judging by last night’s event, would be quite a long time—I would stay until it is you who has decided that you have had enough of my presence.

But… I cannot stay. I will not.

This experience has been such a pleasant one, one that I will cherish for the rest of my days. I do not want to tarnish it by imposing myself on you any longer. It is I who does not want to be rejected, and so it is I who must end things here and now.

When I turn with the intention of making my way to the entranceway in order to slip back into my heels, I find myself called to turn back around to face you when you say my name. “Before you go,” you start, taking a step in my direction, “let me give you something to cover up the marks…”

I nod my assent and follow you as you make your way back into your bedroom. The t-shirt that I slept in still lies discarded haphazardly atop the bed, and whilst you rummage through your closet for something suitable for me to wear, I reach for the soft material and slip it on. Just as it was last night, it still is far too large, slipping off of one shoulder but still managing to cover the bite marks that you have dotted across my chest.

“Here,” you say, holding out a navy blue cardigan. “This should do the trick.”

Unlike the shirt, the material of the cardigan is decidedly less soft but still comfortable all the same when I put it on. Like the shirt, this is entirely too large for me, and I can’t help the laugh that slips from me when the sleeves fall well past my hands. “I look ridiculous,” I say, lifting a hand to stifle the laughter with the sleeve of the cardigan.

A smile stretches across your face, the expression quickly followed by a chuckle, your head nodding in the affirmative. “Indeed you do, Kitten.”

The endearment that falls from your lips appears to do so so flippantly, so naturally that for a moment it feels as if this is not our first morning together, but rather one of many. Behind the sleeve that still covers my mouth, I smile, the laughter now having faded out into silence, though the blush that creeps up onto my cheeks surely does not go unnoticed by your astute gaze.

I lower my hand away from my mouth, my lower lip now caught between my teeth as I take a moment to glance away and steel myself for what I am about to suggest before looking back to you. “I should probably get your number,” I say with a small shrug. “You’re probably going to want these back.” I motion to the clothes that belong to you that now hang so loosely from my body.

When I follow you back out of the room so that you may retrieve your phone from the pocket of the suit jacket you’d hung up on one of the dining chairs upon our arrival to your apartment last night, I take one final look around the space, soaking in the sight of it before I am due take my leave. You hand me your phone, the contacts list open and ready to add a new one, and with swift taps of my thumbs against the touchscreen, I input my number. In the blank space reserved for the contact name I do not put my own name, but instead type: Kitten.

In order to ensure that I have your number to save in my phone, I send a message from your phone to mine; two little emojis sit at the top of what will eventually become a long thread of texts between us: a red heart and an owl. Nearby, my phone buzzes in the small clutch that I’d carried with me last night. I hand the phone back to you and retrieve the clutch before turning once more to make my way to the door in order to slip my heels back on. Though I now stand another three inches taller, when I pivot to face you one final time, I find that I still fall quite short of your height.

There is an awkward, brief moment of silence that follows. I should be telling you goodbye, that I’ll text you sometime this week to return your clothes. I should say something, anything at all, but my mouth suddenly feels so dry and the words are sticking in my throat. It’s simultaneous, how we move towards one another, each drawn to the other as if by some unseen force. Just as your arms reach for me to circle my waist, so too do mine lift to drape over your shoulders. I card the fingers of my free hand through your hair when you dip your head down to press your lips to mine. I’m unsure of how long we stand here like this, locked in an embrace with lips that don’t seem to want to part from one another.

“Saint Phalle,” you murmur when you finally break away just enough to speak.

My eyes open to peer up into your own, and my brows crease in temporary confusion. “What?”

A faint smile begins to form in response to my question. “Last night on the train you said you liked Niki de Saint Phalle.”

The hand that had previously found itself in your hand now drops to rest against your back, fingers idly tracing one of the many scratches that still remain from this morning’s activities. “I do. I think her work is superb.”

“MoMA has some of her work on display,” you reply matter-of-factly, to which I nod, “if you’d like to go with me?”

The look of confusion I’d worn only moments prior melts away entirely, giving way to a smile that practically stretches from ear to ear. “I’d like that,” I confess.

Your own smile widens further and you place one final chaste kiss to my lips before releasing your hold on me. My hands slide away from you, and I take a step back towards the door, reaching behind me to grasp the doorknob. “I’ll call you later this evening,” you say just as I twist the doorknob and swing open the door.

I smile at you one final time, taking a step back to move past the threshold of the door. “Goodbye, Charlie.”

Gone is the dejected look from earlier in the morning, replaced only by the soft expression you wear now as I begin to close the door. “Until next time, Kitten.”

#yes we're still on a pause #but this needed writing #iamakiller #B+C #personal au

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abiggaynerd · 4 years

Text

Light in the night

Another fanfic of @quetzalcoatlzz ‘s western au comic, link here if you would rather read it on AO3, there is a link here

Charlie looked out her window from her bed. It was clear out, and she could see the moon. She sighed, rubbing her forehead. She could not sleep.

It was silent.

She closed her eyes. It had been a long day. One of her girls had gotten sick, and she had had to contact Maxwell’s new boytoy and have him take care of her. She would be fine, the doctor had assured, but Charlie couldn’t help worrying.

On top of that, a letter had come from her parents.

Charlie’s family was never rich, but she was still sheltered. Her older sister and her parents had worked extremely hard to help her become a proper lady. They had been thrilled she had secured such a wealthy man. After the... incident, she had promised her parents they would marry when they reached Constant, ignoring their protests that traveling with a man she was not married too would be scandalous. She felt terrible for deceiving them, but she could not tell them the truth- she was not a pampered mistress of the Carter ranch, but Madame of a whorehouse. This was not at all what they had wanted for her.

The only one who knew the truth- about her and Maxwell’s... preferences, about the broken off engagement, all of it- was her dear sister Winona. Winona understood everything- Charlie knew that the relationship with the female friend Winona was living with was not exactly chaste. Winona had urged her to tell their parents, at least about the broken off engagement, if nothing else, but Charlie still couldn’t work up the courage to tell them. In her (extremely rare) visits home, Maxwell would even come with her and lie. She was jealous of the close and open relationship he had with his family- they knew of their broken engagement, and the reasons, and had accepted it. Darling Wendy still called her Aunt, when she saw her, though.

She looked at the unopened letter on her nightstand. Every time she got one, she was terrified they had found out- if they heard about everything...

It would be better for her mental state to open it, but she found she could not. The letter opener lay on top of it, taunting her.

THONK

Charlie jumped wildly and yelped as someone banged into her window.

“CHARLIE!! YOU AWAKE?”

Charlie rolled her eyes as she calmed down. She opened the window. “How could I not be, after that racket?”

Willow grinned. “Can I come in?” Charlie nodded, and Willow began to try to get in through the window.

“Not through the window! Through the door! Honestly, Willow, it’s like you’re a secret lover trying to catch a moment alone with your beloved without alerting her parents.”

“I am,” Willow said cheerfully. “Except the parents part.”

“Exactly, which is why you can come through the door. This is my house.”

Willow grumbled, but went to the door to be let in. Charlie lit a candle, put on a robe, and walked through the rooms to get to the back door.

“Kiss?” Willow asked, taking off her hat. She helpfully pointed at her lips to indicate where they were.

“Very well,” Charlie said. She leaned over and pecked Willow on the lips, but before she could pull away, Willow deepened the kiss and put her hand on the back on Charlie’s head. Charlie relaxed into it. Being with Willow calmed her spirits.

Charlie pulled away when it became apparent Willow had no problem having sex right where they were. “Come along, dear.”

“It’s a bit chilly tonight,” Willow remarked, scampering after Charlie. “Just, incredibly cold. I’ve never seen it get this bad, really. You might freeze to death.”

Willow cut in front of Charlie to open her bedroom door for her. Charlie smiled. “If you’re asking if you can make a fire in my room, you may.”

“Yess,” Willow said, no regard for her noise level. She took Charlie’s candle and began fussing with the fireplace. It really had grown slightly chilly with the window open. Charlie closed it, as well as the curtains.

“Where is Bernie?” Charlie asked, taking off her robe and climbing back into bed.

“Maxwell has nice stables,” Willow said.

“You walked all the way here from Maxy’s stables?? Why Willow, you must be exhausted!”

“Any amount of exhaustion is worth it if I can inconvenience Maxwell,” Willow said. “Besides, he’s got great food for the horses. Bernie likes it there.”

“Do you need food? A drink?”

“I just need you,” Willow said, about to climb on Charlie’s bed.

“Absolutely not! No, Willow, if you want to get on my bed with my good linens, you’re going to take a bath first.”

Willow grimaced. “Really? Do I have to?”

“Yes! But here, don’t make that face. I’ll wash you myself.”

“...Fine.”

“Come, help me set up the tub.”

Having Willow to help lug around the heavy tub and buckets of water made the whole experience much faster. Willow was much stronger than Charlie, and had the added bonus of “liked to show off.”

“Alright,” Charlie said. “Get in.”

Willow seemed to have forgotten the bath was for her. She frowned. “What if I washed you instead?”

“You don’t have to sleep with me, you know,” Charlie teased. “You can sleep on my floor. I can find a blanket.”

Willow threw back her head and groaned. “FINE.” She threw off her clothes. Charlie watched appreciatively.

Willow was not what most people considered attractive for a woman, but Charlie didn’t hold much stock in their opinions. Willow was toned, from hours of manual labor and horseback riding. She wore no corset, but instead wore nothing but men’s clothes. Her breasts, unlike Charlie’s, were small enough to need no support. She was thin, but strong. Her beautiful black hair was thick and shiny, if you ignored the layers of soot and dirt.

“At least it’s hot,” Willow said, stepping in.

“Just below boiling, just how you like it,” Charlie said. She had a rag, and used a bit of her soap on it. Rose scented. Willow had admitted a while back that she liked smelling of Charlie’s soap.

Willow seemed to be enjoying the heat, now she was actually in it. Charlie smiled, and took her hand. The nails were cut short, but caked with dirt. She began scrubbing.

The water became murky as Charlie cleaned Willow.

“You must have half the dust in Texas on you,” Charlie said.

“Sometimes I roll in the dirt,” Willow said.

Willow was practically boneless from Charlie’s rhythmic, gentle and careful cleaning; she now looked like an entirely different person. It was almost done, all that was necessary now was to rinse Willow’s hair.

She unbraided the braids, running her fingers through it. The cloud of dust made her sneeze.

“My hair too? Really?”

“I’ll brush your hair after,” Charlie soothed. “Give you a nice scalp massage.”

Charlie had to rinse the hair five times before she was certain all the grime was out of the hair.

“Alright, all done,” Charlie said. Willow immediately bolted out of the tub, getting water everywhere.

Willow dried herself with a towel, then rummaged in Charlie’s drawers to find the clothes Charlie kept for her. She pulled out a nightgown and put it on.

“Sit on the floor in front of me,” Charlie instructed. Willow complied. Charlie began to brush the hair.

“You have beautiful hair,” Charlie said.

“It doesn’t really do anything I want it to,” Willow said. “Always slips out of the braids! So irritating. I don’t know how fancy ladies like you keep your hair in those crazy styles all the time.”

“Part of it is not rolling in dirt, dear.”

“Well, I guess I’m never going to be able to do a fancy smancy hairstyle then.”

“You never were going to in the first place.”

“Ah! True.”

Willow settled against Charlie’s legs. Charlie began to massage Willow’s scalp.

“That’s nice,” sighed Willow. “I haven’t seen you in ages. I missed you a lot.”

“It’s only been a few days.”

“AGES.” Willows groaned. “You know Wilson- that doctor- he’s living with Maxwell now? He only comes to town for work. Goes back at night.”

“Mr. Higgsbury is truly living with him? Maxy must be very fond of him.”

“Why can’t I live with you,” Willow complained. “Why does that awful man get nice things and I, objectively the best person ever, do not?”

“Am I not a nice thing?”

“You’re the BEST THING!”

Charlie chuckled. “You’re the best thing to me too.” She kissed her head. “I love you.”

“If I wasn’t a wanted criminal I would be... Your housewife.”

Charlie laughed. “You? A housewife? In what world?”

“Well, I suppose I could be your bodyguard and scare away men who bother your girls.”

“That would be nice.”

Willow pulled away and turned around.

“You’re nice. Want me to make you feel nice too?”

Charlie nodded. Willow beamed.

“Nothing too much tonight, though,” Charlie said. “I’m tired. We can do more tomorrow.”

“Alright!”

The sex was calm, and not rushed, but Charlie finished rather quickly.

She breathed heavily for a few moments before speaking.

“Honestly, you devious thing, where did you even learn that?”

“I like to put things in my mouth.” Willow was on top of her now, and Charlie kissed her. They kissed passionately for a moment, until Willow pulled back.

“Let’s go to sleep. Did you have a long day?”

“Yes,” Charlie sighed. “But I feel better with you here.”

They climbed until the covers. Charlie turned and saw the letter on the nightstand.

“What’s wrong?”

“A letter from my parents.”

“Want me to kill them for you?”

“No,” Charlie snorted. “You can’t kill all of my problems.”

“I can try.”

Charlie looked at it for a moment longer, before sitting back up and opening it. She smiled at Willow- her simply being there gave her enough courage to open the letter.

She hesitantly read it.

“Dearest Charlie,

We miss you terribly! Our neighbors have just had a baby girl, and she reminds us so much of you when you were her age. You were so small and perfect. We thought to ourselves, no matter what happens, we will love this child with all our hearts, and support her in all things.

We hope you and your husband create a little miracle of your own very soon.

All our love,

Mother and Father.”

Charlie set down the letter. Her anxiety was eased a bit, but she stared pensively into the fire.

“Willow, I think it may be time I told them the truth.”

Willow pulled her close, kissing her forehead.

“I’ll be with you whether they accept it or not. Don’t worry.”

“I love you,” said Charlie.

“I love you too.”

Charlie fell asleep quickly held in Willow’s arms.

#charllow #ds #Ds western au #bluh bluh

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curiousconstellations · 4 years

Text

The Price of a Bean and the Cost of Love

Summary: With no clue how to defeat a villain the town can’t remember, Hook and Emma venture to the Enchanted Forest to retrieve some magical items from the Evil Queen’s castle. Along the way, they rediscover the connection they shared before they were separated by worlds a year ago. 3B canon divergence, Rated T, 8k, also on AO3 here

A/N: Happy Holidays @phiralovesloki I’m your CS Secret Santa! I hope this little fic will bring you some cheer to this wild year :) Honestly I had so many ideas after revisiting season 3 that I’m definitely down to write more S3 renaissance/divergence fics from now on!

Thank you @cssecretsanta2020 for another great event!

-/-

The more frequently they host these hushed conversations by the fireplace, the more Emma grows to despise the décor of Granny’s B&B, however cozy it may be. It’s difficult to keep Henry safe whilst also keeping him away from these discussions of the Enchanted Forest and curses and magic, so the common area of the B&B is the best option when she knows he is tucked away asleep upstairs.

Her parents and Regina are going back and forth at each other while Hook stands by the fire, raising an eyebrow every time Regina fires an insult or her mother shoots down Regina’s suggestions with judgement.

“Well, even if we could figure out who did this, they’ve done a spectacular job of making sure I can’t fight back by stripping my entire vault of anything magical that could help. I bet it’s all just sitting back at the castle, wilting away like this damn town will under this curse.” Regina bites out angrily.

They all silently reflect on her words and Emma can’t help but wish she were back in New York right now. At least then her issues would be about prying Henry away from his video games long enough to sleep and do homework, not trying to protect him from some unknown fairy tale villain who had cursed their family and friends and was turning people into flying monkeys. God, what is her life?

“What if we could retrieve some things from your castle?” Hook asks, everyone swinging their heads up to look at him curiously.

“What the hell do you mean, pirate?” Regina demands. Hook sighs and pinches his nose; a gesture Emma finds herself sympathizing with when dealing with Regina.

“I mean that I have a way of returning to the Enchanted Forest. I can use it to fetch your magical goods and then you can do your thing with your little bottles and jars and we can resolve all of this.”

“And how exactly do you have a way of getting back there?” David asks suspiciously. Hook fishes in his jacket pocket and reveals a magic bean, rolling it between his fingers slowly.

“I procured two beans, the first I used to get to Emma in New York. The second, well let’s just say I had it saved for a rainy day. Now, this cursed business is really only a slight drizzle for me, but if it will help, the offer stands.” The offer had mostly been made to Regina, but Emma finds Hook’s gaze on her. She’s pretty sure he was not offering this bean for Regina’s sake.

“Well, I don’t trust you to go alone.” Regina shrugs. Hooks rolls his eyes upward in frustration and Emma’s lips twitch a little. The man is not particularly good at hiding his emotions.

“I’ll go too.”

Her words are met with immediate disagreement from her parents, but she patiently waits for them to finish their complaints before speaking.

“Look, you’re all cursed. As far as we know, you can’t leave town let alone jump through a portal. Hook and I are the only people not affected by the curse. He brought me here to help, so this is something I can help with. I’m the saviour after all.” Emma sighs, glaring at her parents until they surrender.

“Is this even necessary? Regina, I’m sure you can cope without your things for now. We can find another way to figure out who cast the curse and defend ourselves if need be.” Snow says firmly, David backing her up with an affirmative nod and a squeeze of her shoulder.

“Isn’t it better to have and not need, than need and not have?” Hook interjects.

“See? The pirate gets it. He’s willing to give up a bean for this. What would the town say if they find out their royal highnesses didn’t do everything they could to protect them?” Regina says smugly.

“Look, guys, enough. Hook and I will go get Regina’s magical crap from the castle, end of discussion. I don’t like not having all the tools possible to face who or whatever this is.”

“Thank you, Miss Swan.” Regina says, her tone indicating it was more of a dig at her parents than actual gratitude.

“Fine. But how will you get back? You only have one bean.” David asks. Emma looks to Hook for answers, considering this was his plan to begin with. He catches her eye and clears his throat with an awkward scratch of his ear.

“I can get another bean from the same seller. I know where he is.” Emma knows he’s hiding something, and she plans on pushing him on it later, but for now she lets it slide.

“Well, how do you know that he has more, or that you can get one from him? It’s a bit of a precarious plan, especially now my daughter is coming.” David replies roughly.

“I trust that Hook will get us back, okay. We should probably get going soon and I want to say goodbye to Henry first. I know you’ll all take care of him, but he’ll think I’m leaving him with strangers, and I don’t want him to worry.” Emma heads upstairs before more disagreements break out, exhaling with relief at the tiny amount of peace the dark, quiet hallway provides.

She wakes Henry to explain that she needs to go somewhere else for work, but she will be back in no time. He’s sleepy and confused, but he smiles when she says he will be treated to all the ice cream from the mayor he wants and some lovely meals from her friends (yes, the one that was apparently her cellmate). Emma hugs him tightly and says goodnight once again, watching over him for a moment before turning off the light and closing the door.

“You don’t have to come along, Swan.” Hook says softly from behind her as he exits his own room.

“And let you have all the fun trashing Regina’s castle? I don’t think so.” She scoffs. They share a brief look, and, in this moment, she is particularly grateful for this uncanny ability they seemed to have developed of understanding each other with a single glance. It’s simultaneously terrifying and comforting to know Hook can read her so well.

Emma says goodbye to her parents while Hook gets strict rules from Regina about what to do in her castle and he looks like he’d rather switch places with her and be hugging David right now. She’s hoping they will be back pretty soon but and she’s putting all her faith in Hook’s suspiciously vague plan to get them another bean home, but her trust in him grows each time he does something selfless, chipping away at her suspicions with his surprising decency and kindness.

They head out the back behind the B&B, the frosty air nipping at her skin as she shivers. Hook’s breath comes out in clouds when he offers her one last chance to back out, but Emma simply shakes her head, and he tosses the bean on the grass. The portal swirls in front of them and a second later they’re jumping through in a dizzy haze of flashing lights and crackling sounds.

With a rough landing in between some trees and a distinct shift in the atmosphere, Emma knew they had made it to the Enchanted Forest. Well, running back to New York wasn’t exactly an option anymore.

-/-

“I walked around the Enchanted Forest in my normal clothes last time, I don’t see why it’s an issue now.” Emma grumbles, fighting with the heavy material of the skirt they had nabbed from a clothing line. Hook had already explained it to her, but he indulges her complaints nevertheless.

“We don’t know what or who has been left here after the curse. Looking like you’re from another world is a sure-fire way to gain attention, and we want to get in and back as soon as possible, right lass?” He smirks at her grumbled response as they continue down the path in the forest, squinting at the peak of the castle ahead of them. They had been walking for some time; unfortunately, the bean did not let him pick an arrival spot closer to the castle. He had thought that perhaps this time alone with Emma would be pleasant, perhaps even a time for them to reconnect after being separated for a year, but so far Emma appears to be preoccupied with her own thoughts.

“Did you miss going on adventures with me while you were in New York?” He asks teasingly, glancing over at Emma as she scoffs.

“You bet. The Big Apple had nothing on trekking through trees and beanstalks in strange lands with a pirate.” She replies humorously.

“The Big Apple?”

“It’s a nickname for New York.”

“Your land never ceases to confuse me, Swan.”

“Yeah, well, staying in New York would have meant not having to deal with the confusion of curses and villains.” He can sense the shift in Emma’s attitude with her bitter words and he sighs.

“So, you would have preferred it if I had left you alone in your new life.”

“I’m glad you came and gave me my memories back, but you have to understand how hard it’s been for me leaving that life of blissful ignorance to the existence of…all of this.” Emma waves her hands around, gesturing at the land they’re in.

“You act like knowing of the existence of magic and fairy tales is a burden. But don’t you ever think about what it has to offer, what it’s already given you?”

“When magic was the entire reason for me growing up alone? For my parents being cursed twice now? For Neal’s crappy childhood and Regina killing a bunch of people and countless other shitty things? Sorry, I’m just a little preoccupied dealing with all of that that see the beauty in it.” Emma speeds up her steps and Hook strides to match her pace. She’s clearly jaded, and she has every right to be, but he feels like he should be doing more to reason with her. He suspects that her dismissal of magic and this world will cause a chasm soon enough, pulling her further away and back into the noisy streets of the city she seems to love so much.

They continue along the path in relative silence, jumping into the trees when they hear the odd carriage or footsteps ahead as a precaution to avoid potential foes or having to explain who they are. Hook can feel the air cooling as the day progresses and he’s concerned about the few hours of daylight they have left. He hadn’t thought that they could achieve everything in a single day, but Emma’s cold demeanor had put him off broaching the topic of resting come nightfall.

The castle soon becomes visible as the trees thin and the path becomes wider. Hook is surprised that no one is around. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he had wondered if some strays left behind from the curse would ransack it or something. From appearances, it had been left alone, which was a good sign for collecting all of the necessary items Regina requested.

“The way Regina talked about this place I thought it would be beautiful, but honestly it’s kind of ugly.” Emma comments, making eye contact with him for the first time in over an hour. He smirks, nodding in agreement and pleased they can at least mock the architecture together.

“Aye, her taste is indeed questionable.”

“It’s weird to think my grandparents lived here, that my mom grew up here. I feel so disconnected from all of this.” Emma admits as they walk up the stairs to the main entrance. It’s so eerily quiet that Hook is reminded of the curse that hit everyone here, snatching them away to the land without magic. Their trek to the castle and his concerns of Emma’s longing for her old life had almost made him forget why they were here in the first place.

“Perhaps that is something you could discuss with your mother. Maybe hearing stories of her childhood and your grandparents will help you appreciate this part of your life more.”

“So that I won’t want to go back to New York you mean?” Emma asks flatly.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that, like you said, you are disconnected from your history here, and maybe understanding it more will help you better accept magic being in your life.” Hook shrugs, trying to pass it off as nonchalant. Emma hums suspiciously and he realizes he really has no ability to pretend anything other than the truth with her.

“And perhaps I don’t want to say goodbye again.” He adds boldly. Since Emma regained her memories, he’s been dancing around his feelings for her, prioritizing her return to town and figuring out the business of this new curse. After all, she was juggling her cursed parents and her son’s own sheltered memories, she hardly needed him making things more difficult.

“There is a lot of New York you haven’t seen yet. There’s more to the city than the inside of a jail cell.” She jokes, giving him a lopsided smile. They’ve reached the main entrance now, the doors grand and intimidating in their aggressive spikes and bolts as deterrents. Hook pulls on the large handle, the door creaking loudly in the otherwise quiet entrance. The immediate hall inside is empty, no guards or thieves in sight, and they step in apprehensively.

“Are you suggesting I should come to the city with you, if you were to return?” He asks as Emma glances around in wonder.

“Well, I-” She starts, but she suddenly stops and slams into him, knocking them both to the floor as streaks of fire blaze above them. The fire singes the floor right where they had stood, fizzling out after scorching most of the entranceway. Hook looks around frantically, not seeing anyone around to cause balls of fire to hurdle at them. Emma’s heavy skirts and cloak are draped over him, her hair tickling his face as she moves off him with a groan.

“I’m sorry, it just came out of nowhere and I reacted.” She sits up awkwardly, looking around to see if any more fire could come their way as she shifts her cloak back over her bodice correctly and puffing out her now red cheeks.

“No worries, lass. I’m impressed by your quick reaction.” Hook replies as he stands, offering her his hand to help her up.

“I deal with some shifty people at work, I’ve got to be fast.” Emma shrugs. He delicately moves a curl of her hair back in place, catching her eyes as he does so. It’s the softest she’s looked since he found her in New York, a look he hadn’t seen since they said goodbye at the town line a year ago. It lasts only a moment before she looks away, but he’ll hold onto it as a sign that whatever formed between them in the cruel humidity of Neverland still lingered in her soul.

They cautiously proceed through the castle towards Regina’s tower, both on the lookout for other apparent protection spells that were still in effect. He wondered if they would find some hint of what happened before the curse, but everything seemed normal, at least for the castle of the Evil Queen. Once they find her room, they quickly grab bottles and books and trinkets from the vanity, tossing them into a sack he had in his pocket.

“Regina said she has a room where she keeps more things, but it’s sealed with blood magic so this will have to suffice.” Hook tells Emma as she sniffs one of the bottles and grimaces.

“And no doubt she will blame us if this stuff isn’t what she needs.” Emma scoffs. The setting sun reflects off the vanity mirror and Emma’s hair shines in the hazy orange glow. He admires her for a moment before stepping away to stand at the balcony, looking out the stretch of land ahead and the pastel colours of the sunset. Emma soon joins him, and they stand together and watch the changing colours of the sky in silence.

“I don’t know how Regina could stand here and see something so beautiful out there and want to retreat into this cold, dark palace.” Emma says quietly.

“Maybe she was scared of the potential life outside of this, so she retreated to something familiar.” He replies, glancing over at Emma to see his meaning was not lost on her by the way she shakes her head. He thinks she’s ready to launch into another defence of her wanting to go back to New York, but she doesn’t say anything. To his surprise, she shuffles closer and rests her head on his shoulder. They stay like that for a while, until a chill settles over them and Emma sighs wistfully.

“So where is this bean seller?” She asks, pulling her cloak around herself with a shiver.

“He should be down by the water. But we should rest for the night. It’s a bit of a walk to the port, even longer and more hazardous in the dark.” Hook replies, his stomach sinking at the thought of the next part of their quest.

“Okay, but I don’t want to stay here. I’m sure the beds in the guest rooms are nice but this place freaks me out. Is there an inn or something close by? Preferably somewhere we could find some kind of food.” Emma laughs lightly when her stomach rumbles mid-sentence.

“Aye, there’s a tavern in a village close by, if we leave now, perhaps we can make it by the light that’s left of the day. I have no idea if anyone will be there, but there may be something left behind we could salvage to eat.” Hook grabs the sack of magical items and swings it over his shoulder, ushering Emma ahead as they quickly descend from the tower.

He keeps close to Emma as they walk in the dusky light, glancing ahead as the individual trees of the forest become indiscernible and form an ominous tunnel of darkness.

“Why did you have two beans?” Emma asks, her voice breaking the quietness of the night.

“Well, why not?” He evades with a cheeky tone.

“You said you were saving it for a rainy day. I get being prepared for the worst, but it seemed like you had a specific purpose for it.” Hook thinks for a moment, deciding whether or not to tell the truth. He thinks of her head on his shoulder earlier and the way it felt so simple and easy to stand by her side in peace.

“I got a second one in case you wanted me to leave.”

“Leave?” Emma asks incredulously.

“You had a life in Storybrooke with the town and your family, and then again in New York with your boy. I came to bring you back to them, but I never had a place in that life of yours. I have stayed for the possibility that I could, but if you wished that I didn’t, I would return here and never burden you again.” Hook tugs on the sack awkwardly as they walk, almost wishing he could see her face but also relieved to be shielded by the darkness.

Emma is quiet, and the longer she doesn’t speak, the more anxious he becomes. She could easily turn around right now and tell him she does want him to leave her life, and the thought makes his chest ache.

“You’re not a burden, Hook.” She says quietly. He takes that as the smallest of victories and relaxes a little. He thinks she’s about to say more when she suddenly trips, slipping onto the ground with a painful groan.

“Swan!” He tosses the sack down and kneels beside her, widening his eyes in the dark as if that would help him see better.

“I think I hit my…” Emma mumbles. Hook gently touches her face, feeling blood already forming at the cut at her temple. He kicks around and feels a rock on the path just as Emma turns on the ground and retches.

“Concussion.” She mutters, slumping against his chest.

“Aye, that was a nasty hit to the side of your head, lass.” He says softly as he brushes her hair away from the cut. She’s in no state to continue walking, but there’s no way they can stop here for the night; she’ll certainly need food and water to ease her discomfort. He reaches for the sack and loops the string over his hook before scooping her up in his arms, much to her disoriented chagrin.

“Down, I’ve had this loads before.”

“Doesn’t matter how often this happens to you, Swan. I’m not having you wander about in the dark in this state. You’ll end up knocking me out too with your stumbling.” He teases lightly. She grumbles something unintelligible, but he takes her burrowing herself against him as resignation. Hook watches her close her eyes and furrow her brows and he hopes he can reach that damn tavern soon.

-/-

A wave of nausea hits Emma when she opens her eyes, the image of the room feeling like a puzzle her brain is too slow to piece together. A candle flickers on the other side of the room, the dancing flame making her unsteady vision worse. She slides up the bed she lays in, wincing in discomfort. Looking around the room at the simple décor, she assumes this is the tavern. To her left is another single bed, the sack of Regina’s things sitting on top along with Hook’s jacket. There is a cup and a pitcher of water on the small table in the middle of the beds and she clumsily pours some and takes a slow drink, her dry lips and throat relieved to feel the liquid.

She tentatively reaches up to touch her head, feeling a small bandage across the cut on her temple, her hair damp from what she hopes is the water used to clean the wound and not blood. The door creaks open and Emma is relieved to see Hook.

“Ah good, you’re awake.” He says softly. She notices the plate he’s carrying and practically salivates at the thought of food, but he puts it down on the table and stands beside her bed, gently lifting her chin up with his fingers.

“Your eyes look alert, I’m sure some colour will come back to your cheeks once you’ve eaten.” His fingers are warm against her skin and she feels cold as soon as his hand slips away.

“I was able to bring up some cheese and a small amount of bread, but Sylvia won’t allow any hot food in the rooms. If you are feeling well enough, we can go down a bit later for something more.” Hook explains as he passes her the plate of the ration sized portions of bread and cheese.

“Sylvia?” She asks before tucking in, happy to have a least something to put in her stomach.

“The owner of the tavern. Turns out, the curse left a few people from different villages all over. A lot of them gathered here after the curse hit and made their own sort of village. It’s a lively little place.”

“Does anyone know what happened?”

“Not in any great detail. Some were outside of the boundaries and saw it descend, but they didn’t know why. They said it was a green fog that seemed to appear from Regina’s castle. They’ve all been too scared to go there in case its dangerous, but no one knows who cast it or why.” Hook sits down on the other bed and slides out the flask from his jacket pocket. She watches him take a drink and longs for the pleasantly warm feeling of his rum.

“Have you eaten yet?” She asks, swallowing the last of the bread guiltily.

“I had some bread and cheese downstairs.”

“We should go get some warm food now. I’m still hungry and I bet you are too.” Emma says firmly as she moves off of the bed. Hook jumps up to stop her, his hand gently holding on to her shoulder like she’s going to break.

“Are you well enough?”

“Hook, I’m fine. It was a concussion; I’ve gotten them plenty of times when a skip is rough on the run and I still catch them every time.”

“Aye, but head injuries can be fatal. Just because you feel fine doesn’t mean you are.” He replies with concern. She rolls her eyes and tugs on his arm as she feels her stomach grumble in desire of more food, pulling him towards the door.

“And if I faint it could easily be from hunger. Come on.”

Hook leads the way down the stairs to the common area of the tavern, the old place dimly lit with candles scattered about, leaving pools of melted wax around them. Emma hears the buzz of chatter from the front room and is surprised to see so many people here. Hook ushers her to the table closest to the fire that was fortunately free and she hums in appreciation at the warmth. She sees him gesture to the woman behind the bar she assumes is Sylvia, who gives her a once over and smiles before leaving through the door behind her.

“The food will be here shortly, Swan.” Hook reassures her as he sits down on the bench beside her. They both soak in the heat of the fire eagerly, Hook holding out his hand in front of the flames for warmth. Emma subtly looks over him, noticing his tired eyes in the gleam of the fire and his tense shoulders. They hadn’t been able to see the light from the tavern before she hit her head, so she assumes they had still been a fair distance from it, which meant that he had walked all that way with her in his arms in the dark. He must have also tended to her wound and made sure she had a soft place to lie down when they got here.

“Hey, um, thanks for making sure I was okay.” She says awkwardly, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze. He seems surprised by her gesture, raising an eyebrow and quickly looking back at the fire.

“Of course, love.”

“And you’re not some stray dog I’m going to get rid of by the way. You’ve helped me and my family out a lot. I said that you could be part of something, and I meant it.” Emma speaks quietly, aware that they had attracted some attention from the other patrons when they came down. Hook nods and puts his hand over hers on his arm with a soft smile.

“Some warm stew for the lovebirds.” Sylvia says loudly as she comes towards them with two steaming bowls and some water. Emma gives Hook a questioning look, but he responds with his own vague expression that tells her to play along. They thank Sylvia and tuck in, Emma too grateful for the warm bowl of food to even care what’s in it. Her body instantly relaxes at the taste of food and she practically inhales the whole bowl, realizing the last warm meal she ate back in Storybrooke felt like days ago. Hook grins at her and asks Sylvia for seconds for both of them. Four bowls of stew later they turn back to the fire, feeling full, warm, and surprisingly relaxed.

“Lovebirds?” Emma murmurs to him, knocking his shoulder with her own teasingly.

“I told her you are my wife. I thought it the easiest way to explain a passed-out woman in my arms that I needed to stay with.” Hook explains sheepishly.

“I’m surprised she gave us a room with two beds then.” She scoffs.

“It was the last room left.” Hook says humorously. Emma hums in understanding but starts gnawing on her lip at the fact that a mild swell of disappointment fills her chest. She hadn’t given much thought to their sleeping arrangements beyond finding a bed outside of Regina’s castle to lie on for the night, but now that they have a room with beds of their own, she thinks about what it might have been like had there only been one. It’s ridiculous and she puts it down to the overwhelming craziness of the past few days making her yearn for some comfort and that is it.

“Disappointed, Swan?” Hook smirks, flashing her the smoldering gaze that obviously gets him a lot of attention.

“Please.” She rolls her eyes; glad her cheeks were already flushed by the fire. The heat of the fire and the tension simmering between them brings her right back to Neverland and she licks her lips at the thought of their kiss. Emma finds herself feeling the same desire to throw caution to the wind and kiss him again. It seems fitting that they are in another world again and away from her home that she can lock these moments away in the compartments of her mind that separate reality and these fantasy experiences.

Loud cheering from across the room breaks the intense gaze between them. Emma exhales and takes a drink of water, watching the group of men begin to play music. They tease each other about their singing voices as they start a song off-key, a couple of the rowdier ones getting up to dance with no coordination. The other patrons clap and cheer them on, some of them joining in with the dancing.

“Go on loves, join in!” Sylvia encourages them with a wink as she clears away their bowls. Hook grins wickedly, taking great pleasure in the way she groans with dread.

“Nope. You can’t get me up there, I have no idea what this jig type thing even is.” She says firmly, watching a couple shake their legs in strange ways as they twirl around.

“Then it’s a good thing you have a partner who knows what he’s doing.” She can’t help but stare wide eyed at Hook as he stands up, offering with his hand with a warm smile. With a wince, she puts her hand in his and lets him lead her to the middle of the room, holding on to him as he positions them for the dance.

“Remember I have a damn concussion, Hook.” Emma grumbles, breathing in sharply when he brings her closer to his chest.

“I’ll go easy on you, love.” He whispers in her ear as his stubble grazes her cheek. He guides her through some basic moves, and she feels laughter bubble up in her chest at the absurdity of the situation. They manage to jump and twist in time to the music a few times, both of them laughing at her lack of coordination despite him practically leading each of her body parts that needed to move. Emma finds herself enjoying it, giggling happily when she eventually starts to pick it up. When the music begins to pick up in tempo she sways into Hook, feeling a little overwhelmed by the fast movements. He responds by holding her waist and tucking her against his shoulder as they sway slightly. They’re no longer moving to the music, but she finds that she doesn’t care that they’re swaying slowly near the rowdy crowd still skipping about.

“How do you know how to dance like that?” Emma murmurs close to his ear.

“The crew and I would frequent taverns like this and picked it up. We even danced on the Jolly some nights, especially in the summer when the air was warm and smelled sweet.” She hears the sadness in his voice, and she realizes she doesn’t know what happened to Hook during the missing year or where his ship was.

“What happened to the Jolly?”

“An illustrious bean seller has her.” Hook says quietly, and Emma leans back to look at him. She searches his eyes, and it dawns on her what he means.

“You traded your ship for me?”

“Aye.”

She’s overwhelmed by this revelation and for the first time stops overthinking and just reacts, her lips finding his with relief. It feels warm and comforting to be in his embrace, and for the first time since leaving New York, she truly feels the spark of her old life reignited. It’s then when she feels the stir of passion and peace swell inside her a wave of exhaustion hits her and she sinks into him weakly.

“As much as I love a woman swooning at my feet Swan, you need to rest now.” Hook teases, kissing her forehead gently. They leave the boisterous fun of the tavern for the quiet chill of their room for the night and Emma practically collapses into bed, her limbs screaming out for rest. She’s already slipping into sleep when she feels Hook kiss her cheek and she dozes off to the burn of desire from the high of their kiss.

-/-

Hook wakes up to a pressure against his right side, twitching his nose at the tickle of hair. It takes him a moment to adjust to the dim light of early morning before realizing it’s Emma, pressed against him and deeply asleep still. She must have climbed into his bed at some point in the night, but he has no memory of being stirred in his sleep (he most certainly would have remembered Emma Swan coming into his bed).

The beds were small and certainly not made for two people, but he’s far from mad to have her body against his in the morning. Their kiss last night had been unexpected to say the least. Hook had been well aware that the truth of his ship’s whereabouts would come to light at some point given that they needed to find the man who had it, but he thought perhaps Emma wouldn’t realize what exactly had transpired. For the sake of their relationship, he was glad she had seemed to know the gravity of it. Hook stays in bed for a while, holding Emma as she sleeps. He dozes in and out until she begins waking up.

“Morning, Swan.” He says warmly, watching as she frowns and takes in her surroundings.

“Um, hi. I’m sorry, I was freezing.” She says all flustered, wriggling out of bed quickly.

“No worries, I was too.” Emma nods apprehensively at him, rubbing her eyes sleepily. They awkwardly dance around each other as they splash water on their faces and shrug on their cloak and jacket, ready to leave as Hook hoists up the sack. Sylvia convinces them to grab breakfast before they leave, shoving bread rolls in their hands as they head out. The port isn’t too far, but it’s another decent walk there and he’s grateful for the sustenance.

This walk feels more comfortable between them than the one to the castle and despite the awkwardness after waking up, Emma seems more relaxed now. He teases her about watching out for rocks on the path, laughing when she playfully shoves him into the grass. He feels these moments from Emma are rare, so he cherishes the sound of her laugh and the curve of her smile. They hadn’t broached the topic of New York again, and Hook thinks it best to leave it until they return to Storybrooke. Perhaps their little quest will help defeat this new foe quickly and Emma can appreciate her exposure to the magical world. Or perhaps she will decide to still go, but he can go with her. The noisy, busy streets of her city would be bearable if it meant still having her in his life.

The brilliant blue of the water rests ahead and before long he recognizes the Jolly, his heart sinking at the thought of his home belonging to another. He had wondered if he would ever see it again, which may have been the less painful scenario than seeing another captain at the helm.

“I’ll do the bargaining, lass. This is personal between Blackbeard and I, so it’s best you stay back.” Hook warns Emma as they reach the ship, still glorious and majestic in comparison to the other ships around her.

“I can hold my own, Hook. This is my bargain too, is it not?” Emma retorts. He shakes his head, wishing she hadn’t taken his words as a dismissal of her strength.

“Aye, but Blackbeard is cruel. If he sees how important this is to you, he will do something vindictive. And quite honestly, I’m concerned he will hurt you if he knows how much you mean to me.” Emma opens and closes her mouth but doesn’t seem to find the words to respond and simply nods.

She hangs back while he walks up the ramp and onto the ship, surveying the small changes made here and there. He did not see a familiar face in the crew, but most of his had been loyal and left when he did, some finding other crews to join and others venturing off elsewhere.

“Hook, as I live and breathe! I did not expect to see your sorry soul standing on this ship ever again.” Blackbeard bellows, an arrogant smile on his face.

“I’m in need of another bean.” Hook says curtly.

“You blew through the two I gave you already? What the hell are you playing at, mate?”

“Do you have another or not?”

“Aye, but the cost…do you even have anything of value left to trade?” Blackbeard inspects him, his eyes landing on the sack of Regina’s things. Hook tosses it to him, watching him catch it with intrigue.

“Take your pick.”

Blackbeard rifles through and snorts obnoxiously.

“Trinkets? Jars? What fool do you take me for? You must be desperate coming to me with this junk in search of a bean. Why do want one so badly?” Blackbeard stares intensely waiting for him to crack. Hook matches his gaze silently, but he sees Blackbeard’s eyes wander to the harbour and with a sinking feeling, Hook knows by the grin on his face that he has seen Emma.

“A woman, of course. The very same woman you needed the first bean for perhaps? She’s a beauty, that’s for sure. Well, in that case, what is she worth to you?” He challenges, smug that he has Hook in such a position.

“Name your price.” Hook grits out.

“Oh, you love her. In that case…your life of servitude for a bean. She gets the bean; I own your soul.”

Hook feels the colour drain from his face. This had been a risky plan all along, but such a bargain was so painfully steep he was taken aback. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been considering he truly does not have anything else to offer beyond his own life. But this was his plan, and he would be damned if Emma suffered because of it.

“Fine. Deal. But I get to give her the bean myself and say goodbye.” Hook says wistfully. Blackbeard actually looks surprised for a moment, but he shrugs and gives Hook the precious bean from a little pouch in his pocket, along with the sack of Regina’s apparently worthless items. He heads back to Emma, trying to keep a neutral face but struggling.

“So, you got it, right? What was the trade?”

“Here it is, Swan. Take it. You’ll be home in no time.” He evades as he curls the bean into her hand, clicking his tongue when Emma glares at him.

“Hook, what did you do to get it?”

“I’ll remain here and work for Blackbeard.”

“Okay…for how long?”

“The rest of my life I suppose.”

“No. Absolutely not, we can find another way to get back.” Emma shakes her head vehemently.

“The town needs you too much. We don’t know what has transpired while we’ve been gone, and you need to get Regina her things and be with your boy.” Hook says softly.

“They need you too.” Emma replies, reaching for his hand when he shakes his head.

“Killian…I need you.” His chest aches at the way she uses his name. Her words both fill his chest with happiness and break his heart; of course she expresses such a sentiment when they must part once more. Her fingers are laced between his and he holds her gentle hand tightly, not ready to let go.

“You don’t, Swan. You did just fine without me the for the past year.” He replies with a short humourless laugh.

“Because I didn’t remember you. If I did…I don’t think I would have started seeing Walsh. Maybe I would have-”

“No use speculating now, lass. It’s in the past, but right now you need to worry about your family and the town. Don’t worry about me.” He makes sure she has the bag of Regina’s things and kisses her cheek softly, smiling sadly when she dips her head and brushes against him.

“Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you.” She whispers.

“Good.” He responds, wishing that perhaps this goodbye will only be temporary like the last turned out to be, but the reality of Blackbeard’s bargain weighs heavily on him and Emma already feels a world away from his damned soul. They linger for a moment longer before separating, Emma exhaling and looking at the bean as she walks away from him and out of the busy docking area, turning back with a wistful smile only once. He waits until he sees her go through the portal in the distance before heading back onto the Jolly, ignoring Blackbeard’s taunts to retreat below deck.

He’s home, but without his freedom and without the woman he loves. A more sensible man would also be without hope, but when he meets the crew, he sees a few familiar faces, and the way they call him captain in hushed tones stirs something in him to fight to get back what he has lost. He’ll bide his time, but after being around the heroes, their penchant for hope has certainly inspired him.

-/-

Things never seem to slow when Emma returns. In the time that she had been gone, Regina had discovered that it had been her sister Zelena who cast the curse and she had been masquerading as Snow’s midwife. She had barely been back a day when they finally found Neal, but she lost him again just as quickly as he had come back. The reasons for returning to New York only grew with every painful and dangerous thing that happened. She even tried working on her magic and learning from Regina, but when Zelena took her newborn sibling in an attempt to cast a ridiculous time travel spell, Emma had had it.

She would be leaving for New York once her parents were settled with her brother, and not a moment later.

But the reported sighting of the Jolly Roger down by the harbour had her pause her exit plans.

Emma had avoided speaking of Hook, simply telling people when she returned that he had decided to remain in the Enchanted Forest. No one seemed convinced, but thankfully didn’t push her on it. In some twisted way she had been pleased to have so much to deal with that she didn’t have time to think about what his absence meant for her, but in quiet moments of respite, she longed for the warmth of his presence in her life.

When she gets the text about the Jolly, she races down to the docks, wishing she had taken her car as she carries Henry’s book with her rather awkwardly. She finally gets close enough to see the little figures of people walking about the deck, and if she squints really hard, she thinks she can see Hook.

It’s unmistakably him when she reaches the ship and she calls his name, smiling at his reaction as his eyes find her. She hurries up the ramp and throws her arms around him so hard the book slams into his back, causing him to chuckle into her hair.

“Hi, Swan.”

“Hi, I’m sorry I just didn’t think I’d ever really see you again. How did you get the ship back from Blackbeard? Did you use another bean to get here? How the hell does he have so many?” She rattles off, tucking the book under her arm after their embrace.

“I’ll explain all later, but more importantly, what happened here? Did you figure out who cast the curse?” He asks with concern, looking over her to make sure she was okay and frowning at the book.

“It was Regina’s sister, the Wicked Witch of the West. It was some sibling rivalry crap, but she wanted my baby brother for a time travel spell and mayhem ensued. We’ve stopped her but…I’ve lost my magic and we lost Neal.” Hook reaches out for her and she leans in to his touch, relieved to feel the spark of comfort she usually feels around him.

“I’m so sorry, Swan.”

“Look, I know how you feel about it, but I just really wanted to go back to New York after all this. Henry gave me his book to remind me of the magic that makes up our family history, and I’ve been trying but I’m just…exhausted.” Emma sighs, sinking into him when he reaches his arm out to embrace her.

“Well, I just got here, you can’t leave now.” Hook jokes softly. Emma is about to respond with a quip of her own when she sees a beam of light flash in the distance.

“What the hell is that?” Emma mutters, trying to figure out where the light was coming from. She has a horrible suspicion that it may be coming from the barn and she groans, tugging on Hook’s jacket sleeve to follow her as she heads over there.

“David left a message, Zelena died and somehow triggered the time portal.” Emma yells over the loud noise of the magic when they reach the barn.

“Emma, perhaps we shouldn’t get too close.”

“We need to close it!”

They swirl around in a magical portal once again, being thrown into another unexpected and unpredictable adventure. But, as always, Hook is by her side, and she’s realizing that despite the pain magic has caused in her life, it has also brought him into her life, and maybe it’s about facing the hardships together.

“You don’t have your magic, it’s too dangerous."

"But-"

She’s interrupted by the sheer force of the magic pulling them toward the portal and they cling to each other as they tumble on the ground roughly. They both struggle to avoid falling in, Hook using his appendage to grip onto the ground. Emma holds on to his hand, but she feels herself slipping away and she’s worried he’ll leave her to fall into the unknown hole of time. She meets his eyes, and he lifts his hook to fall in with her.

And so she decides to do just that. When their little adventure in the past comes to an end, after witnessing her parents fall in love, attending a ball, almost losing her mother, and maybe falling in love with Captain Hook along the way, she decides to make Storybrooke her home. There are the occasional foes in town, but it is a place full of family, friends, and love, and they can face anything together.

#cssecretsanta2020 #csss2020 #phiralovesloki #cs ff #captain swan

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fenrys-moonbeam-lochan · 4 years

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Our Dear Friend

Summary: Doctor Hafiza waits for someone to come and pick up Fenrys Moonbeam, dreading where the day will go. It turns out better than she expected.

Ao3

Part of my ToG Comfortember 2020 fics.

xxx

There were times when being a doctor was a wonderful thing and there were times it left a heavy feeling in your soul. Hafiza wondered which one this would be.

Doctor Hafiza had been at Torre Cesme hospital since she was an intern. Now as chief of surgery for twenty years and near retirement, she had seen it all. Death, life, cancer, fractures, crying families, celebrating families, rare disorders, infections, even a pandemic. Everything had passed in front of her eyes.

Still, the sight of the young man on the bed was sending a twisted feeling through her gut.

She wasn't even supposed to be here today but the storm outside had derailed many of their doctors, leaving them short-staffed. After putting in the necessary calls as Chief, she had decided to step into the ER and help where she could.

That was how she had ended up with Fenrys Moonbeam's chart in her hands, an Olympic swimmer.

There was nothing outwardly wrong with the man. He had collapsed at the gym and emergency services had been alerted by the establishment. He didn't have any injuries internal or external that could have caused the fall.

However, after some conversation, the reason for it had become obvious.

It was exhaustion. Physical and emotional exhaustion. From what he had told them and their consulting physiatrist, Fenrys had been working himself non-stop, most likely skipping proper meals to work-out. The lack of proper meals wasn't obvious and wouldn't cause this much trouble if he was an average person. However, for an Olympic level athlete, it was dangerous. The worst part, he didn't seem to see anything wrong with it, describing his schedule as if it was normal.

The man needed help and Hafiza wasn't sure if it was going to happen. Legally they couldn't keep him and Fenrys made no indication that he would take their advice in resting and taking care of himself. In a scenario like this, the best bet was pleading to the person's emotional side by revealing their issue, with their permission ofcourse, to their family and friends. Except, the man was under the direct care of Maeve, his coach, a woman who had a well-known reputation for being a hardass. Not to mention, the rumours of emotional abuse that had flared up a while ago before being viciously squashed.

The only hope Hafiza could see was that since it was the offseason, Fenrys's emergency contacts were two other swimmers, his twin brother and Lorcan Salvaterre. But still, Hafiza had been mentored by a doctor who had spent a lot of their time with athletes. Knowing their mentality, she didn't know if they would understand the severity of the situation. Or if Fenrys would even let her tell them.

She was shaken out of her thoughts as a nurse came up to her.

"They're here for Fenrys Moonbeam," he said gesturing behind him, "They all insisted on coming in,"

Hafiza looked up to see five men coming toward her. She recognized Connall Moonbeam and the silver-haired Rowan Whitethorn but she had no idea who the rest of them were. Probably athletes too. They were certainly built like swimmers.

"Thank you," she told the nurse, "I'll take care of them,"

"Are you his doctor? Where is he? Is everything okay with him?" rushed out Connall, the perfect picture of a concerned brother.

"Right this way," she said, gesturing to the room behind her, "We put him in here or his privacy. Too many people recognized him,"

Connall nodded and they all followed her. Both Connall and the tall blonde took either side of his bed. The big brunette man and Whitethorn opted to stay closer to her while the fifth man stood by the foot of the bed.

"Fenrys," said the blonde, "What happened? We came as soon as we got the call, took a while in this storm,"

"You didn't have to come," said Fenrys, "I just overdid it. I'm ready to go home,"

He tried to get to the blankets but his brother stopped him.

"Just wait a second. I wanna hear this from the doctor,"

He then turned towards her.

"I'm Connall. The blonde is Gavriel. Lorcan and Rowan are with you and this one over here is Vaughan. Can you tell us what's wrong with my brother?"

Hafiza looked at her patient for permission. After a moment, Fenrys sighed and nodded.

"To put it simply," said Hafiza, "The man is exhausted. His meal plans and workout routine is wearing him down-"

"Hold up- wait," said Rowan, "That doesn't make any sense. He's a professional. He knows how to take care of himself. There has to be something else wrong here,"

Hafiza tampered down her annoyance. Well, there went her hope for a smooth plan for Fenrys.

"That is what it is," said Hafiza

"Look, guys," said Fenrys, "Like I said, I overdid it a bit. Nothing special. I'm fine,"

The man most certainly was not fine. She was thinking of what else to say but Gavriel beat her to it.

"We all overdo it sometimes, doesn't make us collapse over some gym equipment. And you've been avoiding us, Fen,"

"I said I'm fine!"

"Obviously not," muttered Vaughan

"You know what, asshole-"

"Enough," said Lorcan

The room instantly got quiet.

The man turned to Fenrys, "You're lying. You know it. We know it. Now you obviously don't want the doctor saying whatever she was going to say so why don't you let us know what's going on,"

Fenrys opened his mouth but then shut it.

"The truth, Fenrys," said Lorcan

The words burst out all at once.

"I'm tired, okay?! Is that what you wanna hear, I'm tired and I'm trying to get better but I'm not getting any better, and feeling down all the time and there's this big empty hole inside of me and I- I just- I'm tired okay. I just feel really tired all the time, Food doesn't taste good and sleep is just weird. I- don't know what- I don't- don't know what-"

As his rant died down, Fenrys's eyes started to fill with tears. He ducked his face to hide them but Gavriel pulled him close instead. His brother put an arm around him from behind. The rest of the men just watched in shock as Fenrys cried into Gavriel's chest.

Hafiza waited.

"Gods," muttered Rowans. Lorcan just shook his head and sighed.

It was sinking in for them. This would be a crucial moment.

"Fenrys," murmured Rowan, "Please look at us,"

Sniffling Fenrys pulled away so everyone could see him.

"You need a break from all this, Boyo," said Rowan, "This isn't healthy. We'll change your plan so you can have some time to yourself,"

"Maeve isn't going to like that," said Fenrys, voice just a bit bitter "And anyway, what are you going to help with? You're all leaving anyway,"

"What?" asked Conall, looking around the room, "What is he talking about?"

"We've been discussing retirement," answered Gavriel, "We're a lot older than you and we just don't swim the same anymore,"

"Doesn't mean we're leaving you," said Vaughan, "We're still gonna be right here. Just not in the game,"

"Not getting rid of us that easily, Boyo," Rowan chimed in, a small grin on his face.

Good. This was good.

Fenrys was starting to look a little more hopeful, "Maeve's still not gonna like a plan change though, she already thinks I don't work hard enough,"

"That's bullshit," said Lorcan, "When did she say that?"

"A month ago,"

Lorcan and Rowan looked at each other for a few moments, seemingly holding a silent conversation between them.

"Maybe its time we got you and Connall a new coach," said Rowan once they turned back

"What?" said Fenrys, surprise etched into his face. His brother looked just as shocked.

Hafiza had to admit, she was surprised too.

"You're good, Fenrys. There are a lot of people who would jump at the chance to coach the two of you. And if there's no one else, we'll do it ourselves," said Rowan.

"What?"

"I've been assisting With the younger swimmers for a while now," said Lorcan, "And Rowan has been assisting Aelin on her come back-"

"Not the only thing he's assisting with," muttered Vaughan, causing groans and chuckles around the room.

"Point is," continued Lorcan, "We can do this,"

"Maeve will try to blacklist you," said Connall

"Let her try," said Rowan

"You would really do this?" asked Fenrys, sounding small and unsure

"Of course," said Lorcan, voice filled with conviction, "But you need help, Fen. This isn't okay,"

After a long moment, Fenrys nodded, "Alright. I'll try,"

Hafiza let out a long breath. This was good.

Rowan turned towards her, "So doctor, how do we help him?"

Hafiza straightened her notes and started to got through the treatment, "Well, to start with, his diet-"

They all listened intently as she talked, Vaughan even taking notes. They had also all gravitated towards the bed, at least one hand reaching for their friend.

Some days being a doctor was great and some days it was not. However, Hafiza could say without a doubt, at this moment it was truly wonderful

Today, it was a good day to be a doctor.

#throne of glass #Throne of Glass series #throne of glass fanfiction #lorcan #lorcan salvaterre #rowan #rowan whitethorn #gavriel #Vaughan #connall moonbeam #Fenrys #fenrys moonbeam #sarah j. maas #hafiza

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imagineredwood · 5 years

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Camila (OC)

Warnings: Implied mild alcoholism, talk of death and grieving

Word count: 3.8k

***I’m working on finding a face claim for Karlene for you guys. Any recommendations/ who you envision her as, feel free to send them my way

“Perdoname, por favor.” – Forgive me, please.

“Ya lo hice.” – I already did.

Camila sighed and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, her cheeks tinted pink in the California heat. She plucked the last strawberry from the patch, bright ruby red and full of juice. She held it up and squinted in the bright sun before dropping it onto the pile that she had built in the basket. Standing from her little yellow gardening stool, she stretched, a groan falling from her lips as she felt the tension easing away out of her back from being hunched all morning. Reaching down, she grabbed the handle of the basket and lifted it, walking over to the little bench to relax for a little. She sat there in the peace of her backyard, birds chirping and splashing over in the birdbath she had bought. She smiled as she watched and listened to them, her phone starting to ring. She stood tiredly and walked over to the patio, grabbing her phone and seeing Karlene’s name. She lifted the phone up to her ear, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Are you busy today?”

Cam looked down at herself, gardening clothes littered with dirt, her body sweaty. Karlene sounded hopeful though and Camila didn’t have the heart to turn her down, no matter how tired she may be. Sometimes people just needed a friend.

“No, I’m not. What’s up?”

“Well, there’s this place I used to go to with my sister all the time back in Colorado and they do live music and stuff on Saturdays. Anyway, I just saw that they opened one here a little bit out of Santo Padre and I was just wondering if you wanted to go with me? Let me pay you back for doing my hair?”

Camila chuckled, already having told the girl a thousand times that she didn’t have to pay her back. She had dyed her hair for her as a favor. Camila could easily tell that it was about more than just paying her back. Karlene wanted someone to spend time with.

“What time?”

Camila could hear the smile when Karlene spoke again and it brought a smile to Camila’s face as well.

“I’d say six? Get some food and drinks, just hang out.”

Camila checked the time it was now, having more than a few hours to finish up here and then get cleaned up to drop off some strawberries for the boys, as well as Felipe.

“Six it is. Just text me the address.”

The girls finished up their call and Camila smiled to herself. Karlene often mentioned her sister and Camila felt bad, figuring that she’d had to leave her behind when she had left Colorado. An only child, Cam couldn’t exactly relate, but she could understand. If Karlene needed someone, Camila would be that someone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“Hola, Señorita Camila!”

Camila laughed and gave Chucky a wave, walking over and giving him a hug.

“Hello, Chucky.”

“May I be of assistance?”

He held his hands out toward the bag that Camila was carrying, and she nodded appreciatively, allowing the man to take the bag of strawberries from her and place it down onto the counter.

“Thanks, Chucky.”

She walked around to the other side with him and began helping him pull the boxes of strawberries that she had packaged out of the bag. With all of the packages now on the counter, she looked back at Chucky with a smile.

“Just give these to the boys when they come back. It’s a box for each except Coco. I gave him two boxes so he can give one to his sister and then this one is yours.”

She placed her hand on the box closest to her and slide it along the surface of the counter toward him. Chucky looked down at the box for a couple seconds longer than Camila thought necessary and she tilted her head as he looked up at her. She could see the emotion on his face, but he still wore a smile

“Thank you very much for thinking of me.”

Camila frowned for a moment.

“We always think of you, Chucky.”

The man simply nodded and didn’t say anything else, grabbing his box and sticking it in the fridge. Saying her goodbyes to him, she left the clubhouse and made her way back to her car, making the drive to the carniceria. She felt nervous as she drove and the feeling only intensified as she pulled up in front and parked, walking up and pulling open the door. Felipe looked up as soon as he heard the door, an automatic muscle memory half-smile coming to his face, but as he saw Cam, the smile dropped and so did his eyes. He walked around the counter and toward her, eyes down then entire time. Both stood quiet until Camila spoke, her voice small and guilt-ridden as he placed his strawberries down on the table.

“I’m sorry for making a mess here that day. That was wrong of me and I should’ve had more respect for your shop.”

Felipe’s eyes snapped up to her then and he quickly shook his head.

“The only ones that made any mess were my son and I. You have nothing to apologize for mija.”

Camila nodded, trying to reign in her emotions but they got the better of her and she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around the patriarch. He didn’t miss a beat and returned the embrace, his eyes closing and a sigh escaping him.

“Perdoname, por favor.”

Shaking her head, Camila squeezed him tighter.

“Ya lo hice.”

They hugged for a little while more before they both pulled away.

“I shouldn’t have let him bring her here. I wanted him to fix it, but it still wasn’t right.”

Shrugging, Camila smiled.

“It’s done with. It got cleared up and it’s over. No sense in still worrying about it.”

Felipe nodded and then picked up the box of strawberries.

“They look beautiful Camila.”

She grinned and thanked him.

“You can always come by the garden whenever you want.”

“Thank you. I might go by- “

His words were cut off by someone knocking on the door. Cam’s brows furrowed, wondering who knocks when they see that the store is clearly open. Turning, her confusion dissipated, and she rolled her eyes, seeing KJ standing outside, sunglasses on and motioning for Felipe to go out to him. Turning back, Camila exaggeratedly sighed then chuckled as she earned a laugh from the older man.

“I’m gonna head out but come by whenever. Just call to make sure I’m there.”

Felipe nodded, not feeling worried since he knew that EZ had explained everything now. He walked with her out of the shop and watched as she headed to her car, KJ watching as well. Camila couldn’t help but notice that the man looked disheveled, not nearly the same cocky and put together man that she had seen times prior. He looked exhausted, shoulders heavy and Camila couldn’t help but get a sinking feeling. What if something had gone wrong with the deal? What if there had been a mistake or discrepancy and they revoked EZ’s deal entirely? Camila forced herself to talk a deep breath as she drove down the road to head home and get ready for dinner with Karlene.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“They’re good right?”

Camila nodded as she took another bite of the boneless wings. Karlene hadn’t been lying when she had said they made the best wings she had tasted. They were amazing and Camila made a mental note to bring EZ and the boys here one of these days.

“You weren’t exaggerating.”

Karlene smiled brightly and picked up a french fry. Camila took a sip of her drink, some fruity blend of juice and tequila. She still had about half of her first, while Karlene already had finished 3 plus a few shots. It was safe to say that she was already nearing drunk, so Camila paced herself, wanting to be sober and in control, in case Karlene didn’t know her limit.

“You come here often? Or at least to the one in Colorado?”

Karlene’s smile fell some but she picked it right back up quickly. Not quick enough for it to escape Came though. They had hung out for nearly the entire day when she had come by so Camila could retouch her hair, plus a handful of times at the clubhouse and Cam had always had the gift of being able to read people anyway.

“Yeah. Me and my sister always used to go. Almost every weekend actually. We would go and hang out, party. Get into trouble.”

She laughed softly at the last part, but Camila could feel there wasn’t much funny about it.

“We could come here with friends, or sometimes we just came by ourselves. Just like little, I don’t know, sister dates I guess. So, I said now that I’m here instead, I could take you out with me like I used to go with her.”

Karlene fell quiet then and her fake smile slipped away momentarily. She normally would lie or cover up everything to try and make certain situations seen better than they were but with Camila, she saw how accepting she was of everyone. How the boys spoke about her when she wasn’t there, praising her and her heart and Karlene had gotten to see it from the first moment they had met. The alcohol had also lowered her inhibitions as well as her pride and she spilled.

“My sister died a few weeks before I moved here so,”

She didn’t really know how to continue after that and she looked down at her lap, eyes welling with tears. A pronounced frown materialized on Camila’s face as she looked at the girl. She was barely any younger than Camila at 24 years old, but she looked much younger as she sat there, shoulders hunched and curled in on herself, looking more like a child than a grown woman. Camila was out of her side of the booth then, walking around and sliding in beside the redhead. She placed her arm around Karlene’s shoulders and watched as the girl broke down at the caring touch.

“I just really miss her. She’s always been there, and I don’t really know how to get on without her. She was the older one, always had the answers. She died and everything just fell apart.”

Camila instantly pulled her into her, arms holding her tightly as she rested her head on her chest. It wasn’t exactly how she had pictured she would be spending her evening, but it was clear that the girl needed help and Camila wasn’t the type to stand by without helping. So she sat there holding her, one hand stroking over Karlene’s straight cherry-red hair. She held her for as long as she needed, sending a glare at a woman who was peering at them. Soon enough, her sniffles and tears had ceased, and she pulled away, laughing as Camila reached over to wipe away a tear.

“I swear I didn’t bring you out here just to cry on you over chicken wings.”

Camila laughed herself and hugged the girl once more. She could tell there was much more to the story of her sister and more to the story of why she was here in general. Camila remembered that Angel had said she was here trying to escape an ex-boyfriend and it was clear that while she was safe, she felt she had no one. Taking in a deep breath and then blowing it out, Cam could see the tension evaporating from Karlene’s body. She felt free now because she had been honest. She had been carrying that grief with her and had no one to share it with, until now. Karlene sniffled once and grabbed a clean napkin from the table to wipe her eyes, pointing to the opposite side of the booth.

“You can go back and eat now. I’m sorry. I’m good now.”

Camila nodded and walked back around to sit in her side of the booth. Karlene’s eyes were red and puffy, as was the tip of her nose but she wore a genuine smile now and Camila returned it, knowing that it was only up from there for Karlene and she would be there for her whenever she needed it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

Camila and EZ were laying together, comfortable under her yellow blanket as they relaxed on the couch. Some crime documentary was playing but Camila wasn’t really paying attention. Her mind had been going over the days events and she got stuck on KJ. Something about how he looked and how he acted just seemed off and it had been bothering her. The more she thought about it, the more she started to feel guilt bubbling up within her. EZ had used Angel to get this deal rolling, and the fact that he was still keeping it from him was bothering her. She loved Angel, he was like a brother to her and she would never want to keep something from him that he deserved to know, but this wasn’t her battle. This was EZ’s choice and his decision, but she had gotten dragged into it and the guilt was eating away at her. Unable to stomach the worry she sat up, EZ’s eyes on her as she did.

“You ok?”

Nodding her head, she looked back at him.

“Saw KJ today.”

EZ groaned but she kept talking, not giving him a chance to but in.

“He looked rough. Rough. Like he’s running on no sleep. He looked anxious and defeated and I just got a bad feeling about it.”

EZ let her keep talking, simply running his hand up and down her back as he listened. Turning her head to look back at him, she shook her head.

“You should tell Angel about the deal.”

EZ didn’t hesitate to shake his head no, sitting up with her.

“I can’t. I won’t get him involved and dragged into that.”

Cam scoffed and shook her own head before looking at him once again.

“You already did. The moment you signed that paper you dragged him in. I think it would be best that he heard it from you. At least in some way you can redeem yourself a little because you came clean. You told the truth. That will stand for something. But if the truth comes out from someone else? Imagine how he’ll feel EZ. If you tell him, you can say your side and try to get him to understand. If someone else tells him, someone like KJ? They will make you look as horrible as they need to so they can get what they need.”

EZ stayed looking at her, the crease between his brows deepening.

“He’ll hate me.”

“And he’ll hate you even more if he finds out you were never going to tell him.”

Shaking her head, she looked away from him.

“I hate keeping secrets, EZ. I hate them. The truth always comes out and when it does it will be best if it comes from your mouth. I don't like knowing something and keeping it from him. I know it's not my business, but you brought me into it and I feel guilty even if it wasn't my choice. Imagine how Angel will feel knowing that you told me the truth before you told him when it’s his credibility that's on the line. If the club finds out, it’s his ass. That’s not right. He's your brother.”

EZ winced at the stress she placed on the word brother. She wasn't saying it directly, but he knew what she meant. This is a betrayal that should’ve never happened. At least not the way that he went about it. Turning to face him, she took his hands in hers.

“You were scared. You were facing almost 40 years for an accident and you didn’t want your life to be wasted because of it, so you did what you felt you needed to do. You chose to protect yourself, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But you did it someone else’s expense, your brother no less. Your brother, your dad, your club, they’re like my family and I want what’s best for everyone. I don’t want this to ruin you guys and if it blows up without you being the one to set it off, it’s going to be ugly Ezekiel.”

Her grip on his hands was tight and she was pleading with him. She was practically begging him, and for his family’s sake. A family that he had brought her into and hoped to soon marry her into. She wanted what was best for them and he knew she was right in what she was saying, but it wasn’t that easy.

“I hear you, Cam. I do.”

She nodded. He wasn’t saying he would. He was just saying that he understood, and that wasn’t going to be enough. He was a grown man though and she couldn’t force him to do something he didn’t want to do, and she would never rat him out. She would keep it to herself, compartmentalize the guilt and hope that the Reyes family could make it out to the other side when things did finally come to a head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“Hi, where is the young adult fiction section?”

Camila looked up from the scheduling book and smiled at the teen girl standing in front of her at the desk, round black glasses and a long ponytail.

“Oh right over there. Go down to the end of this aisle and make a left, they’ll be along the wall.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Camila gave the girl a warm smile which she mirrored. Looking back down at her book, she looked over the schedule, trying to find a replacement for the call off she got for tomorrow. Her eyes were down on the papers, skimming around and looking through all the staff. She heard the entrance bell ring and looked up again, ready to help whatever customer came up to her.

“Hi, welcome to Sal’s. Can I help you find anything?”

The man continued to walk up to the front desk, a charming smile on his bearded face and Camila remembered seeing him at Marcus’ vowel renewal. Her smile stayed in place, not able to pinpoint him. He looked affluent, much more so than most of middle-class residents and high schoolers who frequented the bookstore. The material, quality, and tailoring of his suit spoke for itself. At the desk, he reached forward, opening his hand for hers. She slid her hand into his and he grasped it gently, giving her a formal handshake as she thought to herself and tried to remember if he had told her his name that night. Almost as if he was inside her head, he clarified for her.

“We never got properly introduced at the event that night. I’m Miguel. Emily’s husband.”

Camila kept her face neutral, still maintaining her smile, but inside her calm demeanor had vanished and she was on alert. He had been nothing but gentlemanly to her than night and so far, he still was now. He had treated her nicely, respectfully even by letting her pass first, but now that EZ had been honest with her about things, she knew that a very dangerous man was standing in front of her, and she didn’t know why he was here. She could be safe because she was the woman with one of his MC associates, or she could be in danger because she was the woman of one of his MC associates, that had been secretly meeting with his wife. With all of the resources and connections that he had, she was sure that he had learned her name by now but she said it to him anyway, just to keep the conversation normal and hopefully not give away that she knew more than she should.

“Right. I’m Camila.”

He smiled once again and gave a small nod.

“Yes, I know. I’m sure you’re busy so I don’t want to take up much of your time. I only came by to apologize for my wife.”

Camila prayed that her face didn’t show her surprise. On the one hand, she figured that playing dumb may be the safer option to distance herself, but her gut told her that despite them having no real connection, Miguel wasn’t a man that liked being lied to. So she stayed quiet and simply gave him a nod, letting him continue.

“She snuck out to speak with the Reyes men which she was not supposed to do and took one of my men with her. He told me about the confrontation.”

Camila gave no reaction. The fact that he said he was here to apologize implied he was upset most with Emily. She just hoped that was all he was here for. Placing his hand on his chest, he continued.

“That was inappropriate of her to do and I apologize on her behalf. I hope that you can forgive the transgression.”

Camila nodded and wondered to herself if any of this was even true. She may have stayed as far away as she could, but she had seen men like this when Chris was getting into the game. Men who said things that were total lies simply to manipulate you into thinking what they wanted. He could be telling the truth and be genuinely upset and embarrassed about what Emily had done, seeing as it had disrespected her own husband and Camila both. Or this could’ve all been just a ploy. A way of putting fear into Camila that he knew who she was, where she worked and who she was involved with. Evening the score by having EZ see that as easily as he could organize meetings with Emily, Miguel could meet with his woman just the same. She may have been wrong, but Cam felt it was a little of both. Him wanting to make sure it was known he wasn’t happy with the meetings between Emily and her ex, and that his reach in EZ’s life extended far beyond the clubhouse walls. Wanting the situation to be over, Camila nodded. She didn’t want to shoot herself in the foot by saying too much so she spoke vaguely.

“It’s alright. I know things had been chaotic.”

Miguel gave a nod of his own and placed his hand on the desk, looking down at his watch to check the time. He spared a glance out the bookstore window and looked at the man leaning against the car he must’ve come in, purple button up and his dark hair in braids. Tapping the desk, Miguel pulled his hands away and stood up straight, offering Camila another warm smile.

“Well, I appreciate you being so understanding, señorita. Take care.”

“You too, Miguel.”

His smile widened, showing perfectly aligned teeth and he walked away from the desk toward the door, exiting the bookstore and getting into the vehicle.

Taglist: @caramara3 @lostgirl219 @mrsjaxtellerfan @actuallyazriel @vannabanana1995 @unnecessarypineapplesstuff @thegreat-annamaria @negansdirtygirl22 @svintsandghosts @piccasoe @tobesurroundedbysplendidthings @jadert15 @lovejn29 @may114 @meltingicequeen

#el destino #ez reyes #Felipe Reyes #Mayans MC #angel reyes #EZ x Camila #miguel galindo #mayans imagine #imagines

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aphrodicted · 4 years

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Hello, angels! I present you my first pick-a-card reading. My best friend bought The Oracle of Goddes and I thought the goddess wanted to talk to you and send you a message in this hard days we are living. This period is perfect to work with oneself and discover what deficiencies we must fill. This pick-a-card is aimed at knowing which Goddess wants to speak to you and what messages she wants to transmit to you. After this little introduction, look at the picture and decide which option do you want to choose:

Remember you can choose more than one option if you feel it. You don't have to just choose a single option, since several goddesses may have a message for you. Breathe in and out several times, focus and close your eyes to see which number or numbers are chosen. Or simply choose your favorite number and be amazed by the message. I hope the messages are adequate and can give you an answer to the answer you have been looking for. Good luck, angel!

Abundantia - Prosperity. “The Universe pours its abundance on you. Open yourself to receive it.”

Asking for help is a sign of strength, not weakness. You are very powerful and Abundantia is here to support your growing power. It is only fair that you receive this help, since this Goddes and you work as a team. Abundantia have heard your prayers, concerns and claims. She is pouring my prosperity on you now, so that you will receive unexpected benefits and gifts. Look at the new ideas, feelings and visions that arise in you. This guide gives you a clear indication of the actions you take in conjunction with my assistance. Together you are unstoppable!

Open yourself to receive what people or opportunities bring to you. The money, abundance, power or whatever you are waiting for will soon be obtained by you. Stop for a moment and stop worrying about everything unnecessarily. Worry will get you nowhere. Any new project you have in mind will go ahead, now is the time to dare. If you have chosen this card, money is something that may be marking your present. Don't worry, the money will come to you in many ways: overtime, support, ideas...

The Devil + Page of Pentacles + Six of Swords (reversed) + Three of Cups

Be careful not to know how to differentiate the false in the abundance that will come to your life! Abundantia wants you to have your eyes wide open and your senses set on all the good that you will receive in the coming months. The appearance of a person you don't know yet can turn your life upside down, honey. I am not going to reduce this relationship to just a romantic relationship, but any kind of relationship. A new person is about to enter your life in the most magical way possible, and you can believe this person is that person you always dreamed of meeting. Watch out, angel! This person is not to be trusted and can bring you a lot of pain if you blindly trust him or her. However, Abundantia confirms that this relationship will change your life and will make you see your life from another perspective. The appearance of this person, in the end, will be the key piece to allow the closing of a cycle with a great reward. The idea of leaving a place, a cycle, a relationship... anything that stalls you is complicated, since you are very reluctant to change, but it would be essential to take that step and leave behind everything old. It is possible that for some of you, the person who appears in your reading shares some kind of karma with you that you must solve in this incarnation. This abundant reward does not have to be just money, but it can be people, projects, work... anything you have been wanting for a while.

The friends you make in the coming months will be key for you. Abundantia will bring a lot of happiness to your life thanks to friendship. Pay attention to your friends and seek to spend time with them in whatever way you can to strengthen your bond. Friends are the family that we choose, so they will be the ones who will help you through any bad moment that the appearance of a new person may bring to the end. Friends and some type of celebration will bring much happiness after a sad moment caused by someone (although it does not have to be someone in particular, but it is the most pointed out by my cards).

Sedna - Infinite supply. "It is provided for you today and for all your tomorrows."

This is a large universe, more than enough for everyone. Still, the energy format of this planet is polar; in this case, give and take. The key is to balance them. If you only give, you feel empty, resentful, and you will experience a sense of loss or lack. If you only receive, you will not enjoy what you have. Balance comes from fearless giving, as directed, and receiving with joy and gratitude. It is like breathing: both inhalation and exhalation are just as important. Practice giving and receiving daily and you will never lack for anything.

Stop worrying so much about the future. Human beings waste time worrying about the future and remembering the past, since they do not live the present with all the energy they should. You're in the present right now, so live it like it's the only thing you know. You will never lack what you really need, and Sedna wants to make it very clear with her appearance in your reading. The sea is closely related to this Goddess and, because of the troubled times we are living, it is impossible for some to move to coastal places. To connect with Sedna, enjoy a good bath or a good shower with your favorite shampoos and relax without forgetting to pamper your body. Take care of your body and mind as if they were a temple and start practicing giving and receiving with yourself.

Queen of Swords + Eight of Swords (reversed) + The Lovers

The cards see you trapped in a complicated situation that, fundamentally, has to do with your thoughts and your mind. Currently, you have many mental restraints that hinder your evolutionary path. It does not have to be a spiritual growth, but the simple fact of maturing or learning from the lessons that life presents to you. These mental restraints inhabit your mind, but they are so ingrained in you that, with the naked eye, you will not be able to identify them. Remember that we ourselves are the ones who create our reality, so you are the only one who can make your current life worse or better. Your mind, your thoughts and everything you project ends up manifesting in your life.

Mental restraints can always be solved with effort and a lot of personal work. In these difficult times, where we have to be secluded at home, it is a perfect time to work with ourselves and recognize ourselves to reconnect with us and heal. The past must be left behind and your past self must also be in the past. People evolve and we will never be the same as we were last year, as lived experiences change us for better or for worse. Change is not bad, but the intention with which we promote that change in ourselves. Nor should you become obsessed with the future, much less in these moments when we do not know what the future holds for us. Try to focus on the present, on the now, and don't fear for what you don't know, but focus on what you do know and you can improve.

It is time to make decisions. Although some people relate the card of The Lovers to romantic love, in this case it is not so. Sedna doesn't want to talk to you about romantic love, but about making a decision. This Goddess wants you to decide which path you want to take: stay stuck in those bonds or evolve into a new you. The change begins in you, of course, so your decision will be essential to make way for that new cycle or not. You may find yourself or, in the near future, find yourself at a crossroads. It doesn't matter about what, but you will have to make a decision: it is a crucial moment in which you must decide to stay in your comfort zone and perpetuate your stagnation or dare to change even without knowing what lies ahead. There is a lesson to learn, and Sedna will be in charge of helping you understand this lesson and implant what you have learned in your life.

Ostara - Fertility. "It is the perfect time for you to start new projects or new ideas."

Spring is any time when the light increases in your mind and your entire system. If you feel dull, heavy, or depressed, you can enlighten yourself by stimulating yourself with positive thoughts, nutritious food, and anything that ignites your feelings of love. Surround yourself with beautiful flowers, bring out the colors of your wardrobe and home, and pull back the curtains to let in natural light. You can create a brighter external appearance, which will favor all kinds of new opportunities, since your appearance will generate attraction. Feel more energetic and powerful as you spruce up your inner and outer worlds. So capitalize on that renewed vigor by starting a project that truly makes your heart sing with enthusiasm.

The Goddess Ostara announces that you are developing something. It doesn’t have to be a new life, but a project, a relationship, a dream or a change in your life. Something is being born within you and success is assured for that next birth. That desire that has crossed your mind, the first desire that crosses your mind, is that which is being born within you, and Ostara announces that it may be manifesting during the spring. It is time to make those changes that you didn’t dare in the past, since now you have the necessary strength to achieve it.

The Sun (reversed) + Nine of Pentacles + Six of Wands + Ten of Swords (reversed)

The moments of sadness, full of difficulties and those absent times of success are about to disappear. These moments may continue for a while, but Ostara announces that they will gradually disappear. Just as the flowers are born again after a cold winter, your joy will be reborn, but it will be slowly. You may be going through a bad time in general, since things do not go as you expected, but you should not worry and think that everything will go wrong. Ostara asks you to calm down and keep up with the time. Don't be afraid because the energy is still within you to get what you want, although it may cost you more than usual. Negative times are temporary, and even if you don't see the light yet, it doesn't mean that the light isn't with you.

Ostara asks you to observe everything you have with you. Now is the time to take a look at all the people who are with you, the resources you have at your disposal... Are you really missing something to be happy? If so, is it in your power to solve it? Normally, it is we who create our own obstacles. Right now you are not able to understand it, but that project that you are creating, that change that you long for or whatever else you are trying to manifest is emerging from within you. Therefore, Ostara asks you to take care of your state of mind and carefully and correctly "water" what is born within you so that it can manifest itself healthily in your reality.

Don’t be afraid and trust yourself, since I find you doubtful in everything you do. Success is with you and appears in your reading. You are proud of what you have and of everything you have achieved so far. Take a few minutes off and celebrate everything you have achieved with your effort. Remember that it is good to stop, rest and take a breath to continue.

It is time to get rid of old beliefs, thoughts, habits... anything related to the mind and logic that no longer serve you and are only stagnating you and preventing your evolution. I feel that this option is very directed to people who need a mental cleaning and a mental transformation. The mind is very present in this option, so reason and logic will be key to get Ostara's message applied. It is necessary that the change starts from within you, since only you will be able to promote it and make it effective.

Doncella Mariposa - Transformation. "You are experiencing tremendous changes right now, which brings great blessings."

As you go through this period of change, it is natural to wonder if your future is secure. I am here to assure you that you are part of the natural cycles of birth, death and rebirth. To introduce the desired news you must first get rid of old passages of your life. These changes must be celebrated, not feared. Give thanks for getting rid of the old! Embrace all the lessons it brought you and let it go! Be fascinated by the novelty of the gifts that are presented to you and let its magic surprise and delight you.

Don't worry about the end of the stages, since an end always brings a new beginning. If you have been waiting for any kind of change in your life, your wishes have been heard by this Goddess. However, you must abandon the old to achieve that renewal in your life. Fear of change will become an obstacle in the end, so put fear of change aside and understand that change is for the better.

Ten of Cups (reversed) + Nine of Cups + Knight of Cups + The Moon

Doncella Mariposa has a message centered on feelings. The Cups and The Moon, from my point of view, are cards closely related to feelings. After reading the message that Butterfly Maiden has left for you at the beginning of the reading, I understand that this Goddess wants to accompany you during the breakup of a love relationship. This option, without a doubt, talks about a love relationship or a love interest.

The cards don’t see you completely happy. There is some aspect of this love relationship (whether you are a couple or not) that is not bringing you all the happiness it should. The future next to this person is not positive, but looks unbalanced and empty of long-term happiness. It is possible that at first you feel full of happiness, but it is not a relationship that can last too long. This love is presented as a frustrated love that will not become what you fantasized at some point, so Doncella Mariposa wants to make you see this and also accompany you during the process of detaching from this person and the feelings you had for them. If your love interest is a man, Doncella Mariposa says that he may have feelings for you, but his insecurities are stronger and he will not approach you or be honest with his feelings. Therefore, it may not be the right time to try to start something formal with this person, as he is not prepared.

Finally, Doncella Mariposa wants you to know that the love situation you are experiencing is hiding something. One of the two is not being completely honest with the other: the words or the situation seems like something it is not. The end of this relationship is inevitable and, if it must end, it is something that cannot be changed because one of the two is not prepared to live that relationship or love. It is time to accept destiny and let yourself flow.

Diana - Concentrated intention. "Keep your unwavering thoughts, emotions and actions focused on your goal, and you will hit the target."

Tenacity means maintaining a decision and not allowing any external force to influence you. Imagine that you are a mighty oak, with your roots firmly planted in Mother Earth. Feel your solidity, strength and continuous growth. Be sure that no matter what happens, you will succeed. Your branches can twist and turn when you turn to the light, but your firm intentions will ensure that no faint wind will separate you from your mission. Take charge of your body, your program and your mind, and keep them focused on your goal!

Within the circumstances in which you find yourself in the present, Diana asks you to stay positive and avoid any negative person, thought, idea, thing or project. Doubts and uncertainty will not help you right now, but will only bring more chaos into your life, so try to get rid of these negative feelings as far as you can. Finally, know your priorities and act accordingly. Are your current priorities necessary to move forward? Should you give a new vision to your priorities?

The Wheel of Fortune + Nine of Swords (reversed) + Five of Wands (reversed) + The Hanged Man + King of Pentacles

Diana announces a radical change in you, angel. Diana wants you to become aware of your leadership power and the potential that exists in you to achieve a final victory over anything you are currently working on or, on the other hand, you will start working in the near future. To achieve this you must discover yourself. That power exists within you, so you must open yourself to name that power that is waiting to be used by you. It is time to renew yourself to accept new opportunities.

The change will not be easy, but it appears successful if you dare to take the step and accept the renewal in yourself. However, apart from finding this inner power, what other changes does Diana want to see in you? The insecurities and doubts must disappear: you must stop thinking about what could have been and was not. This can apply to you and other people who are no longer in your life. If a relationship ended badly and you ended up hurt, Diana asks you to stop thinking about what that relationship could be if everything had gone well. Things happen because they should happen, but if they don’t happen it is because they had no mission to exist and we forced them in some way.

The difficulties you have been experiencing, and will continue to experience in the future, are but trials for you. The obstacles have appeared because you still do not have sufficient domain to know everything that is happening around you. You may know how the Universe works, the signals or other elements related to these, but you are not able to interpret or put them into practice. Your surroundings, the people next to you, the things that happen in your life are messages from the Universe that, at the moment, you don't know how to interpret correctly. What you believe is not the answer to what happens, since you are not using your intuition, but your ego.

Finally, Diana has one last tip for you: Strive to stay true to yourself, and don't let any harmful opinions tell you how you should be.

#pick a card #pick-a-card #tarot #tarot spread #witch #witchblr #witches #divination #divination witch #readings #tarot reading #tarot readings #free tarot reading #free tarot readings #free tarot #tarot free #goddess

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ourloveisforthelovely · 4 years

Text

In the Light 3

Harry Potter

Characters: Sirius Black x Reader

Link to Chapter 2

Rating: Explicit- smut

_________

“Sirius, can you slow down!”

You squealed as he practically dragged you from the kitchen into the living room. Sirius finally let you go before running a hand through his hair.

“Snape asked you to marry him?”

You sighed. This was not how you wanted this conversation to go! In fact, you didn’t plan on telling Sirius about this at all! You knew his hot temper and this was going to be furious!

“Sirius, I said no because I am married to you! You can’t be double married! Even in our world that isn’t right!”

Sirius started laughing. You stepped back, feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Love, maybe you should breathe?”

Sirius’ hands were trembling and you were waiting for him to punch a hole in the wall.

“So you love him too? You love the one man that I hate more than Peter-fucking-Pettigrew!”

You shook your head. Where the hell was this coming from? You didn’t love Snape! In fact, you never wanted anything to do with Snape after finding out that he was a death eater.

“No! I don’t love him! I love you!”

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Right. I asked you when we were making love if there was someone else and you lied to me. Apparently, you have changed a lot in the past years.”

Now you were mad! Mad was putting it lightly! That comment that came out of his mouth made you want to strangle the man!

“Sirius Orion Black you stop this right now! I haven’t changed at all! If I didn’t love you, I would have never spent almost every day of these past 15 years crying because no one would listen to me about you being innocent! Maybe it's you that's changed!”

You turned and stormed from the room without another word. Walking into the dining room, Remus looked up from a book that he was reading.

“That didn’t sound so good.”

You ran a hand through your hair before beginning to pace.

“Level with me here, Remus. Have I done anything to make myself an unfaithful wife in the last years?”

Remus leaned back in his chair.

“Actually it's quite the opposite. You have been nothing more than faithful to him.”

You pointed to the living room.

“Go talk to grumpy in there!”

Remus stood up. He patted your shoulder before turning and walking into the living room. Sirius stood looking out the window angrily.

“Do you think that you handled that appropriately?”

Sirius didn’t turn around. He was fuming. Hearing those words was enough to make Sirius want to become a murderer! Apparently, you had missed the whole “I was sitting in prison wondering what my wife was doing” speech.

“What does it matter?”

Remus sighed.

“It matters 100%. Sirius, Y/n has gone through hell without you. She lost her husband, almost lost her job as an Auror, lost her brother, best friend, nephew….everything she held dear to her. You didn’t see the way that people stared at her when she walked down the street or whispered about her. Y/n has gone through hell these past 15 years. Snape didn’t help any! You need to fix this! Sirius, you have been in love with her since you were a child. Do you really want to lose that?”

Sirius turned. His grey eyes focused on Remus. The expression on his face alone told Remus that he had gotten through all of the stubborn. Sirius ran a hand through his hair again.

“She’s really gone through hell, huh?”

Remus nodded.

Y/n is a proud lady but yes...she has gone through hell. FYI, she wants nothing to do with Snape.”

Sirius shook his head.

“He made a comment that pushed me over the edge. The git made a comment about how I wouldn’t be able to properly provide for her...how I wouldn’t be a good father if…”

Remus frowned. He really didn’t want to have that conversation again. The last time that Sirius talked about you not being able to be pregnant, he was drunk off of his ass. It took both Remus and James to get their very drunk best friend home.

“Sirius, Y/n can’t….”

Sirius held up a hand.

“I KNOW! That really wasn’t my point. Snape essentially said that I won’t be able to take care of my own wife.”

Remus took a breath.

“Sirius, Y/n has high hopes for everything to work out.”

Sirius snorted.

“Yeah, she has high hopes for her big loser!”

Remus calmly rolled his eyes. This was obviously going to be a long difficult conversation!

“Sirius, you know that isn’t true. You are a good person who bad things have happened to. Y/n and yourself have a chance to start over. The two of you are able to take care of Harry and provide a life he hasn’t had. Don’t spoil it over things that Severus Snape says.”

Sirius looked down at his feet before meeting his friend’s face.

“I better go talk to Y/n.”

Meanwhile…

You walked upstairs trying to find a way to calm down. Maybe it was best to let Sirius calm down and when he was rational try the whole reasoning thing again.

“Filthy blood traitors are still contaminating my poor mistress' house.”

You sighed and turned to see Kreacher sneaking around in the corner.

“Is that necessary?”

You snapped. Kreacher looked up at you with his usual sneering face.

“Filthy whore.”

“Shut up, Kreacher!”

You spun around to see Sirius in the doorway. He glared at the house-elf as the being left the room still muttering about Sirius being a blood traitor among other things. You shook your head wanting nothing to do with the vile elf.

“Ignore him.”

Sirius said softly.

“He never liked me very much...not surprising though.”

When you didn’t respond, Sirius sighed. He knew that look very well! Anytime he fucked up that was the look that he received.

“Ah, I see that you aren’t talking to me. I know that look well.”

You turned and walked back into the bedroom not saying anything. The bedroom door closing told you exactly what you expected. Sirius was not going to let this go.

When his hands wrapped around your waist in that all too familiar fashion it took all that you had to not turn around and turn into a blubbering mess. This whole experience was turning you into a total Mary Sue. Oh well. You thought.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I’m just so angry over how our lives have turned out. Listening to Snape talk about me not being really able to care for you the way that I should kind of made me see red.”

You stood motionless for a moment before turning in Sirius’ arms.

“This is where you go hex him and tell him to shut the fuck up. Sirius, once we get a hold of Pettigrew you won’t have to hide anymore. You can pick up your male pride and start where we were years ago.”

Sirius didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Male pride?”

You smiled before reaching into your pocket.

“I found something that you may want back.”

You slid his wedding ring back onto his finger. Sirius smiled down at his hand.

“Since the day you put it on my hand for the first time.”

He leaned down pressing his lips to yours. You sighed against his lips before twirling your fingers in his hair.

“Are you trying to come onto me? Maybe a makeup for that little spat downstairs?”

Sirius gave you an eyebrow wiggle before quickly spinning you around. His right hand reached up your skirt and squeezed your thigh.

“I bet if I go a little further north I will find out and you want it as much as I do.”

“I think that you may be right. We are going to have to get a grip on ourselves soon. We can’t just start snogging in front of Harry. I don’t want to give him a complex.”

Sirius laughed.

“There are plenty of places in this house to hide for a quickie. Besides last night was more like a quickie than taking our time...and catching up.”

“We made love until 3 am.”

You giggled as Sirius started working the rest of your dress off. He would have preferred to just rip the thing off of you but it looked expensive. Sirius had to fight back a moan the moment that your lingerie came into his view. You fought back a moan as his hands cupped your breasts greedily.

“You have a choice. Do you want me inside of you or my face between your legs for the next hour?”

“I….I…”

Sirius chuckled against your neck before sliding a hand into your knickers.

“Come on love, I need an answer. Are you getting shy on me now? Remember the time I did this to you in potions that time? I thought you were going to scream in class.”

You pressed your head back against his shoulder.

“You were such a tease. You’re still a tease.”

“A little late to change now.”

He said before tugging hard enough on the lace fabric to make your knickers to go to shreds.

“I rather liked those.”

You said as Sirius gently bent you over the desk.

“I can buy you another pair.”

Sirius said slowly undoing his pants and kicking them away from the two of you.

“I think I would rather be inside of you.”

Sirius said in that deep voice that made all of your nerves stand on edge. He took a deep breath before pushing in. You closed your eyes while silently putting a silencing charm on the room. The last thing that you wanted was for anyone in the house to hear the noise that was about to come out of that room! It would be awkward having to face them. You chuckled at the thought of wishing Sirius’ mother’s portrait could hear this. The howling old hag could hear exactly what her son was made of!

...what her son is made of…

You moaned at the thought! You were being stuffed with exactly what her son was made of! The crazy old bat would go crazy if she knew what the two of you were doing in her beloved house.

Sirius pushing in a little harder made all thoughts leave your head. Your eyes rolled backward with each thrust. Your body was most definitely going to need to get used to this again!

You cried out pathetically when Sirius pulled out. Standing up straight, you quickly spun around as Sirius took off the rest of his clothes. He gave you that damned raised eyebrow that could turn you from a good girl to a bad girl in 2 seconds.

“On my lap, darling.”

He quickly lay back on the bed and gave you that steely gaze. You stood motionless a moment longer before quickly doing as you were told. Putting your legs on either side of his body, you took his length from tip to base. It was Sirius’ turn to moan.

“Naughty girl.”

You reached behind you quickly removing the bra that was still on. Sirius gave you a dark mirthful little smile before sitting up enough to get his hands on your chest. You threw your head back as Sirius’ mouth wrapped around your nipple. Between his deep thrusts and mouth nipping at your breasts; you wouldn’t last long.

“So close…”

You whimpered. Sirius quickly lay back and wrapped his hands around your waist.

“I can do something about that.”

Before you could say anything, he was slamming into you so hard and fast that you couldn’t formulate a thought. When your body clenched around his, you were pleased to hear Sirius moan.

“I’m going to come if you do that again.”

You grinned and squeezed him again. Whether it be the mixture of rough lovemaking, Sirius’ words, or the feeling of him coming hard inside of you; you came apart screaming your lover’s name.

When you could open your eyes, Sirius was looking up at you with a shit-eating grin. He quickly held his arms up to pull you down to him.

“Was that good?”

You asked, snuggling your face into his chest as Sirius lit a cigarette.

“Check your undercarriage.”

He said, inhaling as there was a knock on the door. Sirius rolled his eyes.

“This is the problem with a house full of people...no one can stay occupied. Who is it?”

Sirius yelled the last part, hoping whoever it was would run away. From the other side of the door came Remus’ voice.

“I am sorry to disturb but I thought that you should know Harry is here early.”

Sirius glanced at you and quickly put out his cigarette and started pulling on his abandoned clothes. He quickly turned and looked at you. One look told him exactly what he needed to know. You were a nervous wreck.

“Y/n, it will be okay.”

You nodded, trying to believe what he said. Sirius was across the room. He tilted your face to his.

“He will love you. It's impossible to meet you and not fall in love you.”

You could only hope that Sirius was right...

______

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@hankypranky

@summer-novak

@emiwrites3reads

@shaylybaby2032

@shitfaceddaniel

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@stuckinsaudi1

@maggiolim

@marichromatic

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@mycuddlycorner

@wontlookaway

@deanwherescas

@knight-of-gleefulness

#Harry Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #sirius x reader #reader x sirius #molly weasley #arthur weasley #peter pettigrew #ron weasley #hermione granger #harry potter fan fiction #Ben Barnes as Sirius Black #walburga black #orion black #severus snape #In the Light #In the Light update

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tsukuna · 4 years

Text

Assistant to the Chancellor

Summary: “An outsider with no reason to be given the hefty task of dealing with the Gralean Empire’s flamboyant chancellor has ended up with just that. She’s willing to put up with all the antics, but is there ulterior motives for her obedience that none are privy to? And can they compete with the grim secrets of Chancellor Izunia himself?”

No True Rating Yet • Female Reader • Before the Events of XV • Under the Cut

A couple weeks had passed since you had begun working for Chancellor Izunia and you found yourself growing more comfortable with his flamboyant personality. If nothing else, you could tolerate it. There were even moments where you found yourself giggling at his little antics, to which he’d react with a self-satisfied smirk. You were grateful that these flirty gestures and comments were at least coming from an attractive man, not someone slimy and entirely not your type (which you weren’t quite sure what would even constitute as “your type”). You shuddered to imagine Besithia acting as Ardyn does.

It had taken a couple days and evenings, but you finally finished the paperwork--sifting through what you’d bring to his attention, throwing whatever out, putting official seals on anything that required it. All simple things, but it seemed far too much for someone who didn’t even appear to take the politics seriously. Though who were you to judge when you hardly took the work seriously yourself?

A sigh passed your lips, knowing that it would already be dark outside and thus you would need to go sleep soon after. You placed a soft knock on the Chancellor’s office door.

“Come in, love,” he invited with a sing-song voice.

“Ardyn,” you gave a short bow, “everything you need is ready for you.” You explained the gist of what you completed, hoping it’d make his busy work easier.

“Thank you. You continue to impress me everyday,” he said your name with a warm expression.

“That’s the goal, right?” You offered up the same energy. “I know it’s a bit late, and I wouldn’t want to keep you any longer, but is there anything else you’d like from me before I take my leave?”

Ardyn closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, obviously considering your request. “Dinner!”

“Eh?” There was no chance of you holding back the shock on your face.

“Your boss is requesting that you share dinner with him,” he chirped. All you could do was blink at him for a few moments.

“I actually had some leftovers I have to finish so they don’t, uh, go bad,” you made an excuse.

“Hm, quite a predicament we find ourselves in,” Ardyn stated, scratching his stubble. “How about this then!” He excitedly put a finger up as if having an ‘Aha!’ moment. “Tomorrow is our day off, yes?” You slowly nodded your head with a quirked eyebrow. “Then we will go out for dinner, a nice dinner tomorrow night!”

“I…” You had no excuses to deny the Chancellor this time, and his satisfied expression indicated he was well aware. “If you truly wish to share a meal with your humble assistant tomorrow night, I shall accept.”

A sly smile graced Ardyn’s lips, “Wonderful, I haven’t had anything to look forward to in quite some time. We can meet here in the evening.” He laughed before waving you away, “That’ll be all for today, my dear. See you tomorrow,” he winked.

You bowed before bidding him goodnight and rushing to your room. Non-work related conversations with the man always left your brain feeling drained as you tried to ascertain what motivations he had under that carefree facade. You crashed unceremoniously onto your bed, not bothering to eat anything, though you technically did have leftovers that were going to spoil.

What were you to wear tomorrow? What conversation points did you have to discuss? Where were you even going to eat? Such questions eventually lulled you into a sleep.

Though not a very satisfying one. You woke up in the late afternoon to a mess of rat’s nest of hair and dried drool caked to one side of your mouth. ‘Maybe I should show up like this,’ you snorted but your better judgement told you to clean up. It wouldn’t be any good to lose your current position, it’s already difficult to get the information you’re looking for as is. You slinked off to the showers, making sure the temperature was as hot as your skin could take before stepping in. The shower routine you had wasn’t too long, yet you still sat there in contemplation long after you were done.

Travels all around Eos led you to no further information on what you were seeking--information about the lost and long-forgotten Astral you heard stories of as a child; stories that were deeply rooted in your existence. Eventually, the only place you hadn’t checked was Niflheim. And so here you sat, in the last place you could hope to check.

Your skin was raw from the hot water by the time you finally exited, but hey, at least you were clean now; however the clock was ticking against you, you slept in far too late and showered far too long. “Ah shit,” scolding yourself, you quickly got to work on finishing up your appearance.

It was nothing special, frankly speaking. You didn’t want to look like you tried too hard for your kinda-but-not-really dinner date with your superior. Donned in a black, sleeved, and laced dress accented with gold, you accessorized only with your pendant. The only styling your hair received was a decent blow drying. Nodding as you checked the mirror last time, you headed towards the office, but not to work this time.

Truthfully, you expected the Chancellor to be late like he often is at work, so your heart skipped a beat to see him waiting. “Apologies for making you wait for me,” you bowed once you finally reached him.

Taking you by the chin, Ardyn lifted your head up and gave one of the signature smiles, “Not a problem. I would be happy to wait a thousand years for a beauty such as yourself,” he kissed the back of your hand with a wink. Though it was nothing out of the ordinary for him to say, there was something about it that felt chilling. “I see you’re as lovely as ever,” he offered as a compliment.

“I see you’re looking… the same as ever,” you quirked a brow. He wore his typical dark, layered outfit, though you were a bit relieved to see that he ditched the fedora for the night. ‘I quite prefer his wine-red hair uncovered,’ you admitted to yourself.

“Apologies,” he chuckled, “Believe it or not, I don’t own very many outfits.” Seeing how eccentric Ardyn was, you did believe him and nodded as confirmation. “Well then,” he said your name in a rather sultry way that made you blush, “shall we get going?” The chancellor offered his arm to you, which you timidly took.

The two of you shortly arrived at a low-lit, rather intimate restaurant. It was intimidating to an extent, you’d never bothered to go somewhere nice. Your life had been about eating quickly, eating cheap, and only eating when necessary. “I don’t know if I belong at a nice place like this,” you remarked with a laugh as the two of you were seated.

“Nonsense, it is my duty to treat my ever faithful assistant to something out of the norm,” Ardyn gestured around the room.

“Treating?” You opened your eyes wide. “That won’t be necessary. I can pay for it. Though I appreciate the thought,” you put on a smile.

“Absolutely not! I am the one who invited you after all.”

“Well then next time I have to pay!” You quickly smacked your hand over your mouth, realizing what you said and the implications of it.

“You are one of the most entertaining humans I have ever met,” Ardyn stifled a laugh. “But fine, if you are to ask me out, I will allow you to pay.”

“Ever the gentleman.”

The chatter the two of you kept over dinner was rather innocent and not professional, but not overly colloquial either. There were, however, multiple incidences of him reaching over the small table to get touches of your hand in. To be honest, you weren’t too shocked at the gesture, but it did garner a bit of surprise out of you when he instead clutched your pendant between his fingers.

“Such an interesting little thing,” the Chancellor pointed out. “Such an interesting little gem.” He examined the green crystal, the designs within, and the metal twining with fervor. “You wear it daily.”

You nodded. “It is very special to me, it is all I have of my parents,” a soft smile came to your face. “It was actually an anniversary gift to my mother, but after their death, it ended up in my hands.” You paused before continuing, “It is the only earthly possession I truly care for--my most precious treasure.”

“To care for something is quite a gift,” Ardyn spoke absentmindedly almost as if you weren’t there, but you hummed affirmatively anyways. The waiter brought the check, breaking the man out of what appeared to be deep thought. It was a fast transaction, and finally, the night was winding down to an end.

Ever the chivalrous man, Ardyn walked you to your living spaces. “Thank you for tonight,” you bowed deeply. “It was an honor to spend alone time with the Chancellor,” the pleasantries slipped from your lips. It was a shock to find his fingers flicking your forehead, and you recoiled at the slight sensation.

“I thought I told you long ago not to act so, hmm, how to say… kiss-assy with me just cause you work for me,” the man rarely swore so you couldn’t fight the full smile and laugh that was drawn from you. He seemed pleased to have garnered such a reaction. “Sorry,” you managed to get out after another laugh.

“Well, dearest, it appears the night out is over. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.” You nodded in agreement. “I shall see you once the work week begins,” the ever cheeky Ardyn leaned down to give a kiss to your forehead where he had previously flicked it before quickly turning and waving goodbye.

As you tried to sleep, your face heated every time you thought of the peck. You were aware that the majority of his flatteries were empty, but it still gave you butterflies. You had never let anyone share contact like that with you after all. A deep sigh rose out of you, you had to brush off all the strange feelings before work began as usual; however, you didn’t know if Ardyn would ever let you do so. The man certainly knew how to press buttons you didn’t know existed.

‘What a pain.’

#ardyn x reader #also posted to ao3 #find me on ao3 as Adagium (Chxltxn)#Self Insert #female reader #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #final fantasy xv #ffxv #ghuoligans #multichapter #oops 2 years later #ardyn/reader #still love my boy though #slow build

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flightofaqrow · 3 years

Text

old friend

qrow + Glynda ( @professor-goodwitch ) [VOL 8 AU: Inner Circle Jailbreak]

brothers, his body and soul have never felt heavier in his life.

he can’t deny it’s about all he can ask for to see an old friend right now - a familiar face, alive and well and willing to stand on his side.

“Glynda,” he gruffs, “…thanks.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ Get some rest, Qrow. I know recent events had you exhausted. I made sure our hide out is well protected and hidden.”

It was a surprise to see Glynda here helping Qrow and his companion Robyn out of Atlas’ vehicle. She knew for herself that he had nothing to do with that murder unless it was absolutely necessary. He didn’t even have to explain nor did Robyn.

All Glynda wanted to know was what happened to Atlas and James, but that can wait.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow’s not sure where Glynda came from, why, or how she seems to know more about what’s going on than even he can piece together after it all, but. it’s okay. probably. it’s probably going to be okay. brothers, his body and soul have never felt heavier in his life. “…yeah. sure.” he takes her up on the offer and leans up against the wall, willing himself to even sink into it, phase out of existence for just a few moments.

but he can’t deny it’s about all he can ask for to see an old friend right now. a familiar face, alive and well and willing to stand on his side.

“Glynda,” he gruffs, “…thanks.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Glynda would peek out of the worn down windows of their hideout and didn’t spot any Atlas shoulders. Robyn had silently offered to be on watch so the huntress could catch up with her old friend. She nods at her then walked back to Qrow who sunk on to the wall.

“ No problem. It’s.. good to see you Qrow.” She sighed and would go to a pile of compressed haystack taking a seat on it.

“ I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here..” She said, patting down on some dust on her pants.

“ I heard about the incident at Haven Academy and immediately I knew they were going after the relic so.. I went to Atlas in hopes to retrieve the other one. However, it seems James has turned his back on everyone.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow had a lot of people to thank once the dust settled. eyes draw back from staring at nothing in particular to focus on Glynda, “…same.”

actually, he wonders more how she got here with the borders still closed than why. why seemed pretty obvious. he takes a deep breath and crosses his arms over a depressing chest as he lets it out. time to get back to work. next steps. no time for huntsmen to grieve, at least, not until the job is done.

“well, he turned his back on Mantle, that’s for damn sure. cut off our scroll communication right when everything started. i don’t know what’s happened in the cities since the declaration. or with the relic. or the kids. an’ i have no idea what he’s thinking or why, apart from what i assume is some bullshit martyr complex nonsense. never got the chance to talk. …but things are past reasonin’ at this point, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“As sad as it seems, I predicted this from James even back at Beacon. His whole military coming to the Vytal Festival, showcase of military and the council granting him seats.” She took a deep breath shaking his head. “ I can guess he’s lost his heart and.. mind. But, fear can do that to you. It’s just the way how you handle it and I bet James didn’t know how to.”

Glynda would start up a small flame to keep them warm. “ Talking to James would be difficult at this point… At least when you do. I’ll try to reason with him with all of this madness but– a punch to his face can wait.” She wasn’t exactly intending on ‘verbally’ reasoning with him.

“ I just find it upsetting after preaching about ‘unity’ and ‘working together’ with Mantle, he just turns his back the moment a bigger threat showed up.” She sighed, looking at the flame then back at Qrow. “ His fear will consume him sooner or later.”

“But.. pressing matters at hand, we need to help out Mantle..”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“yeah, well. all the ‘i told ya so’s in Remnant ain’t changin’ the situation, Glyn,” he chides in a low rasp. sharp features find their edges amid grief, but he directs their focus more into the fire than at his friend. surely, some of that was about getting thoughts off her own chest more than being heard.

and she’s not the only one looking to take him down with more than words once they get a handle on all this and find the overgrown tin can.

right. one thing at a time. like most of his thoughts must be right now. one card building each base of a castle, lest trying to have too many at once make it all come crashing down around him again.

he sits up, finally, leaning towards warmth and flickering, distracting lights. “how is mantle holding up so far? any new reports come in?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He was right, nothing was really going to change the situation no matter the ‘What If’s’ they had. Glynda just found herself frustrated after leaving Beacon only to find that Mantle had been cut off by Atlas. James was a man of ‘protection’, ‘security’ but ‘power’ as well and it’s upsetting he had fallen into a pit where he may not possibly get up anymore.

She took a look at her scroll, seeing the alert of all the Wanted huntsmen. Sure enough, Qrow was there along with her other former students. “ It seems you really pissed off James if he’s turning you all in but of course, he’s losing his mind like his heart.”

She sighed tapping onto her scroll looking at the live feed of everything. Her eyes looking at the dark clouds lurking. “.. I don’t think Mantle will hold up any longer. Salem is about to arrive.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

she’s catching up with this whole damn emotional roller-coaster just like he’s trying to catch up with the past day or so. both hands run through his hair with the same frustration before he gives the fire the thousand yard stare again, “tch. he’d only be pissed if he cared. nah. s’just like Robyn says. all he wants is t’have us outta his way.”

hands clench between his knees, “well, that ain’t happenin’.”

he pulls his scroll out for the first time since it has been returned to him. a bunch of missed calls flood the screen, so someone must have gotten them working again, and he has maybe two guesses who. not that it matters when he still can’t really answer anyone.

“so Salem’s right at our doorstep and we’re squabblin’ among ourselves just like she wants. this is bad. this is really bad.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ He’s lost his mind and heart if arresting all of you is his solution to get what he wants. I’ll have to remind him that the half of his body can easily be destroyed if I deem it to be useless.” Her tone seemed calm yet dangerous considering she actually WAS capable of tearing him apart with her semblance. Glynda’s often level-headed when it came to frustrating situations but this was one of the rare occasions she’d serious about using violence to knock someone back into reality.

Glynda glanced at Qrow for a moment. His body language immediately told her he’d been through a lot and she was too afraid to ask him about it fearing it might shake his thoughts and emotions.

That wasn’t the priority anyway, it was the danger that has arrived in Mantle. Salem.

“ Fighting Salem head on is a suicide mission but if we wait for her to land in Mantle then it’ll cease to exist in a matter of hours.” Glynda sighed. “ ..And judging by the clouds, she brought a whole army of Grimm to get what she wants.”

“ We need to move soon. I’m sure you’re worried about Ruby and the others. It’s best to rendezvous with them because we need all the help we can get if we want to save Mantle.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

usual memories of Glynda store as her putting things back together. often messes he’d created himself. in a single moment of emphasizing her ability to just as easily tear things apart, she reminds qrow of how terrifying a woman she really is. he can’t say the image of James severed right down the middle doesn’t jolt him out of his thoughts, and bring some shred of solace. it’d serve him right.

looking up meets the emerald fire in her eyes, sizzling slow and controlled.

right, one step at a time.

hands cup around his face as he thinks. this’ll be the most difficult battle they’ve faced yet. and that’s saying something. “i’m more worried about all the grimm than Salem. her track record shows more’a desire to control humanity than exterminate it. unlike those beasts’a hers.”

arms then fall to his lap with the mention of Ruby and her friends. his family. but now also huntresses and hunters in their own right. “Glyn, the kids… Ironwood issued ‘em their license before it all went down. ‘course i’m thinkin’ of them, but they can hold their own. have been for awhile now. if our scrolls are workin’ we can get in touch. it…,” it twists in his gut as if the words are food poisoning themselves, “it might be best if we all spread out throughout the city. besides, this is too important to…”

he turns away again, shuts his eyes and tries to force out the image still imprinted behind eyelids of blood …so much blood, “well, they might be better off without me around for this.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ Salem creates the grimm herself and anytime she can procure a unit of grimm to ambush any parts of the city if the numbers dwindle. But… if we leave the grimm be, the civilians will suffer in their hands.” Glynda sighed feeling a little conflicted about how they’ll proceed.

Everything was coming too fast, Salem’s arrival, grimm already infesting Mantle, Ironwood cutting off Atlas and Mantle and everything else.

Her attention wavered though when Qrow mentioned licenses were handed to them. “ that seems bold of James to give them their licenses that early but… with the conflict, can you really tell them to sit down for a class?” She tried sounding sarcastic for a moment but knew the situation was too dire to insert that in.

“ Sounds like your niece and her friends have really evolved into huntsmen and huntresses at such a young age. Though.. spreading out would be a good idea if we’re going to hold off and protect Mantle from multiple points..”

His last sentence though, worried her. “ Qrow? Why do you think that? What made you possibly think that they’re better off without you? And I’m certain that’s not because of your semblance..” Glynda’s well aware of his semblance being a key factor in putting the kids in danger but he was right– they were capable of taking care of themselves yet.. there seems to be more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

lids stay screwed shut; qrow’s head shakes in the smallest arc side to side, processing what Glynda says, meshing it with what he thinks. his palm aches to hold a drink that would help slow it all down. but he’s done with that, and they’re out of time, and it does him no good to be dulled.

and he doesn’t really know the answer. qrow’s vision only goes so far as giving his report and insight, and Glynda or Robyn can decide how to manage from there. they’re better suited to delegate orders, and maybe qrow might just follow along until he can break off and run his own vendetta mission alone like always, because more than ever he knows he’s not meant for a partner, and has always known he was never really cut out to be a leader.

even the voice in his head is hardly his own.

with the conflict, can you really tell them to sit down for a class?

that finally earns Glynda a turn to her direction again, dark brows lifting to rest on his face in a soft and wistful way. she makes an inappropriate comment, and qrow lives for inappropriate. it’s downright refreshing from her.

qrow shrugs, tilts his head down to accentuate a coy glance up, a glint of hope returning to red eyes, “heh. you know, Oz would say he’s glad you still have a sense of humor in alla this.”

one moment of lighter breath, and then it’s gone - just like the man mentioned and a solid chunk of qrow’s affection for him; expression sours as hands come down harsh on his knees.

“so you must be joking.”

she’s certain it’s not his semblance. she’s got to be kidding! how can anyone be certain? qrow sure as hell can’t ever seem to tell when and how and who Misfortune hits the worst!

he leans in, frowns and furrows lining frustration into his face, but he speaks more haggard than rough, “of course i mean my semblance, Glyn. this ain’t a single man brawl or bust ‘em up rescue mission! there’s too many lives on the line! …we can’t afford any mishaps. …I work better from the sidelines and the shadows, we both know that.”

#* emerald fire in her eyes; controlled and refreshing = professor goodwitch *#* we got work to do = ic *#* your favorite fairy tale = AU *#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *#cries..... i just love them so much

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nekoannie-chan · 4 years

Text

Universus

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Reader

Word count: 1777 words.

Summary: It seemed like a normal training day for you and Brock until Johnny came to ruin the day

Warnings: Angst, this is an Horror AU.

A/N: Universus means Universe.

This is my entry to the @star-spangled-beard-burn ‘s Season of Fiction Writing challenge 2020 with the fall prompt #1:

“I TOLD you I can’t do haunted houses”.

Also my entry to the @marvelgirlonamarvelworld ‘s Val’s 500 Writing challenge with the dialogue prompt #3:

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the one who fucked us all up. What trouble did you get yourself into now, sweetiepie?”

And my entry to the @anika-ann ‘s 500 Celebration Challenge with the Arrow prompt #5:

“You tell anyone about this, I will kill you”.

“…That’s just an expression, right?”

Is a horror AU.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @navybrat817

You slipped and winced; Brock turned around and saw you on the floor, he went back to check if you were hurt.

“Are you okay?” He asked offering his hand to you.

"Yes, it's nothing, I just got distracted," you answered taking his hand and standing up with her help.

“Are you sure? You've had a lot of accidents and been distracted all week,” Brock commented with concern.

You dusted yourself off and looked at your boyfriend smiling.

"Come on, we've managed to survive that guy with the weird cloak and the girl who takes daggers out of her hands, as well as the group of weird kids who have a dinosaur."

"I still don't understand why they have a dinosaur," Brock questioned, putting a hand on his beard.

"After all we've been through, are there still things that surprise you?" You questioned incredulously.

"Not exactly, rather it surprises me that without having powers, I am still alive," he replied.

"That is because I’m healing all your wounds in the missions with my powers, but your destiny would probably be different if I didn’t do it," you agreed with satisfaction.

"Always so modest," he said wryly.

“Of course, well next time I won't heal you and I don’t know who’s gonna help you.”

"I don't think you will be so cruel ... are you?" He asked nervously.

"Challenge me and you will see," you threatened.

"You know I love you so much, right?" Brock replied, trying to sound friendly and approaching you.

"Don't even think about it," you stopped him by putting your hand on his chest.

"Don't be mad, babe, but as soon as the fair will be in the town, I will take you to the haunted house."

He got closer and started kissing your arm.

"Noooo, you know I hate haunted houses, let me," you said laughing, you knew what he was trying.

If you let him continue, he would achieve his goal and you could no longer pretend that you were upset with him, although obviously, at night you were going to take revenge. You saw the time and decided it was better to return to compound before they will start looking for them or they will find you in a "compromising" situation.

Baxter Building

Johnny saw the object in his hands, he had heard Ben talk about it, and obviously, Reed had created it, although he could not understand what it was for, he shook it a little, but nothing happened.

Maybe he could take it with Y/N and Wanda and see if they could find out what that item was doing or what it was for.

He immediately saved it and went to the compound, it would surely be a very fun visit, as long as the three of you were there you used to have many adventures.

Compound

"Hello ladies," Johnny said, entering to the place.

“What are you doing here?” Brock asked.

Johnny and Brock didn't get along at all since Brock thought Johnny liked you.

“What is that?” Wanda asked when she saw what Johnny was holding.

"I don't know, I found it in Reed's lab, but you two are very smart and I know you'll help me find out," Johnny replied, ignoring Brock.

"Well ... it seems ... something Reed is probably going to be very upset if he doesn't find it when he looks for it," you said.

“Oh come on! I don't think…!”

At that time the Multisect activated and everything went dark for a few seconds.

Unknown place

You opened your eyes confused, you felt stunned, you assumed that the others were too, you turned looking for the rest, who were lying in the place, you did not know where they were, and you did not even seem familiar.

“Is everyone okay?” Johnny asked, getting up.

“Where we are?” Brock asked sulkily, he was sure you were going to have problems.

"This place is very dingy," Wanda said scared.

"I just hope a madman with a machete or an electric saw doesn't show up and wants to kill us," you said.

"Well, Tinker Bell, take us back to the compound," Brock ordered.

"Yes, of course," Johnny muttered as he waved the Multisect.

You and Wanda exchanged glances, you knew Johnny, and so you would have to find another way to return to the compound… although perhaps you should first find out where you were. Johnny seemed nervous, he didn't know how said object worked.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't the one who fucked us all up. What trouble did you get yourself into now, sweetie pie? ”

“Brock, this is not the time for sarcasm, we must find out where we are supposed to be and, above all, how to return to the compound…”

“Your idiot friend brought us who knows where, we have no weapons apart from those we carry for training, or anything to defend ourselves as we know, we will have to improvise and worst of all, we have not the slightest idea of what the ground, ”Brock interrupted.

"We have Wanda who has powers, Johnny has powers, I have powers, we will be fine, and apart from that is what training is for, right?"

Brock growled disgruntled, he did not like what was happening at all, of course, he could have hand-to-hand combat, which was his speciality, but he knew well that for some things, having some kind of power was more effective and weapons they were a great help too.

“Johnny please, don't lose that thing, I don't care if Reed scolds you, but we surely need it to return home…”

You heard a sound nearby as if someone was dragging chains and stepping on leaves, the four of you put themselves in a position to defend yourselves if necessary.

“What was that?” You asked scared in a whisper.

"I think your question is rather where we are?" Wanda corrected.

"We have two options, or we stay here like idiots while Tinkerbell tries to fix that shit or we start walking to find a way out, obviously we shouldn't separate," Brock suggested.

You turned to see Johnny, who smiled nervously.

"I don't know how it works," he admitted.

Brock sighed exasperated, you would have to walk without knowing what dangers there were.

"I don't know who is more useless if this one or Rogers, although at the moment I think we already have a winner," Brock mumbled.

“Then what do we do? “You asked.

Johnny pushed himself to be able to fly, however, it did not work, just as Wanda tried to use her powers creating a field, there was no success either.

"Okay, we are screwed, I think we will have to walk to get to the highway ... or somewhere that can bring us closer to a populated area, maybe there we can get a phone to call the others and come for us," you said while you were looking for the compass in your pockets.

Once you found it, you started walking towards where the compass indicated that it was the north, Wanda took your hand to try to control the fear that both of you felt, Brock had an angry and Johnny tried to make a flame appear in his fingers.

The forest seemed huge and endless, you lost track of time, you no longer knew if you walked for hours or minutes, each time the place became gloomier.

“Are you sure it's the right way? “Wanda questioned.

"I don't know, I don't even know where we are, I'm just following where the compass tells me its north," you replied.

Suddenly Brock stopped them, you looked at him asking for explanations; however, he put a finger to his mouth to silence everyone, you hid behind a huge tree.

A group of people with masks passed by, it seemed that they had some hostages that they were taking somewhere.

"We should help them," you whisper.

"We cannot care about others."

"Although I never liked him, your boyfriend is right," Johnny said.

you began to walk slowly so as not to attract attention and to run away when you were far enough they ran into another guy wearing another mask, so Brock and you shot him, you did no harm him, he began to chase you, you separated into two groups, you and Brock, Wanda and Johnny, without realizing it.

After you made sure you weren't chasing them anymore, you stopped, turned around looking for your friends while trying to catch your breath.

"Brock ... where are Wanda and Johnny?" You asked raggedly.

"I don't know ... I thought they were coming after us."

“Do we look for them or what do we do?”

"First, not to separate, second, we have to walk trying to avoid those damned fools and find them."

You held hands and began to walk, it was difficult to determine if you had already walked through the place or not, at times you had to run again when you were being chased.

"I TOLD you I can't do haunted houses".

"This is not a damn haunted house, it is a fuckin’ haunted forest," Brock replied.

"Anyway, Brock, I'm seriously scared, we must find Wanda and Johnny," you whimpered.

You were surrounded, it seemed that there was no escape, you tried to run until you ended up crashing into the other couple.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asked terrified.

“We are still alive, but I don't know how long…”

Impulsively Johnny threw the Multisect at the attackers, which activated at the exact moment when it looked like they were going to attack you.

You saw the others without understanding, nobody knew how you came to the compound, and the only thing that mattered was that you were safe. You and Wanda hugged each other while Brock grabbed Johnny by the collar of his shirt to threaten him.

"You tell anyone about this, I will kill you."

"... That’s just an expression, right?"

"No jerk, I'm serious ..."

“Brock is enough, Johnny already learned the lesson, he is going to return the object to Reed's laboratory, right Johnny? “You broke in separating the men.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.

"You know what, we're going to go with Johnny," Wanda said.

You entered the laboratory and Johnny left the Multisect where he had found it, then you went to the hall and there you found Reed.

"Hi guys, haven't you seen my Multisect?" Reed asked.

“Your…what?”

“The Multisect, it serves to travel to other universes… you know, forget it, I don't want you to get into troubles.”

"Doctor Richards, if you knew ..." You spluttered as he left.

#SeasonsofFiction2020 #Val’s500challenge #challenge500ann #brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brock fanfic #brock rumlow fanfic #brock rumlow x you #brockrumlow #brock rumlow x mutant reader #brockrumlow x reader #brock rumlow x y/n #brockrumlow x y/n #brockrumlow x mutant reader

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tangled23works · 5 years

Text

No Time To Die

This is my entry for Olicity clue by @olicitytropes. I hope you can guess the prompts I was given even though I ran away with them as usual.

Felicity Smoak was accustomed to walking home in the dead of night. Her small townhome was on the outskirts of the Glades, the city’s most disreputable area. Usually she could drive her Mini to and from Queen Consolidated, but last month they had caught her speeding for the third time and taken her licence away. Now, she was forced to take the bus every day. At first it had been weird and scary for a woman who loved driving but after awhile she had gotten used to it.

Thankfully, the bustop was not far and on the way, there was a very famous strip club which had bouncers built like tanks in front. She felt safe walking by the Huntress because she knew that if she needed help she could always run towards it. Helena Bertinelli, the owner of the club, was a bitch and crazier than a bag of cats but everyone said that she was a passionate defender of women’s rights. Helena reserved all her wrath for men. Specifically, the Italian mobsters who had killed her fiance a few years before.

Felicity turned left on the corner and reached inside her bag for the pepper spray. This street was not well-lit so she had to be extra careful. She walked slowly but with purpose and kept her head on a swivel. That one was Roy’s suggestion and when she had admitted that she had no clue what it meant, he had alternated between genuine surprise at her lack of sports knowledge and scolding for losing her driving licence. Since Roy was the most street savvy person she knew, she had chosen not to antagonize him and follow his advice.

Walking by the huge dumpster, Felicity heard a grunt and a groan. Probably some poor animal suffering. Roy had warned her about stopping in the Glades so she took a deep breath and decided to ignore it. The grunt was louder the next time. Her curiosity got the better of her and she approached it carefully.

A leg became slowly visible. A long leg dressed in very distinctive green leather trousers. She blinked but the strange sight didn’t go away.

Felicity tilted her head and examined him. Lying on the trash, out cold but still breathing judging by the rise and fall of his chest, was Starling City’s resident vigilante. Her mind blanked for a few seconds. Then she pulled her phone out before she could second-guess herself.

“What’s up, Blondie?”

Roy’s voice was calm even though she interrupted his date night with Thea. She didn’t want to ruin that but she had no one else to call. And certainly, no one else who she could trust with a secret like this.

“Hi Scarecrow. Are you with Thea?”

“Yes.”

“Can you get out for a few minutes? I need help carrying something to my house.”

“Blondie, if it’s another Robin Hood framed poster you should know that-”

“Oh no, it’s nothing like that. Please, come. And Roy? Don’t tell Thea where you’re going.”

“Are you in trouble, Blondie?”

“Sort of. I’ll explain everything as soon as you’re here.”

“Where exactly is here?”

“On 7th. Behind the Huntress. Hurry!”

Roy let out a filthy curse commenting on her tendency to get into trouble and hung up without saying goodbye.

Felicity didn’t have to wait long - thankfully Roy and Thea were hanging out at his place tonight - before he showed up. She had stood still as a statue, guarding him, armed with pepper spray and determination.

When Roy saw who was on the ground behind her, his eyes widened like saucers reminding her of a cartoon.

“Are you crazy?” he asked in a furious whisper.

“Perhaps. Can you help me move him to my house? It’s not far.”

“I should call the police right now. This guy is crazy, Blondie.”

“No, he isn’t.” She didn’t know why she felt so strongly about the subject.

“He has killed a lot of people. Lance is searching for him everywhere and you want to, what? Live a Robin Hood fantasy with him?”

Felicity narrowed her eyes. For the first time she wondered if trusting Roy had been a good idea.

“People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That when I started hanging out with you, everyone told me that you were a thief and a junkie. I gave you the benefit of the doubt and now you and Thea are my friends. You’re the only family I’ve got in Starling. Which would have never happened if I had heeded all these warnings. Doesn’t he deserve the same consideration?”

“Fine. Save me the guilt trip. But if Lance knocks on my door tomorrow with a warrant, I’m not covering for you.”

“Deal,” she beamed at him.

There was one slight problem with the plan. Lifting and carrying a 6'1", 180 lbs guy was easier said than done. In the end they decided to carry him standing up as if he were drunk which wouldn’t bring much attention in this neighborhood.

“Wow, he’s really heavy. Do you think it’s all muscles?”

“Somehow, I don’t think vigilantes come with beer bellies,” Roy panted.

The distance they had to cover was minimal all things considered but it seemed like an eternity to her. Roy didn’t say much, just carried the burden silently which made her regret the fact that she had cancelled her own gym subscription last month. By the time they reached the townhouse, they were both sweaty and exhausted. Felicity had trouble putting one foot in front of the other and had to promise herself two pints of chocolate mint chip as motivation.

Roy had to support the vigilante by himself until she could find her keys, a fact he did not appreciate, judging by his surly expression. Felicity unlocked the door quickly and helped him carry the man inside.

“Do you think your neighbors saw us, Blondie?”

She shook her head and threw her bag on the floor. “No way. It’s too late. The only one who cares about my comings and goings is Mrs Fernandez but she is asleep at this hour.”

She took off her heels and focused on the unconscious man who was now dripping blood on her teal couch.

“Is he shot?” she asked Roy.

Roy examined him closely. “Nope. There’s a long gash on his right thigh, however.”

“Like from a sword?” She was equally fascinated and horrified. Lowly IT experts did not lead exciting lives. Her boring night had turned into an adventure.

“Who knows? You can ask him when he comes to.”

Felicity agreed. She fervently hoped she would get the chance to have a discussion with the man, crazy as it might sound.

“Don’t worry. It’s not his time to die.” He got up and considered her. “We’ll need some kind of medkit if we hope to take care of this ourselves.”

“It’s in the upstairs bathroom.”

“I’ll bring it. And all the other necessary items. In the meantime, you should take off his clothes so that we can see the damage.”

Felicity was tempted to peek under the hood.

“Leave the hood on,” Roy warned. “This is one secret you don’t want to learn.”

She considered it for a moment. Mysteries were the worst. They really bugged her and usually served no purpose but to annoy people. On the other hand, this man’s identity was dangerous. She might be a bit reckless but she wasn’t crazy. She had no intention of becoming prime target for all of this guy’s enemies.

She hurried to his side and put a hand on his neck. His pulse was sluggish but it was definitely there. Relieved, she began the process of undressing him. She unzipped the jacket and lifted up his T-shirt to assess the possible damage. His chest was lean but muscular, covered in recent bruises and old scars. Some of his ribs could be cracked or broken but without an MRI machine there was simply no way of knowing. Surprisingly, he had several tattoos but his chest was otherwise smooth. No sign of hair anywhere. She was momentarily riveted by the sight of an honest to God eight pack but she pushed the shirt down and covered him again before she could do something crazy. Like lick him. Right there on each one of his delicious muscles which up until now she had never seen on a living human being.

Felicity shook her head and tried to concentrate. The blood seemed to be coming from his leg like Roy had said and it looked quite fresh. Carefully, she unzipped him and drew the leather trousers down his legs. She had to take his boots off first though. He remained eerily silent, a fact which both relieved and worried her. Underneath he wore black briefs and she couldn’t help but notice that he was beautiful even there. Thick and long by her estimate.

“His wound is several inches to the right.”

Felicity blushed to the roots of her dyed blonde hair. She chose not to respond to Roy’s mocking comment and focused on the task at hand.

“You were right. There is a long gash here. It’s still bleeding.”

“I’ll clean up the wound and sew his leg. I sterilized the equipment as much as I could but considering the circumstances, I think this guy would prefer a little bacterial infection than going to the doctor.”

“I’m guessing the words hospital and police aren’t his favorite.”

Roy smiled at that and did a thorough cleaning of the wound. By then Felicity was ready to gag. It only got worse when he grabbed the needle and thread.

“Step aside, Blondie. You can clean him using the cloth after I’m done.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m not a fan of pointy things.”

“You should have let him die then.”

She walked to the other side of the living room towards the kitchen.

“Why did you save him?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“Shouldn’t you be more careful? After all, you’re piercing his skin with a needle right now.”

Roy saw through her evasion tactic. It was obvious from the way he clenched his jaw to avoid asking more questions. She wanted to answer him but she couldn’t. The truth was that she didn’t even know herself.

Why had she saved him? Well, obviously she couldn’t leave a defenseless man lying on trash dying slowly on the street. It went against every instinct. But bringing him into her house? That was so not like her. A long time ago she had been impulsive and careless but she had paid for it dearly. This was the first rash decision she had made in years. Felicity took a deep breath and pushed down the memories when they tried to raise ugly their head. Thinking about Cooper wouldn’t help the angry man on her couch.

Anger was the only emotion that he was willing to show. People had described their interactions with him again and again. Those descriptions varied so much that it was as if they were talking about a different guy. But all witnesses had agreed on one thing. This man was furious. Thankfully, he only took it out on thieves, rapists and gang members. Was anger though his only reason? She stared at him trying to discern the man behind the mask.

Roy got up, looking quite pleased with himself. “I did a good job. Your vigilante is gonna live,” he announced.

“He’s not my vigilante, Scarecrow. Go wash up. I’ll clean your patient and take care of him.”

Roy climbed the stairs. “If he wakes up, call me. I need to speak to Thea.”

Felicity sighed at his overprotective tendencies. She took the wet cloth and approached the couch. The Hood, as they called him, had a commanding presence for a knocked out man.

She kneeled on the floor and started cleaning him softly. Considering this man’s life choices could give a girl a headache. Was he completely mad? Did he suffer from some type of mental illness? What kind of sane person roamed the streets at night saving strangers? Life was not a comic book. The Glades were scary and dangerous and despite her earlier bravado, she knew that she had been really lucky tonight.

Her hand moved almost without thought towards his face. She couldn’t see much except for a strong jaw covered in stubble, a pair of juicy lips and a cute mole that didn’t seem to belong on such a masculine face. The mystery was killing her. Surely, he wouldn’t mind if she took a peek? She had saved his life for Google’s sake.

Her hand reached the hood.

She touched the soft green fabric - so different from the rest of his suit - and was about to push it back when his hand grabbed her wrist in a viselike grip.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Felicity froze like a little girl with the hand in the cookie jar.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Ever since your friend tortured me with the needle.”

Felicity felt outraged on behalf of Roy. “You could try to be a little more grateful. He saved your life.”

“You saved my life,” he rasped, “he was bitching and moaning every step of the way.”

She chuckled despite herself.

“Where am I?”

“My place. I live near the strip club.”

His hand clenched on her wrist. “It’s not a good neighborhood for you.”

She dropped the cloth in a small basin. “That’s the best I can do.”

“Doesn’t QC pay you better than that?”

Felicity’s heart raced. “How do you know where I work?”

He pointed towards her chest. “Your IT badge. I can’t see the name but I know the company logo.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m just an IT expert. Mostly, I clean computers infested with porn and fix executives’ emails accounts. I wanted the Applied Sciences position that opened up last summer but I lacked one major qualification so I didn’t get it.”

“What did you lack?”

“A dick and balls.”

At her dry retort, he started making a really weird sound. It was almost like wheezing. To her surprise, she realized that she had made the vigilante laugh.

“That doesn’t sound good,” she told him.

“It’s your fault. You’re not supposed to laugh with cracked ribs.”

Felicity winced. He was still holding her hand but she didn’t try to take it back.

“Were you really slashed with a sword?”

“And where would I find a sword in the middle of the Glades?”

“I don’t know Mr. Arrow. Up until last summer you couldn’t find a bow in Starling unless you belonged to an archery club.”

“Touche.”

His voice was familiar. Actually, she couldn’t recognize it because he made sure to speak in a low whisper. But there was something about the way he spoke the words themselves that sounded familiar to her. She tried to see under the hood but it was impossible. The only discernible thing was his lush mouth and that sinful mole.

“I was shot by a lady with a crossbow.”

His words brought her back from daydreaming about his mouth.

“You’re joking!”

“Do I look like a man who jokes?”

“You look like a man who likes to spend his nights dressing in leather and tying people up,” she retorted.

He laughed. Again. Felicity wanted to pump a fist in victory. She got the feeling that he wasn’t a man who laughed often.

“Where is your friend?”

“He went upstairs to clean up and call his girlfriend. He left her rather abruptly to come and save your ungrateful butt.”

His gloved hand was still holding hers, only now he was caressing her absentmindedly.

“My butt is very grateful. Still I would like to leave before he returns. Can you help me dress?”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. Roy was raised in the Glades. He’s not going to rat you out. You can stay here until morning.”

He appeared thoughtful for a few moments. “Very well. But it would be best not to tell him I’m awake when he comes back.”

He released her hand, promptly closed his eyes and appeared unconscious for all intents and purposes. Felicity was about to check his pulse when she realized the reason for subterfuge. Roy was coming down the stairs.

“Is he awake, Blondie?”

“Nope. You can go back to Thea. I don’t think he’s going to wake up anytime soon.”

“No way. I’m not leaving you alone with this lunatic.”

Her vigilante had tensed since the moment Roy approached but now he managed to radiate anger even as still as he was. Felicity put a hand on his uninjured leg.

“I don’t believe he’s crazy, Roy.”

“Then?”

“He’s a man of strong convictions. I imagine there must be something powerful behind his decision to go out at night and hunt criminals.”

Roy stared at her as if she had lost her mind.

“Don’t worry, Scarecrow. I do not approve of his methods. I only said I understand him a little.”

“You’re scaring me, Blondie. I think you better go and lie down. It’s after 10 and you have to work tomorrow.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving him. I’ll put on my pyjamas and lie on the chair. I spend most of my nights on that thing anyway.”

Roy was about to argue when his cell phone rang. He picked up. Pacing back and forth, he whispered furiously for awhile. Apparently, the news was bad.

“Thea got herself into trouble. What is it with the women in my life tonight? Is it a full moon or something?”

“Is she ok?”

“Yeah. She had a car accident going home. I told her not to drive her brother’s Porsche but she never listens.”

Felicity looked frantically for her phone. “Is she hurt? I need to call her now!”

“Don’t call her. She’s just scared because when Moira hears about it, she’s gonna be grounded for a year. She’s not hurt but the car is busted.”

“Can you wait until I change? Then you can leave.”

Roy waited patiently while she washed herself in the sink and changed into clean pyjamas. This night was by far the weirdest in her life and it was not over yet. She hurried downstairs fearing that Roy would discover her vigilante was awake. The panic she felt at the thought of betraying his trust should have scared her. Instead it made her feel alive for the first time in years.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok, Blondie?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Go get your girl, Scarecrow. Keep me updated.”

He left with a final order, “Keep your phone with you at all times”.

She resisted rolling her eyes again. Going closer to the actual superhero in her living room, she fake-whispered, “He left. You can quit the acting now.”

He opened his eyes and since the hood was now pushed back she finally got the chance to see his eyes. His gorgeous cerulean blue eyes. Life was so unfair sometimes.

“Is Thea Queen ok?”

His question was surprising. According to the media, the vigilante was not a fan of the city’s one percent.

“She had an accident but she’s not injured. Her brother’s car is totaled though.”

He looked like he was about to comment on that before he reconsidered.

“I thought you didn’t like Starling’s rich and famous?”

“Innocent teenage girls aren’t my enemy.” His voice was still low but his tone was hard.

“I’m sorry,” Felicity said. She felt horrible and was about to apologize further when he stopped her.

“It’s fine.”

She looked around, feeling lost. “Can I get you anything?”

“Since I’m about to spend the night, can I have blanket?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You’re lying half-naked on my couch and I didn’t even think you might be cold.”

“I spent a lot of time in Russia. Trust me, I’m not cold.”

Startled by the insight into his personal history, she threw him one of her favorite purple blankets and curled up in her chair.

“Really? I’ve never been abroad. What is Russia like?”

He spread the blanket over himself carefully. His movements were good but if Felicity had to guess, she would say that the ribs were giving him trouble. Not that he would ever admit it. Stupid male pride.

“It’s an unwelcoming place. Hard and violent. At least it was for me. I wasn’t there for the sights.”

“What were you there for?”

“Training.” He paused and then whispered reluctantly, “with the Bratva”.

Felicity’s mind raced. “The Russian mob?” she squeaked.

“Yeah.” But he didn’t volunteer any other information and she didn’t want to pressure him.

“Do you believe in God?” she asked out of the blue.

“I suppose. Why?”

“Bethany Snow says that you’re playing god. Judge, jury and executioner.”

“Bethany Snow,” he spat the name, “doesn’t understand the fact that the world is a complicated place. There are people who deal only in extremes. It’s naive to think that anything other than extreme measures is going to stop them.”

“Your world must be really different than mine.”

“I live in that world so that people like you don’t have to,” he countered.

Felicity closed her eyes. The adrenaline rush was wearing off and she was starting to feel the effects of the eventful day. She wasn’t going to sleep of course. Just rest for a minute or two.

“I feel safer with you here.”

“In your house?” He sounded really surprised by the admission.

“In my city,” she mumbled, eyes shut.

“Sleep. I’ll watch over you, Felicity.”

She smiled at his promise and nodded off.

The dawn light was peeking through the window when she opened her eyes next. Her phone was ringing but it wasn’t the alarm clock. She didn’t awake gradually, hitting the snooze button like any other day. Instead she rolled off the chair and her gaze flew to the couch.

Nothing.

The blanket was folded and placed away with care. There was no sign of her unexpected guest. Except for the blood that still covered the couch. He hadn’t been able to erase that at least.

Felicity rubbed her tired eyes and tried to make sense of the events of last night. When she couldn’t, she headed towards the kitchen to make a pot of really strong black coffee. She fired a quick message to Roy promising that she was fine and vigilantless when it suddenly hit her.

Roy had never uttered her real name and she certainly hadn’t introduced herself.

However, he had called her Felicity.

The Hood knew who she was.

#olicity clue #olicity fanfiction #my fic #hope you enjoy

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