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thyshadowwriter · 3 years

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Lost & Found. Chapter 3.

Ivar Ragnarsson x oc.

Summary: being rescued by Helga in one of the raids and reluctantly tolerated by Floki, a young girl finds herself amidst a strange place with strange people, but if adapting to the cultural shock wasn't hard enough, catching the attention of the volatile and beloved son of the Queen would soon prove to be the ultimate proving. That is if she realizes just how much being around prince Ivar is walking on thin ice.

Author's note: family dynamics and fluff.

Tagging: @youbloodymadgenius

Understandment is hard when you can't speak to each other, but gestures may reach further than words.

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A few weeks after they returned, Floki's home had fallen into a strangely peaceful routine.

Floki would do his work, busy with Bjorn's request, while Helga would teach Revna their language for hours a day, every day, their voices being background noise for him.

Helga was radiant with joy. She loved taking care of Revna, spending a lot of time combing the long hair and doing beautiful and intricate braids while talking to her, to which Revna would sometimes reply and even if they couldn't understand each other an odd sort of dialogue would emerge.

While this arrangement made Floki uneasy, he could be thankful for his wife's happiness, she hasn't been happy in a long time. Even if happiness was a passing moment, it hurt him that Helga carried so much sorrow, most of which, if not all, he knew to be his fault.

Now, Revna was sitting on the chair shaking her leg and looking down, Floki occasionally looked at her and he didn't need to understand her words to understand her lately. She wasn't allowed outside yet and that was getting to her.

Helga came with a bowl of stew for Revna and tried to hand it to her.

"Here, I brought you food." Helga said to Revna.

She looked at the food then turned her head away to the floor and continued shaking her leg.

"You need to eat to get better, please." Helga tried to reason with her.

Revna answered with a small grunt, resting her head on her hand.

"What is it, my dear? You were doing so well." Helga said to her stroking her hair.

The girl didn’t answer, but Floki did it for her:

"She's bored, Helga. I think she wants to go out."

The realization dawned on Helga, making her smile kindly to the girl, carefully caressing her head. Poor thing, she had every right to be bored, but Helga wanted her to get stronger before facing the city.

Helga sat behind Revna and cupped her face, making the girl look at her. She spoke softly, trying to make her understand:

"I know you're bored, but you need to get strong before I show you Kattegat" she gestured to the door "I'll show you everywhere, but please, keep eating well and get better."

The girl studied her face for a while, then gave her a pout but accepted the food. She ate slowly and in small portions, an empty stare in her eyes.

That was good, Helga thought, that was great. She begged the gods for another child and they gave her one, a beautiful girl that she had already fallen in love with and would do everything in her power to protect.

Not long after, the door swung open and Ivar came into their room, dragging himself until he was inside and on his usual spot like that was his second home, which has been since the day his mother brought him there.

"Hello, Floki. Hello Helga." Ivar greeted them.

"Ivar." Floki greeted him back, spotting right away the faux innocent smile the young prince had whenever he was up to be a pain in someone’s ass.

Ivar turned his attention to the girl, who was eating and either uncaring or ignoring his presence.

"Revna." He said her name with a slight pitch to his voice and squinting at her. He had her name memorized from the odd fit it made for her, but mainly it was for the fact she slapped his hand. No one in their right mind would dare to do it, and no one that ever as much as said something wrong to Ivar got to live much longer, let alone someone stupid enough to try their luck against him, those he took delight in dealing with. Though to Revna, he probably was just a harmless cripple. Ignorance is bliss, he thought.

Revna, apparently taken back from her thoughts, looked at him. Her dark eyes gazing upon him with a spark of curiosity and interest. She had memorized his face after his first visit, how could she not? The complete stranger with very blue eyes, pale skin and a fingertips rough and calloused like the ones found on peasants, slaves or warriors. This complete stranger that touched her like it was normal or acceptable, the nerve!

The voice in her mind screamed: ‘Was it normal to him?’, “Is this normal these strange people I’m living with?’, ‘Was that how he acted around outsiders?’, ‘What am I even doing here?’, ‘What will they do to me?’ Questions, questions, they came and went in circles for all these days.

But she put a stop to them for now, like it or not, for good or ill, he was the only other sight she had other than the couple, she could indulge in a quick distraction from the walls of the home she was living in that were starting to feel smaller by each day.

"Ivar." She said, looking straight at him, trying to pronounce what she inferred to be his name as best as she could. Adding a pitch to her pronunciation, just like he did, just because she could.

His eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side, stare fixed on her and her every minimal movement. He was sincerely surprised that she actually spoke directly at him.

His name on her lips was carried by a foreign accent, it sounded different, almost like it belonged to someone else, but her gaze on him, with expectancy in her eyes and a hint of pride on the corners of her lips turned slightly upward left no doubt she indeed meant him.

Ivar heard her before, annoyed and agitated at his first visit, so he hoped to have the same effect, but now that she spoke camly, trying to pronounce his name correctly and seemingly proud of herself for it, she threw him off balance. He had expected the annoyance she had from before, he expected her disgust at him as she wasn't pleased with his touch, why would she want the hands of a cripple on her? He even expected fear from her, but he didn't expect to hear his name slow and soft on her lips, he didn’t expect to hear her trying to reach out for him and how his own name would sound so foreign coming from her lips.

He wanted her to say it again, wanted to hear the strange way his name sounded from her, but he didn’t know how to demand it, so he nodded at her, not really knowing what to say, not that it would matter. She probably wouldn’t understand him anyway.

Revna smiled proudly to herself, a beautiful smile, if he had to say anything, he mimicked her smile shyly, though he quickly felt self conscious under her gaze and looked away, trying to find somewhere other than her eyes to look at, but nothing seemed to quite hold his attention.

Ivar felt as Revna looked away from him and continued to eat, he glanced a few times at her, the shy smile he held gone as she paid him no further attention. He noticed, however, how her legs began shaking in a slow, lazy rhythm. A stream of thoughts began in his mind: ‘Is she playing with me?’, ‘Is she bothered by my presence?’, ‘Does she pity me?’, a frown forming on his face with each thought.

He turned his attention to Helga, who was distracted with the girl's hair:

"I haven't seen her around yet. Why? When are you going to show her off?” he made a pause before adding the last part venomously “Unless she is to be a house slave."

"She's no slave, Ivar. We're adopting her." Helga corrected him, a tad annoyed at the slave mention.

"Then why haven't I seen her outside, hm? If she's to live here as a free woman, then she needs to know her way around."

"It's too soon yet. She doesn't speak our language."

"It’s not too soon, it’s been weeks! And if all the problem is that she doesn’t speak our language, then it’s another reason to do it. She'll learn much faster by experience."

"I'll take her out when she's ready." Helga answered a bit tense. She didn't want to go into detail of why she was so careful but she also didn’t want to lie to Ivar, who by the frown seemed to be growing angry.

"She seems ready enough." He said pointing to her legs.

Revna stopped shaking her legs, staring at Ivar wide eyed and lips slightly parted as she just took the spoon from her mouth. She arched an eyebrow looking lost as a puppy in the forest. Good, Ivar thought. Revna then looked confused from him to Helga, who caressed her face reassuringly.

"So, why don't you take her outside?" Ivar insisted.

Helga couldn't find an answer to stop Ivar's questioning and looked to her husband for help. Floki seemed entertained, holding a smile of his own, but as soon as he felt his wife’s eyes on him and her silent plea he intervened.

"Since when do you care about things that don't involve you?" Asked Floki.

"What?" Ivar countered astonished, "What do you mean by it? Of course it involves me. I was in this home before her, I have a say in whether she can stay or not."

"Is that so?” Floki said amused, “In this case what your mighty self has to say?"

Without missing a beat and with a self assured tone that didn’t transpired his shyness just a moment ago, he answered:

"I say this girl better adapt to our ways else she brings the wrath of the gods down on us..."

"The gods love her, Ivar. They gave her to me." Helga interrupted him. She realized the mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

"How can you be so sure?" He inquired, renewed curiosity in his eyes.

"I just know it."

"If you say..." he eyed her suspiciously, before continuing to Floki, "...I say she better learn manners. No one should dare to hit a prince and go off unscathed."

Floki chuckled from his spot then said:

"You deserved that one. You could have used some other way of introducing yourself rather than touching someone you’ve never seen before and is not here as a slave. However, I thank the gods for letting me witness your face that day."

"You old fool..."

"Ivar. Be patient with her." Helga said to Ivar softly. She was very aware of how badly he took insults, even when none existed.

"I am patient,” he countered, “but the girl needs manners."

"Ivar..." Called Floki.

Ivar sighed before continuing:

"However, I am willing to forgive her for you,” he said looking at Helga “and an apology from the girl, once she learns how to speak our language, of course."

"Ivar, she's just a child, give her some time, I'm sure she'll adapt." Said Helga, looking at Ivar while she tied the end of one of the braids on Revna's hair.

Ivar lived with them long enough to see she truly wanted that girl to be part of their lives. He had seen the glimpses of sadness throughout his upbringing, the lost gaze Helga had when she thought no one was looking, the unsettling feeling that lurked under the surface when she saw mothers with their newborn babies. Perhaps the surprise wasn't that she took a girl to raise, but that she took that long to do it.

But he loathed the idea that in Floki’s home would live someone that would regard him in the same way the rest of Kattegat did, an outsider to add insult to injury.

"If you say, I'll try to tolerate her. If at least she can pretend to not be annoyed whenever I’m here.” Ivar said as he pointed to Revna.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about her shaking her legs was irritating him. If it was the repetitive pattern, the slow rhythm, the proximity of her feet to him, or what was to him, a clear display of her displeasure with his presence. Though why would she have smiled at him with that beautiful smile if she was annoyed by him?

‘She’s playing you’, His own mind answered the question.

Both Helga and Floki looked to each other confused as to what he meant, Floki being the one that asked:

"What do you mean by that? She doesn’t even know who you are to be annoyed at you."

He pointed to Revna’s legs, this time the girl didn’t even bother to look at him and continued eating as if there wasn’t an annoyed young man pointing at her for no reason at all. Which bothered Ivar even more.

Floki couldn’t help but laugh. It was like he was a naughty child again that got all pouty and angry until he got things his way. At least he didn’t scream anymore. Not as frequently at least. His boy was maturing.

"She's bored, Ivar. Been like that for a few days, it has nothing to do with you." Floki made a point to emphasize the last part.

Ivar stared at Floki speechless. His eyes open wide, darting from Floki to the surroundings as his lips parted, which pretty much told the boatbuilder that the young prince hadn’t considered a possibility that didn’t involve him. He then rolled his head before asking:

"Then what have you been doing with her all this time?"

"We’ve been taking care of her, Ivar. Teaching and getting her used to us before she faces the others." Answered Helga.

Ivar pondered her words for a while, then agreed with her.

"What does she do in her spare time?"

Floki was quick to answer that one:

"Snoops around the house, messes up my tools… Oh, she also has a fondness for magic tricks, they make her happy like a child."

"Really?”

“Yes. I’ve done a few for her and it never fails to get her attention.”

“That’s childish.”

“She is a child, Ivar. It’s no surprise at all.”

Ivar looked like he just realized what Floki said to him. Turning his attention back to Revna as she looked around the house with that same little pout on her lips. He had of course noticed she was young when he first saw her and when he touched her face. Younger than him, in fact. Skin too soft and face still with some roundess to it, but he didn’t stop to consider what that would mean. Of course she would be like that being so young and housebound, he knew the feeling all too well from the days and days and more days he had to be inside his home because he was too sick to go out without serious risk of breaking his bones.

Looking to Helga, who hadn’t got her hands away from Revna, he knew that was her doing. ‘Why won’t she let the girl out? She’s not crippled.’ was what he thought. He knew it was her because she had the same look his mother had when she would smother him with her love as if he was still a baby and not let him do anything food himself, which only got worse when his eyes would turn blue. He loved his mother more than anyone and anything else, but he hated feeling useless.

Maybe that was what Revna felt. He was strangely relieved to not be the reason for her annoyance. At least not this time.

Then a silly idea crossed his mind. He reached for a pouch of leather he carried and took a coin from it, he then got a bit closer to Revna and touched her foot. The girl gasped startled but relaxed when she looked down at Ivar, who expectantly tried to measure her reactions to him. She tilted her head and arched her eyebrow inquisitively at him, which coupled with the cute pout on her lips made for an adorable sight. He beckoned her to come closer to him.

“Go on, my dear.” Said Helga to Revna as she looked to Helga for permission.

Revna got off of the chair and sat on the floor close to Ivar, close enough to be within arm’s reach, but not close enough to accidentally brush her legs against his, she then rested her hands on her lap and looked at him with curiosity. He studied her expression carefully, searching for the all too familiar signs of pity and disgust but found none of those. Even though he noticed she kept a distance, he was pleased she sat near him.

He then showed her the coin, playing with it between his fingers deftly, she giggled, trying to follow the coin with her eyes and relaxing a bit from her position. He then halted his movements, holding the coin between his index and middle finger, Revna froze in her position as soon as he stopped and looked from the coin to his very blue eyes. There it was, that beautiful smile together with an innocent shine in her eyes.

He then put the coin flat against the palm of his hand, closing both of them into fists and bringing them close to his lips, he didn’t take his eyes off her, enjoying her full attention as she looked from his fists to his eyes. He blew air against his fists and slowly opened them, showing her the palms of his hands, the coin nowhere she could see.

Revna looked at him, giggling happily with a wide smile, a smile Ivar found to be quite beautiful and contagious, making him smile himself, although more reservedly. When she calmed down and silence fell between them, they were looking at each other’s eyes, hers filled with joy and his with pride for being the reason for it.

He soon felt self conscious again and looked away.

#ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #vikings fanfiction #ivar x oc

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chaoticneutralwriter · 4 years

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The Storm

And it all comes crashing down.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, angst, romance, fluff, slow-burn

word count: 4.2k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of The Calm

Warning: uhh...very mild violence and blood?? LOL

A/N: okay woww....it’s uhhh IT’S BEEN A WHILE. And honestly, it has been a mixture of....quarantine burnout (is that a thing?? idk this quarantine kinda hit different), wrestling with scene placement, writer’s block, re-writing chunks of stuff, being indecisive about where to end the chapter (ngl i had some pretty killer cliffys LOLL) i am SO sorry it took so long!! 😫 (the value in having an ✨outline✨) i know i might sound like a broken record, but i cannot stress enough of how thankful i am to your patience and love for this story!! 💜💜💜💜 i hope you enjoy this chapter in spite of how short it is 😭😭😭😭

(Also yes, that scene is 100% inspired by that gif even though i had already planned for it to happen; the gif helped me paint a better picture 🥰)

Tags: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway @indiesy @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi @definitelynotshady @youmaiiwasherebeforeu

The chase more or less ends with Jimin hauling you up over his shoulder, only to dump you into the shower shortly after. You get him back for man handling you when, as soon as he flicks the shower on, you drag him in with you, clothes and all.

He had sighed, defeated, muttering how much of handful you are but as much as he gripes, he still helped you wash your hair with the barest hints of a smile on his lips. You were more than happy to return the favour, though you don't think your scalp massage was as good as his. Eventually, he drags the both of you out before your fingers turn pruney.

“You sure you don't want me to walk you back to your place?”

You nod your head as you're slipping on your shoes by the front entrance.

“I'll be fine Jimin. It's still day time so nothing will happen.” You assure, finally glancing up to his figure leaning against the wall, arms crossed and dressed in a new pair of black slacks and a silk loose blouse, its sheen like the colour of the ocean under a blue moon. You straighten, walking the few steps to stand closer to him until you pick up the faint smell of his body wash – warm cinnamon spice, the one that lingers on your skin as well. “Besides, I have your...emergency contact so there's nothing for you to worry about.”

“You say that, but you promise you'll actually use it right?”

The question makes you inadvertently inhale, the reluctance barely concealable in that breath of air but you give in, meeting his eyes as you say, “I will. I promise.”

Jimin doesn't say anything for a moment, watching you with those dark irises until you see the little tension on his face relax with the slight sagging of his shoulders. He smiles, “Good.”

Your mouth twitches at a corner and you can't help yourself. You reach up on the tips of your toes, taking his face into your hands to land a quick peck on the centre of those pillowy pink lips.

“Then you have to promise me you'll focus on getting better – don't strain yourself over small things like this.”

He blinks, eyes large at your burst of forwardness, hands that had moved instinctively to hover finally nestle themselves on your waist. You hear him huff through his nose after a while, expression smoothing over before your vision is blurred by his figure leaning down to press a proper kiss to you in return as he sneakily asks, “What if I asked simply because I wanted to spend more time with you?”

Now it's your turn to gape, breath caught in your throat and eyes wide while blinking dumbly. The more you blinked, the more amused Jimin became and the higher the blush creeps up your cheeks until the heat became unbearable. You sputter, stubbornly trying to ignore it.

“T-That's – ! You – ! No, I will not let you coerce me like this.”

He bursts out laughing heartily at the way you pout, head thrown back and all you could do is narrow your eyes up at him indignantly. When he's finally calmed but still sees you all puffed up like an angry hamster, he wraps his arms around to squeeze you to him, an easy-going smile lingering on his face.

“Ah, I least I tried.”

You sigh, “I'm serious Jimin. No horsing around if you can help it okay?”

Jimin thinks the look you're giving him is equivalent to that of a puppy's; all big and glossy and paired with the barest crinkle of worry in your brow, it leaves him no choice but to agree.

“Okay cherub. I promise I won't.” He says gently and only then do you seem satisfied.

“Good.”

Now that that's settled, you find yourself just standing in each other's arms, nothing more to say yet perfectly comfortable where you are. You find yourself fiddling with the small, dainty buttons on his shirt, a distraction to how shy you've slowly become under his attentive gaze.

“I should probably go now...” You mumble though you make little to no effort in actually doing so.

You hear Jimin hum, seemingly agreeing but he also doesn't make to show any signs of letting you go, even comfortably adjusts his hold on you. He also takes the time to place a kiss on your forehead. “Text me when you get home?”

“Mm.” You nod.

You remain like that for another good minute before it takes everything in you to drag yourself away from his arms, picking up your bag to sling onto your shoulder. You already feel the chill of the AC creeping into your arms as Jimin holds the door open for you.

“I'll see you then?” You ask, then chastise yourself for letting slip the little bit of disappointment you feel at having to leave so soon, however there's no taking back your text to Jaehee saying that you'll be on your way (she's definitely not someone you want to delay meeting).

Jimin eyes gleam with a knowing look though, like he's tossing around the idea of teasing you but instead, says playfully, “Of course, can't get rid of me that easily.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head which only seems to satisfy him.

The trip home gave you the time to reflect on yourself and on the events that had happened. There's a lightness to your steps – no doubt finally meeting Jimin after a period of confusion and hurt and letting the floodgates to the emotions you've kept buried free has cleared the clog in your heart. On top of that, to have your guardian demon return the feelings you've long convinced yourself were futile; thought nothing more than a self-sabotaging trap designed by no one but you and your only escape from it was to take the plunge.

Yet here you are, relatively unscathed. To be honest, even now you're still in disbelief.

But you won't dismiss this warm giddiness that's taken over easily, just as how you're leisurely soaking in the rays of the late afternoon sun now. It bathes everything in a glow that has every colour in your eyes appear much more crisp and vibrant, making the city lively. It further brightens your mood.

Once you've crossed the threshold of your home, you immediately hear Jaehee's call of greeting from the kitchen.

“Did you eat yet?” She asked right off the bat as you enter after toeing off your shoes.

“Yeah, I ate before I left.”

She nods, continuing her chopping for what you can only assume is dinner for tonight.

“So...everything worked out okay?”

It's asked tentatively but the question doesn't surprise you as much as it should; whether it's because of Jaehee's prior awareness to your troubles, your deep-rooted friendship, or simply sensing the obvious complete shift in your mood, she very well knows where you've been without having to probe much.

Still, you can't help smiling.

The forecast calls for mild, clear weather like today for the days to follow. It's no doubt something a lot of people will be capitalizing on, a relief from the unpredictable temperatures between the changing of seasons. Perhaps it's with that same mindset, you find yourself being able to swallow back the niggling uncertainty that seems to always follow you.

You'll save your worrying for another day, but for now, you want to hold onto these promised sunny days for as long as you can.

“Yeah,” You breathe, “Everything's good.”

You see Jaehee's lips quirk up, a light smile that lets you know she's just as happy as you are to hear that. But then as she turns towards you, it morphs into a sly Cheshire grin.

“Spill it, girl. I need those details.”

The startled gasp that rings out in the dead of night seemed unnaturally loud in the dark spacious room that for a moment, Jimin thought it had belonged to a tormented ghost that had wandered its way in. After a few shuddering breaths did it occur to him that the sound had actually came from him.

His eyes slip shut once again, rubbing them tiredly as he inhales a deep breath before letting it out. Dragging his hand down his face, Jimin sits up, body feeling as if it's made of lead and rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to relieve the joints that are aching dully before reluctantly hauling himself out of bed, the dryness in his throat uncomfortable as is the clamminess of his skin after being drenched by cold sweat – it doesn't take much to know that he won't be able to slip into a blissfully empty state of slumber for the rest of the night.

His feet takes him into the kitchen and his hand grabs for a glass of water which he downs absentmindedly. The drink soothes the burning in his throat but the same cannot be said for the storm slowly brewing inside of him. Eyes as dark as the sky outside the large windows stare out listlessly, his mind slipping into deep thought.

How many times is that now? Four? Five?

For a number of nights, he's been plagued by these dreams – nightmares.

At first they were vague, mostly indiscernible as if shrouded by thick black smoke that whenever Jimin woke from them, the most he would feel is a sense of unease but soon afterwards, the feeling and the memory of it would fade as quick as it came.

But as the days passed, these dreams slowly mutated into something more vicious, taking a hold of his unconsciousness before he had the time to react.

And it was always the same dream.

Not knowing when or how he got there, Jimin would find himself in a formless space, surrounded from all sides by an endless ocean of white veils. They rolled and danced ceaselessly, much like turbulent waves out at open sea and he was the small boat being battered against the powerful force, threatening to capsize. The shifting and turning disoriented him, made his stomach churn and head spin but no matter how stubbornly he tried to run, he could never escape.

So all he could do was stand in place, and as the dancing veils begin to close in on him, the air around would become thinner and thinner until he was gasping for breath, lungs burning with no hope of holding in an ounce of air. Soon after his knees would collapse under him. As he's reduced to this weakened state, it's only then that he'll see it.

Amidst this deceivingly tranquil prison, a figure emerged in the distance, its shape distinctly outlined by the large pale fabric that continue to billow around by an invisible breeze, appearing very much like a ghostly apparition. At the sight, a chill would instantly run down Jimin's spine as if his blood had turned into ice and in the vast silence, only the deafening beating of his heart would fill his ears. For an unknown amount of time, this figure would simply stand ominously without moving. Then suddenly, it would advance, moving at a startling speed and so soundlessly with each blink of his eyes that before he could think, it was already towering over him like a great marble statue.

Like death encroaching.

Jimin could only wait frozen in place by the oppressive force bearing down on him, staring up with shaking pupils and it's then that he knew what it is that looks down upon him.

Divine judgment.

There's a stale and tar-like taste that blooms in his mouth first, then slowly, as the last remains of his strength leaves his body, he finally notices the cold dampness spreading outwards from his chest.

The blade that pierces through him was as dark as the blood it's coated in.

It's here that he wakes from the shock of the phantom pain so intense they momentarily blur the line between reality.

He's not one for superstitions or 'prophetic dreams', being a demon and all but he's by no means unfamiliar with them, especially now when they hit him in the face like this – so viciously and frequently too. A heavy sigh leaves his lips.

The last few days had been quiet; the first in... he's not sure how long. Perhaps that's why he slipped up like this, got caught up in believing that this sweet lie could be true. That maybe, by some miracle, there was a chance for the both of you.

Jimin scoffs a quiet laugh and his mouth twists into a cold smile.

How foolish; to think that they can be more than just wishful thinking.

Heaven is righteous, boasting to have eyes and ears in places without one knowing and yet so frivolous in what they choose to acknowledge.

And it's just his luck that the one time he was counting on that fact, it completely backfired on him.

There's no avoiding this; it's clear that any day now some divine being is going to descend upon him in the name of carrying out justice for the crimes he's committed. If not for the breached guardian contract, then for failing to complete the trials to prove his piety.

Jimin's eyes slips shut, tipping his head down, the ache along his neck and shoulders creeping over him once again – ever lingering, never fading – and all he could do is accept.

Alone in this large and empty penthouse, Jimin felt no anger, no remorse or fear, only a quiet sense of mourning he allowed for himself. However fleeting it may have been, those few days spent with you will be something he'll remember fondly. He thought, if this had been where his luck had went, then he at least can be reassured that it wasn't a complete waste.

Just as his eyes peer back open, the first rays of dawn had begun to bleed through the horizon, dispersing the darkened sky with the coming of a new day. As he watches the sun begin to rise, Jimin's expression hardened along with his resolve.

One thing’s for certain; no matter what happens, he'll keep you safe.

Until the very bitter end.

There's something amiss.

He can't quite place his finger on it, but Jungkook didn't go about his day without feeling an inexplainable sense of dread hanging over him like a heavy cloak that won't leave him. It felt as if every nerve in his body is coiled, restless and bracing for something to happen. As such, he's developed an annoying ache across the back of his neck and shoulder which he had to constantly roll in order to dispel some of the built up tension.

It didn't help, so it only made Jungkook endlessly irritated.

Wanting to blow off some of this steam, he had taken to wandering the streets in search of an outlet. Unfortunately, there's only so much he could do given his status in the mortal world. Playing the shoulder devil whispering temptations, tipping the scale between life or death, fortune or misfortune on a person was only fun while it lasted, and Jungkook was a demon who grew bored very easily of those same old basic tricks. Although there's the option of materializing briefly to cause more mischief, it took way too much power to maintain a physical form so at most, he would only be able to have fun messing with one or two souls but not nearly having enough time to really string them along to his heart's content. After all, the thrill of being a demon comes from withering down their prey, dragging them so deep into depravity before they realize it's too late and there's no saving them.

He sighs inwardly, thinking about all the lost potential, especially now that he's in possession of such a fine specimen. How delightful it would be to see the lengths men and women would go to hold onto even a sliver of his attention, to have them so tightly wound around his fingers just to leave them high and dry. Truly, this was the pain of having a great weapon but being unable to use it.

It makes Jungkook consider how more convenient it would be if he had formed contract with someone, similar to what Jimin had done.

Speaking of, he wonders what had become of you and his fellow demon brother, as the last he's heard of either one of you, one was on a war path while the other's aura signature was reduced so greatly that he didn't need to make much of an effort to be scarce. As much as he's tempted to go find out what's become of you both, Jungkook had to hold himself back. He's told himself that after directing you to your lost guardian demon (as you had practically begged him to do), he's vowed to severe his involvement if he knew what was good for him.

Things were obviously only going to get messier, and no doubt he would be catching any of the fallout if he decides to stick around, even if it's just to satisfy his own burning curiousities.

Jungkook continues to wander aimlessly like this, thoughts bouncing from the matters surrounding you pair to toying with the idea of actually finding some hidden cult who's ballsy enough to try a demon summoning (nine times out of ten it's a shoddy job but fuck is it funny to see their faces thinking it had worked, plus he's guaranteed a couple of souls to his count too).

Above, the sun dips in and out continuously, the constant shift in light distracting Jungkook. He watches and notes idly the fast pace in which the clouds travel, how the white wisps grow and the sky begins to look tumultuous until gradually, they become so dense they completely block the sun out altogether. With the warm rays no longer casting down, the world plunges into a gloomy grey overcast.

A frown tugs onto his lips unconsciously, but the premonition of rain was not what troubled him.

He had the mind to quicken his steps when suddenly they falter. It felt like something had told him to stop, so for a moment he stood confused, turning his head in search for a source until Jungkook's gaze stray over to a small, narrow side street. The street looked like a much older part of the city in the style of the buildings; he can't honestly say he's ever noticed this part before so for it to catch his attention....

Jungkook is already taking tentative steps down the rough cobble stone path without realizing, slowly making his way past the few small family owned shops. He's going off solely on this gut-feeling, almost as if in a trance which after blinking, does he notice he's staring at a particular store front of a shop. His brows furrow even more from confusion, not understanding why he was drawn here.

The shop looked like it hadn't been rented out for many years, the paint so worn down and faded that it didn't resemble the rich forest green colour it once was, even peeling in some places to show the wood underneath. The lacquered sign above has also lost its shine, and whatever script that has been written on it has long become indecipherable. Jungkook had to squint just to make out the faint imprint of the letters 'S' and what he thinks might be 'P' and a 'TH'.

Despite the windows being dirtied, he could still tell that inside the shop was nothing but barren space, the wall shelves filled with dust and cobwebs, the tables empty with only traces of the trinkets it once held. Time had let this place be forgotten, erased its name from existing in any memory, yet it's here Jungkook finds himself lingering, wondering why?

What secrets does this place hold?

Naturally, he can't let this anomaly go lest he drives himself mad. Jungkook takes a step towards the shop, a hand outstretched with the intentions of investigating further when from out of his peripheral he sees something. Whipping his head to it, his eyes lock onto a figure standing at the head of the street from where he had came.

The inexplainable driving force he had immediately vanishes, replaced with the sensation of his body going numb all over, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on ends. Not like the presence of this ominous figure on its own incited such a reaction, but it's also in the way it looked.

Tall in such a way that it's imposing, and draped in a pure white cloak, giving away nothing of what lies beneath. The only feature he's able to make out was the golden halo crown encircling it from behind; a stark contrast. There's no questioning whether or not it can be seen by anyone other than himself – this appearance alone clearly did not belong in this world.

It is not of this world.

Jungkook needed to remain calm. He can't afford to let slip that he's unnerved – that's a sure fire way to getting killed first because fear ultimately blinds. Still, he can't stop the tenseness in his shoulders and the ache comes back with a vengeance. Swallowing, Jungkook inhales and jaw clenched, he turns to leave as if having never seen this phantom at all.

His strides are long, determined to put distance between it and himself, all the while his senses are going into overdrive. He's hyper-aware as he swiftly makes his way through narrow streets and alleys, twisting and turning with no rhyme or reason but he already knows he won't be losing this unwanted tail any time soon. So he changes tactics, figuring that he might as well get the jump on it first before giving it the opportunity.

Jungkook apparates out of the alley, appearing in a busy crowded street and just as fast, he changes to a rooftop. Within these few short seconds, he spins on his heels, gathering a fistful of demonic energy in his hand ready to hurl it the moment he sees any hint of white cloth, body instinctively adapting a fighting stance. However, as his piercing topaz eyes dart around, he finds nothing.

The air around him is still, like the overpowering presence had all but disappeared. Down below, he faintly hears the bustling of people, the sound of cars driving by, even now he becomes aware of how hard he's breathing, the adrenaline pumping through his veins has his heart racing.

Still, Jungkook doesn't dare drop his guard, backing away cautiously as if he's on pins and needles. He's focusing all of his senses, trying to pick up anything that might seem strange over the white noise of the city. He listens, until it all goes eerily quiet.

Jungkook sees before he can react, its speed far more faster than he could have ever anticipated, and all he manages is a sharp, startled gasp. The rest of the air gets blocked by an iron grip around his throat but even then, he's given no time to fully register this as he feels his back crashing into a hard surface with impeccable force and an explosive pain erupts. He chokes on a mouthful of blood.

��Filthy vermin should not waste time struggling so uselessly.”

Jungkook winces, nauseated by the throbbing of his head alone – now he has this voice that seems to be ringing from inside his head.

“The fate of thy life depends on the answer thee giveth me.” The hold tightens and Jungkook swears his neck would give out before he's able to make a sound (how very counter-productive, he thinks in spite of himself).

“Where is he?”

Struggling through the black dots in his vision, Jungkook finally pinpoints the identity of his aggressor. The dry laugh he wanted to let out comes out as a cough but it carries the disbelief and scorn all the same.

White cloak, oppressing aura, immense strength and speed, and a voice that sounded neither man nor woman. There's no mistaken it now.

Fuck, since when was his luck so shit that an archangel finds him first?

The clouds had rolled in much faster than Jimin had thought, the sight reminiscent to being under murky waters. He wonders if at this rate, it would darken even further though he supposes he shouldn't bother. After all, this was no mere storm out of the blue.

He raises the cup and takes a sip of his black coffee, closing his eyes as if to savour the bitterness. Jimin doesn't bother to finish the rest of it, even if it's a waste not to. But there's no helping it, not when he was expecting a visitor. He gingerly places the drink aside on the counter first, then redirects his gaze to the large expanse of his windows at a leisurely pace.

There's not a hint of shock as his eyes meet the figure cloaked in white, hovering on the other side of the glass panels. The layers of chiffon flutter softly against the rising winds, the golden glint of each spike on the crown adorning its head menacing, as if it's a weapon in and of itself.

Behind, the sky darkens forbiddingly, and soon after comes the distant rumbling of thunder.

#jimin x you #jimin x reader insert #demon!jimin au #bts supernatural au #jimin scenario #jimin fic #jimin fics #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfics #jimin fluff #jimin scenarios #park jimin imagines #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fics #park jimin fanfics #park jimin fic #jimin angst #guardian demon!jimin

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ao3bronte · 4 years

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when chaos reigns [the sirens come to play]

A Merman AU. (Rated T with some suggestive language.) Now on AO3! READ PROLOGUE - PART 2 HERE!

[Part 3]

Covid-19 forced a lot of people to stay stuck in their homes until they inevitably went mad and uploaded cringe videos of themselves dancing to Blinding Lights on TikTok. But Adrien Agreste, having been unable to leave his underwater ivory tower since the mysterious disappearance of his mother, really doesn’t know any different.

“Final question. Who was the fifth king of the Sea of Okhotsk?”

Slumped against his seagrass cushion, Adrien sighs into his palm. “The Sea of Okhotsk doesn’t have a king. They have clans and elders.”

“Excellent,” Nathalie Sancoeur responds, wordlessly motioning for him to stop slouching. “I think that concludes political history for this evening. Onto diplomacy—”

“Can you give me a minute?” Adrien tries not to give away his intentions as he glances through a porthole. “I think Father is home and I’d like to greet him.”

Nathalie raises a brow. “He won’t change his mind, you know.”

“Didn't we just talk about erosion?” With a firm flick of his tail, Adrien makes his way towards his usually barred bedroom door. “It works on rocks, so why can’t it work on him?”

“Your father is not a rock, Adrien.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Adrien murmurs under his breath, leaving anyway. He snakes his way through the narrow halls of his palatial home towards Father’s atelier and hopes he doesn’t miss him; he rarely sees Father at all these days...sometimes it feels like Adrien hardly knows him at all.

Especially when he’d announced that Adrien was going to mate with his betrothed, whether he liked it or not!

“Good afternoon, Father.” Adrien straightens and bows his head in greeting, swallowing painfully as his father peers down at him from his pedestal. “I’m thankful that you made it back home safely.”

His father sighs. “If you’re here to argue with me once again—”

“But Father!”

“You are NOT getting out of this arrangement! I already told you!”

“Please, Father. Hear me out—”

“I have no intention of letting you leave this kingdom,” his father rages, slashing his hand through the water with enough force to shake the entire structure around them. “Everything you need is right here where I can keep an eye on you. I will not have you outside in this dangerous world.”

“It's not dangerous, Father. I'm always stuck in here by myself. Why can't I leave our home? Why can’t I explore the Ligurian Kingdom and make friends just like everyone else?”

“Because you’re not like everyone else! You are my son! You are the heir to my—” his father stops himself and pauses to gather his composure, his eyes ablaze with discontent. “Adrien, the kingdom of the Tyrrhenian Sea is relying on me to unite our families. You don’t want to disappoint an entire kingdom, do you?”

Adrien’s shoulders cave. “No.”

“Then don’t continue to disappoint me. Return to your studies immediately and do not trouble me with this matter again.” His father turns and ushers him away with a shoo of his webbed fingers. “Nathalie, where is the sentimonster you promised for the administrator? M. Damoclès has wronged me for the last time.”

“It will be finished this evening,” Nathalie responds, her fingers gently toying with the enamel brooch hanging from her neck.

“When I hired you as my assistant, you assured me that you could complete tasks on time.”

“I did.” Nathalie flicks her crimson tail in irritation. “And I will continue to serve your interests in a timely fashion. Is there anything else I can do for you at this time, sir?”

The imposing interim leader of the Ligurian Kingdom simply pinches the bridge of his nose. “That is all. Ensure Adrien’s bedroom is secured immediately. And get on land as soon as possible to finish your spellcasting; I didn’t hire a sea witch for her to rest on her laurels.”

“Of course, your Regency.”

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

Nathalie tries not to smirk as her sheepish charge continues to wriggle his way through the barred porthole in his bedroom. “That depends entirely on what you plan on doing with your freedom, providing you can get your dorsal fin uncaught.”

“I’m—” Adrien grunts, desperately trying to shimmy his backside through the stone barricade. “—I want to go back to where you took me before!”

Nathalie quirks an eyebrow as he finally manages to free his dorsal fins and slither outside his bedroom relatively unscathed. “Humans are not to be trifled with.”

“Says the sea witch who can transform into one!”

“My Miraculous doesn’t exactly work underwater.” Nathalie explains, raising a sculpted brow. “I don’t suppose you plan on visiting the grotto?”

Adrien nods in earnest. “The flowers are out and I wanted to see them again! And there aren’t any humans there, so I’ll be fine!”

Flower pollen, of course, is like catnip to merpeople. One whiff of the stuff and it’s Boogie Nights for anyone with a tail and a propensity for caterwauling sea shanties.

“Be back by nightfall.” Nathalie tells him, having orchestrated this escape since the very beginning. She watches him swim away as fast as his tail will take him none the wiser, and grazes her nails down the curved edges of her Peacock Miraculous, the likes of which holds the immeasurable magic of a mermaid on a mission that will surely bring the Mediterranean to its knees.

[Part 4]

For all of Marinette’s near compulsive need to prepare for things ahead of time, it can be assumed that she is most definitely not prepared to find a merman scooching his body up on shore like a sea lion and shoving his face into an oleander bush.

And her screams of shock and horror most certainly confirm it.

“Aaaaaauuugh!!!!!” Marinette, having just crawled through a small cavern to a grotto to investigate the golden gleam, falls flat on her face yet again. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

The merman, equally as frightened, shrieks and rolls backwards as ungainly as one can when you’ve just been caught shoving your face into an oleander bush. She catches a brief glimpse of his face — speckled and smeared with golden pollen — before he promptly flings himself back into the sea.

Marinette is horrified. Astounded. Dumbfounded! Merpeople are impossible to find and even more impossible to survive! And she just—it was right in front of her! Green and gold and—she saw it! With her very own eyeballs! It was there! Huffing flowers!

For the second time in almost as many minutes, Marinette sits down and stares dumbly at the waves.

Merpeople kill humans for fun...and she just survived! Holy crap!

Marinette keeps one eye on the watery mouth of the grotto and the other on her surroundings. She never would have spotted the grotto had she not performed the act of becoming a human pancake back out on the main beach; the entrance to this cave is so small and so hidden that Marinette wonders if anyone has ever discovered it before. It’s about the size of a lorry and covered in moss and spindly vines that meander up towards the small window of sunlight at the top. The limestone walls are strangely warm here, radiating heat and spurring the growth of the plants that are blooming as if it were summertime. Even the sand is different here; startlingly white with speckles of black and grey, the tiny shoreline creeps down into a cerulean underground cavern alight with bioluminescence.

It’s magnificent, but she’s not safe here. “Are you still there?”

Marinette nearly enters cardiac arrest when a mop of golden hair suddenly pops up from the vibrant depths. He heard her? Can he understand her?

The merman blinks. “Uhhh… I…”

“Are you waiting for me to leave? Because I can leave,” Marinette says, pointing towards the tiny crevice she’d just crawled through, “But then I’d have to take my eyes off of you and then you could drag me into the ocean and drown me and then my grandmother would be looking all over for me and then the police would have to come here and try to find my dead body and my parents, they’re stuck in Paris because of the coronavirus and—”

“—No, no! I was just trying to—” The merman disappears under the water for a moment, only to emerge at the edge of the beach. “—I didn’t mean to scare you! You scared me!”

Marinette screeches and scurries backwards to create some more distance between them. “How do you know how to speak French?!”

“How do you know how to speak Nereid?”

“I asked you first!”

“Well, I don’t speak French. I speak Nereid!”

“What’s that, merman language?”

“Yeah.” The merman cocks his head. “What’s French? Human language?”

“Well, for some humans, yes.” Marinette crosses her arms across her chest and narrows her eyes. “Wait a minute...are you making fun of me?”

The merman flashes his gleaming set of triangular teeth just long enough for Marinette to notice that he has not just one row of razor-sharp teeth in his mouth, but two. “I wouldn’t dream of causing a commocean.”

Marinette’s nose wrinkles at the pun. “Now you really are making fun of me.”

“I mean, maybe.” The merman winks. “It’s kind of fun seeing you turn pink. Is that a human thing too?”

“I’m not turning pink.” Marinette harrumphs, turning her shoulder away from him. “And humans turn pink because...because they’re warm. I’m just warm, that’s all.”

“It’s probably because of your...” The merman gestures to her raincoat and jeans. “Do you need help getting out of them?”

With all of the poise of a particularly erratic squirrel, Marinette simply splutters. “What?!”

“Well, you must be trapped in them or you would have taken them off already. We get stuck in your human garbage all the time, it’s awful.” The merman opens his mouth and taps against one of his larger teeth with his fingernail. “Here, I can cut them off for you if you want—”

“You’re not coming anywhere near me with those things!” Marinette recoils, scooching towards the oleander bushes on her bottom. “You could rip me apart!”

“I’m not going to kill you!” The merman exclaims with a huff. “Besides, if I was hungry, I’d have eaten you already!”

Marinette’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. “You eat people?!”

“Sometimes.” The merman shrugs as if it’s no big deal, “Haven’t you ever had human fingers before? Crunchy, yet satisfying.”

“No! That’s disgusting!”

The merman’s straight face dissolves into laughter at Marinette’s expression of utter horror. “Now, I’m actually making fun of you!”

“Well, it’s not funny!” Marinette grabs a handful of sand and hurls it at him, dusting his face and hair. He continues to giggle at her expense and Marinette has had just about enough of him. “Stop it!”

“Sorry!” The merman grapples to get himself together. “I just wanted to show you that I’m funny, I swear! I've never really been out on my own before and I've never had friends. It's all sort of new to me.”

“Joking about eating people is not how you make friends,” Marinette grumbles, still keeping a wary eye on the merman before her until the implications of his words catch up with her ears. “Wait, you don’t have any friends? How come?”

“Father doesn’t let me out of my home...ever.” The merman rubs the back of his head nervously. “I kind of escaped to come see the flowers, which is how I met you!”

“Is...is that normal for merpeople?”

“To come see the flowers? Yeah, we love flowers!”

Marinette shakes her head. “No, I meant the ‘being stuck in your house’ thing. Why don’t you...you know, swim around and, uh...talk to people?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The merman waves her off, looking a little uncomfortable before turning his attention back to her. “What does matter is that we can be friends! Would you like to be friends?” The merman shimmies forwards with excitement and thrusts his hand right under her nose. “I’m Adrien! Pleased to make your aquantance.”

Marinette looks at his outstretched hand and hesitates. “You’re not going to pull me into the water and drown me, are you?”

“I’m not a dolphin, you know, I have manners.” Adrien huffs, hoisting himself further up onto the sand bank. “See? Only my tail fins are in the water now, I couldn’t pull you in even if I tried.”

Marinette carefully reaches out and gently clasps his hand, revelling in the strange texture of his skin. He cups his other hand over hers and she mimics the gesture, smiling a little as he squeezes his fingers and then shakes once before letting go. “There. Now we’re friends!”

“I don’t know about that,” Marinette says, still keeping a wary eye on the merman in front of her. He settles back down on his elbows and Marinette’s eyes are drawn to his chest as he brushes the granules of ivory sand from his sides, his muscles clenching at the movement. “You’re a merman and I’m a human. We aren’t supposed to be friends.”

[NEXT PART]

#miraculous ladybug #mermaid au #lovesquare #adrinette #adrienette #Bronte's Mermaid AU #ml

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biletdoux · 4 years

Text

waiting: physical therapy | d.sc

Rating: G (in this part)

Genre + Tropes: non-idol!au, romance (angst, slice of life)

Warnings: mentions of a car accident

Length: 1.2k+

Summary: Sicheng is a creature of habit.

Note: it’s a little late, but i’m back!! i swear i’m working on my other works as well, i’ve just been a little caught up with school and work ;; this one is for @odentist and @adamfoolcry bc ilysm!! i know i’ve been absent, but you guys are in my thoughts always. thank you for putting up with me!!! it means a lot and i’ll work on being better at keeping in contact<3 also, i know not many people read my works, but i’m always super grateful toward the people who do <333

Masterlist // [Previous | Next]

part iv: physical therapy

Sicheng has physical therapy every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning from 09:00 to 11:00. He arrives at each session exactly 15 minutes early every time and although the receptionist who registers him varies depending on the day, Minho is always there to greet him with a bright smile. Sicheng would then set his stuff aside in a designated locker for the day and he’d start off the morning with some light stretches before the actual session started. This has been his routine for the past few months now.

Today is no different.

“Sicheng,” Minho grins with a tap of his electronic watch. “Eight forty-five on the dot as usual.”

Sicheng shoots a small smile with an acknowledging nod of the head in reply as he rolls his wrists and starts loosening his ankles. His joints ache and creak in ways that bother him more than it should and his stiff muscles hiss in protest. Sicheng understands he should be grateful that he could at least walk and stretch on his own, but he can’t help but become bitter when he remembers his old lithe self. Minho is oblivious to Sicheng’s inner machinations as he mirrors him and does his own set of stretches.

Sicheng is a dancer. Was. Is. Sicheng will be a dancer again. One day. Yes, one day. Definitely. Hopefully.

While at heart, Sicheng will always be a dancer, his body is broken and won’t move in ways that it once did. Minho helps build him back up two hours at a time, three days a week, but Sicheng knows his body will never go back to the way it used to be prior to the accident.

Sicheng remembers waking up with a hazy mind and heavy limbs. The bleak whiteness of his room and bed sheets blinded him as he struggled to register his surroundings. The plastic nasal cannula delivered heated high flow oxygen through his body and the wires attached to his body alerted the nearby nurses of his rousing. They came in and took a set of vitals before talking to him sweetly, as to not alarm him too much, but his head ached and Sicheng still can’t recall much of what happened the first few days he came to.

The doctors said a lot of things, but Sicheng extracted that he was lucky.

Among other things, the impact left him with two broken ribs and a punctured lung. They told him he was transported to a nearby hospital just in time before his left lung completely collapsed, but his spleen had ruptured, requiring emergency surgery to prevent further internal bleeding. There was moderate trauma to his head, resulting in cerebral contusions and swelling, but they determined his central nervous system came out unscathed. Sicheng’s mind and recollection was still foggy and tattered, but they assured him that it would return. Perhaps in pieces, but one by one it should come back.

Sicheng was bedridden for over a month and required an additional month of intensive in-patient hospital rehabilitation from his injuries and deconditioning before he was even cleared for discharge and out-patient rehabilitation. The doctors were surprised by his progress and had a positive outlook on his prospect, but Sicheng knows.

Things will never be the same.

Sicheng enrolled in the best out-patient rehabilitation his insurance provided for him and that was how he met Minho, a ray of sunshine and the epitome of positivity. Minho’s relentless encouragement lapped at Sicheng’s bitterness and eventually wore him down. Now Sicheng finds himself looking forward to their sessions together, despite having to face he’s no longer who he was.

“Are you ready?” Minho asks. “We’re going to work on strengthening today.”

During his first session with Minho, Sicheng still wobbled on his feet. The hospital sent him home with a walker and pair of crutches, but Sicheng found it insulting when pirouettes and grand jetés used to come as second nature. Minho introduced himself with a fervor that had Sicheng wincing. He didn’t want to be here, especially when it meant entrusting his recovery with some happy-go-lucky sap.

Sicheng gave Minho the cold shoulder the entire session and completely ignored any suggestions or advice. This went on for a few more times until Sicheng almost collapsed one day from pushing himself too hard despite Minho’s warnings. His legs were cramping and his lungs felt like they were going to burst. Sicheng nearly toppled over had it not been for Minho there ready to steady him at a moment's notice. Minho said nothing as Sicheng heaved in long and heavy breaths as his skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat.

Minho was quiet and didn’t say much. Sicheng appreciated him for not rubbing too much salt in his wounds.

During the last twenty minutes of that session where Minho was helping Sicheng with stretches, he broke their strained silence.

“Sicheng, you have to be kind to yourself and allow yourself time and patience. I know it’s tough, but things will come back. The mind may forget, but the body always remembers.”

Sicheng didn’t say anything back, but he couldn’t find it in himself to scoff back like he would at any other tacky saying and ever since then, he grew to have a quiet respect and even tentative friendship with his physical therapist.

Sicheng looks forward to Friday sessions the most. Usually they do strengthening most of the time and today is no different. It’s harder on his body than other sessions, but he enjoys the steady ache of his muscles afterward. He views it as a sign of progress and Sicheng takes in greedy gulps.

Sicheng finishes today’s sessions on autopilot, barely noticing the minutes that flew by until it was time to stretch. Minho helps push and hold positions when Sicheng can’t and he’s grateful.

“Hey what’s up with you today?”

“Hm?” Sicheng is flat on his back and Minho is supporting his right knee to Sicheng’s chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Dunno,” Minho hums thoughtfully as he switches to stretch Sicheng’s left leg. “You just seem tired.”

“Oh. I’ve been having trouble sleeping I guess.”

“Will talking about it help?”

Sicheng ponders his offer for a minute before a soft grunt escapes his lips. His left leg is always stiffer than his right and Minho is pushing it today. “No, I don’t think so, but I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Try to get good rest though, it’s crucial for recovery.”

Minho understands Sicheng enough to know exactly when and where to push, physically and personally. A comfortable quiet settles between them until the session is over.

Sicheng cools down in the locker room before heading out and waving goodbye to Minho and the receptionist of the day.

By 11:20, the sun is out and the streets are busy. Sicheng has to block out rays of light from his eyes as he looks up to see the buildings to decide what the next move for the day will be. Maybe some lunch?

He ponders quietly to himself before noticing a tap on his shoulder and turns to see a girl.

“Sicheng, is that you?”

Note: oooof, this one isn’t as whimsical and fluffy as the other cause it has lots of exposition, but finally mores stuff is revealed about sicheng!!

#nctcreations #cznnet #neowritingsnet #NCTmentary.net #winwin scenario #winwin fanfic #winwin angst #nct scenario #nct fanfic #nct angst #wayv scenario #wayv fanfic #wayv angst

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ziezie13 · 4 years

Text

So I watched The Mummy for the first time last night and I am appalled that there is only one Drarry Mummy AU. The thing practically writes itself. Rick O'Connell = Harry Potter, Evelyn Carnahan = Draco Malfoy.

After the war, Draco was exiled either officially or socially and has taken up residence in Alexandria, Egypt where he works as a librarian, restocking the ancient library that had been lost. Over the years he has also become the foremost experts in dead languages. But he never wins any grants for his research because of the bias around his ex-death eater status. One day an artifact comes across his desk, a strange puzzle box. Draco solves the thing over evening tea, of course (also he has reading glasses now because that is hot). Inside is a map to Hamunaptra, the ancient Egyptian city of the dead that has become no more than legend and most people believe never existed. Draco is ecstatic because the last recorded location of the Book of Amun-Ra and most myth is founded in reality as he knows. He takes the map to his boss who laughs in his face and accidentally burns off a piece of the map with a badly placed candle. Draco asks where the puzzle box came from and someone tells him it was confiscated from some treasure hunter at the local prison. Draco goes to the prison only to find Harry bloody Potter in chains and looking very disheveled.

Potter's hair is long and greasy, he had a matted beard, covered in dirt and grim, and wearing rags. But Draco would recognize those bright green eyes anywhere. Potter does not seem to be as surprised to see Draco as Draco is to see him which frustrates him to no end. Turns out Potter dropped out of the Auror program years ago and has been working as a freelance curse breaker in the Egyptian desert ever since. He landed his ass in prison after a drunken bar fight where he was arrested with multiple legal magical artifacts. After composing himself, Draco asks Potter about the puzzle box.

"You want to know about Hamunaptra." A statement not a question.

"How did you know the box was connected to Hamunaptra?"

"Because that is where I found it."

"You've been to Hamunaptra."

"Yes."

"Why should I believe you?"

Potter's smile fades immediately at those words. "I don't lie, Malfoy. Besides, you have the proof in your hands."

Draco weighs Potter’s words and shows him the damaged map. "Could you complete this?"

Harry studies the map for a few seconds. "No."

Draco wilts.

"But I could take you there. If you can get me out."

The next day after a few well placed bribes Draco picks Potter up from the prison. "So what first?"

"First I need a shower and a shave."

They go to Draco’s flat where Potter cleans himself up. He emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and fuck Potter has absolutely no right to look like that. His skin has a bronze hue, golden from the sun, and there are just so many muscles. His facial hair has been trimmed to a sexy scruff and his long hair is now clean and dripping wet. Draco follows the path of a drop as it drips down Potter’s chest and disappears into the towel.

"I don't suppose you have any clothes that might fit?"

Draco gives Potter a shirt and trousers. Potter pulls his hair into a messy bun. The trousers are too long, so Potter rolls them up a bit. Both the trousers and shirt fit snugly in more that a few places. Draco knows a charm that would fix that but decides to keep it to himself.

"Why are you so set on getting to Hamunaptra? Need some more dark artifacts to round out your collection?"

Draco frowned. "If you must know I am searching for the Book of Amun-Ra so that I can return it to the Library."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that the book is made of solid gold."

"You know your history, Potter?"

"I know my treasure."

They then go into town to get supplies and transport. Turns out there is a group of Americans also headed for Hamunaptra and they have a guide who also claims to have been there before. And so the race is on. The city is magicaly protected so they can't apperate or use a portkey. They will get as close as they can using the river then ride camels the rest of the way. What they don't know is that there is a secret society that has protected Hamunaptra from outsiders for centuries. On their first night on the boat they are attacked. A masked figure tries to steal the map and the puzzle box. Draco and Potter jump overboard and escape but they lose the map. Doesn't matter though, because Potter assures Draco he knows the way. Their clothes and supplies are still on the ship though and Draco is in pajamas. They find a local market and Potter pays for some new clothes for Draco and a couple of camels. They set off for Hamunaptra and arrive at the exact same time as the Americans. They wait for the sunrise to reveal the ancient city and ride in. They set up separate camps and dig sites. Draco uses his expert knowledge to find them a prime location. That night the masked riders return and attack both camps. They warn both parties that they have one day to leave or they will die. Draco gets drunk and has a heart to heart with Potter.

"Can I kiss you Potter?"

"Only if you call me Harry."

Draco moves in close but passes out on Potter’s chest before they can kiss.

The next day it is back to business because they are on a clock now. The American's find the Book of the Dead and an ancient magic settles over them as they pull it out. They read from the book and accidentally activate an ancient curse that awakes the Mummy.

The mummy sucks the life/magic from one of the Americans becoming more alive looking.

Some other people die. Harry and Draco manage to escape but not before Draco is marked by the mummy.

They regroup at a hotel in a nearby town and devise a plan. One of the Americans decides to peace out and tells the others to have a nice life. The leader of the masked men shows up and chastises them for activating the curse. He tells them about the mummy, Neferkarê. Neferkarê was an ancient priest, i.e. wizard, sentenced to death along with his lover after breaking his vows. He placed a curse as he died that would ensure that one day he would awaken and resurrect his lover. The mark that he placed on Draco signifies that Draco will be the sacrifice to bring Neferkarê's lover back. Draco reads from the Book of the Dead and they learn that Neferkarê is weakened still and will need to suck the life/magic out of the Americans who unearthed the book before he can do the ritual to resurrect his love. Draco also figures that there must be a spell that can stop Neferkarê written in the Book of Amun-Ra. He goes over the layout of the city in his head as well as everything he has read about it and deduces where the book must be. Potter then locks Draco in the bedroom.

"This is for your own safety. The Mummy marked you, not me. I will rescue the American, get the book, bring it back, and then you can fix it."

Potter and the masked man go after the American who left, to warn him. Meanwhile Draco dies of boredom. He paces in the room trying to find a way out. Neferkarê shows up and drains the two Americans that Harry left behind to guard Draco. He then becomes sand and enters Draco’s room reforming. Draco fights him but Neferkarê has drained all four Americans at this point and kidnaps Draco.

Potter arrives just as Neferkarê grabs Draco and dissolves into a dust storm.

Potter chases after them across the desert on a broom.

Seeing Potter following them he stops and sends a sandstorm right for Potter. Draco attacks Neferkarê again and breaks his concentration so that Potter can get away. Potter crashes his broom but Draco is hopeful that he is still alive after all Potter has survived much worse.

Neferkarê finishes taking Draco back to Hamunaptra and ties him down to the ritual alter. He begins to prep the ritual and Draco can only hope that Potter shows up with the Book of Amun-Ra. Things look pretty grim for a moment but Potter shows up at the last minute and severs Draco’s bonds. Neferkarê resurrects other mummies that begin fighting Potter and turns his attention back to Draco. Draco meanwhile is trying to get the book open but it requires a key i.e. the puzzle box which is now in the possession of Neferkarê. Draco and Neferkarê battle a third time. Draco knows he is no match for Neferkarê, Harry might be - maybe, but he is otherwise occupied at the moment. So Draco outwits Neferkarê and gets the key. He reads from the book but before he can finish the spell Neferkarê recovers and turns on Draco again knocking the book away. Harry finished up with the undead army but he doesn't know if he should go for Draco or the book. Draco makes the decision for him.

"The book, Harry! Get the book."

Harry obeys and flips the book open to the right spot.

"I can't read this Draco."

"Just describe the last symbol to me."

At this point Neferkarê has begun to choke Draco to death.

"It’s some kind of bird. A stork!"

"Ahmenophus." Draco chokes out.

Draco manages to say the entire incantation and Neferkarê drops him and staggers back. But after a beat he seems fine and goes after Draco again.

Harry steps in and fires off a spell. "I thought that was supposed to kill him."

Draco shakes his head. "It made him mortal."

The structure begins to shake and threatens to collapse in on itself. Draco and Harry share a look and head towards the exit. Neferkarê refuses to leave his lover and ends up buried alive.

Draco and Harry emerge from the sand unscathed and share a passionate kiss before riding off into the sunset.

#drarry #draco x harry #prompt #the mummy #fanifiction #ok now someone write this please #because I ain't got time

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alma37 · 4 years

Text

A[h]arrowing evening - chapter 2

I kind of promised another chapter if I reached 100 hits on AO3. I am a little behind schedule, but a promise is a promise.

So, here is the chapter 2.

Fandom : Dracula TV 2020

Relationship : Agatha x Dracula

Rating : this one tends to M but not quite

I still have not counted the words.

@hopipollahorror @lady-of-the-wolves @thebeautyofdisorder @festering-queen @feralstare

[let me know if you don’t want to be tagged]

@vampyrsbride @khyruma no idea if you even read fanfiction

Anyone else who didn’t ask to be tagged but still read my shit,

everyone, I hope you’ll enjoy!

As Dracula was settling comfortably for the night, a knock resounded on his door. Curious, he went to open and was startled to find a swaying Agatha in front of him.

- Agatha! To what do I owe the pleasure? Or is it displeasure tonight?

The young vampire waved her hand and slurred :

- I came to aplo... to aloo... ap.., to say I'm sorry.

The older vampire frowned :

- Are you all right?!

- Nether bedder!" She was leaning dangerously sideways until she was supported by the doorframe.

- Did you take something?" Dracula asked, incredulous.

- Noooo!... " But after a short pause, she admitted : "I just drank a drunk!" And she sniggered. Agatha never sniggered.

- Oh my! Are you drunk?!

- Mabee a little bit. But he tasted sooo good!" Agatha mumbled, ecstatic.

- What did I tell you about drinking drunk people?!

- Pff!" The younger vampire scoffed. "I drrink whoeve' I want, Mr 'now-it-all.

Now she was listing dangerously towards Dracula who held her upright by the shoulders.

- Do you understand how much alcohol is needed to affect us?! How much blood did he have left in his alcohol stream?!" He asked drily.

The former nun, leaning on his chest now, snorted.

- Did you just make a joke?

- Perhaps.

- You shooould not do that.

- Why not?

- Because... it makesss you likeable. And I am not sh-supposed to like you. I am sh-supposed to.. to kill you! See? I still have my little arrow with me, just in case.

Agatha brandished in all directions the wooden weapon she got used to carry since Dracula turned her. Weary, the older vampire got hold of it before his younger kin could do some damage to either of them.

- Yes, I can see that. I'll keep it for now, if you don't mind.

Agatha made a gesture, that could either mean she didn't mind or its exact opposite. When she didn't try to take back her weapon, the Count concluded it was the former and returned to their previous conversation :

- Did you just said you liked me?

- Ov course not! Why would I do that?! You mush... must get deaf in your old age.

- I assure you my hearing is quite good. You just said you liked me." He persisted.

- Nooooooooo. No, no, nononono. No..." Another short silence, before :" Maybe. A little. But I am rrrreally d-drunk at the moment, so you'll have to ashk... aks... hashk me again tomorrow. When I sh-slept it off.

- When you slept it off, you are going to wish me to the devil. So...

- Zat's not... jat's... that... Yeah!... Maybe we should sleep it ohf togejer, zen.

- I beg your pardon?!

- Zat way, no dish... no dims... no w... no sc-scoffing at.

- I won't sleep with you when you are drunk, Agatha.

- Why not?! I am vewy ri... very vi... willing at the moment. When will you 'ave anozer chance, do you think?

- God, give me strength!

- Did you..." Agatha sniggered for the second time in the evening. " Did you just take God's name in vain?!" before she dissolved in laughter, at the utter dismay of her older kin, while actually slouching against him.

- That's exactly why." The only thing keeping her up was his arm around her waist. When she finally calmed down, he tried to lead her towards the bedchamber :

- Come now. I am putting you to bed.

But Agatha resisted his pull. Even drunk, she was still a vampire.

- Only if you're coming with me into it.

Dracula towered above her.

- Agatha, don't push me. You know I want you. But not like that.

Far from being cowed, the younger vampire slid along his chest until she was an air breath from his mouth before flashing him a brilliant smile :

- Draaackeyyyy... me loveyyyy. Don't be so meaneyyyyy.

The older vampire snapped :

- That's it. That's enough! I am putting you to bed now.

Lifting her like she was a bag of feather, he threw her on his shoulder. Sober Agatha would have been scandalised. Drunk Agatha, however, sniggered for the third time and purred :

- Ooooh! Me very own cave man!... Cave vampire!" Then, even upside down, she set about removing his shirt from his trousers. Dracula couldn't believe what was happening : a few weeks ago, she almost killed him and now, it appeared that she was intent on undressing him.

- Agatha, stop that!" He admonished her, to no avail.

The younger vampire, apparently, was determined to see him naked before they could reach the bedroom. She was really trying his self-control.

- Agatha, if you don't stop, I am going to do something I have wanted to for a long time and you will be left with only regret and self-loathing in the morning. Is it really what you want?

At last, this made her stop. Dracula couldn't help but release a relieved sigh.

Once they reached the bedroom, Dracula slid her down to the bed. He put a knee on the floor to remove her shoes. Agatha, surprisingly silent, was watching him. When he straightened up to help her lie down, she unexpectedly put her hand under his shirt flat against his abdomen. Dracula fought to keep what was left of his restraint.

-Show me your scar.

- It's gone. You know we don't scar." The older vampire answered while removing gently her hand from his skin. She was warm from the blood, which wasn't helping with his growing lust. Luckily, she didn't resist. But she looked disappointed :

- I wanted to kiss it better, as you asked me. As an apology.

- You did, don't you remember?

- Hum! Yes. But I wanted to do it more... Can I kiss you better somewhere else, then?

- Agatha..." But before truly realising it, he was leaning forward. His restraint was flying through the window.

The kiss started sweetly, a mere brush of the lips, but drunk Agatha was demanding and Dracula, unable to resist, gave her what she asked. Soon they were tangled with each other, the older vampire not sure anymore how many limbs his younger kin had, as she seemed to touch him everywhere at the same time. He finally stopped her hands from their roaming and threaded their fingers, while exploring her mouth with avidity. In all their 123 years of fighting, she had never let down her guard and never allowed him this close. Until tonight. She was exquisite, as always. Warm and soft and... softer?

Dracula raised his head to note, with a mix of dismay and amusement, that his nemesis had fallen asleep in his bed. Well, at least, she finally was where he wanted her. The vampire shook his head and laughed softly at the irony. As it was, she wouldn't be able to stake him come morning. Small mercies.

*************

A few hours later, Agatha emerged slowly from her slumber. For a few instants, she couldn't remember but when memories flooded back, she put a pillow on her face and groaned. How could she do that?

- Oh! I see you are awake. Hum! And not suffering ill effects from your over-indulgence.

- Sweet Jesus! It really did happen, then?! I still hoped it was a nightmare.

- I am afraid not, Angel.

- I can't believe I did that. This is so embarrassing!

- Well, it could have been worse. I could have given in.

At those words, Agatha removed the pillow from her face - She couldn't smother herself anyway - and looked at her supposedly oldest enemy. He was watching her with a mix of fondness, resignation and longing. Or so it seemed to her guilty mind.

- I am so sorry, Vlad. I... Well, thank you for resisting. At least one of us didn't embarrass themselves last night.

- My pleasure, Angel. And don't thank me, I wasn't able to totally resist, if you remember well. If you hadn't fallen asleep, honestly..." He trailed before falling silent.

Agatha dropped her gaze on the sheets, a new wave of mortification washing over her.

- Yes, well, I provoked you. So, for once, I don't blame you. You actually showed remarkable restraint.

- Did I hear you well? Did you just pay me a compliment?! You may suffer ill effects after all." Dracula teased her.

- Nevermind." Agatha mumbled, going out of bed. Dracula presented a helping hand, which, after only a slight hesitation, she took. Once upright, though, she had to grip it more tightly as she swayed on her feet.

- Hum. Not totally unscathed, then." The older vampire remarked, without mirth.

- I'm fine." She defended herself."I just feel a little numb.

- Yes, of course. My mistake." He answered, with a knowing smile this time.

- Oh do shut up, Dracula!" The younger vampire growled, as she tried to remove her hand from his. But Dracula didn't let her.

- Maybe you should stay the day. Sleep it off.

- Dracula...

- I promise you : no mischief, no ulterior motive. If I may say so, you don't look so good. You could rest here, I won't bother you.

- I don't think..." She hesitated.

- I can bring you some clean blood to clear your head and you can lie here as long as you want." Dracula added when he sensed her wavering.

Agatha was thinking about accepting his offer as she felt exhausted, but still she pondered.

- Where will you rest? It's daytime.

- Don't worry about me. My sofa is quite comfortable.

The former nun snorted :

- Your sofa is as comfortable as a marble coffin and at least a foot shorter than you!

Dracula shrugged.

- Well, I still have to put a bed in the guest bedroom, so it will have to make do.

Agatha looked at her nemesis' bed : it had been made for him, so it was probably a foot longer than her and at least, large enough to house a small village. She gulped then took a deep breath :

- Your bed is big enough for the both of us. And since, you were the gentleman and offered me its exclusive use, I would be a very sore guest if I'd let you sleep on this terrible furniture you dare call a sofa.

Despite his surprise at her unexpected proposition, Dracula chuckled :

- Well, if you get into the habit of coming to see me while drunk, I may need to invest into a second bed. Or...

Agatha raised a warning finger :

- Don't even think about finishing this sentence, Count.

The older vampire grinned but stopped talking. After an awkward silence, Agatha added :

- You should think about replacing that sofa, too.

- I will." At his tone, she looked at him. He was watching her back with that same expression again.

- Are you sure you don't mind?" Dracula broke the spell. "I must admit I got quite fond of my bed, since I don't need my coffin to sleep in.

- No. I mean : I don't mind." But she insisted, to be sure : "You promise me no mischief.

- You offered me to sleep with you." He countered, teasing her.

Agatha didn't catch the joke, if her scandalised look was any indication :

- I was drunk!

Dracula laughed at her outraged tone.

- I'm joking, Agatha. Relax.

he sat on one side of the bed and patted the place next to him.

- Come on. You look dead on you feet. I promised you no mischief. I'll keep my word.

Agatha sat carefully on the bed then lay down next to her old enemy. They didn't say anything for some time. Dracula rearranged his limbs then put his hands behind his head, settling in.

Agatha was lying next to him rigidly, debating with herself, until finally she sighed :

- Oh Hell!" And throwing caution to the wind, she rolled on her side to nestle against him. It was quite nice, actually.

The older vampire stayed still for a moment, unsure what to do. Then, slowly, he put down one arm to place it around her shoulders and bring her a little closer to him.

- No mischief." She mumbled into his shirt.

- No mischief." He confirmed with a smile in his voice. "Even if you make it hard for me to keep my promise."

- Not without a partner." His younger kin replied softly, already on the verge of sleep.

Dracula resisted laughing at her tart answer, so as not to disturb her. She was relaxing against him and very soon, he could sense she was fast asleep. No partner indeed.

He couldn't hold it any longer and laughed, barely disturbing his exhausted partner. She muttered in her sleep, then settled against him once more after throwing an arm across his chest.

Perhaps, she would heed his advice next time. But Dracula hoped she wouldn't. Drunk Agatha was almost as fun as angry Agatha and far more agreeable.

The older vampire looked down at the woman in his arms. Maybe he was the one high, in this instance : he still couldn't believe his nemesis was actually sleeping, sober and peaceful, in his embrace. If God had decided to be done with him and Agatha was His sword arm, Dracula decided then and there that it was a small price to pay for a few hours with her in his arms. And with that satisfying thought, he slipped in a comfortable slumber.

#dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #dragatha #a [h]arrowing evening #chapter 2 #stand alone #agatha got drunk #drunk agatha is fun #poor dracula has to resist #she's driving him ragged #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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vampire--dad · 4 years

Text

Can’t Win A Battle For A Lost Cause - Part 1

Part 2

I don’t think I’ve ever written something so quickly, wow

I just love writing Lambert. I love exploring his character and breaking it down. And of course, as with any of my favourite characters, I love hurting him :DD

——————

Fucking vampires.

Monsters are so much easier to deal with when they’re stupid, like nekkers. Nekkers are idiots that would probably walk into a sword on their own if you gave them the chance. Vampires are smart, which is half the reason Lambert hates taking contracts on them. They know how to hide, or even worse, they know when they don’t need to. The whole damn duchy knows the duke’s new wife is a vampire, but none can get close enough to kill her. So what do they do? They hire a witcher, someone who can add more fuel to this political bonfire and walk away unscathed, right? Yeah, sure, that’s what we’ll go with.

From this spot in the lower gardens of the duke’s mansion, Lambert can see the vampire on the balcony. The guards are well aware that he’s there, they’re the ones that hired him, but they couldn’t let him inside in case a servant alerted the duke of an unwanted visitor. So here he sits, hidden among the bushes, watching. She’s ballsy, this vampire, sinking her teeth into his neck under the moonlight. The power she has over the duchy must have gone to her head, or the blood, but he knows he can’t underestimate her. Blood is almost like alcohol for a higher vampire, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be weak, if anything, this is going to be even more of a pain in the ass.

The duke stumbles back into their bedroom and the creature turns her face to the moon, her skin a ghostly white and nearly shimmering under the pale light. It seems to pass right through her, as she casts no shadow. Lambert shifts his weight under him and stays low as he creeps along the wall. The ivy that clings to the bricks is strong enough for him to haul himself up to the balcony. As quiet as he can try to be, he’d be an idiot to think she didn’t notice him.

“Tell me, witcher,” she says, opening her icy blue eyes but not turning away from the sky. “How much did they offer you for my head? I’d like to know how much they thought I’d be worth.”

“Looking to buy your way out of this?” Lambert replies. “I’ll warn you, it won’t be cheap.”

“Please, witcher. Killing you will be easier… and more fun.”

Lambert barely has time to roll his eyes before the vampire launches herself at him and they tumble over the edge of the balcony. He was really hoping she wouldn’t say that. He hits the ground with a grunt, barely holding the snarling duchess back. He mumbles something under his breath and suddenly she is launched across the garden, hitting the far wall and slumping against it for a moment. Lambert draws his sword and rolls his neck, considering what he might do with his reward for killing her. Well, not that he can really kill her. Hopefully her body being burned will teach her a lesson while she spends a few decades regenerating.

Her head lolls for a moment, but then she becomes very still. Her neatly manicured nails grow into long, razor sharp claws. The delicate features of her face are drawn back into a hideous, animalistic form. She lifts her head with a disgusting grin. Lambert centres himself and raises his sword as she launches herself at him once again. The duke’s blood has her all riled up. She’s crazed, swiping her claws at him and screeching, only to be met with his blade, at the very least redirecting her attacks away from his body. The witcher can’t risk taking his eyes off her for a second, lest he lose an arm to her talons. She’s lightning fast, but she is at a disadvantage. If she slips up, his sword will tear through her like paper.

His blade catches against her arm. She roars, more out of indignation than pain, but her pause gives him an opening. He surges forwards and his blade plunges through her lithe figure, lodged just beneath her ribcage. A crimson stain blooms across her abdomen and her breath leaves her lungs suddenly. Her claws recede, followed by the rough features of her face. She assumes the gentle beauty she used to get herself into this mess in the first place. Lambert smirks cruelly and cocks his head.

“Fucking vampires. You’re all the same,” he says. “You all think you’re the biggest and baddest thing out there. It’s pathetic, really, how cocky you all are. I’ve faced far worse things than you, sweetheart. You really think your kind is the worst on the Continent?”

His words light a cold fire in her dying eyes. She grins, baring her fangs.

“See for yourself.”

She grips the hilt of his sword and pulls herself into it, the blade sliding through her body with an obscene sound. With the last of her strength she throws her weight forward, opens her mouth and latches onto Lambert’s neck. He groans out a curse, expecting to feel a drag against his skin. He’s been bitten before, but those before her quickly learned that witcher blood tastes vile. But he feels no such drag from his veins, rather he feels a burning sensation spreading across his skin. Suddenly he feels dizzy and short of breath. He feels her smile wickedly against his throat. His knees buckle beneath him. The last thing he hears is a cruel laugh, a sputtering cough, and the sound of his own body hitting the ground.

Lambert wakes with a yelp in an unfamiliar room. He grips the sheets and feels something sharp pressing into his palm through the linen. As he recoils, he notices the pointed nails on his fingers and frowns. Then his memory comes flooding back.

The vampire. His hand finds a bandage wrapped loosely around his neck. She bit him, but didn’t feed. No, he felt something going in instead. It burned like hellfire through his veins. He vaguely remembers being picked up by the guards… then everything ached… he vomited a few times, he thinks. It wasn’t unlike the trials that made him a witcher. With wide eyes he stumbles out of the bed and, in the soft light from the window, looks for a shadow. Nothing. He looks up at the window now, expecting to see his reflection, but yet again, there is nothing.

Shit.

He runs his tongue over his teeth and tastes blood. His canines have grown long and sharp.

Fuck.

She turned him. He’s a vampire.

He runs a hand through his hair. What the fuck is he meant to do now? He was made to hunt monsters, it’s all he knows, and now… he is one. Destiny really can’t give him a fucking break, huh? He sighs and sits back down on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. What are his brothers going to think? They wouldn’t try to hurt him… would they? He’s their brother…

He stops that train of thought the moment tears threaten to well up in his eyes. Now isn’t the time. He needs to figure out what to do. Perhaps there’s someone who can help him… His mind wanders back to his brother’s, but instead of getting emotional, he latches onto a vague memory. Geralt’s friend, what was his name…? Regis. That was it. A higher vampire that Geralt had befriended on his search for Ciri all those years ago. He mentioned he had taken up residence in Nilfgaard. Lambert can think of no better person to go to than another vampire.

Well, he can. He wants to go to his brothers. He wants to find them and just hear them say that they still love him. That’s all he wants and all he fears he won’t get. How could anyone love him like this?

Lambert shakes his head and stands, finding his things in the corner of the room. His medallion rests atop his jacket. He puts it on and clutches it to his chest, ignoring the feeling that he shouldn’t wear it at all. He dresses quickly, collects his things, and emerges from the room into a shop he recognises. The healer’s. He bought a few herbs from the woman who now stands at her workbench across the room. She looks up at him with a friendly smile.

“You’re up,” she states. “Good. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” he lies quickly. “I should be on my way.”

“A moment, witcher. I assure you I won’t breathe a word of it, but… can witchers be turned if they’re bitten by a vampire?”

“No,” he lies once again. “Our bodies reject their… venom, I guess you could call it. We can’t be turned.”

He notices her glance at the floor behind him as he makes for the door.

“Very well,” she says carefully. “I wish you the best in your travels.”

Nilfgaard, to Regis’ surprise, is quite peaceful. Winneburg is a big enough place for him to fade into the background, but small enough that he doesn’t run the risk of getting involved in any silly political games again. His home is humble, but thankfully filled with books and things to keep the endless days passing by quicker.

It came as a relief to him to live a normal life again, or at least the mirage of one. He is generally regarded as one of the more reliable surgeons in town, as he had studied enough to know that blood-letting and leeches never work and opts for the use of medicinal herbs and salves for wounds. After all, he’d had almost 400 years to perfect his trade.

He knows he has a visitor well before the knock at the door sounds through the small house. He hears footsteps, hurried and nervous. Regis closes his book and sets it aside, expecting someone in need of his care. Instead, on the other side of the door stands a witcher. He has dark brown hair, a scar across his right eye, and he wears the same medallion that he saw around the neck of an old friend.

There’s a look in the man’s yellow eyes he’s never seen in a witcher before. Fear. Geralt was good at hiding his emotions, brilliant at it. Over the years he saw many things in his friends’ eyes; joy, despair, anger, content, but never fear. That was the one thing he never showed. But this one seems unable to hide it.

“Regis?” he asks.

“Yes, witcher?”

Given a moment to analyse the man before him, Regis quickly realises why he is here. Small details give him away. The bluish tint to his skin that makes him look far paler than he should be. The small cuts around his lips. The pointed nails that he digs into his palms as he looks around nervously.

“I need your help,” he pleads.

“I know. Come in, we have much to discuss.”

He stands aside and lets the man in, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the bags under his eyes. It’s not uncommon to see such things when someone is turned, but he’s never seen a witcher turned. He can’t imagine what this must be like for him.

“What is your name, witcher?” he asks as he closes the door.

“Lambert,” he says. “I’m one of Geralt’s brothers.”

Regis can’t help a small smile as he says, “Yes, I do remember him mentioning you. He spoke of his little brother quite fondly.”

Lambert seems to grow even more nervous at the mention of his brother. Regis drops the subject and gets to the point.

“How long ago were you bitten?”

“A week or so.”

“Where? Show me, it’s not uncommon for bites to get infected.”

Lambert sheds his leather jacket and rubs his neck before tilting his head to bare the scar. He had spent what little coin he could spare on a new jacket with a higher collar. Regis notes his lack of eye contact. Anxiety isn’t a good look on a witcher.

“That healed quite nicely, actually. Of course. Now, where was this?”

“A duchy in Maecht. The duke’s new wife was a higher vampire. She was slowly draining him of—”

Lambert pauses and curses under his breath. His fingers come away from his lips bloody.

“Pull your fangs back a little,” Regis says. “It should feel like tensing the roof of your mouth, and it might hurt a bit, but try it.”

Lambert finally looks up at him with a look of surprise, like he didn’t expect to be met with compassion. He makes an odd face as he tries, then clamps a hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut. Regis chuckles slightly.

“I told you it would hurt.”

“Yeah, a bit…” Lambert grumbles

“You’ll get used to it. Now, a higher vampire in Maecht? What has become of her?” Regis asks.

“I assume the duke’s guards burned her body like I told them to. It’ll at least put her out of action for a few decades.”

“Good. I assume you know there is nothing I can do for you in terms of curing you—”

“Yes, I know,” Lambert snaps. “I just… I needed someone to… I needed…”

Now that he thinks of it, he can’t explain exactly why he came here. He just thought seeking out someone who knew better than he did what was happening to him would be a good idea.

“Guidance,” Regis finishes for him, his tone comforting and soft. “That is what you’re looking for. Guidance and reassurance. Would I be right in thinking so?”

Lambert nods meekly. Regis offers him a comforting smile.

“Fret not, dear witcher,” he says. “You can stay with me while you find your footing. I may not have been turned myself, but I can understand what this must be like for you.”

Lambert resembles a puppy more closely than a wolf. He looks far more vulnerable than Regis had ever pictured him. Geralt had described a man with biting humour, a tendency for sharp remarks, and more often than not, a cruel smirk. But the man Regis sees before him is, for lack of a better word, broken.

“Thank you, Regis,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck again.

“Come, Lambert. Let’s get you settled in. I have a spare room, you can stay as long as you like.”

——————

Tags: @elliestormfound @jaskierswolf @lovelyeskel @feral-jaskier @patchwork-doublet

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!!

#the witcher #lambert #emiel regis #vampires #i love them so much #fanfiction

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legobiwan · 4 years

Note

AU where Mace is Anakin's master, reading your insights about the Jedi in Shatterpoint

Here we go:

Mace sees being a Jedi as unnatural. Anakin, funny enough, also sees being a Jedi as unnatural. They both believe that the type of emotional regulation and distancing required of the Order is something that needs to be trained out of a person, but they attach wildly different value judgments on that agreed-upon fact.

They fight. A lot. Mace, unlike Obi-wan, is older, less flexible in his views, and has seen shit. I would also imagine Palpatine’s access to Anakin would be a little less easy in this situation. (This is not a tear-down of Obi-wan, per se, but an acknowledgment of where he was emotionally at that time. His Master dead, the same Master having forsaken him in from of the Council only to extract an insane promise on his deathbed based on a mysticism Obi-wan didn’t totally buy.)

One day Mace gets fed up and locks him and Anakin in a room for 48 hours. A test, for both of them. Somehow, they emerge unscathed, and with a slightly higher level of respect for one another.

It is not easy to gain Mace’s trust or open affection, but when he does give it, it’s basically not alterable. It takes a while for the two of them to reach that point, where there is even the thinnest tendril of not only trust, but mutual affection. Anakin, being the nexus in the Force that he is, feels it immediately.

Anakin likes to ask questions, especially as he wasn’t brought up in Jedi culture. Obi-wan would be prone to answer those, explaining - perhaps over-explaining certain matters. Mace, I imagine, would be a bit more reserved, making Anakin figure out certain things for himself.

Anakin is astonished when Mace explains about Haruun Kal, how he went there as a teenager, met his clan, his people. “But why did you come back?” Anakin wants to know. If he returned to Tatooine, if he could free his mother…would he stay with the Jedi? He’s not sure. Mace answers that he had a greater purpose to serve, greater ideals, that he had a responsibility to something larger than himself. Mace asks Anakin if he feels like he has a responsibility to something beyond him. Anakin realizes his family would not count as a correct answer. He doesn’t know if he has an answer.

Sometimes Depa comes by. Anakin likes Depa. She is sweet where Mace is cold, she listens to him, talks to him about the way he misses his mother, about his fears that he will always be different, be something else. Depa assures him that they are all different, that it is something Anakin should celebrate, and that even the Jedi are an imperfect organization with cultural norms that should or shouldn’t be taken too seriously.

The first time Anakin truly witnesses Mace hover near the dark side, he is terrified. Not only for his Master, but also because he has the same monster inside, the same being that needs to be tamed. For the first time, Anakin sees himself - or what could become himself - from the outside. (And I would argue that Obi-wan never showed this side of himself in front of Anakin, which, while I understand why, given the personalities…it may have not been the worst idea.)

It’s interesting that Haruun Kal has such a rigid social structure. Tatooine does, as well, especially given Anakin’s status there. There’s a fair amount of potential for overlap and mutual understanding there.

Anger. All Jedi have it. Obi-wan turns it inwards, swallowing his rage until he shatters from the inside, the way Dooku did. Anakin and Mace, however, express themselves outwardly, which makes me believe Mace would be able to teach Anakin better coping mechanisms, if he would only listen.

I feel like being taken as a student by one of the Council members who initially rejected him would be a good thing. It would prove that the Council, as an entity, were not diametrically opposed to Anakin. (Which, in a huge bit of irony, Obi-wan kiiinda instilled by going against the Council, which neither Qui-gon nor Obi-wan were a part of at the time.)

But the thing is, Mace trusts Anakin, or at least, wants him to go out and make his own mistakes. We see this in AotC cut scene, when Mace essentially tells Obi-wan to chill about Anakin being with Padmé. And you have to wonder, was there an undercurrent in Obi-wan and Anakin’s relationship early on that played on this idea that Obi-wan maybe have helicopter a little bit in order to prove himself and Anakin to the rest of the Jedi? Not unsurprising given the circumstances. But it seems like Mace, oddly enough, would have a looser leash, once Anakin proved himself.

In the end, would Anakin have had less chance of turning had Mace taken him? Maybe. Or Palpy would have been diabolical in a different way. But it is a very interesting topic.

#Anonymous #hello there #ask legobiwan #mace windu #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #hmmmmmm #alright guys that's a lot of asks i've queued up #i've exhausted the mental reserves more to come tomorrow

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- THE SECOND WAR BEGINS

Harry couldn't really look Remus in the face when he gave the book a gentle toss to him. He was sure it meant something he was even still around after all this, but Harry really had not a clue what, it couldn't be him.

Entitled He Who Must Not Be Named Returns, it starts with a statement from the Minister confirming this to be true, he was active in their country once more.

"Miracles do happen!" James mock cheered.

"James I would not refer to any of this as miraculous," Lily grumbled.

"No, not the part about- you know what I meant Lily," he huffed.

"Oh, you're reading a paper," Sirius quickly grasped while still laughing at the two.

"Hermione was," Harry corrected, the memory easily swimming to the surface, honestly grateful that something could flow back to him naturally.

It was with great regret that he confirmed Lord, well you know who he meant,

"Lord Byron?" Remus politely offered.

was alive, as well as the dementors had deserted Azkaban and joined Lord, Thingy.

Five collective snorts of laughter. It seemed impossible after all they'd heard, but honestly with that alone Fudge pulled a genuine smile of amusement from all of them, though it was perhaps tainted at the implausibility of this taking so long to post this, a year later.

The magical community was urged to remain vigilant, the Ministry was doing all they could to make people aware and pamphlets would be sent to their homes in the coming months of how to prepare.

The smile slipped right back off for the four from this time, they didn't appreciate the reminder considering they got those once a week it felt like.

The Minister's statement was met with dismay from the wizarding community, considering as recently as last week he'd just been assuring none of this to be true.

"I've been wanting them to eat their words, and yet it's not anywhere near as satisfying as I'd have hoped," Harry grumbled.

Details leading to this event were still murky, but apparently He Who Must Not Be Named himself and a group of Death Eaters had penetrated the Ministry of Magic Thursday evening and been witnessed.

Albus Dumbledore has yet been available for commentary, though it was he who had been insisting since last June of these events occurring. Meanwhile, the Boy Who Lived-

Hermione interrupted herself to exclaim there was Harry's name, she knew he'd be dragged into this while looking at him over her paper.

"Aren't I always?" Harry grudgingly agreed with Hermione now as he had then.

"Haven't heard you called that in a while," James grumbled, "it was kind of nice."

"I'll still take that over what they were calling him," Lily huffed.

They were in the Hospital Wing, Hermione reading her article of the Sunday Prophet to the five around her while still in bed. Neville and Ginny's injuries had been healed instantly, but continued to visit frequently as they were now, and Luna was sitting to the side apparently ignoring them all with a new copy of the Quibbler.

Ron was still in bed rest as well and glared from his to hers saying it was high time they switched back from thinking him a deluded show off.

"Where on earth will they find their source of entertainment now," Sirius said deadpan.

He helped himself to another Chocolate Frog, the scars on his arm still visible from where the brain had latched on. Madam Pomfrey had warned they may never fade, but with a solution she'd been applying, they'd been improving.

"I'm just happy he's not acting like Sirius anymore," Remus offered.

"When do I ever act like a loopy fool?" Sirius demanded.

"As much," Remus finished as if he hadn't been interrupted.

Hermione agreed they were far more complimentary of him now, quoting such thing as his lone voice of truth against slander, though they seemed to have failed to mention it was them doing the slandering.

James's eyes went mock wide in surprise, putting his hand against his cheek with his mouth open slightly as the picture of shock.

"They would never do such a thing, oh wait," Lily briskly agreed.

She winced slightly and placed her hand upon her ribs. The curse Dolohov had set on her may have been less effective silent, but in Madam Pomfrey's own words, it was quite enough damage to be going on with. Hermione was having to take ten potions a day to heal,

Harry gulped and still fidgeted heavily. He in no way wished to ever hear of that spell again, but he had the nasty feeling it wasn't the last time Dolohov used such a thing, and next time it may not be so nonverbal...but then the hateful pain returned, and Harry still knew it wasn't over. Even if some part of him larger than ever wanted to quit now before he had to ever feel what he was again for what he'd lost that day, his mind would permanently suffer for it.

but she was improving greatly, and already bored with the hospital wing.

She continued reading snippets of all the pages full of information now, even one where they'd apparently gotten an Exclusive Interview with Harry, but then noted it was just the old article from the Quibbler.

Sirius got a hearty snort for that, somehow his disgust for that rubbish increasing even when they were back to publishing sense.

Luna agreed her father had sold that to him, he'd gained quite a lot of money for it, and they were going on vacation this summer to try and find the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

"Good for her," Remus said honestly.

Hermione struggled for a moment before simply saying it sounded lovely.

Harry and Ginny caught eyes and quickly looked away from each other grinning.

Harry almost got a smile back in place, more warmth than they'd seen in his expression since he'd come back from the Ministry. Sharing a joke like that really could do wonders.

Hermione changed topics by asking that the school was back to normal?

Ginny agreed Flitwick had ridden the school of the twins swamp

James gasped, all of the boys looking scandalized such a thing had been done while Lily rolled her eyes at them. "Honestly, did you want it up forever? Having to get through a swamp just to attend classes?"

"Yes," was their instant response, and she rolled her eyes again to try and hide a twitching smile.

in three seconds, but he'd left a tiny patch under a bit of window he'd roped off.

"Oh, well that's okay then," Sirius' shoulders were still slumped in a bit of disappointment, but at least there had been a mark left.

When Hermione asked why, she said he'd said it was too good a bit of magic.

"At least we can still say we love Flitwick," Remus chuckled.

Ron agreed through a mouthful of frog he'd left it as a monument to Fred and George.

"And that's exactly what any proper man would do," James smirked.

Informing Harry it was his brothers who'd sent the pile of sweets on his bedside.

"Aww," Lily cooed.

"I can see where Ron gets this idea to share food to make others feel better," Sirius chuckled, "I think it's what the twins do."

"Well they did try to share a toilet seat, so I wouldn't put it past them," Remus snickered.

Hermione looked rather disapproving and asked,

Harry glanced around, but not one of them made a snippy comment for Hermione's disapproval again. They were still reeling from their harsh reactions to her, to what she'd been saying and it turning out to be true...and they didn't know what to feel about her now.

if all of the trouble was gone now Dumbledore was back.

Neville agreed the school was right back to normal.

"I'd almost be depressed if I wasn't so relieved," James sighed.

Ron made the comment Filch must be happy about that while propping up a Dumbledore Chocolate Frog card against his water jug.

James scoffed deeply in disgust for that, he knew how he felt about that one!

Remus' voice held an edge as well none had ever heard before when speaking of him, but Remus kept going trying to ignore it himself.

Ginny promised he was miserable, saying she'd been the best thing to ever happen to this school.

All five of them looked more than sour for that being said, they honestly wished Filch would be thrown out when Umbridge left as well for what he tried to do to those students, but if they'd had their way, Snape would have long since left as well.

All six of them looked around. Professor Umbridge was lying in a bed opposite them, gazing up at the ceiling.

"I can not believe you're even in the same room with, with that-" Lily was so angry her words spluttered off in disgust. That cat litter should be in Azkaban for what she nearly did to Harry!

"Neither can I," James quirked a brow in surprise even as he was frowning in disappointment. "How on earth did the centaurs give her up? I was hoping her body would just never be found again!"

Dumbledore had strode alone into the Forest to rescue her from the centaurs; how he had done it - how he had emerged from the trees supporting Professor Umbridge without so much as a scratch on him - nobody knew, and Umbridge was certainly not telling.

Remus muttered something shrewdly as he eyed that. He tried to find the awe and fascination from his youth at the entity that was Dumbledore, how he truly seemed able to do anything, but it was still overshadowed by everything he'd done to Harry's life. It was much easier to focus on the idea of why he'd bothered, and he got no more answer for that.

Since she had returned to the castle she had not, as far as any of them knew, uttered a single word. Nobody really knew what was wrong with her, either. Her usually neat mousy hair was very untidy and there were still bits of twigs and leaves in it, but otherwise she seemed to be quite unscathed.

"Oh right, about that," Sirius gave a dramatic pause, taking a deep breath, before being just one tone away from shouting, "how dare she do that to you! If you hadn't f'ing known how to do the Patronus charm thanks to Remus, you'd be worse than dead! I swear if I don't hear of that wretched thing getting Kissed herself, I'm going to have to find some other way to suck out her soul!"

"Been holding that one in long?" Harry asked mock pleasantly.

"A bit, yeah," Sirius agreed. "Glad you gave me the chance to bring it up again."

Hermione said Pomfrey told she was in shock.

"Madam Pomfrey should be using shocks," Lily huffed.

Sulking more like, Ginny corrected.

James made a little noise that may have been a mocking laugh.

Ron said she did something when you did this, and he began clip-clopping his tongue softly in a mockery of hooves.

All five burst into righteous laughter, but there wasn't a trace of humor to be found. Honestly they just wanted to applaud Ron for finally giving this moment.

Umbridge sat up at once, her mousy hair wild.

Pomfrey stuck her head out at once, asking if everything was alright?

Once Umbridge had looked all around and seen nothing, she sank back onto her seat, uttering it must have been a dream.

"More like a nightmare," Remus corrected in the most pleasant tone he'd ever used when speaking of her.

Hermione asked if Firenze was still teaching divination now that Trelawney was back?

Harry said both were now teaching instead.

"Of all the classes to get two separate teacher's in," Sirius muttered, ignoring the harsh thump that was his innards at the reminder of her.

Ron said he was sure Dumbledore now wished he'd gotten rid of Trelawney when he'd had the chance while going for his fourteenth Frog.

"That suddenly made a bit more sense," Sirius said restlessly.

"Can't have just been Dumbledore doing a decent thing, standing up to Umbridge and not letting her leave," Lily said, all wistfulness gone of anyone just doing a kind act anymore.

"Oh no," James agreed, "he was keeping her away from Voldemort." He tried to end with a smile for her, knowing what that downturn of Lily's lips were, and she did feel just a bit better that even with an ulterior motive she wasn't the only one trying to find the kindness in all this.

Though Ron still found the whole subject useless, as Firenze wasn't much better.

Hermione demanded how he could say that, now that they knew prophecies were real.

"Doesn't make the idiots delivering them any better." Sirius honestly having the urge to go find that room and smash every one of those things now, regretting ever even hearing about them for all the trouble they'd caused his family!

Harry's heart began to race. He had not told Ron, Hermione or anyone else what the prophecy had contained. Neville had told them it had smashed while Harry was pulling him up the steps in the Death Room and Harry had not yet corrected this impression.

"I don't see why," James said haughtily. "You need a good laugh, and you're friends will do a better job than anyone telling you how ridiculous it all sounds."

"Now you're encouraging Hermione are you?" Harry asked dully.

James frowned in concern, they all did as Harry refused to shake this off in here like they were trying to give him a way to do, and for his careless tone alone James chose not to respond in hopes changing the subject would just be better.

He was not ready to see their expressions when he told them that he must be either murderer or victim, there was no other way . . .

Even as the others still looked murderous at Dumbledore putting that on Harry, wanting to blame their old headmaster and everyone else for continuing to try and force Harry down a path just because of some stupid mystics, Harry couldn't help but brush absently at his scar for the first time since he'd been here, because it wasn't the one on his forehead. None of them seemed to notice a thing. He wished he could believe same as them, that there was some other way, some alternative to this terrible fate laid out for him, but it all felt so inevitable...

Hermione kept going with the conversation, saying what a pity it was it broke.

Ron agreed, but found the good side was at least You-Know-Who couldn't hear it anymore either- then asked where Harry was going with disappointment.

Harry said he was going down to Hagrid's, he'd gotten back today and he'd want to know how they were doing.

"Hagrid's back!" Sirius cheered unnecessarily loudly, but Harry hardly reacted, just the briefest little smile for the enthusiasm before his face settled back into that mask of unease.

Ron gave the grumpy agreement before wishing he could come.

Remus made an unconscious sympathetic noise, knowing that feeling all to well.

Hermione told him to say hello for them, and to make sure to ask about his, little friend.

"I presume she's referring to Grawp," Remus said with an honest twitch of his lips.

"Don't know why she needed to phrase it like that," Sirius sighed, "I think the others around you can know about him by now." He was still watching Harry with worry. He may be clinging to Sirius in a whole new way, though now they understood why as he just seemed to be marveling at still being able to do so, but it almost seemed to hurt him now just to look at his godfather.

"Umbridge is in there, and even in shock, it's best not to go sharing what Hagrid gets up to right now," James unnecessarily reminded, Sirius had been well aware, they were both just trying to keep up some normal flow of conversation no matter how ineffective.

He was finding it hard to decide whether he wanted to be with people or not; whenever he was in company he wanted to get away and whenever he was alone he wanted company.

Harry was torn from his own thoughts to watch those shift around him uncomfortably, and quickly said, "No, I'm not..." but he trailed off, unable to put into words what it meant to have them all around him now. He didn't want that now, but it didn't quite erase the feeling now residing in him.

The feeling of isolation he'd carried while being around his friends carried through in here, helped along nothing by their unwillingness to see what he saw, feel how true it was he must kill Voldemort. If they didn't understand that though, if they honestly thought there must be another way...

When Harry failed to give a real answer but instead was clearly struggling with something, Remus just decided to keep going. He wouldn't force a real answer out of him, but he wouldn't stop him either if he needed a minute to himself, but until he stepped out this was all they could really do.

He only made it to the Entrance Hall when he ran into Malfoy and his friends coming up from the Slytherin dormitories.

The instant they caught sight of each other, Malfoy at once declared Harry as dead.

Harry said that was funny, since if it were true he'd have stopped walking around.

James managed an authentic laugh again, telling Harry, "there's that sense of humor I so love."

Harry tried for the same smile back, but it still sat just a touch awkwardly in his face to be believable.

Malfoy ignored the jab and said Potter would pay for what he'd done to his father.

"Will he still have to hear about it then to?" Sirius rolled his eyes.

James couldn't even offer that much, whatever Malfoy was suffering was only a tenth of what Harry had already learned to suffer through.

Harry sarcastically told he was terrified now, Voldemort must have just been a warm up compared to these three.

All of them were laughing obligingly now, though Harry's frown just deepened with some unknown concern, all he knew was he didn't like dismissing Malfoy right now.

Malfoy just snapped Potter thought himself such a big man, he couldn't just land his father in prison!

Harry reminded he just had.

Remus couldn't help the surprised burst of laughter that shot out, it really was like watching James and Snape the way these two went at each other so many years later with the names just swapped.

Malfoy still vowed Azkaban wouldn't hold him with the dementors gone, and while Harry agreed, he still pointed out at least everyone knew what scumbags they were now.

Sirius tried for a triumphant little smirk, but it was no good, the mention of that place just brought the echo of his own words back. He really hadn't been given his chance to accept that worthless Ministry's apologies now that they were listening to Harry...

Malfoy went for his wand, but Harry had already beaten him to it and raised to strike when Snape appeared.

Harry froze with a loathing like none before for him. He didn't care what Dumbledore said, he would never forgive Snape.

While none gave a second of disagreeing as well, Harry couldn't help but look to his mother. Her face was a mask, lips trembling and white from feeling so much of this future. He almost believed that now as well, but then, there was just this one part of him that stopped him...

Snape demanded what Potter was doing?

Harry simply said trying to decide which curse to use on Malfoy.

Lily at least tried to hide her smirk for that, but even she failed at such boldness.

Snape tried to take points away from his house for this, but then he turned and realized the Gryffindor hour glass was completely empty. He instead began to threaten-

but was cut off by McGonagall arriving to state apparently they needed some more.

The room felt such a sudden rush of delirious happiness it was hard for a moment to even grasp the switch. None had exactly forgotten what had fallen their favorite teacher, but considering everything else that had happened in the meantime they hadn't even a second to spare for it. Now here she was again as if she'd never left, swooping in for Harry once again!

She beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle first off, depositing her bag onto them and telling them to take that up to her office

"Snappy as ever," Sirius chuckled pleasantly.

before continuing to address their head of house that the students should be awarded for alerting the world of You-Know-Who's return.

James whooped with a delirious noise, even just something slightly good happening again and he wanted to dance and cheer, finally just one moment to show the word wasn't all death in this future!

Snape merely sneered rather than agreeing.

"Eat your toes Snivlius," Sirius sneered.

"It's eat your words. How did you even-?" Remus began in confusion, but Sirius wasn't even listening as he was still laughing too hard.

McGonagall continued as if he had, awarding fifty points to both Weasley's, Longbottom, Granger, and Potter. Even as they watched, a shower of rubies fell into Gryffindor's house-glass.

"Now wait a moment," Lily couldn't help but try to insert even as her eyes were still gleaming, but Remus polity shushed her and said what he knew she'd been fixing to.

Then she tacked on a fifty for Miss Lovegood of Ravenclaw, and a sprinkle of Sapphires fell for that as well.

"Ah," Lily said pleasantly while the boys were still snickering away, even Harry cracked an honest grin again for this.

She did acknowledged that Snape had intended to take ten, and while the measly few flew back up, it still left a respectable amount below.

"Only two hundred and forty," Remus quickly did the math even as he couldn't stop himself smirking. "She's much less generous than Dumbledore, he probably would have given a couple hundred each."

"Can't win that cup every year I suppose," Harry said grudgingly, his mind not even on the subject anymore as something as silly like the House Cup felt like some far off fantasy of a worry.

Then she instructed the students to depart, and Harry at once went back on his way into the sunshine outside.

Students were all over the place out here, enjoying their last few days on the grounds. Many waved or called to him as he passed, like the Prophet, now seeing him as some kind of hero.

"Give them all the bird Harry," James pleasantly instructed.

Harry said nothing to any of them.

"A feat not any in here could manage I'm sure," Lily said pleasantly, she'd have a thing or two to say to anyone switching on a dime like this, Ron's ire of Quidditch team hopping would hold nothing.

He had no idea how much they knew of what had happened three days ago, but he had so far avoided being questioned and preferred to keep it that way.

He thought at first when he knocked on Hagrid's cabin door that he was out, but then Fang came charging around the corner and almost bowled him over with the enthusiasm of his welcome.

Harry felt that pang shoot through him all over again, his hand growing painful around Sirius. This was ridiculous, Fang looked nothing like Padfoot...

Hagrid, it transpired, was picking runner beans in his back garden, and he came around to greet Harry and offer him a cup of dandelion juice.

"Should we be as worried about this as the rest of Hagrid's cooking?" Sirius said extra loudly just to get that look away from Harry's face even for a moment, he couldn't stand seeing his little pup in such misery every time something related back to him. It was killing him he'd been going through all of this in his past, and Sirius would do everything in his power to correct that now.

Once they were inside with a glass each, Hagrid asked how he was feeling?

"Dandoliney," James tried hard for a smirk and a joke, and Remus helpfully played along.

"Prongs, you can't substitute a weed for a fruit and get the same affect," Remus corrected.

"Says who?" James rebuked, before concluding, "Hark, look who's talking, you once switched armadillo bile with your own," James really did smirk then.

"It wasn't my fault breakfast wasn't agreeing with me that morning," Remus said tragically.

Harry could tell from his look of concern he did not mean psychically, but he simply fibbed he was fine and kept the conversation away from himself asking where he'd been?

Hagrid said hiding up in the mountains, like Sirius once had-

He stopped when he realized what he'd said, and feebly finished with he was back now.

"Subtle," Lily whispered, unlike the boys not pretending she couldn't see Harry's eyes swimming again. Sirius staying in those caves had almost been a good laugh at the time considering how well he knew the area, and suddenly the idea of if it had all been different just wasn't avoidable. If he'd just stayed up there instead of that ghastly house, if everything had been the way it should have and he'd never had to be there at all, if...

Harry instantly switched to saying Hagrid looked better, his old injuries from Grawp almost all faded.

It took a moment for Hagrid to realize what he meant and agreed Grawp was doing much better now, seemed right glad to have him back.

"I imagine that actually would have caused another injury," Sirius stated too loudly again, but he'd keep talking this way until the others stopped looking at him that way.

He was actually considering starting to look for a lady friend for him.

"Please tell me he's joking!" Lily yipped with more volume than Sirius had and easily capturing all attention.

"If he can get one for Aragog he would do it for anyone," James said without remorse.

"Hagrid's certainly becoming more interesting with this whole dating set up thing, maybe he should have a crack at Moony," Sirius smirked while Remus scowled hatefully for that.

Harry normally would have tried to persuade him otherwise, but he just hadn't the energy.

"Well you're just no help at all Harry," Remus grumbled instead of continuing to glare at Sirius.

Hagrid seemed to realize this and leaned forward to speak to Harry,saying he knew this was the way Sirius would want to go, in battle.

Sirius opened, then closed his mouth, he didn't have a true comment for that. The past twelve years of his life would have been a ruin, the last year possibly worse than anything those dementors could do. They ate away at your very soul just by being around, ruining anything happy you could hope to cling to...and then to be trapped in such a place where so many of all the worst memories would come back! Death honestly would have sounded more bearable after so many long months... he'd see James again...

Harry snapped back he hadn't wanted to go at all!

"But then there's that," Sirius sighed, couldn't speak aloud what had just pulsed through him, but he knew he wasn't doing a good job of hiding it at the panicky look from his brother. None of it would have mattered, the reason he had done what he was doing was for Harry, and now his godson spoke nothing but the truth. Sirius would do it all again just to be there for Harry in whatever way he had, no matter how short of time it was.

Hagrid bowed his head, but continued to speak quietly that he couldn't have lived with himself if he'd done nothing when Harry had needed help-

Harry's throat burned as he heard all that. He meant to hold it in, he really did, but then Sirius began to speak, and Harry burst. "I don't want to hear it! I don't give a damn! You still, you-" he was just left covered in ice, the fire instantly forgotten as Sirius' studious expression didn't change.

He would have lived, but he wouldn't be the man Harry had grown to admire and love.

Sirius didn't speak when he saw it all, that Harry had understood no matter how much he'd hate him for it.

Harry leapt up, telling he was going to visit Ron and Hermione at the hospital wing.

Hagrid looked upset,

'After what he just did, I'm not surprised,' Lily honestly agreed. Those had been the words Harry had needed to hear, but there was never a time to say them.

but did not stop Harry, only asking him to come back soon-

Harry was closing the door before he was done.

People still waved cheerfully to him, the sun shone bright above, but he wished they'd all just go away. A few days ago, before his exams had finished and he had seen the vision Voldemort had planted in his mind, he would have given almost anything for the wizarding world to know he had been telling the truth, for them to believe that Voldemort was back, and to know that he was neither a liar nor mad. Now, however . . .

Harry stayed nestled into Sirius' side, his heart feeling as heavy as it had back then no matter how much his mind told him to put it all away and be here with Sirius now while he had every chance he could. It wasn't quite working, the pain from his past would not fade no matter the replacement he had now.

He walked a short way around the lake, sat down on its bank, sheltered from the gaze of passers-by behind a tangle of shrubs, and stared out over the gleaming water, thinking . . .

Perhaps the reason he wanted to be alone was because he had felt isolated from everybody since his talk with Dumbledore.

"Harry," Sirius whispered for him alone, knowing his parents, that anyone else could have said the same, but Harry needed this to come from him. "You'll do what you think is right."

Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose hard, but it didn't stop the traitorous tears coming again. It was all to real, he could have opened them again and been back on that lake edge, the ghost of Sirius' voice whispering in his ear an assurance he'd needed that no one had been left to give.

Remus wished it would have just ended there, that this stupid thing was done. No more should have been said or done, but he also couldn't just stop. Harry needed some closure, and while he couldn't imagine how he was going to get it from that time, it felt impossible right now any of them were capable of doing so, only a reminder of everything he'd lost in his life while living through it all again.

He sat there for a long time, gazing out at the water, trying not to think about his godfather or to remember that it was directly across from here, on the opposite bank, that Sirius had once collapsed trying to fend off a hundred Dementors . . .

James had felt the bitter taint of regret, of not being there for those who needed him since the very beginning, and now even that moment felt like it was being torn away. Prongs had only been delaying the moment, he hadn't really the chance to save anyone.

The sun had set before he realized he was cold. He got up and returned to the castle, wiping his face on his sleeve as he went.

Sirius kept frowning as Harry tried to do the same now. He'd never wanted to be the cause of so much grief to his godson, to anyone.

Ron and Hermione left the hospital wing completely cured three days before the end of term. Hermione kept showing signs of wanting to talk about Sirius, but Ron tended to make 'shushing' noises every time she mentioned his name.

Lily made a watery noise as she kept sniffling, like she was trying to giggle but the noise wouldn't come. She imagined herself the same way at least in that regards, she felt useless as a mother she didn't have to talk and pry things from him when these books were saying it all. She honestly wished Harry had the chance to speak this for himself, but he often chose not to and let that speak for him. She wanted to change that, but remained unsure how. She'd have to find a way to get him off his crutch soon.

Harry was still not sure whether or not he wanted to talk about his godfather yet; his wishes varied with his mood.

"I know I always loathe talking about him," James muttered as he ruffled up his hair in agitation. "He manages to turn all conversations about himself."

"A trait he learned from you," Remus muttered. The two couldn't help it, to take shots at their friend, at each other, it was one thing they could still do to each other this future hadn't yet taken away.

He knew one thing, though: unhappy as he felt at the moment, he would greatly miss Hogwarts in a few days' time when he was back at number four, Privet Drive.

Harry tried to clear his throat, but it still seemed filled with too much snot to hold anything. It didn't mean he wanted to think about that anymore than the others, and thankfully Remus hissed past the moment knowing it would come up again all too soon.

Even though he now understood exactly why he had to return there every summer, he did not feel any better about it. Indeed, he had never dreaded his return more.

Professor Umbridge left Hogwarts the day before the end of term. It seemed she had crept out of the hospital wing during dinnertime, evidently hoping to depart undetected,

"Which she deserves absolutely none of," Remus said in pure disgust.

but unfortunately for her, she met Peeves on the way, who seized his last chance to do as Fred had instructed, and chased her gleefully from the premises whacking her alternately with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk. Many students ran out into the Entrance Hall to watch her running away down the path and the Heads of Houses tried only half-heartedly to restrain them. Indeed, Professor McGonagall sank back into her chair at the staff table after a few feeble remonstrances and was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after Umbridge herself, because Peeves had borrowed her walking stick.

The laughter that echoed through the room was long over due, but somehow far more lackluster than any ever would have predicted. After all she did to Harry, to that school, to so many people, this rather tame leaving of the post just did not feel as whelming as it should have. Then again, unless someone, Sirius, had arrived to escort her to Azkaban nothing would have felt as good.

Their last evening at school arrived; most people had finished packing and were already heading down to the end-of-term leaving feast, but Harry had not even started.

"Who did win the House Cup?" Lily insisted on keeping up the pleasant mood with any mundane topic she could.

"It was canceled, Dumbledore's reason was the Inquisitorial Squad made it too biased." Harry shrugged.

"Is that actually how he phrased it?" James said.

"No, he made some great speech announcement about Voldemort officially being back again, though Ron said he was just rubbing it in. What he actually said was something more along the lines of school unity and looking past all our differences to become one again in the face of-" he cut himself off with a heavy roll of his eyes. "I'm not Hermione, I don't remember the exact words. That's just what I got out of it."

"Fair enough," Remus agreed.

Ron was still trying to convince him to do it tomorrow, but Harry still convinced him to go on while he did this.

But when the dormitory door closed behind Ron, Harry made no effort to speed up his packing. The very last thing he wanted to do was to attend the Leaving Feast. He was worried that Dumbledore would make some reference to him in his speech. He was sure to mention Voldemort's return; he had talked to them about it last year, after all . . .

"I doubt he'd make two speeches," James tried to encourage, he couldn't imagine missing the last feast.

"The first wasn't really a speech so much as just an announcement," Harry shrugged in defense.

Harry pulled some crumpled robes out of the very bottom of his trunk to make way for folded ones and, as he did so, noticed a badly wrapped package lying in a corner of it. He could not think what it was doing there. He bent down, pulled it out from underneath his trainers and examined it.

He realized what it was within seconds. Sirius had given it to him just inside the front door of number twelve Grimmauld Place.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, he suddenly looked like he was going to be sick, and none of them looked any better. Remus could already feel small little shivers starting, he couldn't look at any of them, barely saying in a whisper.

Harry sank down on to his bed and unwrapped the package. Out fell a small, square mirror. It looked old; it was certainly dirty. Harry held it up to his face and saw his own reflection looking back at him.

He turned the mirror over. There on the reverse side was a scribbled note from Sirius.

This is a two-way mirror, I've got the other one of the pair.

James looked back on that moment, of feeling exasperated Harry had worried so much about Sirius. He hadn't found his son silly at all for thinking it, but even still, no matter how dark his mind had gone in offering what could happen to Sirius if he were to be caught again, he'd never wanted to imagine this all to come up again like this.

If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions.

Remus was stammering by the end, words becoming a blur as too many memories washed over him, over them all. Detentions, something as common to their life as homework, and still they'd refused to be apart, but he'd never want them back together again like this.

Harry's heart began to race. He remembered seeing his dead parents in the Mirror of Erised four years ago. He was going to be able to talk to Sirius again, right now, he knew it-

Sirius held Harry tight to him again, his frame going more pale by the second, his eyes wouldn't alight with that same hope in here and Sirius wasn't sure if it was age looking back or simply the boy in here couldn't even hold onto the same hope anymore with Sirius right beside him, his every being prepared for the blow he knew would come.

He called clearly for Sirius, and nothing happened. He tried again, using his full name, and still it only reflected his own face. Sirius hadn't had the mirror when he fell through...

"Magic can't bring back everything Harry," Lily couldn't seem to stop herself explaining, that burning look on his face compelled her to just say something. "The paintings, the ghosts, their just echos, can only do and say what they're magicked to do, not-" she stopped because it meant nothing to him. If this were true he would have long since had his parents back, there would never be such sadness in the world again. He just buried his face back into Sirius' shoulder, struggling to breath so much he was convinced he never properly could again.

Harry remained quite still for a moment, then hurled the mirror back into the trunk where it shattered.

James could all but hear the echo of the glass, feel that more than Harry understood. Sirius' last gift to him, from both of them, was as gone from his life as they were, leaving no more explanation than anything else they continued to be without. Where had those mirrors been all those years, where as the the other now? He didn't believe he'd get those answer's anymore than an explanation for why this had happened to a man who didn't deserve it.

He had been convinced, for a whole, shining moment, that he was going to see Sirius, talk to him again . . .

Disappointment was burning in his throat; he got up and began throwing his things pell- mell into the trunk on top of the broken mirror -

But then an idea struck him . . . a better idea than a mirror . . . a much bigger, more important idea . . . how had he never thought of it before - why had he never asked?

They weren't even sure if Harry could hear them. He wouldn't look up now, keeping his face away as if ashamed of what came next.

He was sprinting out of the dormitory and down the spiral staircase, hitting the walls as he ran and barely noticing; he hurtled across the empty common room, through the portrait hole and off along the corridor, ignoring the Fat Lady shouting behind him.

How could it be that the place was full of ghosts whenever you didn't need one, yet now . . .

Maybe it was because of the detachment from his memories, maybe it was because he had Sirius right now and he didn't want to see the look on his face for what came next, but as Harry felt Sirius tense and try to murmur something, all he could feel was his shameful wish for what his godfather could never have done.

He ran down staircases and along corridors and met nobody either alive or dead. They were all, clearly, in the Great Hall. Outside his Charms classroom he came to a halt, panting and thinking disconsolately that he would have to wait until later, until after the end of the feast . . .

Somehow it was even more painful Harry was forgetting another of Sirius' old things, and one they'd never even thought to bring up themselves. Did Sirius know Harry had the map? It had never really said, but Harry forgetting it now on top of everything couldn't have come at a worst time, they needed this to be done with. It was killing them all, more than having to listen to Sirius' fate, just to watch Harry cope through it all.

He found Nearly Headless Nick just as he was walking through an adjacent wall, and he popped his head back out to see who it was and walked properly out of the wall to greet him. Harry greeted him and tried to invite him into the classroom, but Nick hesitated for a long time before grudgingly going, saying he'd been expecting this.

Remus' face was flushed, eyes only on the book even as his mind wondered how many times a ghost had to have this conversation, how often he'd come across a crying student and the pearly white figures and had never thought about it more than that.

Harry was holding the door open for him, but he drifted through the wall instead.

"Ghosts," James tried to mutter petulantly, but it instead came out in his own ghostly tone.

He asked expecting what as he closed the door, but Nick didn't even look at him as he drifted to the window saying for young Harry to come talk to him, it happened often when students here had suffered a loss.

Harry refused to be deflected and said Nick was dead.

"Does the bluntness help the awkwardness?" Sirius asked him mock politely.

Harry didn't look up, though his shoulders eased just slightly from feeling the rumble of a chest beneath him. He already knew, even looking back, he couldn't have stood to see Sirius as that pearly figure for longer than a breath. To never truly have him again but a shell, an echo, it would have felt colder to him than his old cupboard ever had.

James wouldn't let the moment pass without saying though, "you'd know that better than anyone," because he could never stand wasting a single moment to talk to Sirius.

Sirius just smiled at him, the feeling just a bit forced as he could only imagine how much this was hurting James, how much every layer of this was just wrong for him. Sirius being dead and Harry feeling more for this than he ever had for his parents.

He was walking and talking though.

Nick took a long time in answering that not everyone could, only wizards.

Harry almost laughed in relief, thinking this was all his hesitation was and agreeing at once the person he was referring to was a wizard!

Nick still wouldn't look around when he said he wouldn't come back.

Harry asked who?

"Who were you talking about?" Remus couldn't help but look at him with great concern.

Harry forced himself to look up then, adjusting his glasses that were poking him in the face but still not really able to meet his eyes, just gestured wordlessly at Sirius, and Remus realized Harry had just refused to understand until it had been shoved in his face.

Sirius Black, Nick had said at once.

Harry said he could! Nick had!

Nick agreed wizards could leave an imprint of themselves on the earth, but it is only a pale trod from their living lives, very few chose to do it.

Harry said Sirius wouldn't matter if it was unusual,

"Well you got that one right," Lily managed a chuckle as she gave Sirius a little smirk which he all to happily returned.

he'd come back, he knew he would!

Harry was fixing his glasses stubbornly now, they might have gone a bit crooked from pressing his face so hard into them and that was why his vision was still a little blurry, surely he'd poked himself in the eye and that's why they were still watering, this was ridiculous, he knew with everything in him right now Sirius wouldn't come back.

"Harry," Sirius couldn't help but grab his wrist, to make him stop that before he took his eye out as his face continued to grow out of that sorrow and slowly into anger. "Harry you know I'd come back for you in any way I could, the real way. I'd have done anything to get back out of there, but only, only if it were real, if I was coming back, not-"

Harry jerked his arm free but forced himself to take a deep breath no matter how much it hurt. His lungs still weren't in working order anymore than his glasses, though he couldn't seem to find a thing wrong with either when he kept checking.

And so strong was his belief, Harry actually turned his head to check the door, sure, for a split second, that he was going to see Sirius, pearly-white and transparent but beaming, walking through it towards him.

Remus couldn't believe he was forcing himself to do this. He kept wondering, at the back of his mind, where he was, what was his useless self doing now instead of explaining to Harry Sirius would never have even considered doing such a thing, why was Nick having to be the one to answer for this.

Nick simply said he would not, he has gone on.

Harry demanded what that meant? What happened when you died? Where had Nick gone? Why doesn't everyone come back and this place was full of ghosts?!

They'd all asked these questions at some point, everyone at Hogwarts had to varying degrees. Never before for any of them had it felt so personal, or the answer so vital, even when already knowing what Nick would say.

Nick could only answer for himself, and he had no true answer. He'd simply, lingered. He'd been afraid of death, and he often wished it hadn't been so. He was neither here nor there...

'At what point does the mind and soul no longer intertwine,' the passage from an old book flitted through Lily's mind, when she herself had been looking into this very subject. Ghosts seemed to be the embodiment of that answer, and the moment she'd realized that she'd snapped the thing shut and had avoided the spectacular figures the rest of the day, too young then to fully grasp what she'd come across now, too young now to know that loss and still having to live through it.

He apologized for not being more help, and then he left.

Harry felt almost as though he had lost his godfather all over again in losing the hope that he might be able to see or speak to him once more.

"Miracles happen though," Harry muttered as he looked back to his godfather now, eyeing him with worry, his face flush and alive, gray eyes alert and bright for anything and everything. He did not know what had led him to this moment, but he knew, he would never regret it.

He walked slowly and miserably back up through the empty castle, wondering whether he would ever feel cheerful again.

It hurt, it was as fake as a dupe, but Harry smiled at Sirius, at all of them. He didn't know how, he could not imagine anything but the gray fog still trying to swallow him whole from his past, but he also knew with everything in him this was not true. Ron and Hermione were just down the stairs, and his friends would be there for him when he opened up to them. The ring glistened on his finger for a moment, a warmth unto itself promising a future he just couldn't envision right now.

He had turned the corner towards the Fat Lady's corridor when he saw somebody up ahead fastening a note to a board on the wall. A second glance showed him it was Luna. There were no good hiding places nearby, she was bound to have heard his footsteps, and in any case, Harry could hardly muster the energy to avoid anyone at the moment.

She gave him a vague wave, and he dully asked why she wasn't at the feast?

She said she'd lost her possessions and was trying to get them back, she was putting up signs asking the people to return them.

"They what?" Remus muttered in surprised outrage for what had just come out of his mouth.

"Kids," Lily muttered with a petulant eye on James, who batted his eyes innocently even though they remained rather hard and distant. He felt bad for Luna, but this still wasn't enough to distract him from what was going on in Harry's life, and so he waved Moony on so Lily couldn't start on what terrible youths they were again.

She spoke all of this serenely as she gestured towards the noticeboard, upon which, sure enough, she had pinned a list of all her missing books and clothes, with a plea for their return.

An odd feeling rose in Harry; an emotion quite different from the anger and grief that had filled him since Sirius's death. It was a few moments before he realized that he was feeling sorry for Luna.

James looked oddly at Harry, struggling a moment to see where he was coming from, but it came to him. Harry's face was still sad now, but for just a moment he had taken his mind off his own grief to see what was being done to others, something James had never bothered to do at any sense, at much of any age. Harry had briefly accused them of treating Luna as they once would have Snape, and while none of them had denied it, James suddenly liked to think he wouldn't have for this moment alone, the girl who made Harry see the outside world outside his own life.

Harry asked why they did that, and Luna said she wasn't sure, though she suspected it was because they found her odd. They called her Loony Lovegood you know.

"Yes well, so did they to Moony, but then again, maybe that's why we were the only fools who would tolerate him," Sirius smirked while Remus just smiled faintly and pretended to ignore him.

Harry offered to help her find it all, but Luna just kept smiling as she said it would all come back, it always did.

"She's so," Lily struggled for a word on this girl. She'd have been furious if someone had tired this on her, strung people up all along the castle if they'd even dared mess with her in this way. Serene was a good way to put it, very flowing. Luna simply accepted the way things were rather than trying to force people to behave how they should, and Lily found that honestly admirable, even while she'd be doing the same for Luna's things.

Then she asked why he wasn't at the feast, and he admitted he just hadn't felt like it.

Luna nodded as if she understood this, stating that the man that Death Eater killed had been his godfather, Ginny had told him. Harry nodded curtly, but found that for some reason he did not mind Luna talking about Sirius.

Sirius hummed thoughtfully, Harry noting he almost sounded like a pur rather than his usual dog like habits when he was content. Harry couldn't help the genuine smile that flit across his face then, even for a moment.

He suddenly remembered she could see thestrals to, and tried to politely ask who she'd seen die.

She told of her mother, who was an extraordinary witch who liked to experiment with Charms, and one had gone wrong. Luna had been nine.

Harry mumbled an apology for this, and Luna conversationally agreed how horrible it had been, and she was still very sad about it, but she still had her dad.

"Lucky her," James couldn't help but whisper, thankful only Remus had heard and he was politely ignored.

Though it wasn't as if she'd never see her again.

Harry asked about that, and Luna reminded of the room with the veil, Harry had heard them to.

Sirius couldn't help a well of panic for a moment. If Harry went back there, tried to get him out- he was being ridiculous, his mind instantly corrected. His godson was alive and safe right beside him. As desperate as he was, Remus had clearly gotten something through to him, that the veil was not the answer, there was no answer to making him come back. All that thing could ever do was taunt what Harry had lost.

Harry could think of nothing to say to that, and so again insisted he'd like to help her find her things.

Luna denied him though, saying she was done now and was going down to have some pudding. She wished Harry a good holiday, and he did so as well.

She walked away from him and, as he watched her go, he found that the terrible weight in his stomach seemed to have lessened slightly.

Sirius gave one last comforting brush to Harry, who leaned into the touch just like he always did, he couldn't imagine doing anything else.

The journey home on the Hogwarts Express next day was eventful in several ways. Firstly, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses, attempted to ambush Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet.

Remus gave a mock yawn. Considering Harry had bested all of their fathers and then some at the same time, this was beyond child's play to him. It was hard to imagine a worse pain to come than what they'd already suffered, certainly these school yard bullies held nothing.

The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of DA members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to Harry's aid. By the time Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot,

"Hopefully Ron lets go of his grudge on those Ravenclaws now," James said with his first real attempt at a chipper tone, even being back on that bloody train which always spelled disaster considering who was waiting at the end very time, and the man who wasn't.

"Actually, I think Ginny broke up with him," Harry said in a light, rather forced conversational tone of voice. He wasn't sure where this idea came from, but he didn't feel much care for it either way. He really must have been desperate for anything to smile at, he certainly was doing so now at such a random bit of information.

had finished using a wide variety of the hexes and jinxes Harry had taught them, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle resembled nothing so much as three gigantic slugs squeezed into Hogwarts uniform as Harry, Ernie and Justin hoisted them into the luggage rack and left them there to ooze.

"Twice on these train rides, this is becoming a tradition I almost look forward to," Remus smirked.

Ron had stepped out to see the commotion and came across the end results, saying at least Goyle's mum would be pleased, he looked better now.

"And there's Ron, always making sure to note the important things," Sirius chuckled.

Harry thanked the others and accompanied Ron back to their compartment, where he bought a large pile of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties. Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet again, Ginny was doing a quiz in The Quibbler and Neville was stroking his Mimbulus mimbletonia, which had grown a great deal over the year and now made odd crooning noises when touched.

Lily brushed at her hair, her face distant with distress. The train ride to start all this, and they'd been worried about such things as Harry's crush and the Ministry. Now he was going through again a new person. Though having experienced death once before, this was still something new, even worse. His innocence kept being peeled away, though he'd never had much to begin with, and she worried how much more he could handle.

Harry and Ron whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess while Hermione read out snippets from the Prophet. It was now full of articles about how to repel Dementors, attempts by the Ministry to track down Death Eaters and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lord Voldemort walking past their house that very morning . . .

Harry scoffed in disbelief even while he saw nothing of surprise on the others, and he shook his head sadly this was common for them.

Ron softly called his attention then, and Harry looked around. Cho was passing, accompanied by Marietta Edgecombe, who was wearing a balaclava.

"How long is that thing going to last?" Lily asked with the hint of worry now for what Hermione had done, had she really permanently scared that child for such a nasty trick.

"Never asked," Harry shrugged without much of a thought. "If I remember seeing her next year, I'll let you know."

His and Cho's eyes met for a moment. Cho blushed and kept walking.

They watched Harry curiously, but he seemed to be holding this with the same indifference as he had watching a little game of chess.

Harry looked back to his chess game with indifference. Hermione tentatively said she'd heard Cho was going out with someone else now.

"Well that was fast," James rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, it took longer than I expected," Sirius snorted.

Harry was surprised to find that this information did not hurt at all. Wanting to impress Cho seemed to belong to a past that was no longer quite connected with him; so much of what he had wanted before Sirius's death felt that way these days . . . the week that had elapsed since he had last seen Sirius seemed to have lasted much, much longer; it stretched across two universes, the one with Sirius in it, and the one without.

Harry was already struggling again, his composure as flimsy as paper in here. The feeling was growing rather than receding, of how to fit all three of these universes into his head. He knew it was ridiculous, he could treat Sirius the same way now as he had before all this, but at the same time it didn't feel right, just slightly off, as if here were disrespecting his own godfathers memories by joshing around with him as the younger carefree man he'd never known. It just wasn't sitting right, and he knew he needed time to come to term with all this, and just looked pleadingly at Remus to keep going, to finish this and give him that chance. While he'd avoided it in here, the feeling was creeping back now, he did want some alone time before he had to hear more.

Ron said he was probably better off, he needed someone a bit more cheerful. Then Ron asked Hermione who she'd heard she was with?

Hermione said Michael Corner, and Ron looked to his sister in surprise as that had been her boyfriend.

Ginny shrugged with as much care as Harry just had, saying he'd been a sore loser when Ravenclaw had lost the Quidditch Cup, so she'd ditched him and he'd gone to comfort Cho instead.

"What a smarmy little bloke, they deserve each other," James said without interest as he picked at his nails.

Ron looked highly delighted.

"I'm sure he did," Lily muttered with a small smile even as she kept watching Harry, who was at least pretending to keep listening with far more curiosity than was necessary, clearly still avoiding talking to them.

Then he said he hoped his sister found someone, better, next time, casting Harry an oddly furtive look as he said it.

Sirius gave a little wolf whistle while the others started snickering. Harry got a lopsided smile in place, his thumb twitching a bit now out of reflex to brush at his ring unconscionably. It was all still a joke of course, Harry told himself, Ron was only thinking this way to keep his sister away from others boys, he didn't really mean anything by it...

Ginny responded she'd chosen Dean Thomas, was that better?

"Err, no!" Remus yelped in surprise while Sirius and James laughed harder.

"What bloke dates a dorm mates younger sister, that's a spell for disaster if I've ever heard one," James rolled his eyes in agreement.

"Can you imagine the idiot?" Sirius demanded.

Ron shouted in such surprise he upended the chessboard.

As the train slowed down in the approach to King's Cross, Harry thought he had never wanted to leave it less.

"Wait, no, you skipped the best part!" Sirius yelped.

"Ginny told Ron to shut up, and he was in a temper the rest of the trip and muttering death threats to our dorm mate," Harry shrugged, even as at the time he'd agreed with Ron whenever demanded of, he'd mostly just been watching Ginny and that little smirk she'd kept hidden behind her paper for further irritating her brother in this way, it had been quite the show to watch and he'd wished the moment would never end.

He even wondered fleetingly what would happen if he simply refused to get off, but remained stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would take him back to Hogwarts.

"I really do wish you'd find out what happened, just once, let that be now," Sirius said tragically, and it wasn't a farce at a all. It had been there for one shining glorious moment before it was wrenched away, and then it had been left to hover, fester, in the back while Sirius had been on the run, incapable of fulfilling what they'd wanted from the very beginning. Now it was gone, permanently. Harry would never be able to step off that train to a real home.

When it finally puffed to a standstill, however, he lifted down Hedwig' cage and prepared to drag his trunk from the train as usual.

When the ticket inspector signaled to Harry, Ron and Hermione that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten, however, he found a surprise awaiting him on the other side: a group of people standing there to greet him who he had not expected at all.

There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous travelling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass of the station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend The Weird Sisters. Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair greying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers.

Remus couldn't believe his eyes, just staring at that and sure he'd read that wrong until James began laughing beside him. It was wild, and jittery, but he clapped Remus on the shoulder and shouted right in his ear, "there's Moony always coming through for us."

Remus didn't even have it in him to pull away, rub at his ear for the volume, he seemed stumped at what to do with himself. Finally, just a small little part of their wish had been granted, and yet it felt as bitterly tainted as spoiled milk. Because there was still someone missing, there always would be now, and Remus had never been there a single moment before this for Harry. It felt meaningless he'd done it now.

The others clearly didn't agree, Sirius shifting restlessly and prepared to wrestle the book from him if he didn't keep going, to find out what this was about! Was it finally happening, had Dumbledore changed his mind and admitted to another way? Was the Order going to take Harry out from those Dursleys noses at last?!

If James prodding Remus in the side hadn't got him started Remus likely wouldn't have moved ever again, but he shook off the terrible thoughts of this future and forced himself to focus on the now, Sirius still smiling widely and eagerly at him, and so he crossed his fingers to do one thing right and read out a moment they all so desperately needed.

At the front were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley along with the twins, the mother already coming forward to hug her children. Ron took his absently as he kept eyeing the twins, demanding what they were wearing?

Fred said dragonskin jackets with pride.

"Treating themselves a bit," Lily muttered with a raised brow as Remus gave a low whistle of surprise.

"They deserve it," Sirius said at once, smiling widely at the prospect and honestly wanting to snap the book shut on Remus' fingers right there, just let this moment last forever.

Remus would have ignored him anyways, their fantasies would only be worse the longer they delayed moving on, so he kept going loudly to really see what all this was about.

Harry greeted them all, but couldn't help asking what they were doing here?

Lupin had a faint smile in place as he said they'd decided to have a little chat with his aunt and uncle before letting them take him home.

Lily groaned obnoxiously loudly and let her head flop back against her seat. It was so exaggerated Harry couldn't help bursting out with laughter seeing his mother do something like that, and so Remus' expression went unnoticed by everyone except James. He'd realized the moment that look had flitted across his friends face what he could have thought they meant, and while the hope had been there he'd never let this blame fall on him either. "Moony, I don't care what made you do it, you are! Be happy about something for once in your life! Those bloody Muggles needed someone to remind them of who they have to look after until you show up again!" He managed to hiss at him while the other three were distracted.

Remus just looked at him, unable to believe after all this time, after all he'd done, Prongs was still standing up for him, even against himself. He'd finally lost everything in this future, but here and now he couldn't help but smile while he kept going, clinging to the idea he wouldn't be alone here.

Harry at once said he didn't think that a good idea, but Moody corrected he did, and gestured over his shoulder confirming that as them.

Harry glanced slightly and found all three standing there, positively appalled at his reception.

"A gift in itself," Sirius nodded as if his wish really had been made. It wasn't on the same level as satisfying if Harry had just left with the people he should have, but honestly after so much misery he'd take what he could get.

Mr. Weasley seemed rather reluctant to turn away from greeting Hermione's parents, but was the one to say they should get this started.

"Be afraid," James said in a mock spooky voice.

The four crossed with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Arthur still pleasantly speaking the greeting to them in hopes they'd remember him.

"Hard to forget the man," Lily managed in between a righteous little giggle.

As Mr. Weasley had single-handedly demolished most of the Dursleys' living room two years previously, Harry would have been very surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because the Dursleys were outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and embarrassed; she kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody she knew would see her in such company.

"Come on universe, I don't care who, I want someone to appear and see her there," James said at once, anything to make this just marginally worse for the people who still deserved more than they were going to get, but this was the first time Moony had been in their company, and he wasn't going to be satisfied until they walked away with stains in their pants.

Dudley, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was failing extravagantly.

"Better than trying to look intimidating, he'd just fail at that more," Sirius sneered.

Arthur was continuing his politeness as he said they'd decided to have a little chat with them about Harry-

and how he was treated when at their place, Moody interrupted with his growled voice.

"Be very afraid," Remus agreed with a slight smile now for this show.

Uncle Vernon's mustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Possibly because the bowler hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression that he was dealing with a kindred spirit, he addressed himself to Moody.

Five collective snorts of laughter for just how wrong that impression was, Harry's coming out a bit more runny than he'd meant to. His eyes were misting again. He didn't want to be reduced to tears again so soon, but he couldn't help it, he'd never in his life seen so many people to show him support like this...

Stating he was not aware that it was any of their business what went on in his house-

Moody interrupted again to state that he expected what Vernon wasn't aware of would fill several books.

Sirius gave a wild, unconstrained laugh that didn't stop for several minutes!

"That's too kind, I find encyclopedia far more accurate," Remus huffed.

"Credit for trying," Lily shrugged, she'd have been cheering them all on for someone finally doing something about this!

"Guess we'll just have to settle for these," James tried to roll his eyes like this was all fun.

Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to outweigh even his fear of this bunch of oddballs.

"Oh he has no idea," Sirius muttered, his enthusiasm still prevailing over the little frown he carried and refused to acknowledge. What he would give to be there for Harry now, even more than ever before, as gratitude was washing over his little pup now like never before.

He demanded if he was being threatened?

Mad-Eye happily agreed he was, seeming rather pleased Vernon had grasped this so quickly.

"The man has one trick, and now they've all seen it," James sneered.

Vernon barked if he looked like a man who could be intimidated?

Moody began that yes, it seemed so, as he spoke he tipped his hat up so his eye was visible, and Vernon lept back with such shock he collided with a nearby trolley cart and both fell over.

Lily was giggling hysterically now, the triumphant feeling wouldn't fade that finally someone was standing up to that pompous blubber even if it wasn't the man they'd all been hoping for.

He turned away from Uncle Vernon to survey Harry, telling him to give a shout if he needed anything, and if they didn't hear from him for three days, someone would come along.

Remus gave his head a soft little annoyed shake, remembering Harry's second year and how he'd gone most of the summer without contact and it had been practically ignored, oh how things had changed, almost for the better, right? He tried to keep James' words in mind at least Harry could never be so ignored again.

Aunt Petunia whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she was thinking of what the neighbors would say if they caught sight of these people marching up the garden path.

"So, Harry should ask them to come over for tea sooner rather than later," Sirius obviously concluded.

They each said their goodbyes then, promising they'd see him soon.

Harry nodded. He somehow could not find words to tell them what it meant to him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead, he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around and led the way out of the station towards the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley hurrying along in his wake.

Harry gave one last broken sob as he brushed furiously at new tears still arriving. Sirius had never once been able to pick him up from the station, as any semblance for that promise of a home, a family, and now he never could; but that didn't mean he had to be alone.

HPHPHPHPHP

That last moment always felt a little hollow to me. I know what JK was going for, but it never goes anywhere, the Order never actually acts on these implied threats because the Dursley's were long since scared straight by the idea of Sirius. It's kind of nice they tried to keep this going, but Harry never even would have told them Sirius was dead so they never would have known the difference, the threats never carry through, and so I couldn't manage to make this book end any other way because the book itself ended so dang depressing to me.

With that being said-

I! Actually! Finished! My! Favorite! Book!

For real guys, I can hardly believe this is over! It has by far been the most dramatic, climactic, and emotional one yet, and not all just for the characters. Someone made the review, though I can no longer check, that it would be at the point of The Department of Mysteries that most authors would stop, and while I swore I wasn't going to do that, that's when the original copy got taken down. Points for irony fanfiction! I didn't stop though, I never shall, and honestly even in the following deaths of the last two books none will ever feel as powerful as this one did.

Thoughts on Order of the Phoenix:

I could honestly gush about this one for ages, but I'll try to keep it to a low roar. Hem, hem; The mystery is as overwhelmingly engaging as any predecessor, JK dropping that Department of Mysteries corridor and presenting it as just a dream for so long before it fully ties in never ceased to amaze me how she keeps managing to surprise me like that. The characters are just brilliant, they all feel so alive in even the smallest scene any one person is in, and has there ever been a worse villain created? There are those out there who sympathize and understand even Voldemort, but has there ever been a soul that didn't loath Umbridge worse than the main series villain? I don't even think the Dementors could handle her soul, not really, considering I'm not genuinely sure she had one. The twins had their own side plot and every time it was mentioned I start grinning like a crazy person, there has never been nor will there ever be such an epic leave from that castle. Every single chapter feels like a genuine combination of light hearted life and the shit about to hit the fan syndrome for the last book, and THAT ENDING! Gah, 14 years later and I'm still a mess over poor Sirius and Harry and Remus, sometimes I have to actually stop and realize I'm crying over fake characters because it's all so compelling and just real in the most important way; she made me care from the moment Sirius swore to Harry's face he'd never do a thing against his dead best friend, and then she killed him two books later! 10/10; Favorite book in the series, nothing beats the heavy weight that is Order of the Phoenix.

Instead of making you guys wait before I start posting six, I'll actually have a special surprise for you in the meantime, so you won't just have to go months without hearing from me, so look to my profile for that special little thing coming up in the meantime about November.

I would like to thank every single living, and the unliving if there are any of those who read, person who read this. Every review/favorite means oh so much to me! Thank you to all, and I bid you good day.

#The Life That Never Lived #Harry Potter #fanfcition #reading the books #OotP #Marauders #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius black #Lily Potter #HP

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aprilqueen84 · 4 years

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When You Least Expect It (13/13) Part 1

A/N: Hello there! I am so very sorry that this has taken so long to get finished. I hope that there are still people interested in this story. This is the first part of the last chapter because it was getting too long so I split it in two. Once again thank you to @hollyethecurious for being my awesome beta and I hope you enjoy! It’s been forever so if you changed you @ please let my know.

Tag list: @hollyethecurious, @resident-of-storybrooke, @kmomof4, @jennjenn615, @nikkiemms, @kingofmyheart14, @xemmaloveskillianx, @angellifedeath, @facesiousbutton82, @a-faekindagirl, @kymbersmith-90, @winterbaby89, @ekr032-blog-blog, @laschatzi, @teamhook, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @capswantrue, @bmbbcs4evr, @kday426, @tiganasummertree, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, @Ifh1226-linda @met8, @meganhinsley, @capthamm, @sals86, @odonogosh

Summary: Killian and Emma had been wanting to start a family for a while now, but not had any luck. Soon they would learn that the best things happen when you least expect it. Except not everything is as it seems.

Chapter 13 (Part 1): The End

As soon as Gothel disappeared Emma frantically started to pull at bars, hitting and kicking them with everything she had. When she realized her attempts were fruitless she slumped to the ground, resting her back against the metal.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, leaning her head back.

“Emma,” Amelia whispered quietly as she came to stand right next to her.

Emma looked up into the scared face of the little girl who she had come to care so very much for. “Oh, sweetheart. Come here,” she said, opening her arms out to her.

Amelia immediately collapsed into Emma as sobs wracked her small frame. Emma gently stroked her hair until she finally calmed. It was then that she noticed a similar cuff like her own on Amelia’s wrist. It seemed that Gothel thought of everything, Emma thought bitterly.

They stayed that way for what seemed like forever until Amelia pulled back and looked at Emma. “Are we going to die?” she tearfully asked.

Emma didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t want to scare Amelia anymore then she already was, but she also didn’t want to lie to her either.

“Amelia,” she said, cupping her face. “I promise you that I will do everything I can to get us out of here. Okay?” she vehemently told her.

Amelia nodded her head and gave Emma a tearful smile. “Okay.” She grew quiet again and her face fell slightly. “Emma, I’m sorry.”

Emma looked at her in confusion. “Why are you sorry, baby?”

“Because this is all my fault. You wouldn’t be in danger if it wasn’t for me. It would have been better if everyone had never even met me,” Amelia said, her lip starting to tremble.

Emma shook her head. “No! Amelia none of this is your fault. You have been so brave and strong through all of this and I am so glad that I met you.”

Amelia’s eyes widened at that. “Really?”

Emma nodded with a smile. “Really. So no more of that kind of talk, we need to find a way out of here.”

“That won’t be possible,” a voice said from behind them.

Emma and Amelia sprang to their feet, watching as Silver, who was dressed in a black robe, hurried to the prison. “I don’t care that I have this cuff on me. If you touch her I won’t need magic to take you out,” Emma threatened

Silver quickly looked behind her. “Be quiet,” she whispered. “As I was saying, escaping won’t be possible. Not without help,” she responded, reaching into the pocket of her robe and pulling out a small vial filled with a dark liquid.

“What are you talking about?” Emma asked confused while pointing to the vial. “And what is that?”

“You’ll see. Now stand back,” she said as she threw the contents of the vial at the bars.

Emma watched in amazement as the bars began to shimmer and then disappear before her eyes, leaving behind a hole just big enough for them to go through. She looked at Silver with suspicion. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you two out of here. Now hurry, I’ve subdued Gothel but I don’t know how long the spell will last,” Silver said, gesturing for them to follow her.

Emma grabbed her by the arm to halt her. “First things first before we go anywhere with you. What did you do to my husband and son?” she demanded.

Silver looked down at the hand on her arm and then up into Emma’s face. “I assure you that I did not harm them, I merely did the same thing I did to you. Gothel has them trapped inside the convent, so if you want to free them we have to go now!”

Emma took Amelia by the hand and hurried down the tunnel behind the fairy. “Why are you helping us, when you helped her bring us here?”

“Because I can’t be a part of this anymore. When Blue banished her I thought that I was free, that I could forget the things I did for her and then I found out she was back and I knew it was only a matter of time before she dragged me back into her hell,” Silver said, her voice full of regret.

Emma stopped, realizing exactly what she meant by that. “You mean you were there the first time she tried this spell?” she asked, horrified.

Stopping as well, and letting out a heavy sigh, Silver turned and faced Emma. “Yes. I was responsible for keeping the children asleep while she went out to retrieve more ingredients for it, and I hated myself for doing it.”

Emma could tell that Silver was being truthful in her remorse for the part she played in bringing them here. So, she simply reached out and placed a hand upon hers, and said. “Thank you.”

The dark haired fairy merely nodded and the four of them continued down the tunnel. It seemed like they were going around in circles, every turn identical to the last, when finally Silver called out. “It’s just up ahead!”

“What is?” Emma asked bewildered, because all she saw was what looked like a dead end.

“The exit.” Just as she said that a door suddenly appeared in front of them.

Their pace began to pick up at the thought of freedom when suddenly they were stopped in their tracks by an invisible wall. “NO! NO!” Silver screamed, banging her hands against it.

“Now did you really think that pathetic spell was going to hold me Silver? I am ten times more powerful than that, I thought you would have figured that out by now,” Gothel said as she emerged from the shadows of the tunnel.

“No more, Gothel. This is sick and wrong! What you did to those children was an abomination.”

“What I did, you mean what we did. If I’m not mistaken you were right there cheering me on,” Gothel interrupted her with a sneer.

“I was naive. I thought that you were doing it for the greater good of the fairies, for our species.”

“Please! You knew what you were doing. You just chose to follow me, chose to help me take those children’s powers from them. You have no one to blame but yourself,” Gothel said.

“Maybe. And I may have to live with myself for it, but I won’t follow you. Not anymore.” Silver threw her hands out, and an invisible wave of magic barreled toward a surprised Gothel, knocking her off her feet and into the tunnel wall.

Behind them the invisible wall disintegrated making way for their escape. Emma tugged on Silver's robe sleeve. "Come on, now's our chance. Let's go."

As they turned to flee, Silver was suddenly lifted up off the ground. "My, my. I didn't think you had that in you. Too bad it was all for nothing,” Gothel said winded, but relatively unscathed from her meeting with the wall. “I am truly sorry about this Silver. I did consider you my friend.”

Silver met Emma’s horrified gaze, trying without words to say how sorry that she wasn’t able to save them. “Turn her away,” were the only words she managed to get out before she let out an agonizing scream.

Emma turned Amelia away from the terrible scene in front of her, and covered her ears as the screams continued, until finally silence was the only thing that could be heard in the tunnel other than their harsh breathing.

“It’s okay baby, it's okay,” she whispered to the little girl as she turned back around and saw black robes on the ground where Silver used to be.

"Such a pity. Good help is so hard to find nowadays," Gothel said nonchalantly. "Now back to the business at hand.” She stretched out her hands and from them magic in the shape of a robe flew towards Emma and Amelia, wrapping itself tightly around them.

Emma struggled against the magic that held her. “You won’t win.”

Gothel laughed. “Oh, my dear, I already have. Nobody is coming for you two.”

Emma shook her head. “You're wrong. If there is one thing my family excels at, it’s finding each other.”

“I admire the hope you have, but I’m afraid it’s all in vain. Your beloved husband and son are trapped, and nobody knows where you are. You are completely alone,” the witch taunted.

“You’ll see. They will come and we will defeat you,” Emma said with conviction.

Gothel jerked the magic robe until Emma’s face was inches from hers. “Enough! You have been a thorn in my side, and it will be a delight to dispose of you. And the only thing that your beloved family is going to find are your lifeless bodies,” she hissed before throwing her hands in the air and the three of them disappear in a plume of smoke.

Killian paced up and down the length of the foyer for what seemed like the millionth time. “Why isn’t it working?” he asked impatiently as he turned to Blue and the other fairies as they ran their wands along the panel of the door.

Blue sighed in frustration. “If you would stop asking me every five minutes, maybe we would be able to concentrate.”

“Oh, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. It’s not like Emma and Amelia are being held by an insane witch,” Killian sarcastically said.

“I am fully aware of the situation, but we are not going to get anywhere if you keep interrupting us,” Blue said, becoming increasingly annoyed at not being able to remove the spell that kept them trapped.

“You’re supposed to be the blasted Blue fairy. Although, I shouldn’t be surprised you can’t fix this, you didn’t even know that one of your most trusted fairies was working with the enemy,” Killian said snidely.

Blue whirled on him, anger clear on her face. “I don’t believe I asked or wanted the input of a pirate. So why don’t you just stay out of our way and do what you're good at... nothing.”

Killian opened his mouth to bite out another insult when a voice called out. "Stop!"

Killian and Blue turned to see Henry standing off to the side with a stricken look on his face. "Just stop. Listen, we are all worried, but yelling insults at each other isn't going to help solve our problem."

They hung their heads in shame. Both appalled at the way they had behaved. "Aye, you're right. I'm sorry, my boy." He turned to Blue. "Forgive me, I spoke out of fear and it was uncalled for."

Blue could tell that he was being sincere, and regretted speaking so harshly to him. She admitted that she had held a grudge against him for his role in trapping herself and the other fairies all those years ago. But she could see now how unfair that was to him, and how much he had changed to be a better man. “I’m sorry, too. I haven’t treated you fairly, and that was wrong of me.”

Killian was slightly taken aback by Blue’s response. He had a feeling that she wasn’t talking about their shouting match just now. He gave her a nod of understanding and then cleared his throat. “Alright then, let’s get back to it.”

After several minutes one of the fairies let out a cry of excitement, “It’s working!”

Killian and Henry snapped their heads up and watched as a shimmery line of magic began to dissolve all around them. “Oh! Bloody good show, ladies. Well done!”

Racing over to the main door, he practically tore it off its hinges in a hurry to get out. He had just made it out onto the top of the stairs when he saw Regina, David, and Snow standing on the ground below him.

“What the hell is going on!?” Regina exclaimed with her hands on her hips.

“Mom, Grandma, Grampa!” Henry called out with joy. Running down the steps and into his mother's arms.

“Regina. Where’s Emma?!” Killian asked frantically when he reached the group.

Regina pulled away from Henry’s embrace and looked at Killian with regret. “I don’t know. When I noticed that she had been gone awhile I went to check on her and found the cell empty. Both her and Gothel were gone,” she explained

Killian felt like his legs were nearly about to give out. “No,”

“I immediately called Snow and David. When they met me here, we saw the force field around the building.”

“Killian, what happened?” Snow asked

“I’ll tell you what happened. Gothel had an accomplice amongst the fairies. Silver. She incapacitated Henry and I, and took Amelia,” he said distressed.

The trio stared at him in shock. “What!” Regina said, disbelief clear in her voice.

“She trapped us in the convent,” he said, swallowing roughly before continuing. “So she could help Gothel take Emma.”

They were all at a loss for words. David looked over at Henry who’s eyes had begun to well up with tears, then back at Kilian. He reached over and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “We’ll get them back,” he said with determination.

“How? We have no idea where Gothel has been hiding or the first place to even look,” Killian said despondently.

“There has to be some sort of clue about where she is. What about Silver? Maybe she left something behind, we should check her room.” David suggested.

Killian let out an aggravated sigh. “Fine. It’s worth a shot. Let’s get to it.”

The five of them headed back inside to hopefully find anything that will help them locate Emma and Amelia.

After an hour of searching, which had resulted in nothing, tensions were beginning to rise. “This is a waste of time!” Killian said, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

Snow, ever the optimist, tried to remain positive. “We can’t give up.There has to be something we are missing.”

“We have searched everywhere and there’s nothing! And every second we waste is another second that Emma and Amelia are in the hands of that monster!” The last few hours of fear and uncertainty had finally started to bubble to the surface, causing Killian to lash out with his hook and swipe at the contents that were on the dresser he was standing next to.

When everything clattered to the floor an old jewelry box broke open and the five of them watched in shock as a plume of smoke rose from it.

“What the hell?” Regina said as a figure began to materialize.The figure of Silver.

The young fairy looked nervously around before speaking. “I must be quick. If you are seeing this then my part in Gothel’s plan has finally been made known. It also means that I am most likely dead. I know that there is nothing that I can do to atone for my transgressions, but I hope that when you do find this message that it’s not too late. I’ll be attempting to rescue Emma and Amelia from Gothel myself, but if I am not successful I have brewed a potion that will take you directly to the entrance of her hideout.” She stopped suddenly, her eyes darting nervously to the side. “I must go. Please hurry.” Then the connection winked out.

As soon as the image faded, there was silence for several seconds before Killian finally broke it. “She was trying to help us. Let’s not have it be in vain. We have to find that potion,” he said urgently as they set to work, hoping that they wouldn’t be too late.

To Be Continued in Pt.2

#Captain Swan #When You Least Expect It #csff #cs fic #cs fic rec #killian jones #emma jones #Henry Mills #canon compliant #until s6 #then #canon divergence #married cs #aprilqueen84

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pilyarquitect · 4 years

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Getafix’s mistake - Chapter 5. Reunions

Hello everyone! Here I bring you a new chapter of this Asterix fic, I truly hope you’ll all like it. I think the title says everything you need to know, or what it can be guessed it’ll happen here. 😊

Well, I’d like to give a special thanks to Drummergirl for helping me editing this story. I’m really, really, really grateful to her, she’s awesome!

Okay after say all this, here you have the fifth chapter of this story, I hope you all will like it!

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The villagers were gathered around Vitalstatistix's cabin, waiting patiently – some more than others – for their chief to tell them why they had gathered them all there.

During the wait, which was taking a little while, Cacofonix emerged from the crowd saying:

"I’ve composed a new ode that will help us wait –"

He couldn’t finish speaking, because at that moment a fish thrown by Unhygienix hit his face directly, causing the bard to fall to the ground. As soon as he got up, he glared angrily at the launcher, turned his back on him and murmured:

"Ignorant… they don't understand my talent."

Just then, Vitalstatistix came out of his cabin and his bearers raised him on his shield. The village chief looked at everyone around him, and gloomily began to speak:

"My friends, I’ve summoned you here to ask for your help. I fear that… I fear that one of our own… one of our best friends… is in great danger. I need your help to look for him.”

"By all the gods! Who is he, oh Vitalstatistix?” one of the villagers asked.

"It’s Asterix." a voice answered from behind the crowd.

They all turned to see the one who had spoken, who turned out to be none other than Obelix. He was standing next to the old druid with a face of deep sadness, but also extreme determination.

"Asterix may be in danger. We’ve got to go and find him." continued the red-haired Gaul.

"Obelix’s right. We must leave immediately," added Getafix.

"That's just what I was going to say," said the village chief.

The concern for the blond Gaul soon became palpable among everyone present. Even the day itself seemed to have grown gloomier after receiving the harsh news.

"Then what are we waiting for?" said one of the villagers.

"Yes, by Belenos, let's not waste time," added another.

"True by Tutatis, we must hurry!" said a third.

Getafix intervened at that time, saying:

"Everyone calm down. It’s true we must go as soon as possible to look for Asterix, but before going, take some magic potion. You may need it."

As soon as he said this, all the villagers went to the druid's house to take a drink of potion and thus be able to immediately go out to find their missing friend. Everyone carried sadness and concern on their faces, but also deep determination. They would find Asterix, no matter what it cost. They wouldn’t abandon one of their own to an uncertain fate. Especially the village’s warrior, since he had done much for them. He had saved them countless times from grave dangers that had on multiple occasions threatened the survival of the village.

Yes, Asterix had always been there for them at all times, although the other inhabitants didn’t want his help since they thought they could solve their problems alone or they just didn’t want to recognize that what the blond Gaul did was for the well-being of all. A man like Asterix, despite his short stature, was someone for whom everyone had deep admiration and respect. No, none of them would allow anything to happen to him, not if they could avoid it.

Obelix was becoming increasingly concerned. They had searched for what seemed like hours, and there was still no sign of Asterix anywhere. The great Gaul was following his faithful pet, Dogmatix, who without lifting his nose was sniffing every section of the ground, looking for any trace of the blond warrior.

Suddenly, the small animal raised his ears and sniffed more intensely in a specific area of the forest. Then raised his head and howled indicating he had found a trail to follow.

When Obelix saw his puppy howl, his mind filled with hope. Now they were closer to finding Asterix. He could almost see himself talking to his best friend again, but any illusion the great Gaul had at that moment was truncated when he saw Dogmatix suddenly began to growl, indicating he detected enemy odors in addition to that of the blond Gaul.

Obelix's heart filled with fear imagining all the possible scenarios of his best friend in enemy hands, so he immediately shouted:

"Come on, Dogmatix! Let's not waste time! Take me to Asterix, quickly!"

Obeying his owner, the puppy began to run, following the trail that would lead them to his friend.

The other villagers saw Obelix and Dogmatix running and they soon guessed what that meant, so they instantly joined the race after the small animal. If their friend was in danger, they would rescue him soon, and in the process, they would make the Romans or whoever who dared to attack one of their own pay.

As they advanced, they realized that they were getting closer and closer to Totorum's camp. That could only mean Asterix was there.

Obelix was in the lead, knowing Asterix was almost certainly behind the doors now in front of him, his brow furrowed almost reflexively and his determination stronger than ever. If the Romans had done something to his best friend, they would regret it. He would personally assure it.

The two soldiers who guarded the camp’s entrance immediately turned pale when they saw the wave of Gauls coming over them. And although they tried alert the rest of the guards, they didn’t have time to do it. All the Gaul villagers rushed in a breakneck speed against the doors and entered the campground.

Obelix followed Dogmatix while sending all the soldiers who appeared before his eyes flying. The little dog then entered a tent. The great Gaul stopped dead when he reached the tent’s entrance. Although the menhir dealer wanted to come in and see how his friend was, he also feared the state he was going to find him in. His heart rate flurrying, his breathing became a little shallow, and his legs trembled slightly from the uncertainty that now filled his mind. Was it really a good idea for him to come in alone? If Asterix was wounded, he wouldn’t be the best candidate to help him. Just thinking his best friend might be hurt made Obelix's heart clench and a new wave of fear flooded his senses.

Finally, the desire to know what had happened was stronger than any fear that could occupy his mind. For that reason, Obelix took a deep breath, and with trembling hands, slowly removed the cloth that covered the entrance to the tent. When he had done so, he looked inside and saw a boy who was smiling because Dogmatix was licking his face enthusiastically, tickling him with each lick. When the little boy noticed the presence of someone else in space, he looked with frightened eyes at the newcomer, but his expression changed when he saw he wasn’t a Roman… at least, that's what Obelix supposed.

The boy looked at the great Gaul for a few seconds and then asked:

"Are you Mr. Obeliscoidix?"

At that moment the world around Obelix completely collapsed. The great Gaul hoped to find Asterix unscathed and completely safe, as he had been only a few hours ago, before Asterix went alone into the forest. But he’d never have imagined finding him in such a state, as when he was a child and believing Obelix himself was actually his father, Obeliscoidix. How to deal with such a situation?

"Getafix!" little Asterix yelled again "By Tutatis, I'm so glad to see you, oh druid."

Obelix then turned his eyes to Getafix, who had insisted on joining the search for the blond warrior. The druid, for his part, widened his eyes when he saw Asterix’s state. He certainly would never have expected his potion to produce such effect. The great Gaul looked again at his best friend and realized the eyes of the little Gaul had begun to shine with unshed tears. This caused Obelix to come out of his trance and rush to where Asterix was. He tore off the rope that kept his friend's leg attached to the tent pole. Then he also tore off the ropes that held the blond Gaul’s hands together, trying, in both actions, to be as gentle as possible with the child.

Finally, when Asterix was completely free, Obelix wrapped him in his arms and cradled him protectively.

For the menhir dealer, seeing his best friend, someone he considered his brother, on the verge of crying, caused him deep sadness. At these moments his heart was a whirlwind of emotions. On one hand he felt rage… rage against what had happened to Asterix… rage because the Romans had caught him; on the other hand he felt disappointment… disappointment with himself for not having been with Asterix when everything happened; but above all, he was afraid… afraid that Asterix would stay like this forever… afraid of what might have happened if they hadn't found him.

On the other hand, Obelix couldn’t imagine the fear that Asterix must have felt in this state, alone and being a captive of the Romans. Who wouldn't feel that way just being a child?

This situation brought to his memory the moment when his gluttony made his own body shrink, though he kept his mind intact. That didn’t deprive him of feeling alone and helpless when he was captured by the Romans. Although by far, the worst moment of all from that adventure was the moment he felt completely helpless, because he wasn’t going to be able to stop Asterix being thrown into the sea full of sharks. Fortunately, at that time, the red-haired Gaul regained his size and strength, so he managed to save Asterix before it was too late.

Since then, Obelix had promised himself he would never allow anything to happen to his friend, but now, in this situation… he had failed his promise, and the little Gaul was paying the consequences. If only he had hurried up and distributed the menhirs earlier, he would have gone with Asterix to the forest and none of this would have happened.

Obelix was deep in thought, so he was startled when a hand landed on his shoulder. Looking at the owner, he met the sympathetic gaze of Getafix.

"Obelix, please, I understand how you feel, but you need to let me see Asterix to see if he has suffered any damage." the druid smiled affectionately "It’ll only take a moment, you’ll see."

The red-haired Gaul lowered his gaze to the boy who was lying in his arms. Asterix was crying slightly, although he seemed happy to be with someone of Gaul origin and not Roman. Still hesitant, Obelix slowly lowered Asterix to ground level. Once there, the little boy ran into the druid’s arms.

Getafix hugged the Gaul boy while he buried his face in the druid's beard and cried. Between his sobs Asterix said:

"Oh Getafix… I-I was a-afraid, ve-very afraid…”

"Asterix, it’s all over, everything has already ended." the old druid tried to reassure him. He bent down to his level and helped the boy maintain eye contact with him.

"Come on Asterix, tell me what happened."

"The b-bad ma-man said h-he was going to ta-take me to Ro-Rome to f-force a-all the vi-village to s-surrender." said the little Gaul between sobs.

Getafix put his hands on Asterix's shoulders and spoke to him with reassuring words:

“Asterix, this won’t happen. It’s over. You have nothing to fear. We're here and we'll take you back home, I promise. But first I need you to do something for me, okay?”

The Gaul looked at his druid with a little surprise, and even with tears in his eyes, but nodded anyway.

"What do you need, oh druid?" he asked as he wiped away his tears.

"What I need is for you to tell me if something hurts, it’s very important."

Asterix stared at the ground while thinking for a moment. When he looked up again, he said sincerely:

"Right now, nothing hurts Getafix, but when I woke up a while ago everything hurt. Especially my head and… here." he put the palm of his hand on his chest.

The village druid looked where the boy indicated. His expression relaxed and smiling he spoke again:

"It's okay little one, just one more thing. What’s the las-?"

"I want to go home with my parents." said the little Gaul with new tears in his eyes. He wanted to get out of that place as soon as possible. He wanted to go back to the village and, above all, he didn’t want to go to Rome. So, the sooner they left, the less likely they were to take him to Rome.

"Yes, we’re leaving soon, but I need-" Getafix tried to say, but again he was interrupted by the blond Gaul.

"No, I want to go home now… please Getafix." Asterix pleaded.

"Okay, let's go." the druid finally surrendered. He knew from experience Asterix as a child had been a very, very stubborn boy, and opposing him wasn’t always a good idea.

Obelix had been silent the whole time. As soon as he heard his friend say the Romans intended to take him to Rome, a veil of rage covered his mind. This was the last straw! This time the Romans had gone too far. His hands were clenched into fists, and they trembled with the anger he was barely able to contain. Everything around him seemed to have vanished, he was alone with his thoughts…

"… -lix?"

The red-haired Gaul blinked up at his druid with Asterix in his arms and looking at him with concern.

"Obelix, are you alright?" Getafix spoke again.

"What? Oh yes, yes, druid, it's just…”

"I understand," said Getafix, guessing what was happening in the great Gaul’s heart, "but now we must return to the village, for the sake of Asterix."

Obelix looked down at the little Gaul, who had fallen asleep in Getafix's arms. The menhir dealer couldn’t help but smile seeing his best friend asleep soundly. But he realized that, although asleep, the boy still let out a sob from time to time. This was like a thorn digging into Obelix's heart. In a low and soft voice, he said:

"Getafix… do you…. do you mind if I take him?"

Getafix smiled and replied:

"I don’t see why not. Here, take him carefully so he doesn’t wake up."

And then he spread his arms allowing the great Gaul to pick up his best friend and cradle him in his lap. Little Asterix moved for a moment to better position himself in Obelix's arms. He seemed to be very comfortable in his temporary bed, so Obelix smiled again seeing Asterix was now sleeping peacefully and he had stopped sobbing. To Obelix this seemed almost like a sign that his best friend was still able to recognize him despite his current state.

When they had made sure Asterix was comfortable, they left the tent, picking up all the Gaul warrior’s belongings, especially the canteen. Getafix was glad to see the canteen still contained enough potion inside. If he could study its contents carefully, he would probably find a cure to return the blond Gaul to his original state.

Once outside, druid, Gaul and puppy met with the other Gauls, who had finished with the "cleaning" task.

The moment the other villagers saw Obelix arrive with little Asterix in his arms, a collective gasp was heard from them all. Vitalstatistix looked from his position on the shield to the boy and asked:

"Getafix, is he… is he really Asterix?"

"I am afraid so Vitalstatistix." replied the druid.

"Oh, by all the gods!"

"Shhh, I recommend keeping quiet and going back to the village, I wouldn’t like Asterix to wake up here again." Getafix spoke again.

"Okay, but… you can fix this, right, druid?" Fulliautomatix asked, who like everyone else was worried Asterix would stay in that state forever.

"I hope so, Fulliautomatix, I hope so."

After the old druid's last words, all the men started on the way back to their homes. None of them wanted little Asterix to wake up again in that place. He had already suffered enough.

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Overanxius was excited – practically elated. His inspection of the rest of the camps had been quite satisfactory. Now the time had come to return to the capital of the Empire, taking with him the little Gaul prisoner. Caesar would be proud of him and sure he’d reward him for his performance in Armorica and for making the indomitable village finally bow to Rome’s power. The gods had been benevolent to him.

The senator was about to arrive at Totorum camp and then realized the watchtowers he had seen before were now gone. This is very strange, thought the envoy from Rome, what could have happened? Then an overwhelming sense of restlessness seized his being, so with a whip to their horses, he made them pick up their pace to reach his destination as soon as possible.

When the camp appeared before his eyes, the vision was one of complete desolation, chaos, and destruction. This couldn't be the same camp he had been in just a few hours ago! He drove his carriage into the compound, only to find none of the tents were still standing and all the legionaries were scattered on the ground, many of them still unconscious. He got out of his means of transport and went straight to where Caius Marsupialus was. His face was red with anger. He shouted to the Centurion:

"By Jupiter! Can I know what happened here?”

"The Gauls happened," replied Caius Marsupialus.

The Roman senator turned even redder than he already was and looked around as though he were searching for something. Almost dreading the answer he was going to receive, he asked:

"And where is the prisoner, if you know?"

"They took him," was all the Centurion replied.

"How?! By Neptune! And you did nothing to prevent it?!”

"How were we supposed to stop them? The Gauls possess their magic potion that gives them superhuman strength. We are no match for them when they take it,” protested Caius Marsupialus.

Overanxius didn’t know how to contain his anger. All his plans, his desire for glory, had collapsed in a moment.

"And how did the Gauls know that we were holding that child here?" he asked again.

"We don’t know. We only know that they all came at once. They’ve destroyed everything and… they took the child." explained one of the legionaries defending his superior.

"It seems like it was the dog," said another of the legionaries.

"A dog? What dog?" the Roman senator inquired again.

"A small white puppy that always goes with the chubby Gaul, the best friend of the Gaul we had here as a prisoner." explained the legionary.

"So, in your opinion, that dog led all the Gauls here," Overanxius conjectured.

"It’s more than likely. It isn’t the first time something similar has happened," Caius Marsupialus said.

"Okay, okay…" Overanxius closed his eyes and massaged his head in an attempt to ease the sudden headache he now felt.

He opened his eyes again and said angrily:

"Do as you like, but I want that Gaul again!"

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Welp, this is the fifth chapter. I'll be honest, I felt bad for Obelix when Asterix called him Obeliscoidix. He hoped to find his friend save and sound, but it happened exctly in that way. Poor Obelix... and what bad news for Overanxius, to know his prisoner had been recued, and the Roman camp now seemed a battle field. Well, things never happen as expected 😉

Okay, after say that, I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I also would like to thank to all the people who’d read this story and: @elianemariane17 @theholypencil @alyxox02 @lilacivories @coconuttyglittersmurf for their likes

See you in the next chapter 😉

I forgot to say this chapter includes a piece of art made by the awesome artist @zeragii I hope you liked it!

#asterix and obelix #Getafix's mistake #Asterix #Obelix #dogmatix #Getafix #all the village #attacking the Romans #someone is really mad

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like-the-wings-of-butterflies · 5 years

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This Moment In Time (Racetrack Higgins x Reader)

Summary: Upon moving into your first apartment with Race, you’re reminded of the moments that led you to where you are

Warnings: Some mild angst quickly followed by sweet sweet fluff because I’m an absolute sucker for it

Word Count: 2,244 (this is longer then any of my usual stuff wtf)

A/N: I KNOW I’M A QUEEN BLOG BUT I NEEDED TO WRITE THIS AND DIDN’T FEEL LIKE SETTING UP ANOTHER BLOG TO POST IT SO ENJOY SOME OF MY OTHER FANDOM NONSENSE

A.K.A - I rewatched Newsies for the upteenth time (god bless you disney +) and it sparked an idea which is only a tiny little bit self indulgent

Feedback and comments are always appreciated! ♡

“So this is it.” You breathed into the darkened room, a smile dancing on your lips.

Race placed the burning candle in the centre of the one room apartment before rising to his feet again and grasping hold of your hand. The gentle flickering glow revealed that the small apartment. It was neglected to say the least, paint peeling from the walls, dust-encased windows and the odd squeaking floorboard; certainly a step up from the lodging house however. “I know it ain’t what we were dreamin’ of, not even close, but it’s-“

“It’s got a roof and it’s got you,” You finished for him, squeezing his hand in assurance with an honest smile despite him barely being able to see through the darkness. “It’s perfect. Nothin’ a bit of cleanin’ won’t fix.”

Truly, you couldn’t help but fall for the mess that was Racetrack Higgins. When you first showed up on the doorstep of the lodging house at the age of 13, it was Race that volunteered to take you under his wing and teach you the fine art that was selling newspapers. Staying as his selling partner permanently wasn’t exactly part of the plan, either was becoming one another’s best friend, but the pair of you couldn’t imagine selling with anyone else; having grown too accustomed to each other’s company.

He’d always flirt with you - as he would with every other person who’d give him the time of day— flattering you with compliments and cheesy pick up lines at every opportunity. You’d flirt back of course, not being able to resist the handsome blonde’s charm, but at the cost of catching feelings; no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, a childhood crush steadily emerged, turning the heads of the other newsboys.

But as the years progressed, you both matured into young adults. Your experiences bringing you closer together as you grew fonder of one another day by day.

Never in your entire life did you think you’d be living anywhere else but the crumbling walls of the lodging house or in one of New York’s damp alleyways. Yet here you were, hand-in-hand with your fiancé, settling into your first home together. Many were shocked that you were engaged at such a young age, but neither of you could truly see yourselves without the other in your life. Now too old to live in the lodging house, Race ironically managed to find work operating printing presses, and you as a server at Jacobi’s. In a unlikely twist of fate, you managed to earn enough money to move into the small apartment and support yourselves, all while keeping a close eye on the other Newsies.

“Should we check out the penthouse?” Race grinned ear to ear, running to the window upon your nod. He wrestled with the frame for moment before it opened with a satisfying ‘crack’ that echoed through the apartment, before stepping out onto the fire escape.

“M’lady~“ Race offered his outstretched hand with a charming smile, helping you step onto the raised surface. Your breath hitched as you saw the landscape in your surrounds. You were about four floors up which made the view expansive, and you suddenly became keenly aware of how many beautiful sunrises you’d be able to watch from your current position. You’d been in Jack’s penthouse on a couple occasions, but never just to sit and admire the view.

“How the hell did we make it here Racer?” You breathed in awe as you watched lights and lampposts decorate the otherwise dull streets of New York, like little stars in a blackened sky.

Race wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a sweet embrace, your back pressed against his chest and his head resting on your shoulder, “I was just the prettiest Newsie you’s had ever seen and you’s couldn’t help but fall for me,” He teased, pressing a long kiss against the side of your neck as he giggled lightly to himself.

“You don’t think growin’ up or working together our whole lives had anythin’ to do with it?” You jested back, reaching a hand behind you to fiddle with the curls upon his head as you closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace.

“Absolutely not. But the strike?” He mused thoughtfully, “That’s when I realised I loved you.”

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

It was no surprise waking up to Race sitting on the cold floorboards beside your bunk the night after the strike had been announced. Your beds weren’t too far from one another and Race always slept lightly, often being the call of comfort whenever anyone was having nightmares. He gently shook you awake while brushing away the tears that stained your face, smiling lightly once your eyes opened.

“What’s goin’ on Doll?,” He whispered out, careful not to wake the others, “Why you’s havin’ nightmares?”

“I’m scared what we’re doin’ is gonna get us all hurt,” You croaked out into the darkness, doing your best to hold back a sob. “That we’s gonna end up in the Refuge.” Nobody was oblivious to the chances of the strike ending in violence, the stakes were high; you were only a group of kids fighting against one of the most powerful men in New York after all.

Race’s hand stilled on the side of your face, his warm palm flat against your cheek grounding you and bringing you a sense of comfort. He could see in your eyes just how scared you were.

“I’m scared too,” He admitted before pausing, seemingly collecting his thoughts, “But we’s gonna be okay. Jack and Davey are smart, they’s know what they’re doin’.” He vowed, taking hold of one of your hands and rubbing his thumb against your knuckles.

You both sat in silence for quite some time, both too distracted by your thoughts swirling around your heads. As you felt your eyelids growing heavy, you lightly tugged on Race’s arm who brought his eyes up to meet yours.

“Stay with me?” You queried, eyes hopeful.

Without so much as a second thought, he lifted the thin sheet covering your body before sliding into the small bed, his chest pressed against your back, “Anythin’ for you (Y/N).”

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

A few days later, when the bulls attacked, you were an absolute mess; much like the others. In such a short amount of time, your entire world had flipped upside down and everything was shrouded in a new sense of seriousness.

Of the entire group, Davey, Mush, Albert and yourself had come out relatively unscathed - save for a couple bruises - meaning you’d been tasked with patching up the others who weren’t as lucky. You’d just finished tying up Les’ arm into a sling, only as a temporary measure however, just to stop the energetic boy from exercising it too much until he got home. You bargained on the fact that Mrs Jacobs would have a far better fix to his seemingly broken arm, knowing that if worst came to worst, the family could afford a doctor.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” You grinned softly as you walked towards Race in the back corner of the lodging house, shrouding himself in the shadows of the late afternoon sun.

“Ha ha.” He imitated, his usual playful attitude absent as he refused to look in your direction.

Something wasn’t right.

With your bodies facing each other, his legs hung over the edge of the table he was perched on as you remained standing. After a few moments of unmoving silence, you lightly tapped his knee, asking him to move so you could stand between his legs. He complied, but kept his eyes secured to the wall on your right. Slowly, you reached out to cup his jaw with a gentle hand, tilting his face to meet yours. You face fell the instant you saw the extent of his injuries.

His left eye was swollen shut, with hints of black already forming on the delicate skin. His chin was tinged an unforgivable red from where he’d wiped away the blood from his busted lip and damp trails ran from his watery right eye.

He’d been crying.

Your own tears welled up when he looked you in the eye, and you found yourself biting your lip to stop any from falling.

With your other hand, you grasped hold of the brim of his worn hat and placed it on the table beside him, letting the mess of curls fall lose against his face.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded solemnly, bringing a hand up to wipe away at his own tears before resting his head against your chest and wrapping his arms around your back, “You?”

“Just shaken up.” You stated, wasting no time in wrapping your arms around his shoulders and placing your chin upon his head. The pair of you stayed like that for an extended period of time, without anyone questioning you. It was a hard day for everyone, no one needed to make it any harder. After some time, the sun had set and the lodging house was quieter then ever before. You longed to sit down and fall asleep yourself, your legs sore and aching. But you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb the heavy sleeping form of your best friend. The years of denial on your behalf, stating that you hadn’t caught feeling for Race were long forgotten now.

The things you’d do to make that moment last forever.

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

A few days later, you and the other Manhattan Newsies had recovered for the most part. Physically, everyone were well on their way to healing, but emotionally there was still a fair way to go. Crutchie was still in the Refuge and Jack was still missing but everyone had managed to rest up while Davey reassessed the group’s future movements.

While the others sat glumly in Jacobi’s, you’d decided to go for a long stroll around New York to clear your head, musing the thought of visiting Crutchie in the Refuge. He was one of your closest friends, so sweet and so caring with an equally as vibrant personality, the thought of him in such a wretched place brought tears to your eyes.

You’d helped Jack smuggle food and blankets on too many occasions to count; how difficult could it be without him?

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the shout of your name from a long way down the busy street. Race’s figure came into view quickly, his chest was heaving as he sprinted down the cobblestone footpath towards you. Immediately, you panicked, thinking Race had been caught stealing cigars again and the cops were on their way but much to your surprise, he slowed as he neared you. Rather then desperation being painted across his features, his face held joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.

“We’s in the papes (Y/N)!” He gasped out, bending to place his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

“What are you talkin’ about Race?”

“Katherine got us in the paper!,” He heaved, sweat glistening on his forehead. He pulled the rolled up newspaper from underneath a strap of his suspenders, before unrolling it to the front page and holding it out to you, “Look! That’s us!” He beamed, pointing a finger at the image underneath the headline: ‘NEWSIES STOP THE WORLD’.

In your slight state of shock, you glossed over the story and mentally took note to personally thank Katherine later on.

You actually made it into the papes.

“You’s know what this means?” You queried, your smile transforming into a bright grin as you grabbed hold on Race’s hands, tucking the paper under your arm.

“We’re famous.” He finished for you, his grin matching yours.

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

“Newsies of New York City.” Jack addressed from the top of Newsies Square, Joseph Pulitzer at one side and governor Theodore Roosevelt at the other. It was nice to see him back where he truly belonged, the so-called ‘King of Manhattan’. You could feel your heart beating painfully in your ears as you awaited the news, the anticipation making every second feel longer then what it actually was. Race’s hand was tight in your grasp as you sucked in a final breath, “We won!”

The chorus of cheers that sounded was deafening. It was finally over. After two ruthless and unforgiving weeks of striking, and everything had finally come to a close.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realise you were holding and turned towards Race. Race grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, laughing and chorusing while you were grinning ear to ear yet entirely speechless.

When he pulled away, you were slightly disappointed with the loss of contact, but when his arms around your body were replaced by his lips against yours, the world melted away. Slow and soft yet fiery and passionate the same time, as unpredictable as Race himself. His hand moved to cup your jaw and draw you closer, your arms finding their way to wrap around his neck.

When you pulled apart, there was stars in both of your eyes.

“I love you (Y/N).”

“I love you too Racetrack.”

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

You sighed lightly at the fond memories, feeling incredibly grateful for all that had happened in order to bring you to where you were.

“We’s really made it huh?”

Race briefly chuckled into your shoulder, before raising his head and placing another long kiss against your neck, “We’s really made it.”

#newsies x reader #racetrack higgins x reader #race x reader #newsies race x reader #newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #jack kelly x reader #davey jacobs x reader #x reader #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr

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wolf-555-writer · 5 years

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Target On My Back Part 6

You guys still sticking around? ;)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow x Reader

Summary: Mission after mission goes by, and you’re getting used to working with Agent Romanoff. It feels familiar, as if you’ve done that your whole life, which is technically true. But another feeling gets in the way that you can’t seem to place and handle properly. Are you still able to do your job correctly? Or is it going to get you killed?

Word Count: 4,091

The raw sound of engines revving fills the street as cars accelerate for the green traffic light. Once the road had cleared up, the lively chatter of people sitting outside while having a coffee or a beer emerged again. In the center of the city, surrounded by towering buildings, a mother and her child walk in the opposite direction on the crowded pavement. The kid carefully looks your way, a curious expression on her face. You send her a warm smile in return and kindly receive one back. She must think you’re a lucky person. Concentrating on matching the speed of the woman carelessly strolling next to you. But someone stopping a taxi caught your attention instead, he brutally yanks on the door while muttering some nasty words and hops in. Probably in an undeniable hurry. However, that’s the least of your worries, because there is a more important person to aim your full focus on. Turning your head sideways to the one next to you, left arm around her, holding her close and your eyes meet with a pair of fiery green ones. Sparkling in the glorious sunlight, fixed on you and a lovely grin on her face.

Passing a fancy restaurant on the corner of the block, Natasha continues with the conversation. “So, you are telling me you've been keeping scores? On every SHIELD op?”, the redhead questions, amazed by your determination. “Wh- you haven't?”, you reply, eyebrow raised and sensing her hand slightly shifting over your leather jacket, waist-height. She laughs and reveals, “Well, just like we did in Russia”, and tilts her head to the side, peacefully resting it on your shoulder. You chuckle lightly and say, “Guess I haven’t changed that much then”.

It was becoming a distraction. A burden. It’s good to learn what kind of person you were before - or still are? But it wasn’t necessary to know every tiny little detail of the past. What good will that do anyway.

“For the record, mine was higher”, the redhead states with much confidence while she throws you a teasing look. Natasha probably knows. All those small, or huge details. About your parents- pretty sure that you must have had them, or that gruesome Red Room, or the million dollar question: what did Natasha mean to you?

“Don’t push it, Agent Romanoff”, you return with a smile and your eyes stay locked on her. Is she afraid to tell you all of it? Afraid what you’ll think about her, about the person she was - or still is? Everyone deserves a second chance, even her. No matter how messed up it all is. Because admit it. It is. Though, with every memory she tells, you’ll have to take her word for it. Trust that the ex-spy is telling the truth. Deeply, you stare into those hypnotizing green eyes. Do they tell the truth… Or are you a fool to trust that beautiful, innocent look which you’re slowly starting to drown in right now...

“Having a good time, Agents?”

A voice interrupts. “We’ve got a cover to maintain Coulson”, Natasha answers quick, breaking eye contact with you which takes you straight back to reality. There’s no other choice, you’re forced to trust her. In the field, Agents need to have each other’s back. “I see you’re doing a good job with that”. “Don’t worry Phil, even when you don’t see it, I’m always looking over my shoulder”, you assure him quick-witted. Those words leaving a small, but proud, smile on Natasha's face as she shortly glanced at you. Both stopping on the sidewalk, you let go of her and Natasha turns her head to the left while stating: “I have eyes on target. Still in sight and has stopped on the pavement”, giving a status update to the Agent in charge of this operation. It’s just a cover, you know that, but there’s a tension, you can’t explain it. It has silently been there since the first time you saw her. The first time you laid eyes on her through the scope of a sniper rifle when ordered to take Black Widow out. But did not pull the trigger as an invisible force held you back. What’s this between us? Maybe emotions are stronger than memories... “Thanks. Keep the change”, you politely say to the street vendor, handing Natasha a warm drink that you bought in the meantime. For the sake of not raising suspicion and to blend in of course- well, and these missions make you damn thirsty. “Keep a safe distance until I give permission to engage”, Coulson firmly instructs over comms. Whereas you respond, “Confirmative”, and blow over the hot coffee to cool it down till drinking temperature.

“So… still not on speaking terms with Barton?”, Natasha asks, back turned towards the person you’re tailing and facing you with an intimidating stance. Keeping your eyes trained on the task, looking past her, you avoid the question and grunt. “Barton and I are fine, okay. Coulson, target is talking to what seems to be the buyer”. Not that she’ll believe your words. As much as you enjoy having Agent Romanoff in the field with you, obviously because of her remarkable skillset, it does get on your nerves that she’s right. It’s true, you are a bit mad at Barton. No, actually, you're pissed at him. He knows your shameful service record and previous occupation which you can’t even recall yourself. And the close friendship he has with Natasha, you can’t stand it. Reasonable? Hell yes. A bit jealous? ...No comment.

“Target is about to make the drop”, you affirm, focusing on the reason SHIELD’s here. Can’t get distracted by Natasha’s questions. Or by Natasha. “Remember, we need to catch the suspect red-handed. Stand by until the deal has taken place and are absolutely sure the illegal tech is there”. “Copy that, sir. We’ll make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands”. Slowly nearing, Agent Romanoff continues, “Approaching target. Eyes on the tech, positive it’s inside the backpack, and ready to engage”. Eyeing Natasha to ensure she’s not acting too fast. Patience, Agent Romanoff. Patience is key with these operations. Noticing she moves her hand towards her lower back, underneath her jacket. Precisely where her Glock is. You want to stop her by enfolding your arm around her waist. However, your attention is shifted elsewhere, seeing a small, red laser dot appear on your colleague's chest. That can’t be good... Not long after the alarming discovery, no time to even warn her, a short, loud echoing sound is heard. People start to scream in fear and run away in random directions, frightened as hell. Can't blame them, because a shot had just been fired.

Luckily, you’d managed to pull Natasha down, arm thrown around her shoulder instead, causing the hot coffee to spill all over the concrete tiles. The bullet failed to hit her chest, yet you were too late to make it out unscathed. Immediately taking cover behind a parked car, she scoffs, “I had it under control okay!”. “Sure you did”, you reply with a low, breathy voice. Beating yourself up, how could you have missed that? Preoccupied with your cover? Apparently Natasha too, because she made the same mistake. You’re going to have to find a damn good lie to tell for the mission report afterwards. Later, you think and look at the scrape wound on your upper arm while Romanoff shoots back. “We’ve been made and are under fire”, you inform, slightly groaning from the burning sensation on your left arm. But the aching promptly faded away for your witty remark. “1 point for me, Romanoff”, you tease, sending her a quick wink. “Ha, you wish��, and she concentrates on aiming her weapon on a building across. Aimed at the attacker, who’s not so lucky.

“Target is on the move”, Agent Romanoff reports to Coulson. Wait- Did she just take down that sniper? Real impressive.

“What happened?! Are you both unharmed?”

“You okay (Y/N)?”, Natasha asks caringly, using a completely different voice than she did seconds ago. “Oh no…”. Resting the back of your head against the cold metal of the car as you close your eyes in desperation. “What? What is it? Is it that bad?”. Also notice she used your first name again, probably out of old habit. Not a lot of people do, only the ones closest to you, like Barton or Coulson. To be honest, it was annoying in the beginning, what rights did she have to use your first name? Guess you now know what Agent Hill must have felt all the times you called her Maria. “There's a fucking hole in my favorite jacket!”. Natasha sighs, “Really?! But are you dying?”, clearly annoyed by your fashion crisis at the moment. “Now is not the time (Y/N)”. Anyways, it grew rather fast on you, probably the reason why you call her by a less professional name too - or also old habit? “Yeah, yeah, it’s just a scratch. I’m fine, Nat”, you answer and pick up the role as a competent SHIELD Agent again. “Coulson, there’s a sniper located on a building's rooftop across the street, East, and, well... already eliminated by Romanoff”.

That raises the question: Why didn't Natasha kill you? It doesn't add up. She is an expert marksman, proven seconds ago. So why did she ‘miss’, shooting you point-blank when ordered to take you out? And how the hell was Coulson able to find you that quick, severely injured in the snowy Russian Mountains? You were told that you had a phone with his number. But did you contact him? Were you even able to- Focus, your mind is wandering off. Save it for later. Better keep your head in the game, and your eyes on your fellow Agent.

“Nat? Wait, what the hell are you doing!”, you yell to the redhead as she sprinted away. “I’m going in pursuit!”. Is it even safe? Are there more snipers active? Questions that are unanswered and kind of important if you don't want to die in the line of duty. You grunt, can't wait any longer, and throw the coffee cup away. Never waste a delicious drink, that’s why it hurts so much to let it go. So painful. But Agent Romanoff is your responsibility in the field, so you accompany her in the chase, whether it’s dangerous or not.

“Target still in sight,- Move! Get out of the way!”, Romanoff shouts while running past uninvolved bystanders on the pavement. Yelling multiple times in a row at the fugitive -with the valuable backpack- to stop when you start to get out of breath. Why can’t they just listen for once. Although, the one you’re chasing is also getting worn out, because suddenly he decides to hijack a car, brutally yanking the driver out and jumping inside himself. Now what? You can’t possibly manage to keep up on foot.

“I got an idea”, you suggest to Romanoff who has a deadly angry expression right now, it’s kind of frightening. But this will definitely work. Flashing your fancy badge to a stranger as you intimidatingly state, “Agents of SHIELD, we need to commandeer this vehicle. Now”. No time to waste, and to wait for an answer apparently, you hop on the motorcycle, Agent Romanoff seated behind you. You pop the kickstand and speed away, leaving a trail of smoke behind. “We'll give it back, right”. “Yeah he'll get it back”.

The current situation makes you nostalgic, thinking about that time you were chasing Black Widow. “I know you enjoyed it”, Natasha implies, as if she can read your mind, but pretend you couldn't hear her. For obvious reasons you won’t admit it. Not to even speak of the daydreams you had. Nearing the stolen vehicle, you quickly glance in the side mirror and notice someone on your tail, approaching fast.

“We have to stop that car. Any ideas Nat?”. “Figure something out, I'm kinda busy at the moment!”, she shouts back. “Wh- and I am not?”. Trying your best to keep up with the suspect who’s driving pretty reckless, evade traffic on the busy road and dodge bullets. Yes, bullets, again. Those people on your tail certainly didn't forget their guns and are shooting in your direction. Perks of the job.

The glass of one side mirror is shattered to pieces. That was a close call… “Coulson, we really could use some backup!”, you request with an urgent tone. “Backup is on its way, hold tight”. Of course they’re late. Illegal-tech-guy was better prepared with his backup. In the meantime, Agent Romanoff is busy firing back. She’d turned her upper body around while still holding on to you to prevent her from falling off. But this is not working. She needs more firepower and a better aim. Natasha doesn’t need to think twice and grabs your gun tucked in the back of your jeans. With two guns, each in one hand, she smoothly maneuvers in between you and the motorcycle you’re driving. She’d wrapped herself around you, sensing her thighs tightly locked round your waist and her upper body pressed against yours, arms stretched out alongside you. Now having perfect aim she shoots back. Benefit of her current position is that you are acting as her human shield, leaving you in the crossfire, as if there's a huge target on your back. Not sure if you are aware of that yourself though.

Damn... Is it getting hot in here or is it just me? Still able to look at the road ahead of you, but it’s getting harder to concentrate, and who's to blame... Your heart is beating faster and faster and breathing frequency is rising. But this is different than the adrenaline rush you’ve become oh-so addicted to and know how to control. A car honking loudly snaps you out of your absent-minded gaze and you sharply turn to the right, sadly losing the other side mirror too. That could have ended differently... Like, literally on the hood of that vehicle. These distractions are no good when on the job. You can't let that happen anymore. Forget about Romanoff. Forget about your emotions. Be a true SHIELD Agent for once.

Both of the guns click, signaling they’re empty. All out of ammo, now useless. Swearing under her breath, Agent Romanoff has only managed to eliminate three out of four and decides to move herself back to her previous position. But not before you’d taken the opportunity to whisper in her ear: “Nice moves. Just don’t get too comfy”, which resulted in that signature grin on Natasha’s face. Still left with that bullet problem, you alert Romanoff, “Hold on tight okay”, and sense her arms gripping your waist with more force. Hitting the brakes full power and hearing the tires screech on the asphalt, you end up next to the last biker who’s caught off guard by your actions. Just what you needed. With a precise kick from your boot the driver loses control and crashes into a parked car. “See, problem solved”. “Pff, show-off”, Natasha reacts, yet secretly impressed by your stunt.

With the shooters gone, there’s only the original task left to complete. “Get me a little closer (Y/N). Perfect”. The bike positioned right next to the passenger side, Agent Romanoff breaks the car window with the butt of her empty gun - not so useless after all - and gets into position. Feeling the pressure of her hand on your shoulder, she pushes herself off and jumps inside the stolen vehicle smoothly, making it look as easy as hopping on a train. The sound of electricity crackling and Romanoff takes over the steering wheel, pushing the now unconscious target out of the way.

Safely coming to a halt at the side of the road, you noticed backup has arrived. Finally. Courtesy of SHIELD. Coulson gets out of the car and looks satisfied. “Good work, Agents”. “Thank you, sir. It’s all yours now”, you mention as you’ve done your part and totally crushed it. According to you that is. “Could really use a cup of coffee right now”, you utter to Romanoff, letting out a deep, hopeless sigh. “I’ll get you one on the way back, alright”, Natasha promises with a wink and a smile while walking towards a SHIELD SUV and places her hand on your arm. Her touch caused you to flinch and respond in a cold tone, “Okay”, leaving Natasha with a questionable expression due to your unusual, emotionless reaction. “Everything ok-”. “Come on Romanoff, let's go”. Preventing her to finish the sentence, you cut her off and hurry away, giving Natasha no other choice but to follow. Both left the scene when Coulson's expression suddenly changes, “Wait... whose motorcycle is this?”

“You still owe me one though”. “Yeah, keep dreaming”, Natasha laughs, “And technically you owe me a bike too. So, let’s just call it even”. She flinches faintly due to the alcohol touching her wounds. Broken glass is unfortunately very sharp, which left a few cuts that needed some treatment back at SHIELD HQ after the short debriefing finished. Waiting next to her, not having spoken a word to her on the way back, she looks at you with a piercing gaze, trying to deduce what had gotten into you all of a sudden. Then decides to lift your jacket by moving it away from your shoulder. “Whoa, what are you doing? Stop”. “Shh- (Y/N), just- Have you been shot?”. “Oh this? Nah, it- it’s nothing”. You wave it away, acting tough as hell while definitely feeling the pain. Can’t show any emotions, right? The current expression on Natasha’s face can’t be argued with though, and it quietly made you go get that small metal piece removed from your arm.

Took your torn jacket off and had just sat down when Coulson entered the infirmary. “You lied to me”, he says. Confused, you answer, “Huh? Me?”, looking as if you’ve been caught red handed. “Yes, you”. Now standing in front of you, pointing his finger judgingly. “You said you were unharmed… Clearly not”. He sounds concerned, you being his responsibility. “Oh, no, I’m okay. It was not as bad as this one”, you joke, showing the scar of that particular shot wound on your chest. Yet Coulson is not laughing, which made that smile on your face fade away promptly. “Something wrong, Coulson?”. He inhales sharply. “We were lucky. Lucky we found you or else you wouldn’t be here...”. “Yeah. I’m aware”. You cheated death that day. Of course you’re forever grateful to him. But no need to be so dramatic, he already told you this, remember?

Or is there more?

“So, what’s the problem then?”. “It wasn’t all luck. But we’re not sure who helped. Who sent that message. Because we didn’t find the phone on you”. Meaning the burner phone SHIELD gave you to get in contact with your handler. Okay… that he didn’t tell before. Valid question. So, who would send Coulson your location? Better yet, who would have even known the location… Turning your head towards a certain redhead, the wounds she sustained from the successful mission earlier all cared for. She looks at you, sending you a soft smile. Then it hits you. Or you didn’t cheat death that day and it was all intentional. Bound to happen for you to survive. Together with Coulson’s next words, “Whoever that person was saved your life, just as that bullet missing your heart”.

After Coulson had calmed down, being a hundred percent sure that you’re not in a life threatening state anymore - which you weren’t in in the first place, but okay - he eventually leaves. Time to get some answers. All stitched up, you walk towards the person able to give them, hopefully. “Nat, we need to talk”. She looks at you with a worried face, but the tone in your voice is what sparked something. “Um, okay?”. Then Barton storms in. Perfect… “So, you'll be sticking around Romanoff?”, he questions, totally ignoring your presence there. Not that you care, ‘cause it’s kind of a mutual feeling. “Later”, you state to a confused Natasha and turn around to leave before she can properly react. “Yeah, I’ll be sticking around”, she answers Clint, meanwhile staring at you, “It’s pretty... interesting here”.

“There you are. Everything alright? You left in a hurry”. “Yeah, guess I’m alright”, you respond to Natasha who sounds troubled and turn to her. “...Finally”. “Oh. Well, then I’ll leave you to it”. She wants to go again, but you stop her. “Nat, wait”. You reach for her arm, “Stay. Please”. She stares at you for a second, shifting to her wrist with your hand on it and then at you again, trying to decipher what’s on your mind. What has been on your mind. Then decides to join you and both sit down on your favorite spot on the rooftop. It stays silent for a while, both staring at the calming horizon. Yet with a lot of pressing questions on your mind, Natasha is actually the one to break the silence. “Can I see it?”, she asks carefully. “Sure”. Unzipping the SHIELD jacket and moving the collar of your shirt a bit down when the scar appears. Natasha gazes at the damaged skin, speechless. Softly touching it, brushing her fingertips over the physical mark she left on you. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She takes a piece of paper from her pocket and shows it instead. Eyes fixed on the picture, you recognize the people on it, but don’t remember. Both dressed in a uniform, possibly from your time at the KGB, standing next to Natasha - or Natalia - you see yourself looking at her in the photo. That look you have in your eyes… “It’s the only photo I had left of us. The only tangible memory of you. I didn’t want to- I couldn't erase you from my mind...”. Has Natasha carried this picture with her all that time? It must be of immense value to her. She continues, “There’s a lot I didn’t say that I wish I did”. Now gazing into her eyes you softly ask, “Like what?”. With an expression and tone in your voice as if you already know the answer to your own question. Because it all makes sense now. “I was taught to push it all away. Deep down. That it's a weakness”, she breaks eye contact and deflects the question. “I- I regret a lot of things…”, staring down, she takes a pause, eyes becoming slightly watery. A little hesitation at first, but eventually she speaks. Words that had remained unspoken her entire life, until now. Natasha inhales deeply, “... but loving you has never been one of them.”

“And...”, you wait till Natasha’s eyes lock with yours and gaze into her enchanting green ones, “did I love you too?”. Natasha chuckles lightly. “Well, what do you think?”. A small smile appears and you slowly move closer. Pretty confident about your thoughts. Or better yet your emotions, letting them all take over, no holding back. Softly pressing your lips on hers, you kiss her. A warmth ripples through you. It’s as if you’ve waited for this a long, long time, you can feel it. And Natasha feels it too. Hand on her cheek and hers on yours, you eventually pull back and whisper against her lips: “Does this answer it, Agent Romanoff?”.

There's that grin again. The one that’s been imprinted on your mind. The one you can’t get enough of. She’s about to respond, but not with words. Tracing your lips with her fingertips and tilting your chin towards her, as a familiar sound interrupts. “Seriously?! Can’t we ever get a break”, you grunt with clenched teeth. “Showtime. Gotta go to work”, your SHIELD partner states, whereas you answer a bit annoyed, “Yeah, yeah I know… save the world and all that”. You would have rather wished for this moment to go on, uninterrupted. But Agent Hill had to spoil all the fun. Well, guess you can’t have everything, right? Or do you finally have it?

Going inside the building, you think back to today's mission. “Still don’t know how they managed to expose us as Agents. We nailed that cover, didn’t we”. “Who said it was a cover…”, the redhead teases. “Wait- say what now?”. Natasha sends a quick wink your way and laughs,

“You heard me, Agent (Y/L/N)”

PART 7

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