#her mind is still in a deep grieving state for a woman who has been dead for over 7 years now

[lexa-griffins]

Oh God someone stop me from creating a full backstory for a amnesia au that popped up into my head!!!!😩

[randomfoggytiger]

Season 5 Is a Pretty Dark Time for Mulder

S5 is a starkly melancholic season for poor Mulder.

He is incredibly isolated from all other emotional support except Scully (a tenuous connection because of her remission)-- even from his own mother.

Tena, a very close person in the background of his life, has vanished completely after his confrontation in Demons, cutting him out ruthlessly. She never identifies his body in Redux, never calls after his reappearance in Redux II, and never checks in at any point during the entire season (and doesn't check in until Amor Fati.) We know she has called previously: in Colony, she picks up the phone nonchalantly at Bill Mulder's place, and in Sein und Zeit she tries to get a hold of her son. S5 Mulder never reaches out to her, either, despite having done so numerously in the past: End Game, The Blessing Way, Paper Hearts, etc. This is the first time in their relationship that Tena has so callously disconnected from her son, mimicking the estranged relationship he'd had with Bill Mulder; and it explains his extreme reaction in Gethsemane. Mulder has a deep fear of being alone (fear stated in Aubrey and reiterated in Je Souhaite); and, without his mother there, the only person to stand between himself and his gun is Scully (as she had done before in Demons.) It also explains his devastation in Sein und Zeit: Tena had reentered his life, slightly, after Amor Fati; and he lost her again as well as that buffer other than Scully. He may not be suicidal; but Mulder cannot be alone.

Scully is Mulder's only source of strength, gladly taking on that challenge after she recovers from her remission.

But, while she had taken the time to reflect on her life and her choices once at death's door, she finds Mulder had not ("Yeah, once at the Ice Capades"): it was too painful to consider a life without her; and he would rather keep his mind narrow-mindedly focused on his goals, like usual, than have to take the blinders off and consider "life on this planet" so soon after almost losing his own sense of "normalcy."

Not only that, but he's burnt out-- for months he avoids aliens, the Conspiracy, all that tripe-- and that quickly turns to fear when Scully begins to automatically fill his shoes in his "absence" (which she does to a greater extent in S8.) Scully, meanwhile, tries to draw him out with a cheese surprise in Detour, or dish out jokes by a campfire; but he is so focused on his loss of faith (like he's hyper-focused on his losses in the past: S1 about Samantha, S2 about his job and her abduction and his clone sister, S3 about his father's death and Conspiracy involvement, S4 with his sister again and her cancer and his mother, etc.) that he cannot see the forest for the trees.

Not only all of the above, but Mulder also has to watch Scully's reclaimed life fall more and more apart: the very men who his father worked with stole her ova, hybridized her child, and treated her only little girl like a lab rat every day of her life (exactly like he suspects they've done to his sister, or still do.) He has to watch Scully decide to let her daughter die and close back up again so that she can grieve and heal. His family's ties have not only destroyed their own lives, but the life of the woman he loves as well.

And after all of that, Mulder can't stop Scully's chip (the very chip he lied, cheated, and stole for; and which she can never live without) from mind-controlling her to her near death at the hands of the very aliens he no longer believes in. The guilt from his distrust during Patient X and The Red and the Black twist him up even more; because he doesn't know anymore. That "knowing" had always been his navigator through the lies and half-truths of this long and convoluted journey. Scully cannot rely on him, he thinks, because he cannot rely on himself.

Every action he takes in S5 leads him to greater self-doubt, with Scully saving him over and over again:

keeping him warm in Detour, trying to comfort him in Post Modern Prometheus, making the executive decision to release Mulder from his obligation to the quest in Emily, trying to pull him from Linda Bowman's control in Kitsunegari, taking a vacation to recover mid-season in Chinga, dragging him from the Kill Switch trailer, covering for his drug-fueled actions in Bad Blood, trying to reignite his passions and beliefs in Patient X and The Red and the Black, trying to understand his precautions in All Souls, beginning to doubt him in The Pine Bluff Variant, and finally reaching an exhausted breaking point in Folie a Deux. When Diana Fowley shows up in The End, Scully has nothing left to offer, believing that Diana stepped in and effortlessly cleaned and stitched up the wound that had been festering all season: handing Mulder paranormal proof of everything, government and aliens included. 

And, again, Mulder loses all of it. 

It makes sense why her buoyancy in FTF is so easily shattered: she's glad that Mulder is finally striking out, making his own path on the roof; she rewards his efforts with a tease and some amazing banter. But when her support ends up with both of them investigated by OPR and Mulder on the brink of losing his job (which is, what she perceives to be, the only think keeping him together) she slumps: she’s tried and tried and tried, and nothing has worked. She has failed him; and has taken him down not by malicious action, but by being herself. 

This leads perfectly into the rest of the movie (for another time.) 

The best part of this series? All of these complicated, morose happenings occur without pulling the entire season's mood down-- because Mulder and Scully are so in sync that, as dour as Mulder gets, Scully is able to pull his head above water. And, while this was a rougher time for Mulder than usual, Scully's support and strength kept him going and "fairly happy."

In Summary

Tena cuts her son out of her life for unexplored reasons (likely due to self-preservation: covering up the past by lying to herself, avoiding her guilt by pretending it never happened) after he confronts her.

Mulder feels incredibly alone, save for Scully-- and forgets to thank her or, at least, let her know (that's why FTF is so important.)

Scully supports Mulder all season, her confidence in his stability diminishing from The Red and the Black until Pine Bluff Variant, becoming obliterated in Folie a Deux, and restored by realizing that he'd been right and she'd been just as "insane" to ignore what was in front of her face. By The End, she has placed all these swirling doubts squarely on her own shoulders, eroding her own self-confidence by comparing her skills and abilities with Diana's seeming ease at swooping in and setting Mulder's world to rights.

And finally: Scully, really, REALLY needed that vacation in Chinga.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[noirofhyrule]

I can barely remember when I wrote this, however, it is part of the lore that I wanted to give to Wynter, a strong, solid and very positive woman despite the hard and cruel life that has been with her. Because it is something that I keep and remember that I once learned when I was young. Always be kind to everyone, even if life is not kind to you.

WARNINGS :  Angst-ish, confort, dunno i've never put warnings on my writing lol i come from Wattpad

Trauma

That night was one of the coldest and loneliest nights she had had in so long. She had even forgotten what it was like to have that feeling of a deep emptiness in her chest, which made her remember her life before joining the Task Forces. 

It was like feeling lost, without any encouragement, only anxieties and fears, past pains that had been blocked by her mind, being reminded every millisecond, where her head relieved them over and over again, not letting her sleep or even rest. 

Helpless, she grabbed her pillow and clung to it, as if her life depended on it, a way to keep herself sane and not be unleashed to panic, to give in to delusions and lose whatever consciousness she still had. 

Eventually, footsteps down the hall were heard. These were slow and heavy, which stopped in front of Wynter's door. 

Soft knocks were heard on the other side, startling the woman inside the room, keeping her alert for anything, not moving much from her bed. 

When there was no answer, the man opened the door and entered, finding Wynter in a fatal state. 

Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her cheeks were sore and her nose was the same. The dark circles under her eyes were not small. She was tired, but she couldn't sleep. She felt exhausted, but her mind couldn't stop thinking. 

Simon, who saw her in such a deplorable state, left the cup of tea he had brought her on the bedside table and approached her, gently dropping his hand on her shoulder. Wynter had barely reacted, with a slight flinch at the physical contact of someone else. 

He lifted his mask just enough to let his lips free, to move closer and kiss her forehead. 

Maybe it wasn't like Ghost, but Simon cared for her, cared for her like Alejandro said he did, loving her and giving her his time to respond. 

"How are you feeling?" 

It was the only thing he asked, for he knew he would get no answer from her. It was a difficult moment after all, and he knew that words were never enough to make someone feel better. And he knew that perfectly well.

Gently, he sat down next to her and let the girl come to him so he could gently embrace her, it was as if he felt that any sudden movement could break her more than she already was. Like a porcelain doll. 

"It's okay, sweetheart. You're okay..." He hugged her a little tighter, holding her closer to him, to his chest, hoping that in his arms she could find some comfort while she stopped crying. 

He stroked her hair gently, noticing how brittle and unkempt it was, yet he didn't care. He fiddled with the white tresses that he thought were beautiful, even though she sometimes hated them. 

"I thought I was losing you" She finally spoke, and Simon listened to every word that came out of her mouth. Without interrupting her at any point. 

"That you had died".

He could feel her trembling and sobbing still in his arms, he could even tell she was grieving over her thoughts. 

What was it that was going through her mind that had her so upset? Only she knew. 

Still, Simon could not continue to see her like this, suffering, especially for him. It was as if a looping feeling came over him, of dying for her, but she would die for him. 

They could stay like this for as long as it took, he knew she would thank him for it. After all, Simon knew perfectly well that she needed to love someone to be her pillar to hold her up in times when she couldn't fend for herself. 

"I'm here, I came back for you". He whispered softly in her ear, in an attempt to bring her back to reality. 

"What will happen if you don't?" 

She asked back. Breaking away for a moment to look at him. Her face was still covered with tears, and her eyes looked red from crying. 

With a sigh, she nodded, however, they both knew well the risks of the job. Their life was a very high price they put on the table every day, where they didn't know if they were going to get it back. 

That's how Ghost had a very strong feeling of wanting to protect her. He needed to protect her. So he took Wynter in his arms again to be her shield, hugging her and pulling her back to him, he wanted her to feel loved in his arms. 

"I don't want to lose you, I've lost enough".

At this starting point, she had calmed down, more she just stayed in Simon's arms, after all she liked the comfort she felt in him, she felt safe. 

Simon nodded, she was opening up to him, something he always knew she had kept locked away, she was presenting it to him on the red carpet. And he was glad he could have her trust. 

"I'll always be there for you, Wynter". 

He paused briefly, leaning back on her bed. He smelled of her, a sweet, red-fruity scent. "Always". 

The fatigue was noticeable in both of them, the day had been too long for both of them. 

"You're not going to leave me?" 

Simon settled Wynter on his chest, while he removed the mask from his face, he needed some air.

 "Never". 

Convinced, he wanted to give her all the love and support she had been deprived of in her life. He knew how hard it was to experience abandonment from the people you should have counted on, and he wouldn't let anyone hurt her like that again, not if he had anything to do with it.  

"I love you". He said, "And I always will".

Wynter sobbed against his chest again; it burned to hear those words, but they were a pain that made her happy. She tightened her embrace against him as she nodded her thanks in tears, repeating it over and over again. 

Gently, Simon stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away the few tears that remained on her face. 

She was beautiful, seeing her face this tired was a poem, as if he was remembering something he had forgotten many years ago. 

And that feeling was down to earth, feeling lost, but hopeful. Hurt, but grateful. Lonely, but loved. 

To feel human. 

She was the love of his life and he would do everything he could to protect her and make her feel better when she was angry. He couldn't stand to see her cry, even when he did it with a smile and she laughed a little through her tears. 

"You are beautiful".

He told her with a soft voice and eyes full of love.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen".

He wanted her to know how much he appreciated her.

That made her smile, a little wryly, looking into his eyes. "Even if I'm crying? Or if I'm upset about something so stupid?" 

Simon nodded. "Even then" he said confidently. She could be in her sweatpants, her face full of tears and her shirt stained with food, and he would still think she was the most beautiful, perfect woman in the world.

He found it impossible not to adore her, because she was the most amazing thing in his world. And he wanted her to know that she was perfect just the way she was, even if she didn't believe it herself. 

He hoped that his words might reach her in her moment of insecurity, and perhaps make her see herself with more love and kindness....

Simon felt a deep satisfaction as he watched her try to wipe away her tears and calm herself. He could see the emotions running across her face, the pain, anguish and sadness. But her desire to go through them to find calm and inner peace, her determination to overcome them, was a beautiful thing to behold.

He loved watching her try to find the strength she needed to overcome her feelings of pain, sadness and grief; it showed how strong she was as a person and how much her resilience to pain and suffering meant to him. 

They don't know how long it was, or when it was that they both fell asleep, in each other's arms, not until someone had to go and wake them up. 

"Simon, Wynter. Are you awake? Price wants you to make a report on your missions-" 

Opening the door and seeing them asleep together, Soap sighed and decided to let them rest.

[themomsandthecity]

Selena Gomez’s Grief Resonates With My Infertility Struggles

When Selena Gomez recently told Vanity Fair that she's unable to carry children, it hit home. In particular, it brought back a gnawing resonance of "what might never be" when she said, "I unfortunately can't carry my own children. I have a lot of medical issues (lupus) that would put my life and the baby's in jeopardy. That was something I had to grieve for a while." When I was 20, I experienced one of the worst weeks of my life. What was meant to be a routine STI check-up - something I do often, regardless of my relationship status - turned into a nightmare. I was initially told I had syphilis, and days later, they suggested it could actually be HIV. My world crumbled for about 72 hours. I had only been in two sexual relationships at that point. Thankfully, it turned out to be a false positive but an impromptu diagnosis. After visiting three hospitals and the lupus specialty clinic at Bellevue Hospital, I was eventually diagnosed with an autoimmune disease called antiphospholipid syndrome (APS). APS, also known as "sticky blood," is an autoimmune disorder where the immune system mistakenly creates antibodies that increase the risk of blood clots in veins, arteries, and organs. People with APS are often at risk of developing other autoimmune conditions, like lupus. As a condition that disproportionately affects women, it's unfortunately no surprise that research and funding for APS in the US is relatively limited. Even in a prosperous state like New York, where I was born and raised, there are only 38 providers who treat patients with APS. However, even the APS Foundation of America's website states, 'The doctors on this list may not be "experts" in APS, but someone along the way has had luck with them.' So when it comes to this condition, nothing is ever promising. That's a reality I still face when explaining to any medical professional what my condition is, only to watch them Google it in real time because of how rarely it's discussed on a wide medical scale. At the time, I was one of the youngest to be diagnosed at the clinic. For the following few years, I spent every six months in and out of the rheumatology department. Each visit started the same way: "You're young, but in case you're considering family planning, you should know that, unfortunately, it won't be an easy pregnancy and could be life-threatening." No one ever explicitly told me I couldn't have a child, but the insistent warnings forced me to consider a future without bearing a child. The risks included an increased chance of miscarriages, stillbirths, and preterm births due to blood clots restricting the placenta. I also face a lifetime of blood tests with false positive results and a higher risk of strokes, deep vein thrombosis, or heart attacks due to clotting problems - things none of my peers were facing as we barely stepped into young adulthood. As a kid, my mother never taught me to fear becoming a parent. Instead, she emphasized the importance of considering the implications of making life-altering decisions, like having a child. As she'd say, "Para las mujeres dando luz es un momento entre la vida y la muerte" - childbirth is a moment in a woman's life when she's between life and death. One foot on both sides of the border of life and the beyond, bringing in the new but at the risk of her own life for the love of her child. Her words echoed loudly in my mind every time the doctors left me in the room to discuss my blood test results. The thought, "Wait, do I want kids so much that I would risk my life for it?" was something I only allowed myself to consider during my visits to the clinic. For the last decade, whenever the subject has come up with partners or friends whose clocks had started ticking, I'd exclaim, "I don't want kids because I can't have kids." In situations where I felt like explaining my reasons, most women compassionately understood the severity of my circumstance, but men often… https://www.popsugar.com/family/selena-gomez-inability-carry-children-resonates-49392475?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[anothanobody]

The sound of the dish wares clattering could be heard around the kitchen as a woman with age and quite the beauty, completed with brunette hair and a set of hazel eyes combs through her cabinets filled with plates and utensils. Preparing her son’s meal, who she hadn’t seen in years and now idly occupying the space at one of seat in front of the dinner table. Last she’d heard about him broke her heart and entire being, he was announced to be dead and his body nowhere to be found.

He completely took after her, except for his vibrant viridescent eye color. But unlike before, there’s a brooding and unrecognizable rage clouding his eyes where it used to be full of enthusiasm and hope. It’s like the Eren who accidentally ran into her, her own son that is waiting for her food right now is so nonchalant and calculated. But… empty of any happiness and optimism. Only filled with fury for god knows what. He’s still impatient just like before he “died” but this time, Carla feels like she doesn’t know her own son anymore despite only after meeting him again a few hours ago. The same son who grew inside her for nine months and rejoiced his birth after.

Carefully placing the hot and warm meal in front of Eren, he didn’t wasted any second in digging through his plate to satisfy his hunger. Letting out a cough and sitting right in front of him, Carla attentively implored “Eren, how? After so many years we’ve loss all hope after they declared that you died”

Hearing those words made Eren stop at chewing his food then he let go of his utensils, reached for his drink and gulped down what he’s eating. After a short silence he replied “lots of shit”. he continues “but they don’t matter now, no?” as he reached for his beverage again for the second time and then “how’s everyone? did they forget about me and moved on, like most people did as well?” followed a deep chuckle with his voice drumming against his throat and adams apple bobbing when he continues his lunch.

“W-w-well, honey please don’t be like that” Carla nervously replied. “So many years may have been passed and everybody might have healed but they still didn’t forget you. They still grieve for you darling.” an awkward but silence ensues and a sigh “especially her”, the woman whispered but her son still heard her. Years of being a veteran taught him to be sharp and always be accurate with his sense of hearing.

Suddenly stopping at cutting his protein and looking up, fully staring at his mother’s face, he curiously stated with eyes narrowing, “how is she these days?”.

“She’s very happy darling… from what I’ve witnessed. But it’s been so long, months to be precise ever since Mikasa and I had catch up on each other, especially after that day where she took and said her vows”. Carla faintly smiled at how far the subject in her and her son’s story have come so far. But to Eren, everything seems to blur as he comprehends those last words. “That day where she took and said her vows” keeps ringing in his ears, then all if a sudden, a mix of emotions washes over him. Betrayal, anger, hurt, sadness and fury. Expressing his anger and frustration by slamming his hand into the table brought a shock to his mother. “E-Eren… son, wha—“ she stammers as she quickly search for a reason to her son’s confusing but terrifying display of behavior. Meanwhile, so many thoughts raced in Eren’s mind as he tried to find a reason on why would Mikasa promised a vow to someone that isn’t him. It’s so entitled of him to think that way, but he thought Mikasa isn’t the type of woman to do that. That she’ll wait for him, even if it takes eternity for them to reunite again. But he guessed that she’s just like everyone else then, grieving for him on a bit then quickly moving on as if they didn’t spent years together since their childhood days. She has the right to move on, but his heart just can’t accept it whenever he imagines her with a different man by her side. Images of her having a baby with her husband and spending most of her nights with the one she vowed herself to flashes in his mind and immediately bringing a bitter taste in his mouth a pang at his chest.

After regaining his composure. He lips formed a wicked smile and a terrifying glint reflecting in his eyes. Thankfully, his expressions were all hidden by his brunette locks. But still, Carla’s heart is still racing with nervousness.

He can’t wait to meet Mikasa. He wants to make her feel regretful about her decisions and most especially, her vows.

bro this is so good gives me hope for the nunkasa au😭😭😭😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 please anon all my props to you babe

[amxranthiine]

kalon

(n.) the kind of beauty that is more than skin deep.

request:  Can I ask for platonic Thranduil with sister in law reader, reader is Legola's aunt and she saved Legolas' mother from dying but ended up paralyzed from waist down, needing to be on a wheelchair (let's pretend they have wheelchairs), and Thranduil is very grateful and helps reader a lot with things?

pronouns: she/her

a/n: like six months late but ITS FINE

warnings: ANGST n fluff. mentions of death and orc attacks. nightmares.

---

“Nana? Nana! Wake up, nana, please! You have to wake up!” A little Legolas screams as he watches his mother and aunt’s bodies be carried in by his father’s guard. His mother was pale and lifeless - cold hands and dark eyes, staring back into his own blue orbs as he shook her body. Though, he felt no love from her stare. Nothing about her was the same, her soul had already been lifted from her fragile body.

Next to her lay his aunt, Y/n, his mother’s sister. She was alive but unresponsive, blood was leaving her body faster and faster each second, pooling beneath her like a crimson ball gown. From behind Legolas, his father, Thranduil, was quickly approaching the scene. Loud orders from him to his guards could likely be heard throughout the palace. One would be a fool to miss the fear, desperation and anger laced in his voice.

Y/n stirred from the commotion, her eyes burning and her body flaring in pain as she tried to become responsive once again. She could feel every centimeter of her wound, the sword that stabbed her was likely poisoned - and it embedded it’s way into her spinal cord. She could feel her life force being drained, the light becoming far too close for her liking. Even if she lived, she knew nothing would be the same - with her body and with her family. She had been too late to save her dearest sister, and that thought alone was almost enough to make her give up. However, her little sister left her a nephew and a brother, both of which would need guidance recovering from her sister’s death.

“My King Thranduil -” Started the Captain, though he was soon hushed by the horrified Elf. Thranduil was terribly shaken up, his hair was messy and his robes wrinkled, likely from the speed at which he was running.

Thranduil looked at his beloved Wife and sister in law, and he felt his blood run cold. There was - there was so much blood. His wife was nearly blue and unconscious, was she... No, he wasn’t think like that. He looked over to Y/n, where she was struggling to open her eyes, and groaning from the giant hole in her back. He could feel the tears in his eyes, and he knew deep down that his son no longer had a mother.

Y/n heard her brother in law approaching, and even though she was on the verge of death, she felt as though she had to be the one to break the news. “Thranduil?” She croaked, her throat dry and her lips cracked.

The King rushed to her, grabbing a waterskin in the process and lifting it to her lips. She coughed as she drank down as much as she could. “Y/n...”

She ignored the burning in her eyes and looked up at him, and suddenly, she wanted to cry. She didn’t have that much time left, and she had so much to say. Y/n attempted to take a deep breath, then said her last words.

“I’m so sorry, Thranduil. I - I couldn’t save her - I tried so, so - hard. Please, tell Lego - Legolas we loved him.” She used the last of her energy to say those words, and soon, her eyes slipped shut.

“No! Y/n! You can’t leave me! You can’t leave us! Legolas will need guidance. I will need guidance! Legolas just lost his mother, he can’t lose you too!”

The weight of losing both the love of his life and his sister crashed down on him, and he fell to the ground with a heartbroken scream. A tiny body forced itself into his lap as his son wept along with him, not knowing if he’d ever see his mother or aunt again. Thranduil’s arms wrapped themselves around Legolas as he rocked back and forth on the floor, weeping and crying out to the Valar, cursing them and asking to spare them.

Thranduil gasped for breath as he jumped awake, beads of sweat rolled down his face as he regained consciousness, the nightmare - no - memory he had tried so hard to forget was now engraved into his head once again. He felt the urge to go check on his, now paralyzed, sister in law. Her wounds from that awful day were fatal, but somehow she pushed through the worst of it.

Though, not without consequence. Apparently the blade had all but destroyed her spinal cord, and because of it she was paralyzed from the waist down. The healers told him that it was a miracle she was still alive.

He got out of bed and put on a velvet robe, ignoring the chill in his bones from the cold air. He quietly tiptoed to her room, trying to ignore the feeling of dread, likely the product of his nightmarish memory.

Soon enough, as it was right down the hall, he arrived at his sister's chambers and, as quietly as he could, opened the door. His heart dropped when he saw that she wasn't there, and her wheelchair was nowhere to be found.

Thranduil panicked, his mind buzzing for any clue as to where she could be. The kitchens? No, she has trouble reaching the cabinets, and the accident made it even harder for her to see. Legolas' chambers? Hard no. She could be quite clumsy and can't be quiet to save her life. Literally.

He was starting to panic. What if she was kidnapped? His dearest sister in law, kidnapped by the very creatures who paralyzed her in the first place? It seemed realistic. At least, it did to Thranduil - who was losing his mind from worry. Though the only way they could get into the palace was through the-

Of course! The Royal Gardens!

In his state of worry, Thranduil had conpletely forgotten that Y/n liked to go to the gardens when she was having a hard time, because it was one of the only places that reminded her of her sister, the place where they had the most memories.

He took off towards the Gardens, not really caring about it being in the middle of the night as Elves were light on their feet anyway. In moments he was standing before her, nodding at the guards who took place at the Garden entrance.

Y/n was laying on the grass, her wheelchair was forgotten next to her, and she was playing with an orchid she had plucked, twirling it between her fingers carefully. Thranduil's heart throbbed as he realized that orchids were his wife's favorite flower, and that Y/n was missing her as much as he did. If not more, the sisterly bond between them was something he had never seen before.

He cleared his throat, alerting the woman if his presence. Her head turned slightly to the left as a way to acknowledge him.

"You scared me, Y/n. I couldn't find you, so I assumed the worst." He muttered quietly and sat down next to her.

She chuckled, "You've known me for how long and you still don't know that I tend to... gravitate here?"

The King sighed, he had always known that she used jokes as a coping mechanism, a way to escape her reality. "Yes, yes, I know. I just... I was worried," He frowned, taking the delicate flower from between her fingers. She paused, and he could practically see the gears grinding in her head out of his peripheral vision.

"You're having nightmares again, aren't you?" She asked, and he could feel her eyes burn into his head.

"They aren't just nightmares, Y/n," He twirled the flower absentmindedly, "they're memories."

This time, it was her who sighed, "Of that day?" She questioned, already knowing the answer, but his nod only confirmed it.

"I miss her," Y/n said, looking up at the night sky. Thranduil went to say something, but she held one finger up. "Let me finish. Sometimes I wish it were me who died, instead of her. She had you and Legolas to come home to, and I didn't really have anyone. Yes, I had family here, you and my nephew for example, but my sister was your wife and his mother, and the queen for crying out loud. Why am I saying this? I honestly have no clue. I suppose my point is... After the accident, I was overwhelmed in guilt and sadness. I didn't really focus on the fact that I was alive because of you. You and Legolas have taken care of me since day one and I can't remember if I've thanked you for that. So... Thank you. For helping heal my mind, and my body, even if their isn't much left of it. I am eternally grateful for you, brother."

Thranduil stared at her, and Y/n sniffled. At some point along the way she had started crying, and he felt like he was going to as well. He pulled his sister into his arms and held her tight as she cried, holding onto one of the last pieces of family he had left with an iron grip.

"You do not have to thank me, sister. You are family and you will be treated as such, even during hardships such as that one. If anything, I should thank you for being there for both Legolas and I while we were grieving, even if you weren't in the best state yourself."

Y/n giggled, much to Thranduil's delight. The sound had pulled a small smile onto his face and they both relished in the quiet for a moment.

Finally, Y/n pulled away, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "Alright, my King, help me up."

Thranduil laughed, a very merry sound, and helped her into her wheelchair. "As you wish, my Lady."

[cupressacea]

in another life

1.

Moiraine has just fed Heidi, who is currently devouring a bowl of raw meat by the corner of the kitchen island. She leaned back against the counter in their open kitchen and took a sip of the pour over coffee she brewed herself, which is her fourth coffee of the day. It doesn’t help her to stay awake. She only drinks it for the taste, but she’s hoping it might help a little as she’s waiting on a woman who flew back to town merely a couple of hours ago. Moiraine had offered to pick her up at the airport, but stubborn as that woman could be insisted that she did not need Moiraine fussing over her and that Moraine would be exhausted from a long shift at work anyway. ‘It’d be too dangerous for you to drive all the way to the airport in that state. I might be the person who drives us home instead.’ And she ignored Moiraine’s objection and reassurance that it wouldn’t be an issue. They have had these arguments for who knows how many times, and it has always followed the same script. Moiraine doesn’t know why she even bothered to suggest it in the first place. Nevertheless, she still wanted to.

As Moiraine dozes off on their couch, with one hand buried in Heidi’s black and white fur on the back of her neck, she heard the noise of keys fumbling at the doorway. She springs to her feet and rushes to the foyer. She doesn’t even bother to check the peephole. She knows who it is simply by the sounds of footsteps and the clinks of the key. Heidi follows her, barking and wagging her tail so vigorously that Moiraine worries she might hurt herself.

The heavy door gives way to a weary face adorned with a mass of black mane.

‘There you are,’ said Moiraine in a raspy sleepy voice, extending both arms to pull the woman she calls the love of her life into an engulfing embrace.

‘My little pufferfish.’

The nickname coaxes a chuckle out of Moiraine’s chest and it vibrates against the other woman’s heart. ‘Do you see any spike now, Siuan?’ Moiraine closes her eyes and breathes in the nutty perfume Siuan always uses, soaking in her aura. Only after a few more seconds that both women are willing to untangle themselves from one another, but their arms still drape around the other’s waist and shoulders.

They stay like that for a few moments. Both of them stare deep into the other’s eyes, dark brown and striking blue. Then Siuan presses her lips against Moiraine’s already pliable lips. Moiraine sinks into the familiar rhythm and choreography, her tongue flicks at Siuan’s plump lower lip. The kiss is languid. They know they have all the time in the world even though there's a collie standing on her hind legs, pawing at their thighs demanding attention.

They part with content smiles after Siuan takes a final nibble on Moiraine's lips. She then kneels down to greet Heidi, speaking to her in a sweeter and higher tone. The mirth in Moiraine’s eyes only grows.

‘Welcome home.’

/

2.

Siuan has been having the most peculiar dreams ever lately. She and Moiraine were in all of them, same faces, same bodies but they were both different persons. As if she were in entirely different realms from the world they are in now. Other turns of the Wheel perhaps, she supposes. These dreams replaced the one with the Dark One and the Eye of the World and took over her mind after she sent Moiraine away—to her death—as if only now she allows herself to grieve her loss.

It has always, always been a suicide quest. They both knew that. And somehow, this time when Moiraine returned to her, she knew it would be the last time even before her beloved told her she had found the Dragon. In the Hall, the look upon Moiraine’s face was telling. There was a veil weaved with a paradoxical mix of resignation and determination, hidden behind the dread, awe or reverence as how other Aes Sedai would interpret her expression.

She locks herself away in the Amyrlin’s duties, for there is no time for her to take a break. If she stopped, she suspects she would never get back up again. Besides, the real blow of her mourning—

There is a knock on her door. An Aes Sedai comes bearing news; it's from Fal Dara.

Siuan closes her eyes and lets out a deep sigh straight from the depth of her soul.

Light give me strength.

[sirisuorionblack]

Counting...

Sirius Black x Reader

Summary - (Y/N) had been waiting for four very painful hours for the return of her boyfriend and he did just for mere minutes but she was determined to get him back.

Warnings - So many tears that u could bathe in and fluff.

(Y/N) sat at the dining table, alone, a coffee that turned cold being left unattended, her foot tapping anxiously and she blankly stared at the mahogany wood though her thoughts ran wild.

It's been four hours, very long four hours since Sirius - her beloved boyfriend - was supposed to be back home by the time from a "mission" but he still hasn't returned just adding fuel to the blazing amount of worry she had been enduring these days. She was a strong woman, Sirius always told her that, he would add it with a chuckle just realising how lucky he was.

Rapid knocks pulled her away from her trance. She gulped, taking out her wand and arming herself as she tentatively walked the door.

Upon unlocking, the door swung open and Sirius - she just knew it was him - smashed his lips against hers, pushing the two of them inside, pinning her to the wall.

He kissed her as though there was no tomorrow, as though he was terrified of something beyond her knowledge. He kissed her hard. A deep intuition in her just rang those bells of alarm. 

(Y/N) pulled away, cupping his face as he heaved deep breaths, his head ducked and his whole body shivering. 

"Hey, hey, Sirius, look at me," she pressed, softly as she tried to get him to look at her for she would read him like an open book once she saw his eyes.

When she did see those grey orbs, a soft gasp tumbled from her lips. There was no such thing as a sparkle in his eyes anymore, it was hollow, empty and filled with tears.

"Sirius, what happened?" She asked, worried beyond any level. A sob racked his body, his hands clawing hers as he tightly held them.

"James," he muttered through his sobs.

"James? What happened to him!?" She asked her eyes widening with fear, "Sirius, what happened!?"

Sirius flinched and tried to regain his breath, "James and Lily - they - that rat - he killed them!" 

He sank to his knees in front of her but she stood there watching him sob uncontrollably as she numbly tried to comprehend the situation vaguely.

Giving up her attempt she too, collapsed before him, collecting him in her arms as he held onto her as if she was his lifetime. Not a single tear strung her eyes rather she blankly stared ahead, holding Sirius tightly in her arms.

It would take her years to accept what had happened, she lost them, she lost her best friends, she lost her almost family but what actually made her feel something was how Sirius felt, he lost the one he called his brother right after he lost his own, the girl he saw growing accustomed to their shenanigans and keeping them on the line was simply gone. He wouldn't hear his laughter anymore, he would see her lovely emerald eyes anymore and all because of the person they considered their best friend.

Rage passed through her though it subsided the moment a beaming Harry's face crossed through her mind.

"Sirius, Harry!" She vaguely exclaimed. 

Sirius' sobs intensified and she waited until he calmed down enough to speak.

"Hag-Hagrid took him and I-I did a foolish thing," Sirius said, not meeting her eyes as he felt his head spin.

Her eyes widened, filled with an excessive amount of worry, "Wha-?" 

She didn't even get to finish the question before the door burst open, a group of Aurors stood at the door, their wands outstretched, glaring at the couple sitting on the ground in each other's much-needed embrace.

"Mr Black," the Auror in the middle, growled as he stepped in. (Y/N) and Sirius scrambled to their feet, (Y/N) before Sirius. 

"Ms (L/N), move over, he is dangerous," A female Auror said softly, outstretching her hand and looking at her as though she was a child about to throw a tantrum. 

"Dangerous?!" (Y/N) scoffed, "Absolute bullshit!"

"Ms (L/N), step aside," Another Auror commanded her.

Sirius slipped his hand into hers, squeezing it, searching for the warmth he was afraid he would be deprived of.

The two Aurors in the front whispered amongst themselves. Suddenly one of them harshly pulled (Y/N) back, dragging Sirius away from her.

"NO!" She yelled as she struggled against the restraints of the Auror holding her back by the arm.

Before her, Sirius struggled to remove his arm from the Auror wanting nothing more than to just rush into her arms and be in her comforting embrace though that seemed like a wild fantasy at that moment. 

Finding (Y/N) too hard to be held back, the Auror muttered a spell under her breath. (Y/N) straightened, her eyes turning blurry. She balanced herself against the wall, shaking her head and blinking her eyes.

"Sirius," she muttered, slipping in and out of consciousness. She no longer was able to stand on her feet. And Sirius watched her, yelling her name over and over again until three Aurors bodily dragged Sirius. 

"(Y/N)!" Sirius yelled as he tried to pry the Aurors' hands at the same time (Y/N) whispered, "Don't go, Sirius," watching as he struggled against them and then, blank.

"(Y/N)," she heard someone call her name, "(Y/N),"

"Moony!? Moony is it you?" She asked, trying to open her eyes.

"Yes, yes, it's me," Remus said, helping her sit up. When Remus had entered Sirius' home after he had received the news, tears staining his cheek, he found the door blast down, not a soul aware of what had happened and what he next saw disturbed him senseless. For a second he was scared into oblivion, for a second he doubted his best friend, for a second he pitied that traitor as he saw (Y/N) laying on the ground motionless.

Remus had rushed to her, racking his brain all the difficult charms and methods he had been taught to wake her up but in the state of panic, he forgot the simplest method of all - just shaking her to wake up.

(Y/N) sat on the floor, her back against the wall, her hand clasped tightly in Remus', she took deep breaths. They sat in silence as the two of them tried to contemplate what had happened. 

"They dragged him, Remus, I don't know even why. They said he was dangerous; Sirius cant be dangerous, he isn't," she muttered, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

Remus sighed as he sat on the floor, squeezing her hand comfortingly and took a deep breath for what he was about to say, "After he found out about...Peter, he left after him and Sirius seemed to have cornered him, and then the Aurors arrived when almost 12 muggles were killed, and they saw nothing of Peter except for his finger was found. Before they could arrest Sirius there itself he had apparated here,"

By the time Remus finished, (Y/N) had her head leaning against the wall, staring at the photo frame right before her. It was of Sirius and her, making goofy faces and smiling at the camera, it was a week after they graduated.

"Why would Peter do that?" She whispered as she finally looked into his eyes. Remus chuckled sadly, "You know him, very well honestly, he would want to be under those who were more powerful than him, so he joined," Remus gulped, "Voldemort,"

(Y/N)'s lips parted in disbelief, "He was the spy?"

Remus nodded.

"But how did he do it?" 

He sighed, "He was the secret keeper, it seems,"

"What?"

"Yeah,"

(Y/N) slapped a hand against her mouth as tears ran free from her eyes. Remus wrapped his arms around her, allowing his best friend to weep into his arms and he too, unable to hold the tears, let them stream down his eyes.

The morning when Dumbledore came to the household where Remus and (Y/N) sat, silently grieving for their best friends, not a word uttered by them, to inform Sirius has been sentenced to Azkaban for life, (Y/N) didn't feel sadness rather rage, "What!? He's not been given a chance to prove his innocence! You can't throw just him like that into Azkaban forever!" She yelled.

Dumbledore spoke calmly, "Ms. (L/N), please calm down. It's been declared by the Ministry, we cannot do anything about it,"

She took a deep breath and looked at the man pointedly, "Well, professor, if that's it, I don't find a reason for your presence here anymore,"

Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed but he apparated without a word nonetheless.

"What have you gotten in your mind?" Remus asked with a smirk as he looked at her pulling her hair into a bun and taking a deep breath.

"I am gonna prove Sirius' innocence and get my godson back," she said, determinedly as she left to her room leaving Remus sitting on the couch smiling to himself. When you have a determined (Y/N) with you, that's an announcement for the hell that is about to break loose and it could be positive or negative. 

"Coffee," Remus muttered, placing the flask on (Y/N)'s desk as he glanced over the papers and textbooks scattered on her desk, "What are these?"

(Y/N) sighed, placing her pen down and leaning back on her chair, tipping it as Sirius taught her, unconsciously and Remus didn't want to point it out to her, dampening the mood.

"It's so simple, honestly," She said, glancing at the papers and then at him, "I have to get Harry's custody, and if not me Sirius should, it's legally that way too. You can't just place a year old baby in a household of the worst sort of muggles, one that absolutely ignored the fact that she had a sister,"

She took a deep breath, "Now, to Sirius, you cannot arrest someone without any evidence, much less sentence them to prison with no trial permitted. If we just try to get him a trail then everything will fall back to normal,"

"As normal as it could be," Remus said carefully. 

(Y/N) sighed and nodded, "As normal as it could be,"

"What are we gonna do next?" Remus asked.

"Find someone who could help us officially for this,"

"Can't we, I dunno, do it ourselves?"

"I...I don't know,"

"We will give it a shot?"

"Damn right you are,"

Finally after two exhausting days, (Y/N) stood before Barty Crouch, some would say glaring at him, the other a cold fixated stare. She stood briskly, head held high without the minimal amount of shame or fear in that massive room, filled with people.

"Ms (Y/N) (L/N), you are here requesting another trial for Mr Sirius Orion Black." Barty Crouch said, looking at her through his glasses. 

She shook her head, "Demanding for a trial,"

Crouch's nose flared as he without any disagreement corrected his mistake, knowing far too well the capability of (Y/N).

"Now, the best Aurors have seen Mr Black on the spot laughing like a maniac as the street held 13 dead bodies, including his very own friend Mr Peter Pettigrew," Barty Crouch said.

"First of all, 13 dead bodies? When was Peter's body found?" (Y/N) asked, ignoring the whispers and mutters that grew thick in the council, her gaze fixated on the man before her.

"That's right. His body was never found," She said.

"So are you telling the Wizengamot that Mr Pettigrew just magically disappeared from the scene,"

"Oh please, this Wizengamot is for magic!" She stopped to look at the slightly embarrassed face of Crouch and smirked, just look at him in the end, "Besides, he could have apparated for all we know. But that's a matter for another day; all we have at our hands is a trial for a falsely imprisoned man,"

"Ms (L/N), I will be the one directing the Wizengamot today, so please," Crouch glared at her. Someone raised a hand amidst the crowd, Amelia Bones, "Mr Crouch, I think it's best if we allow her to explain her demand. We can vote," she said, looking at the council.

A little more than half of them raised their hands, "Ah, the motion is passed, Mr Crouch, we must let her speak,"

Barty Crouch's lips twitched, "Very well then, please proceed Ms (L/N),"

(Y/N) had a smirk rivalling Sirius himself's. She took a deep breath, this moment would determine her whole life, "I demand a trial for Sirius Black, with respect to the event that happened on the night of Halloween. I am quite blatantly ashamed that the most powerful ministry wouldn't grant a trial for an innocent man," there was a voice of disapproval. 

(Y/N) ignored it and continued, "I find it extremely disturbing that someone just based on his last name could be sent to Azkaban for a crime he allegedly committed. Now, Siri-Mr Black's relation with...James Potter was well known, they were almost brothers and the question here is how was he supposed to betray someone so close to him,'

"It was also known by almost everyone here about how Mr Black was disowned for going against the absurd ideas of his mother at the young age of 16, would that very man commit a crime as such!? And it's quite easy to find the truth here at the Ministry of Magic, a simple Veritaserum would do the job and if that didn't work, a check of memories of muggles at the spot would have shown the truth. And just as you said you have the best Aurors, allow them to seem the truth!"

(Y/N) finished, taking a sip of the water beside her and the council looked rather convinced by her speech. Once again Amelia Bones stood, "A vote again, perhaps, Mr Crouch?" She asked.

The man in question looked absolutely bewildered by how wrong things have been going now that the spotlight to it had been given. He nodded. 

"Great. Those in favour of granting Mr Black his fair trial upon the use of Veritaserum," she said and grinned as almost all the members in the council raised their hands.

(Y/N) beamed as Crouch announced, "Sirius Orion Black will be given his trial on the third of November, here at this very room with Veritaserum brewed by a highly talented Potions Master. Any objection? Very well then, Council dismissed,"

"Moony!" (Y/N) rushed into Remus' arms, tears stinging her eyes, "We did it, Moony! We did it!"

"You got the trial!?" Remus asked, grinning at her after she pulled away.

"Yes!" She chuckled happily.

"You did it!" Remus yelled as he pulled his best friend into a bone-crushing hug, wiping his own tears.

"When is it?" He asked, still beaming.

Her bottom lip quivered, "Third of November,"

Remus' shoulder slumped, Sirius had planned something that would have changed the two of their lives on that day, and it was part of the reason why he got arrested. Remus engulfed her in a warm hug.

"Don't worry, we know he is innocent," Remus reassured (Y/N), him moving to the stands while she stood in the front of the very room she struggled for a trial on November 3.

Minutes later, the Aurors escorted Sirius into the room, he looked glum and hollow. He looked as though he feared human touch anymore, as though all those bad memories within him surfaced. He looked fragile and in that moment (Y/N)'s heart shattered. 

She wanted to just rush into his arms and never let him go, hold him close to her, whisper soothing terms into his ears, for only him to hear.

Sirius glanced around the room, his eyes falling on (Y/N), he felt in the precise second nothing but pride blooming through his chest, she was his brave girl, he wouldn't worry about her, he knew she would survive. If his world hadn't collapsed, he would have called her his fiancee. 

"Mr Sirius Orion Black, after the request of Ms (L/N), you have been granted a chance to prove your innocence. You will be given two drops of the truth potion - Veritaserum, and then Ms Amelia Bones, will question you," Barty Crouch announced.

Sirius was then seated in the middle of the room, his eyes fixed on nothing but (Y/N) who smiled warmly at him and he felt as if there was nothing wrong, it's just another prank he got caught in, just another petty detention, just another pathetic duel with Slytherins, he felt a bloom of comfort spreading from his chest. He allowed a little smile, very minuscule to tug on the corner of his lips.

"You, Sirius Orion Black, son of Walburga and Orion Black?" Amelia Bones questioned the basics, testing the potion.

Sirius snorted, folding his arms before him and slumping on his chair, "Unfortunately,"

"You were a Gryffindor?"

He smirked, "Yes,"

"Well, Mr Black now let me know what happened on Halloween's night?"

Sirius took a sharp intake of breath and sat properly on the chair, "I went see Prongs first to tell about the ring and when I went there the roof of their house was absolutely collapsed and I was afraid what could have happened so I went in and," Sirius' voice broke and tears stung in his eyes just as it did to (Y/N), she never knew these.

"And I-I saw James laying on the floor, his eyes were open but....he wasn't- he wasn't moving and when I checked for his breath," Sirius took a deep breath, "There was nothing,"

Sirius retold what he had seen and done on that day, with pauses for breath and sips of water to calm himself down.

By the end, Amelia Bones was moved to tears so were the rest of the courtroom, especially (Y/N) who often wiped her eyes.

Bones turned to Barty Crouch, silently asking him for the final judgement. 

He took a deep breath, "Very well then, at the end of this trial, based on accounts given by the Accused induced with Veritaserum, I, Bartemius Crouch, hereby declare, Sirius Orion Black innocent!"

Remus and (Y/N) patiently waited for Sirius to change out of his Azkaban clothes and into the one he was wearing that day.

"Love?" Sirius called, tentatively, about four feet away. Tears started to stream down (Y/N)'s eyes as she ran towards him.

She threw herself into his arms, burying her head into his shoulders and chanting his name. Sirius slowly started to rock her, finally, the warmth he had been deprived of seeped into his body, he felt safe and...home.

"Darling, I am here, don't worry, it's going to be OK," He consoled her. The turn of events was almost hilarious for (Y/N), it was supposed to be her saying those words.

She pulled away, cupping his cheeks. There were dark circles under his eyes, his eyes - Oh goodness - they were a dark shade of grey, bad memories and tears clouding them, and he looked pale.

She couldn't hold her to see him anymore so she smashed her lips against his, inviting him for a passionate embrace. Neither of them knew until then that this was what they wanted, to feel the other, a silent reassurance that everything is going to be alright.

Remus watched as the two of his...remaining best friends held each other in a much-needed embrace, he smiled warmly. The surprise that would await the two of them by the other.

"Come on," (Y/N) beckoned inside their, squeezing Sirius' hand and Remus in tow, "Stay here," she said and disappeared inside a room.

Sirius took out the velvet box buried inside his coat pocket and showed it to Remus, who clapped him on the back and nodded encouragingly. 

When (Y/N) returned with a sleeping baby Harry in her arms, beaming, she didn't expect to see Sirius on his one knee, holding a velvet box open, a beautiful diamond ring shining inside.

The two of them gasped simultaneously as Remus watched with proud eyes, feeling like a mother watching her kids grow.

"I dunno what to say," Sirius said, "Everything I prepared flew out of my mind. But just one thing, I need you in my life, I need you for my sanity, I am absolutely nothing without you and you hold my world above, darling, if it wasn't for you it would have collapsed ages ago. Over everything else...I love you, so much that I can't even express it. I-will you, (Y/N) (L/N), marry me?"

(Y/N) nodded rapidly, unable to speak she rushed into his arms, still holding Harry carefully.

They pulled away after a moment and Sirius slipped the ring into her finger and took Harry in his arms, admiring how much he looked like his father.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he said, his arm encircling around her waist.

"I love you too," she muttered, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Remus," Sirius called, glancing behind for his best friend, "Group hug,"

Remus rushed to the three of them. Finally, they felt happy perhaps like tightly woven remainings of one big family.

[wiypt-writes]

Leave No One Behind

Chapter 16: Endings Beginnings

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Ari and Hannah settle into life back home, but it isn’t all as smooth as they’d have hoped…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairings:  Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Word Count- 4.5k

A/N: It was recently brought to our attention that in a few other chapters there have been a couple of things that Ari has said/done that are not technically accurate for someone of Jewish heritage. First up, it was reference to Ari observing a ‘Sunday Roast’ when he visited Mama Navon. We just wanted to remind people that Hannah is of Catholic Christian and Jewish heritage (Spanish Catholic Mother, American Jewish Father) and her and Sammy’s upbringing has always been a combination of the two. So, when Ari visited Mama Navon when he was home from Sudan, clearly this was her tradition he was observing. Secondly, in another chapter Ari was praying to the ‘God and the Saints’. Of course, Judaism does not have saints, so there’s a slip up on our part with that one. As with the third point, when we described Ari rushing Sarah to the alter. He would have rushed her to the hoopa.

Regarding all of the above, we would hasten to add, that Ari grew up in the USA, leaving when he was 18. From what little we learn of him in the film, we know was taken by a British Soldier, who married an American Nurse. From the way he talks about it, we don’t get the impression his ‘adoptive’ parents were Jewish, so that alludes us to suspect he had a largely Christian upbringing, whilst clearly  being aware of his heritage. Therefore, we don’t think it is beyond the realms of possibility that he would pick up the odd little thing such as the above three points.  

That aside, we hope the above didn’t distract anyone else from the narrative as it did the reader who brought it to our attention.

Now, just a personal plea from myself in general. Myself and Storm do this for free, and not being a person who pays much attention to religion at all (that’s another debate in itself) it is for this reason I was VERY nervous about continuing this storyline beyond the plot of the film. We certainly don’t have the time, nor brain capacity to be researching things into any kind of huge depth. It’s why most of my story lines centre along similar types of things that I have a good background in. This fic was never supposed to focus on the ins and outs of a particular race of people, just the lives of two dumbasses in love. As all writers on here, we do this for free, and the moment it becomes hard work or unenjoyable, we won’t be continuing. So any other little slip ups, please, unless they’re offensive, give us a little leeway and put it down to Ari being exceptionally Westernised as pointed out above.

Sorry if this comes across as being a little harsh, but this has been playing on my mind a lot over the past few days, to the point I was seriously considering if we ended the fic where it currently stood. That said, I think we have a lot left to tell of Hannah and Ari’s story so, I’ll shut up now and let you read it…if you want that is.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 15

“You haven’t forgotten tomorrow?” Hannah heard her mother ask, as the woman stood up from the table while holding the teacup and saucer to place them in the sink. “You do remember you have to pick Sammy up from the airport tomorrow afternoon, right?”

 Hannah rolled her eyes at her mother’s back. “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she sighed as she played with the crumbles of the pastry she had been nibbling on, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got anything else going on, is it? Seeing as Ari is with Maya and according to Sarah’s stupid rules I can’t be there with them…”

 At that, Maria Navon turned, giving her daughter a sympathetic look and Hannah snorted in anger.

 It had been four months since they arrived back in Tel Aviv, and Hannah had to concede that for the first few weeks it was fine. She and Ari settled nicely in the apartment Mossad rented in Ari’s name once all the paperwork following the end of the mission had been sorted. Ari had asked Isaacs for an upgrade of his living quarters, given he was now having Maya over to stay every other weekend, plus numerous nights of the week. Not to mention the fact Hannah was moving with him. When Isaacs had asked Ari to put a justification forward, he had simply shrugged, “I fucking earned it, Isaacs.”

 So he got it. Just like he usually got what he wanted, one way or another.

 Hannah was back working at the clinic. Her hands and the experience she had acquired while in Africa were needed more than ever now that it was only her mother and her to run it, although how long it was before her mom decided to retire fully was anyone’s guess. It had been a couple of busy months, what with interviewing for new nurses and locum staff, but Hannah would be lying if she denied having enjoyed every minute of it. She might have Mossad secret agent skills, obviously passed down by her father, but she was a doctor at heart. And that hadn’t changed in the two years she had been away.

 The team had split up within a month of arrival back in Tel Aviv.  Ari and Max had been working to help the refugees. Many of them had simply melted away post their arrival, still not trusting the mysterious white men who had come to their aid. However, some had stuck round; being housed temporarily in hostels, and was those who Ari and Max were tirelessly working for. They focussed their efforts on obtaining them permanent, legal status along with finding them better places to live and jobs of sorts to help them fit in their new reality. 

 Jake had headed back overseas to continue work as a diving instructor, this time in Jamaica, whilst Sammy had been in the States with Rachel for almost two and a half months now, and was, as Maria just reminded Hannah, due back the following day. Hannah suspected, however, not for long, fully expecting him to move there permanently to be with Rachel.

“Sammy is lucky, you know? He has none of this shit with Rachel’s ex.” Hannah grumbled, “Sarah is just being a pain in the ass. And I know for a fact it’s because we told her we got engaged. She was fine with me being there when Maya was until that point.” Hannah finished her rant as she placed her teacup and saucer on her mother’s extended hand. 

“You can’t be sure about that, sweetheart. Maybe there’s something else."

“No, she’s being a bitch.” Hannah quickly stopped her mother’s attempts at justifying Sarah’s behaviour. “She seems perfectly fine with us having dinner during the week and going out and stuff but won’t let Maya stay when I’m there on a weekend, basically just preventing us from spending those days together, for no reason other than she’s bitter.”

Maria Navon sighed. She knew where her daughter was coming from but, being the gentle and caring woman she was, she couldn’t help but try to put herself in the other woman’s shoes. She saw Hannah bite her lip and twirl her engagement ring round her finger, a rounded blue sapphire as deep as the ocean set against a halo of smaller white diamonds on a white gold band, before she spoke again.

 “I wouldn’t mind mama but they’ve been legally separated for years! The terms of their divorce are basically already been agreed. All they need to do is sign the damned papers but recently, well, Ari seems afraid to even raise the issue in case Sarah starts making it all awkward again and stops him seeing Munch.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Listen to me.” Hannah’s mother caught her attention as she pulled out a chair to sit next to her. “Everything is going to be ok, she’ll sign eventually. She knows there isn’t anything she can do about it, she’s just grieving.”

 Hannah’s brow creased at her mother’s choice of words. “Grieving for what? She left him, years ago!”

“She left him because she couldn’t cope with his lifestyle anymore, and he wasn’t winning any awards for being husband of the year, Han. That doesn’t mean she didn’t love him,” Maria woman spoke softly as if to appease her daughter’s raging tone.

“So, basically, I’m just stuck here waiting until she gets her head out of her ass?” 

“Have a little patience, honey. You two have waited over a decade, one way or another, to be together. You sure can wait a few weeks more.” Maria smiled as she reached out for Hannah’s hands who were fiddling with a teaspoon. 

“That’s the thing, Mama.” Hannah sighed as she looked up to meet her mom’s eyes. “I don’t think it’s just going to be weeks.”

“You don’t?” The woman frowned. “Well maybe she’s more stubborn than I thought.”

Hannah shook her head and then noticed her mother’s features had suddenly softened into a smile and she was looking straight over her shoulder. Hannah turned to see Ethan walking into the kitchen in his signature crisp work suit.

“Hi Ethan,” Hannah smiled at him and then looked up at the clock over the fridge before standing up and shrugging. “I should go. Spend the night with my fiancée before I’m banished back to my childhood home for the weekend like a love sick teenager.”

As she left the kitchen dramatically, she heard Ethan ask Maria. “That bad?”

“She’s pissed off,” Hannah heard her mom whisper back, “can’t say I blame her but she needs to make an attempt to see this from the other side, so to speak.”

With an angry growl, Hannah slammed the door and set off walking back to their apartment, in even more of  bad mood than she’d been in when she arrived at her mother’s. 

 Why was anyone treating her like she was the spoiled brat?

****

Ari was getting ready for Hannah’s arrival. He had been cooking, or sort of, making an attempt at dinner for a while and was now setting the table for two. He wanted to make tonight special as he knew this week was going to be the third weekend out of six that he and Hannah would be apart thanks to Sarah and her fucking rules. 

He was finding it hard himself. He’d gotten used to sleeping besides his Firefly since they had got together in Sudan, especially at night. But he knew Hannah was finding it harder. He was sacrificing their time together so that he could spend his allotted weekends with his daughter, which lessened the blow a little, but Hannah was basically being banned from living her life as it was for two days every two weeks, and that make his heart ache. 

And the worst bit about it all, was that he had seen it coming a mile off, and had been powerless to prevent it.

It was a bright Friday morning when they told Maya about their engagement. The previous evening Ari had proposed to Hannah for a second time after buying her a lavish ring. Thus, they had decided to take Maya for a walk and ice cream to break the news to her.  The little girl had been over the moon with the idea of her dad and Hannah getting married, which hadn’t surprised Ari seeing as his daughter had been all over his fiancé ever since they had met at Mossad headquarters the morning they had arrived home.

Now, as he approached Sarah’s apartment to take Maya back, he was about to tell his ex-wife and he was not particularly looking forward to it. But, he was being cautiously optimistic. Sarah had, after all, been amendable since they’d gotten home and seemed okay with Hannah being a part of Maya’s life.

Still, he felt his stomach churn as Maya walked up the apartment they had all shared once upon a time, and rang the doorbell.  No sooner had Sarah opened the door, Maya bounced in blurting the news out without hesitation.

 “Mom, guess what? Dad and Han are getting married! He asked her yesterday and she said yes!”

Ari groaned internally to himself, “Sarah, I didn’t ask her last night,” he smiled bashfully as he explained himself, “and I certainly didn’t do it in front of Maya.”

Sarah shook her head and brushed it off.  “Don’t worry, Ari and … erm, congratulations, I guess.”

“Erm… thanks.” Ari blinked. “I just thought you should hear it from me first… even if you technically did hear it from Munch.”

Despite the civil exchange, Ari could tell that Sarah was hating she didn’t have time nor the privacy to digest the news, and that wasn’t what he’d planned at all. He’d wanted to tell her, quickly, and leave, but Maya had put paid to his plans. Ari could feel coldness of his estranged wife’s stare, along with the tell-tale faint twitch of her nose and upper lip. He knew Sarah well and he, also knew how she deep down felt about him and Hannah. 

“She seemed cool about it but I know her, Han. Too cool for Sarah.” Ari told Hannah that night over dinner. “I can’t help feeling this is going to be bad…”

For once, Ari wished to God he’d been proven wrong. But, Sarah ended up doing what he feared, reverting back to being petty and petulant. She called him the next day to announce from that moment on, when Maya stayed with him, be it during the week or on her agreed weekends, Hannah wasn’t to be there overnight because, as Sarah had put it, it wasn’t appropriate for Maya to be around when they were… well, “up to stuff.

Hannah went ballistic, telling Ari his estranged wife was being ridiculous and she could go to hell, but Ari knew Sarah well enough to know she needed to get this out of her system. He tried his best to explain to Hannah that until she did, there was nothing he could do but roll with it, certainly for the time being. Making Sarah angry would not only risk her going back on terms of the divorce they’d set out in their separation degree, but also, he feared, make her get pissy about him seeing Maya. And that simply wasn’t something he was prepared to risk. He’d already missed too much of Maya over the years, admittedly through his own fault, but he didn’t want to miss a single second more than he had to.

Just as Ari was turning down the heat under their dinner, Simon’s ears pricked up and a second later Hannah’s key was heard in the door. Air smiled at the dog, who let out an excited whine, and leaned to give him a scratch behind his ears.

“Mama’s home, buddy.”

The pooch looked up at his master almost like he was pondering his words and Ari scoffed. 

Yeah, home. Bar the weekends when she’s banished to her mother's…

 Simon trotted off and soon after Ari heard Hannah greeting him. A moment later she walked into the living area and gave him a tired, but genuine smile. 

“Hey Lobo.”

 Ari beamed at his fiancé as he walked to meet her and without warning, he grabbed her face with both hands and stamped his lips on her plump ones, kissing the hell out of her. Hannah moaned in surprise but melted into his hold, her hands instantly reaching for Ari’s bearded cheeks.

“Hey Firefly.” He whispered when he broke the kiss.

She smiled at him as her hands travelled upwards and tangled in his hair. “Something smells good.”

“Thanks, I just showered.” Ari drawled, a cheeky smile on his face.

“I meant the food, you ass.” Hannah laughed as one of her hands slapped Ari shoulder, but his grin never faded.

“I’m a whole meal, honey.” He continued, playfully. Hannah rolled her eyes and stepped back. “But yeah, I’ve been cooking or rather mixing things in pots and pans.”

“Hmmm should I be worried?” She shrugged off the light jacket she was wearing to shield her from the summer showers.

“Well, Simon tasted everything and he’s still breathing.”

“Simon used to eat jellyfish, Ari. That’s not a bar to measure your cooking with.”

“Hey, I tried, okay? Give me some credit. I’ve never cooked for a woman before.” He grabbed her hips and pressed her to his body, one of his big hands splaying over her back.

At that Hannah smiled at him lovingly. He was right. She suspected he had never cooked for Sarah and he certainly hadn’t cooked for her, not once. Never in the brief amount of time they had been secretly dating, and at the resort it had been Chef Aziz's job to cook for everyone.

“I’m honoured, and I’m sure it’ll be great. Give me five to go wash up okay?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll plate the food and open the wine.” He winked at her and Hannah stood on her toes and gave him another quick peck before she headed into the bedroom, Simon following her.

True to his word Ari had done a pretty good job and thirty minutes later they were both sat at the table after having enjoyed a dammed passable and tasty attempt at a beef stroganoff on Ari’s part that left Hannah pleasantly surprised. 

She sighed with satisfaction as she left her fork on her plate and when she looked up she noticed Ari was looking at her intently, his eyes shining under those long eyelashes.

“You trying to seduce me before my carriage turns into a pumpkin tomorrow, Levinson?” Hannah asked before bringing her glass of wine to her lips.

“Hannah...” he sighed.

“What?”

“Please don’t, sweetheart. I don’t want to argue.” 

It was her turn to sigh, heavily. Ari’s words were more of a plea than a warning to her, but she couldn’t help the way she was feeling. Granted, she wasn’t quite as pissed as when she had left her mother’s house, but she still had a sour feeling which was nagging at her. 

“I don’t want to either, Ari. I just don’t like the prospect of spending my weekend away from you. Again.”

“And you think I do?” He asked, reaching for her hand over the table. “Honey, this won’t be forever. Sarah just needs to get her stupid tantrum out of her system.”

“Yeah, I know and I don’t want you having trouble with Maya because of me, I wouldn’t keep you from Munch, ever. But you’re my fiancé and I just...” she trailed off, shrugging, “I don’t want us to be apart.”

Ari licked his lips and pondered for a moment as he looked at their entwined hands. “Okay, I’ll talk to her when I pick Maya up tomorrow.” He nodded with determination when he looked up at her. “See if I can reason with her and...”

“Don’t Ari. You’ll only set her off.” Hannah rapidly cut him off.

Ari groaned and let go of her hand, his look and voice growing harder. “Well then, what do you want me to do? You literally just said-“

“I know, but I don’t want you to poke the bear! I just want this fucking ridiculous situation to be over.” Hannah shook her head. She knew she was riling Air up, but she was sick of everyone trying to get her to accept the situation they were in without so much as a word of complaint. “I’m not blaming you, it’s just…forget it, can we just pretend we are a normal couple who are having a normal evening dinner?”

“We are a normal couple. Well, as normal as most anyway.” Ari took her hand again, his features softening. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I just don’t know what I can do.”

“Love me.” Hannah stated after a while.

Now that puzzled Ari. Was that a request or was she doubting him. She couldn’t be doubting him, right? With concern written all over his face he pushed his chair back to stand up and hurriedly crouched beside Hannah, his hands grabbing her thighs firmly as his eyes searched for something in hers. 

“Firefly, I do love you. You know this… I mean, at least, I hope you do.”

“I do.” She nodded as she looked down to him. “Just don’t stop loving me, no matter what crazy ideas Sarah comes up with.” 

“Hannah, that’s not gonna happen.” He assured her after swallowing hard. “I promise you. Nothing she says or does is gonna change the way I feel about you.” 

****

Ari meant what he said and took it upon himself to make sure his Firefly was left with no doubt as to his feelings for her all through the night. And then again he made sure she hadn’t forgotten the following morning too before she left to pick Sammy up from the airport.

Ari collected Maya, as arranged, from the summer holiday camp run by her school and then, throwing caution to the wind, took her to Maria’s to see not only Hannah, but Sammy and the family. Hannah was surprised, but pleased to see them both and hugged Maya tight as the girl threw herself at her, chatting away about her day. They ate a lovely dinner, courtesy of Maria, and later, retired to the shared garden in the warm, July air. 

As Maya sat with Sammy, who was telling her stories about the states and Rachel’s kids, Ari found himself watching Hannah. She was sat with her mom and Ethan, the three of them sipping wine as the dusk drew in. It wasn’t long before the first little twinkles around the tree flashed through the darkness, signalling the fireflies had come out to play. 

Ari’s mind quickly travelled back to when he first met Hannah, how those little bugs had been present in the garden, earning her the nickname. His nickname for her, which had stuck and become a term of his love for her, symbolised by the pendant round her neck. It was that pendant, or more specifically how he had given her that pendant, which had fixed the idea on how to present her with the sparkling sapphire and diamond ring on her finger…

It was a Thursday morning, and Hannah walked into the bedroom after her morning shower. Ari looked up from where he was fastening up his short sleeved shirt and smiled as she grinned back at him. 

“You really do suit that colour, pretty sure Ethan’s secretary will approve.”

“Ethan’s secretary?” Ari continued, stopping two buttons under the collar.

“Yeah, that’s what I said Lobo.” 

“Ethan’s secretary is nearly a hundred years old, Firefly.” Ari rolled his eyes with a chuckle, his hands on his hips as Hannah frowned.

“Well who was the young, blonde girl at her desk the other day when I called in?” She picked up her hairbrush from the top of the chest of drawers that served as her vanity unit.

“Lorraine? She’s an intern, Mrs Goldman is training her.”

“She likes you. I can tell.” Hannah hummed, combing out her locks which had been piled on top of her head to prevent them getting wet.

Ari rolled his eyes as Hannah pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail. “Whatever.”

“You can whatever me all you want,” Hannah sang as she picked up a bottle of lotion and sat on the bed, “I can sense these things.”

Ari snorted, looking down at his girl as she sat on the bed applying lotion to her legs. “You getting all territorial on me?”

“Do I need to?”

“Don’t be an ass!” Ari snorted, leaning down to kiss her. 

As they moved around the room, Ari took his time, a lot longer than usual, dragging his morning routine out as long as possible. If Hannah noticed he was making a meal out of tidying his beard up, something he had taken to doing since returning to civilisation, she didn’t notice.

He was stalling for one reason, and one reason only. The surprise that was waiting for her in her underwear drawer.

After what seemed like an age, she crossed the room and pulled it open. Ari held his breath as she reached in for a pair of panties, but instead she gasped, he hand flying to her mouth.

Bingo.

When Hannah spun around, the red, velvet box in her hand, Ari was waiting on one knee, beaming up at her. “Still wanna marry me, Firefly?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she nodded, her voice thick with emotion, “yes, you know I do!”

“Had to ask with a ring, sweetheart.”

He watched as she opened it, her mouth dropping open once more as she stared at the ring. 

“Lobo, it’s gorgeous… I… I love it!”

As Ari rose to his feet, he sighed with relief, “good, ‘cause I had a hard time finding something worthy of my girl.”

“It reminds me of the ocean,” she smiled up at him, “and your eyes.”

“Kinda why I bought it, the ocean that is.” Ari smiled as he took the ring from the box, slipping it over her knuckle, watching as the sapphire settled at the base of her finger. “Hannah Maria Navon, I love you, baby girl.”

Hannah glanced at the ring before she beamed, her hands cupping his cheeks, “and I love you, Ari David Levinson.”

Ari smirked a little at the memory, they were totally late for work after getting a little ‘distracted’ so to speak celebrating their engagement once more, only this time in a bed and not the back of a shitty jeep in the Sudanese desert. 

“Dad?” Maya bounced into his lap, drawing a huff from him as she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs, “Are those fireflies?”

“They are Munch.” He nodded, kissing her head as she watched them zipping around. “Can you see now why I call Hannah my Firefly?”

She grinned, “yip!”

Hannah, who had been watching them, cleared her throat. “Ari, it’s getting late. Shouldn’t you two be heading back to your apartment?”

Ari looked at her pointedly. “Our apartment, sweetheart.”

Hannah was about to shoot a response back but then remembered Maya was there so she merely sighed. “Ari, look, you shouldn’t even be here now anyway. It’s not worth the argument if she finds out.”

“Why can’t we stay here, dad? I wanna stay with Han!” Maya piped up and Hannah groaned a little, shooting Ari a look.

“Because Han needs to stay with Sammy tonight, she’s not seen him for a while. You can stay some other time, okay?”

“I’m not gonna say anything to Mom if that’s what you scared of.”

At that, Ari and Hannah exchanged a look. “Why do you say that? Why would we be scared?” He asked and Maya shrugged.

“I heard Mom say some things.”

“What things, Munchkin?” Ari smoothed her long hair back and waited for her to reply.

“Well, I was upset, because at first I thought Hannah didn’t like me anymore as she always left when I stayed over. But one day last week, I heard Mom tell Grandma on the phone she had made you and Hannah spend the weekends apart because I was with you.” Maya paused and looked at Hannah, “Is that why you don’t stay with us at the apartment?”

Hannah blinked, she was stuck. She didn’t want to lie but also didn’t want to start bad mouthing Sarah in front of Maya, no matter how tempting. “Erm, it’s, well it’s complicated, sweetie. You and your dad need to spend time together. But I promise you it’s absolutely not because I don’t like you. I do, I love you very much.”

At that Maya stood up and launched herself at Hannah.  “I love you too, Han.”

Ari and Hannah could do nothing but exchange a look, which Hannah broke as she leaned down to hug Maya, tears visible in her eyes.

And it left Ari feeling even more like shit than he already did.

No, he had to fix this, even if it meant pulling Sarah up on her attitude despite Hannah asking him not to. Whilst he understood Sarah’s anger, and that she had every right to direct it at him, the fact that it was clearly having an impact on Maya was something he couldn’t let slide.

With a sigh, he stood up, instructing Maya to bid everyone good night. Before he left, he pulled Hannah into a kiss, his hands cupping her face.

“I’m gonna fix this,” he whispered against her lips, “trust me, baby.”

“I do.” She sniffed a little, her nose bumping his. “Go, go on. I’ll see you Sunday.”

As they walked the few blocks home, Maya’s hand locked in Ari’s, he was only partially listening to his daughter as she spoke. 

“Dad!” Her voice drew him from his thoughts about how exactly he was going to approach the subject with his soon to be ex-wife. He glanced down at her.

“What?”

“We’re you listening to a word I just said?”

“Honestly, no!”

“Daaaaaad!” She whined and Ari chuckled.

 “I’m sorry baby, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that I should get Hannah something for luck.”

“What do you mean?”

 “Well, Mom was talking to Auntie Louisa, and she said that Hannah was going to need plenty of luck being married to you so…”

Ari took a deep breath, anger flashing through his system, rolling his eyes. “Oh, did she?”

“Yup.” Maya nodded.

“And, do you think Hannah’s gonna need luck?”

Maya looked at him, and grinned cheekily. “Well, you are an idiot!”

“Rude!” Ari narrowed his eyes playfully, “mind you, technically, you might look more like your mom but you’re half me. Guess that makes you half an idiot, huh?”

Maya went to dig him in the ribs and with a chuckle, Ari swung her up and onto his shoulders. Her hands tangled in his hair as she giggled, before she leaned down, fingers threading into his beard.

“Han’s right, you do look like a wolf.”

Ari laughed, his hands tightening around his daughter’s ankles as her heels lightly bounced against his chest with each step he took.

[saphirered]

I thought this would be an interesting twist: After the failed ritual, what if Lucien's s/o ran into Molly? Thank you!

Okay so this one came out quicker than I expected 😅. Little 'twist' at the end because I could not help myself. I hope you enjoy it! 😘

You warned him. You warned him so many times but he wouldn’t bloody listen. Too caught up in his own game for power, never satisfied. But what were you supposed to do? Stop him? No, you’d never. You loved him more than that but you were not prepared to follow him to his own death. Lucien, you idiot how could you? You tried everything but he didn’t come back. The ritual failed. You didn’t want to uphold your part of the bargain. You knew this mage had ulterior motives and after being granted a peak of those pages she wouldn’t back down.

The woman wanted it all for herself and Lucien stood between her and that power the Eyes of Nine had to offer. Knowing the Tombtakers would follow Lucien to the extremes they would also accept the risks of this ritual and would be content but disappointed should it fail. With what you had seen you knew it shouldn’t fail. You had warned Lucien of your suspicions but his own arrogance made him blind to the consequences of this all. He wouldn’t listen and you were becoming an obstacle so when the ritual was to go down you weren’t there.

Lucien has slipped away from your warm embrace in the dead of night to perform the ritual and of course Vess messed with it, assuring he wouldn’t be able to return to his body therefor as per the agreement, she’d take the book as payment. It was too late when you found him, already dead. No amount of healing or revivification could bring him back to you. You had to accept that but you could enact revenge on the bitch that took him away from you. You’ll have her wishing she was the one in a shallow grave instead.

The Tombtakers diverged, finding their own paths. Cree tried to take you with her but you wouldn’t. You had your own task to complete. After that you could rest. Making the arrangements, finding allies where you could, earning and cashing in favours from anyone of power or resources you could left you with quite the arsenal at your disposal but you couldn’t just walk into the capital of the Dwendalian Empire and murder one of the archmages of the Cerberus Assembly. You had to be patient, lay low and let everyone think you moved on.

Still you visited the grave whenever you could. There was a comfort in the hope that maybe, wherever he was he could hear you. Lucien would probably scold you for going on a revenge path against one of the most powerful magic users on the continent all by your lonesome. He’s one to talk. Nevermind, you told him about your adventures, and hoping to acquire the resources to attempt to bring him back. You won’t give up hope.

Then you returned, returned to find the grave empty. You followed the tracks but they lead you nowhere. You had to find him. You had to find Lucien before anyone else did because what might they do? What state would he be in? Does this mean he’s already ascended? Would this mean he’d truly fully become the Nonagon for once and for all? But most of all, you just want him back in your arms knowing he’d be safe. You’d scour Exandria to find him.

There you are standing in a dark alleyway, hood blocking direct view of your face as you’re quite literally in the middle of a back alley deal. You’re no stranger to the shady business and shady people can most often be found in these places. You pay your contact in exchange for the information your requested, satisfied with the results. You hear commotion on the main street. Guards. Parting from your contact you wait for the guards to pass. That’s when you notice a lavender tiefling bolt past you. A very familiar lavender tiefling.

Confusion, relief, heartache, panic, happiness, disappointment, a wave of emotion hits you in a way you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to feel at this point. Many questions accompany those feelings. What are you supposed to do? Well, go after him of course! If Lucien’s back and he’s being chased by guards, that’s not a good thing for the current situation. Sticking to the shadows you trail along. Lucien may just have lost his touch but perhaps the city is an unfamiliar one to him and alone, he doesn’t know the way. The tattoos are new, so are the rather colourful clothes but you know he never does anything without reason.

You figure out where he’s going, the direction at least and from your own past encounters here you know the side alleys. You take a path that should have you end up ahead of him. You’ll have to take a few rooftops and private yards but it’s the quickest and you’ve done it plenty of times. Once you get in place you take off your cloak, get ready. You hear the guards shouting for reinforcements. The closer he gets from around the corner you can see the smug grin filled with mischief as he runs. You’ve missed that one.

The moment comes and you grab onto him as he passes pulling him into the alley with you, wrapping your cloak around him and pulling the hood up. Hands on both sides of his face you look at him closely. There’s confusion in his eyes as they focus on you. He’s already out of breath but you pull him into a deep kiss. Lucien hits the wall behind him and readjusts the hood of the cloak to keep his face covered. The response to the kiss only comes with the sound of the guards drawing near and is very confused. The guards pass by. They glance into the alley but awkwardly turn back to following the street upon seeing the two of you together.

As soon as they’re gone Mollymauk breaks away from you. He’s breathing heavily more from the run than the kiss you shared. He’s very confused. Indifferent to being kissed by a stranger, this… unexpected to say the least. He’s got no idea who you are but you saved his ass so you’re alright in his books at the moment. That doesn’t mean he’s not wary of you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you know him, or well whoever he used to be and with the conflicting emotions running through you he’ll have to think fast to spin his bullshit correctly.

“You have no idea how happy I am you’re alive. Does this mean it worked after all? Did you succeed?” You run your thumbs over Lucien’s cheekbones as he holds onto your wrists lightly. The pressure in your chest grows heavier as you await his answer.

“It did. I did. It didn’t go as planned but I’m here now.” Molly works his charm like his life depends on it because he entertains the thought it might. Your touch, there’s something eerily familiar about it, akin to being reminded of a distant long forgotten dream. Hazy but it feels real. He still has no idea who you are and there’s no bells ringing either. While he much rather run far away avoiding any and all connections to a past not his, he cannot help but commend whoever came before him. The one that got buried definitely had a good taste in lovers? Friends? Molly’s not going to assume even though you kissed him quite passionately.

Your chest clenches and it feels as if your breath won’t leave your body, your blood stopping in your veins, like you got hit by an extra dimensional force attempting to pull everything away from you. You listen to Lucien’s words. It looks like him but why do you feel like you hear someone else? It’s not an illusion or some trick you’re sure. If it were your enemies would have known to pick a better imposter and you’d have been dead already. Your own mind fights against this train of thought, justifying it. Lucien had been dead for weeks until you found the empty grave. Of course there were bound to be side effects or even consequences to the ritual. But then again, it had been two years since then. Two years to recover from whatever happened…

“You don’t know me, do you?” Speaking the words out loud breaks your heart. You don’t fight the pain they cause. There’s no tears. You’ve already grieved Lucien once. You’re not doing it again. This will be nothing more than a painful reminder, a cruel joke from the gods behind the divine gate. Why must the fates torture you so for nothing more than loving an ambitious man reaching for the stars and beyond?

“No. I’m sorry.” Molly can’t help but feel your pain. It’s clear you cared a great amount about his predecessor, the way you speak reveals intense heartbreak at the passing of that one. It also shows acceptance that whoever he used to be is gone and you’ve come to terms with that a while ago. That’s enough for him to recognise you won’t hurt him. Molly had never felt sorry for the death of who he used to be and he won’t start now but he does feel sorry for you. This whole situation is messed up.

You close your eyes and nod, dropping your hands and take a step back. No matter how much your heart may tell you to be close to this tiefling, your mind knows it’s not Lucien. You cannot in good conscious hang onto whatever remains. It’s not fair you him, to Lucien but most of all not fair to yourself. Do you wish it was Lucien standing here in front of you? Of course you do. You’d do anything to get him back but what would directing all your pain achieve directed at this new person in the same body? It would accomplish nothing but more pain. You can’t imagine this tiefling in front of you doesn’t have any friends, loved ones, people who care about him. You weren’t going to put you don’t know how many others through the same pain you’ve been put through.

“I am as much of a ghost of the past to you as you are to me.” You’ve come to the conclusion that based of his responses there may not be any recognition, there is an unknown familiarity to you on his end. Perhaps the final slivers of Lucien remaining but nothing more than a fleeting memory. A hand reaches out for yours. You allow him to take your hand and he rubs circles in the back of it with his thumb in an attempt to bring you some comfort. It’s a gesture out of kindness. Not out of selfish intent or with the expectancy to get something out of it, like Lucien would when faced with a stranger he clearly had the upper hand over.

“You seem to have cared for my predecessor, Lucien, quite a lot. I truly am sorry.” You offer him a saddened smile as a silent thank you. He knows Lucien’s name so he must have learned something of the past. You gather it hasn’t been much and most definitely is second hand knowledge by his lack of information on the ritual, who he used to be, everything really.

“You know his name?” The sentence is voiced somewhere in between a question and a statement.

“A blood cleric named Cree. She ran into us-me and mistook me for him. I played along but I don’t think she really bought it. She didn’t reveal much.” The name of the tabaxi alone is enough to make your blood boil. If Cree had known for however long, why hadn’t she gotten in contact with you? You know exactly why and are debating wether or not you could do with a new fur rug. You also acknowledge that Cree is a risk and this new-not Lucien will have to watch his back.

“Since you’re not Lucien nor do you seem to be using that name, what do I call you?”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf or simply Molly to my friends.” The tiefling-Mollymauk smiles at you, a genuine smile. You have to appreciate the small gestures of comfort and kindness.

“I would give you my own name but for both of our sakes I won’t. You may refer to me as an old friend. I know I have no right to but may I ask you a favour?”

Mollymauk nods. As always he leaves a place better than he found it, tries to bring joy and happiness wherever he can even if that means making a fool of himself. Very few times has he been faced with someone who needs his help as much as you do. While there’s definitely limits to what he can provide, you deserve some compassion. Especially after the shitty cards life had dealt to you. He’ll try to ease that if he can.

“May I- May I ask you to tell me about your life, Mollymauk?” Not the request he expected. Then again, to be fair he didn’t really know what to expect. A kiss maybe? Stick along for a while? Perhaps even a final goodbye so you could close this chapter once and for all? But of all the things you asked about him. Not Lucien. Him.

“It’s a long story…” Molly drifts off reminiscing the wild ride of the past two years, especially the events of the last few months upon joining the Mighty Nein and the adventures they had already gone on; were currently on but if you really wanted to hear all about that, he’d tell you.

“I have plenty of time. How about we walk and talk? Get you back to your traveling companions? Your friends? And if there’s still plenty more to tell, if you want to you can tell me over a few drinks. My treat.” You feel within yourself you’d better be able to let go knowing this Mollymauk is happy and lives content. Lucien might be gone but Mollymauk deserves a good life free of Lucien’s burdens. You’ll do what you can to assure that.

“Never tell a story for free. That sounds like a good deal.” Molly offers you his arm and when you hesitate, expects you not to take it but to his surprise you do. There’s something strangely comforting about the whole ordeal. You’re both strangers to each other but it still feels like you have known each other for years.

On your way to where Mollymauk is staying he feels no need to hold back or deceive and instead tells you what happened to him; how he woke up, dug himself out of a grave and was found by a kind man, joined the circus, became a fortune teller, made friends along the way, found a family, many tales of the mischief he was up to, leaving every place better than he found it. You had some good laughs and were able to ask some questions throughout. All in all you came to the conclusion Mollymauk’s life hasn’t been an easy one but it was a good one and he was happy.

Then he found this group of strangers in a tavern somewhere in Trostenwald. His old family was torn away in the wreckage of a devil toad but he found a new one in these strangers. The Mighty Nein. Their time together has been but a few months but they already feel like family and he’d do anything for them. They might be assholes but they’re good people.

You got to meet them. Molly- as he keeps insisting because you are his friend now, introduced you to this Mighty Nein as he thought it best you heard some of these stories from their mouths too for the sake of perspective. He introduced you to them as such; an old friend from the past. The details were left blurry but Molly’s confidence was enough to leave them at the very least accepting and not mistrusting you. They shared their stories with you. They needed him. They may have come far from the assholes they were, but they still had a ways to go. You knew you could not tear that away from him nor did you feel right to join them, even if temporarily.

It’s time for you to say goodbye. You bid your farewell to the Mighty Nein and while they would ask you to stay just a little longer, you know you cannot. You will not insert yourself into their lives based on the merits of your own lies and life. They are free so let them be free. Molly walks you out so you may have one final conversation before you leave his world behind you.

“You don’t have to go yet. They enjoy your company and honestly, they could learn a thing or two from you.” Molly offers as you stand outside of the tavern, the sky since having grown dark and the stars out. The air is cool, winter is drawing near, before you know it the frost will stick to the ground and you’ll be back in Shadycreek plotting the demise of a certain Cerberus Assembly member. You’ll have to leave this all behind.

“You know I can’t. For all of our sakes.” You offer Molly a smile. You’re happy with what you got to see, the stories you were told but this is where it ends and that’s okay. Molly knows it too. Sometimes it’s better to let go than to hang on. You have your own life just as he has his.

“So I guess this is goodbye then.” Molly takes hold of both of your hands and squeezes lightly before he pulls you in for a hug. You return the embrace. Pulling apart enough to look him in the eyes you stroke his cheek, tracing the tattoos fanning up his neck and jaw.

“I am still but a ghost of the past. A ghost I will remain. I wish you a good life, Mollymauk Tealeaf. May we one day meet again.” You kiss his cheek and despite the appearance of Lucien, it doesn’t feel the same. Despite how it may sound, you’re happy it doesn’t. You step out of Molly’s arms.

“May we meet again.” The words Molly speaks are like a breath upon the wind as you walk backwards, one final look at the lavender tiefling as you blend into the darkness, fading like a ghost.

There may be many more things Molly would like to ask you. He’d like to get to know you and the thought that maybe one day he might, sounds like a good day in his mind. You have your own business to take care of first but maybe one day you will meet again. For now a ghost of the past he doesn’t recall you will remain…

——————

But a few months later you find your way back on the road to Shadycreek Run. There you found a grave marker along the Glory Run Road… The marker held a colourful ostentatious red coat embellished to the nines. It appears to have been left to the weather for some time but you recognise it. Hit with a sense of dread you approach the grave already knowing who it belongs to. The least you can do is pay your final respects to the friend you never got to know more.

You dismount your horse guiding it the reins closer to the marker. That’s definitely Molly’s coat. There’s no denying that now. You walk further up the hill offering a silent prayer to the Moonweaver who Molly admitted to being a follower of.

Approaching the grave you see it dug up. You expect grave robbers, thieves of some kind as you brush your fingers over the fabric of the coat. You get a glance of the grave and see it empty instead. Not robbed; empty. No body, nothing but the marker and the coat. Down the other side of the hill you see a figure, a lavender tiefling, tapestry draped around him watching the skies. The back is turned to you so the tiefling doesn’t see you. A wave of both relieve and dread washes over you as you are met with your own ghost of the past.

[ainarosewood]

Gifts or Curses

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​

FFxivWrite2022 Day 7 Prompt Pawn

Art thou a pawn or master of thy own fate, what hath thou wrought with thine own hand mortal?

Midgardsormr sneered at the Roegadyn before him.  

He intended then to leave but ere he could dissipate she snatched him out of the air and pulled his face in front of hers green eyes flashing with anger. “Listen here dragon I am dealing with your presence but now is not the time to mock me.  And I swear to all of the Twelve if what you did to the blessing is responsible for Moen’s death….”

He then felt remorse as he realized she was grieving for the fallen woman, Nay child even if thy blessing was accessible, due to thy mistress weakness, I believe the outcome would have been the same. 

Nimble Rabbit  stared at him for a moment longer then released him. Her shoulders still taught with anger she then slammed her fist into the stone of the wall and snarled, “Then what in seven hells use is it?  Why the hell was I gifted with this damn thing if it fails me when I need it most?  Why Hydaleyn!!”

Midgardsormr looked on with sorrow, wishing he could give her the answers she seeked.  He himself did not truly understand what the entity intended.  

His mind went unbidden to his flight from the dragon star.  His seven eggs held tightly against him in that vast cold desperate to keep them warm so they might survive.  Every star he passed was dead or dying. All of them had one thing in common: a small, avid creature black as night streaking in the sky and an overwhelming sense of despair and sorrow.  He had seen this on the Dragon Star too as he fled.  He flew as fast and as far as he could, his fiery mane extinguishing in the relentless cold of space until finally he saw a world bathed in life, in aether and he descended.  

Only to be met by a strange humanoid being who was overtly powerful at the edge of a lake brimming with life and aether.  Deep down he despaired for he knew if she chose to fight him he’d have not the strength to win and that would be the end for his brood.

“I beg of thee allow us to remain, mine children and I.  Far we have flown and this…this is the only star not beset by death or destruction.” he called wishing that his voice were stronger but to no avail his flight had severely weakened him.  He only preyed that the metal monstrosity that has brought his home star's end had not managed to fully follow him here to this glowing jewel of a star.

 The entity looked upon him, compassion filling  her brilliant blue gaze and she then stated, “I ask for a few deeds in return for thy sanctuary.  First, thou art to defend this lake, for it is the source of all magic here on Etheirys.  Thy eggs may bathe in these waters as well so they know life and strength. In return for this I ask they become stewards to this star, defending it and protecting it from harm.  Finally  there will come a day when a being will stand before you.  She will bear my mark, a glowing shield of protection.  When this occurs you will have to seal away this,” she waved a hand and a glowing ward appeared with multiple elemental crystals anchoring it. “It will not be hard to sense within her being. Once you have sealed it away, travel with her, test her, if she is strong enough your binds will release and she shall shine brighter than she did when you met my sweet spark. Agree to these terms and a life here on Etheirys shall be thine and thy children’s.”

Midgardsormr pondered her conditions, part of him wanted to refuse for she all but asked him to be in servitude in exchange for sanctuary and yet, was that too large a price to pay?   Would he allow his pride to deny him and his children what seemed to be their only chance for survival?  He could tell this entity truly felt for his plight there was no underlying malice, no ill intent she well and truly was offering him sanctuary in exchange for these deeds.

“If this by thy terms then I agree, for my children's sake.  Though I will say, the choice to defend this star is theirs, and theirs alone to make.  I will not bind them to such ere they are hatched.  I Midgardsormr shall make this covenant with thee…”

“Hydaelyn '' she responded, giving him a warm smile, “ And I accept thy terms as well. Now let me welcome thee and thy children to thy new home Midgardsormr.”  With that she held a stave before her and he felt aether surge from the lake surrounding him as it did he felt his essence tie into that of the lakes the source and as it did his vigor returned.  Roaring in joy he then set about placing his eggs carefully in the lake itself eager for them to draw upon its strength so they would grow strong.  

Midgardsormr then shook himself from his reprieve.  In the years that followed he time and again wondered if it had truly been the right choice to do as Hydaelyn bid.  When his eldest Bahaumt fell to the foul Alagans and then his eldest daughter Tiamat to the whispers of the cursed Ascians and then fettered by her own guilt. The day Azdaja disappeared into that voidgate leaving behind Vrtra to grieve and worry.  When Ratatoskr was murdered by mortals and his son Nidhogg lost his sense to rage, grief and guilt.  The pain and agony of his own death to the cursed airship.  Had it truly been worth it?  Was this really the last bastion of hope or had he simply cursed himself and his brood to death and despair in a different form?

These questions had danced in his mind for many ages and he felt a kinship for this Chosen of Hydaelyn for she too was granted a boon only for it to feel like a curse.  Deep down he was still unsure.  He knew not exactly what Hydaelyn had planned for him or for this mortal.  But he did know she needed to hear something at this time.

I know not why thy mistress granted thee the blessing nor why she agreed to allow me and mine to remain on this star.  But this I do know, despair will get thee no answers.  Do not give into it and stay strong if for no other than thyself.  Midgardsormr stated the diminutive dragon flying over and landing upon her shoulder.

Nimble Rabbit then looked at him and nodded, “Aye ye have the right o it.  To despair is to give up.  An I was raised te fight te the bitter end.  Thank ye Midgardsormr I needed te hear that.  And sorry fer grabbing ye like that.”

I am sturdier than thou thinks and I did goad thee.  Never mind past is past look to the future child he stated then dissipated before she got more sentiment out of him.

[ilikefandom]

A Death at the Shack

Request: An Anon requested: Can I request a sev x wife reader? But it’s okay if u don’t want <33.

Genre: Angst!!!!!!

Synopsis: (Y/n) needs to save her husband’s life during the battle of Hogwarts

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem reader

Warnings: Voldemort, Death, Threats of Violence, Possible Death of a Canon Character.

Author’s Note: Not all requests will get answered this quickly! I just have the day off and the time to write this. Please send in requests! I work better when I have people to please!

The sounds of battle echoed through the hallways as (Y/n) ran. Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts and the Arithmancy professor was scared, not just for her students, but for the headmaster as well. 

After hiding her relationship and then her marriage from the majority of Hogwarts staff and students, (Y/n) was terrified. While she had to hide from people she liked and respected, she was never in any real danger for her life. Severus, however, had to keep his relationship from the friendly people at work and from one of the darkest wizards of all time, Lord Voldemort. 

She made her way through the Great Hall, dodging spells from both friend and foe, shoving her shoulder into a death eater before dashing outside of the castle. She saw a dark figure make its way across the grass with a familiar flowing set of robes. Robes she had purchased for Severus’ birthday.

Down the stairs she went, glad for the dark robes that blended her into the shadow of the castle. She jogged lightly, tired from the journey from the castle, but still full of adrenaline. (Y/n) saw three more figures appear from the corner of her eye, the trio of Gryfindors that her husband liked to give trouble to. 

Suddenly frightened for the minors she turned the other way and ran to intercept them, catching hold of Hermione’s shoulder as she reached them. 

Hermione yelped and all of them drew their wands pointing them at the woman in front of them.

“Professor (Y/L/N)?” Hermione asked.

(Y/n) nodded, but motioned for all of them to be quiet. “Yes, Hermione. Do you three realize where you’re going? You’ll walk right into his trap!”

Harry shook his head, “His name is Voldemort, no need to say it any differently.”

(Y/n) shook her head, “I do Mr. Potter, I do. If only for the sole reason of keeping my family safe I do.”

Ron gave her a sideways glance. “Your family? But why would you need to protect them now when Voldemort is going to be defeated soon?”

(Y/n) gave a half-hearted smile. She stared at the Shrieking Shack for a few seconds before commenting, “My husband plays both sides of the line children. Sometimes, you need to sacrifice your beliefs to keep those you love safe.”

She turned back to the group of teenagers in front of her and looked into Harry’s eyes. They really were just like Lily’s. (Y/n) gave a small smile as she thought back to her Hogwarts years, three years younger than Potter’s gang; they never paid her much mind. That was until she started telling them off for picking on Snape. When she was twelve she remembered distinctly giving James and Sirius a shrill tongue lashing for using leveracorpus on Severus. Fun times yelling at the two of them with Lily that would never occur again.

(Y/n) took a deep breath before picking up her pace toward Hogsmeade. Turning around only slightly to look back at her students. “Well,” she asked, tilting her head to the side a bit, “aren’t you coming?”

Harry hurried to keep stride with the professor as all of them raced down the path. (Y/n) listened for death eaters in the bushes, behind them and in between the trees. Making sure that they wouldn’t get caught before getting to their desired destination. 

As soon as they reached the shack, (Y/n) gestured for the group of teens to stay outside as she ventured in. The creaking of the stairs quieted by a quick spell from her wand. 

She gathered all of her nerve and made her way to the closed door that led to her partner and his previous master. Frightened about what she might hear from the latter man.

“You have performed extraordinary magic with this wand, My Lord,” Severus was saying, “in the last few hours alone.” As always, (Y/n) lover had to play devil’s advocate, keeping Voldemort at bay and protecting all that stood behind him.

“No,” the dark warlock replied, trailing his gaze away from the spy and out one of the unboarded windows, “no, I am extraordinary, but the wand resists me.” 

He quickly rounded on Severus causing (Y/n) to almost jump. She put the pieces together quickly, the evil man meant to kill her husband.

“There is no wand more powerful.” Severus stated, calm as ever in the face of danger. “Olivander himself has said it.”

The potions master caught a glimpse of movement behind Voldemort. He caught a brief shine from the hem of his wife’s signature gold and silver trimmed robes through the crack of the door and the breath hitched in his throat. Quickly, he commented, “Tonight when the boy comes it will not fail you, I am sure of it.”

After a pause, Severus, desperate to keep Voldemort’s attention away from the door behind him, looked the Dark Lord in the eye, “It answers to you, and you only.”

“Does it?” Voldemort asked, looking back into the black velvet of Severus’ eyes. 

Another pause, the tension building in  and thickening as if it was smoke over a growing fire. “My Lord,” Severus said, his voice wavering a bit as the door swung open, silently, fear crashing over him like a tsunami, after catching his wife’s gaze. 

 “The wand, does it truly answer to me? You’re a clever man Severus.” Voldemort said as he made his way around Snape, (Y/n) ducked behind the door, back against the wall outside. She spotted the golden trio crouching down the hall and she clutched at her chest in fright.

“Surely you must know. Where does its true loyalty lie?”

“With you.” Severus replied, his voice strong again, but his mind jittery with fright, as his back was to the door behind where his precious one hid. “Of course, my Lord.”

“The elder wand,” the Dark Lord stated, “cannot serve me properly because I am not its true master. The elder wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner.” Voldemort turned his back again to (Y/n) and she opened the door again, this time slipping into the room behind Voldemort. 

“You killed Dumbledore, Severus.” The evil wizard spoke, and (Y/n) readied her wand. “While you live, the elder wand cannot truly be mine. You’ve been a good and faithful servant, Severus, but, only I can live…”

He was cut off by (Y/n)’s silent stunning spell. Voldemort rounded on the younger witch who dove out of his line of fire, rolling to the ground. “Death is not the only manner of defeat, sir.” She said as soon as she was on her feet again.

Voldemort’s interest was piqued at this comment. “You speak of defeat, girl.” He said giving (Y/n) one of the creepiest smiles she had ever seen. 

“All I am trying to say,” (Y/n) stated, “Is that Severus didn’t make the first move, he wasn’t the one who subdued Albus Dumbledore.”

Voldemort chuckled, a high frightening laugh that echoed through the shack. “The Malfoy boy? You cannot possibly be telling me that he is the master of the elder wand! Severus killed Dumbledore, so...” 

(Y/n) smiled, “Then how come Dumbledore managed to master the elder wand without killing Grindelwald? Isn’t he still imprisoned in Nurmengard?”

“You have spirit, girl,” Voldemort spat, “I can accept that. Giving up a student to save Severus, if I didn’t know better, I’d…” Voldemort froze. “Ah Severus, you didn’t tell me you snagged yourself a bride. How, disappointing.”

“My Lord,” Severus spoke up, “My Lord please I…”

“Betrayal and disloyalty,” Voldemort scoffed, I’ll teach you to defy me! Avada Kedavra.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione heard the spell, a body slump to the floor, and then the signature crack of disaperation. Hermione bolted to the door and thrust it open. Severus Snape was sitting on the floor, large tears spilling down his face cradling Professor (Y/l/n)’s head in his lap.

As the tears fell, he looked at the trio, “Take it,” he said gesturing at the tears, “take them.”

Hermione pressed a glass vial into Harry’s hands and he took the memories from Snape’s cheeks. “You really do have your mother’s eyes.” He said, allowing himself a small smile before clutching once again at his love’s body. 

Ron tugged on Harry and Hermione’s sleeves, “Let’s go, before Malfoy suffers the same!”

They all turned back to the door and vacated the Shack. Allowing their professor to grieve, once again, over the body of a woman he loved, a woman killed by Lord Voldemort.

[katehuntington]

Title: If The Bunker Had Windows Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x female reader Words: ±5250 words Description: When a Djinn case doesn’t go as planned, not everyone makes it. Dean, who is burdened by guilt, holes himself up alone in his room for days, until Y/N comes in to check on him. Will the girl who was his perfect world be able to pull him back from the darkness? Warnings: Angst/comfort. Mutual pining, some fluff. Description of canon typical violence and supernatural creatures. Mentions of injury, death and alcohol abuse. Depression, refusal to eat, grieving, crying. Satisfying ending. Author’s note: A one shot that will punch you in the feels, according to my betas @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Always grateful for you girls helping me out! And to my readers, I hope you enjoy my reading, thank you for your support.

     Serenity floats through the halls of the Men of Letters headquarters, like the morning mist on an autumn day. If the bunker had windows, the sun would have shone diagonal beams through the glass, warm and welcome, but instead it’s the light from the vintage table lamps that give this home its glow.

     Y/N moves down the hall towards the galley, her sock covered feet softly padding against the marble floors. Despite her stealth approach, Sam is waiting for her to appear in the doorway, his eyes already lifted from the tablet that lays flat on the mahogany table.      “Morning,” he greets, continuing to swipe through news articles, in his search for a case. “Coffee’s brewing.”

     She descends down the two steps and sets foot into the kitchen, the aroma of roasted beans flooding her senses. The night hasn’t been without worries and all the more without sleep, so she can use a good dose of caffeine.      “Thanks,” she returns.

     After pouring herself a generous amount of the dark beverage, her thoughts wander off to the other inhabitant of this oddly cosy concrete structure. Dean’s absence is obnoxiously evident, the air not filled with grumpy mutters before he had his coffee, neither with a lame joke that he found on the back of the cereal box, that only he finds funny.      With a deep sigh, she turns around with her favorite mug in her hand, resting against the counter. “Has he come out of his room yet?”

     Sam’s jaw flexes, the tall giant with a gentle heart glancing over. He doesn’t even have to shake his head for Y/N to know the answer. Shutting her eyes for a few seconds, she takes a sip from her hot drink, burning her tongue, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the pain she knows Dean is in.

     It’s been three days since the brothers returned from a particularly tough hunt. She remembers Sam’s voice hollering through the bunker, and she instantly realized that something terrible had happened. When she found the Winchesters in the garage, Dean leaning on his sibling and barely able to stay on his feet, the air was stolen from her lungs. His skin was paler than those of the spirits she has faced and he seemed barely conscious. His eyes beheld an emptiness that faded the forest green of his irises, leaving nothing but a shallowness that reminded her of death, even though his heart was still faintly beating.

     A Djinn had gotten to him, and by the time Sam found his brother, strung up to the ceiling of the monster’s den, he was barely alive. It was too late for the young college student who the hunters were hoping to save, her corpse dangling in shackles next to Dean, drained of blood and life. She was all but a grim memoir of their failure, a reminder of the fate that would have befallen the hunter, had the younger Winchester sibling not found him. 

     Back home, Sam and Y/N carried Dean to the infirmary and thankfully got a hold of Castiel, who came to the rescue as fast as he could. The angel might not be at full power, but he was able to pull his friend away from the reaper, who was without a doubt waiting to claim his soul like the vultures that they are. 

     Even though Cas glued the shattered shards back together until Dean was physically whole again, something inside him remains damaged beyond repair. The mighty hunter, who faces his enemies head on and with guns blazing, who laughs Death in the face, is defeated, and there is not much the cosmic being can do to change that. A broken body is much easier to heal than a broken mind.

     Y/N puts her empty coffee mug aside and exhales, coming back to the present. “Did he eat, at least?” she wonders, a desperate hopefulness in her pitch.      Again, Sam shakes his head. “He left dinner by the door without touching it. I’m sorry.”      The younger Winchester doesn’t have to apologize, after all, it’s not his fault that the food was left untouched. Yet, he knows their female companion had put a lot of effort in making Dean his favorite burgers, hoping it would persuade him.     “It’s okay, Sam,” she assures, forcing a smile.

     While the younger Winchester brother returns his attention to his tablet, Y/N takes a moment to collect herself. She then turns to the kitchen counter and crouches down, taking a large frying pan from the lower cabinets. After lighting up the stove and carefully placing a second ceramic pot on the fire, the bunker’s second best cook opens the refrigerator and collects a carton of eggs, milk, bacon and cheese.

     Sam watches her move around the galley, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”      “I’m making Dean breakfast,” she states, matter of factly.      The hunter sighs, pity evident in the soft exhale. “Y/N--”      “I have to try, Sam.” She cuts him off, the tremble in her voice noticeable. 

     Their eyes meet when the woman glances over her shoulder, still stirring the milk and eggs in a bowl. The younger Winchester is well aware that this meal will most likely end in the trash like the others, but he understands why she feels the need to take care of his brother. It’s her way of letting Dean know that she’s not giving up on him, no matter how thick the fog grows in the mind of the tormented hunter. It’s her way of keeping busy and doing something, anything, because watching from the sidelines while someone suffers, is not in her nature. Especially not when that person is Dean, the man who she cares so much for, more than she would like to admit.

     Sam’s lips press into a thin line, the corners reaching up slightly. The crow’s feet by his eyes wrinkle and become a little deeper, despite the brown hair that frames his gentle expression. She and Sam have been friends for a long time and often don’t need words anymore. With just a look, he explained that he sympathizes with her, and that he’s thankful for her efforts. 

     She returns his small smile and focuses on her cooking again, laying out the bacon into the hot frying pan, watching the meat as it starts to sizzle.

     Twenty minutes later, Y/N walks down the hallway towards the dorms, a tray in her hands decked out with scrambled eggs, french toast and a fresh cup of coffee. Before the first room on the right, she halts, staring at the golden ‘11’ on the wooden barrier in front of her. Contemplating if she should leave the warm meal on the threshold or not, she looks down at her feet.      “Dean?” she calls out, hesitant. “Is it alright if I come in?”

     Her question remains unanswered, only fueling her doubt. Is he sleeping? Would she be crossing a line if she enters? Of course she wants to grant him his privacy, but he has been cooped up in there for three days now, without food, without social interaction. There have been many times when she was worried sick about the hunter who has already endured so much, and these past days only add to that count. What is the right approach here? Give him more time? 

     Closing himself off and pushing down the agony is his go-to coping mechanism, and although it isn’t a healthy one, she always respected the space he needed to move past the pain. She’s used to him being quiet, taking the Impala for late night drives, drinking more than usual and sleeping less. But at least he came out of his room, at least he ate. Now, everything is different.

     Before she can reconsider, she balances the tray in one hand, freeing the other to reach for the brass knob. Carefully, she pushes the door ajar, allowing the light from the hallway to bleed into Dean’s room. The state in which she finds the resilient soldier, who courageously charges into battle and has won wars on strength and will alone, almost brings her to tears. He’s in his bed, curled up on the far left of the mattress, leaving the empty space next to him vacant. His back is turned towards her as he lays in a fetal position, the comforter pulled up over his shoulder. The darkness that surrounds him only seems fitting for his frail state of mind.

     Y/N isn’t sure if the older Winchester brother is even awake, since he fails to respond to her presence, but she steps into the shadows nonetheless.      “Dean? I brought breakfast,” she announces, softly enough that if he is sleeping, her words will not wake him.

     The broken form in the bed shifts slightly. She might not realize it, but Dean has heard her, and has done every single time she has brought him something to eat. Her light footfalls passing his room, the hesitation on his doorstep, the soft knocks on the wood, the sigh when she turned away again. A part of him was glad she never came in before, yet at the same time, he was fighting the urge to call out, craving her company, her touch. Anything even remotely close to the way she was with him in his dreams, when held captive.

     “I’m not hungry,” he croaks, his voice failing after not having used it for so long.      “You’ve got to eat something,” she tries again. “It’s been a couple of days.”

     The beaten hunter turns into his pillow, leaving the woman who intends to make him feel better by the door. A shuddering breath falls from her lips, one laced with disappointment and frustration. He should be used to letting people down by now, but it still stings. Struggling to not give in to his own longing, he opens his weary eyes and stares at the empty bottle on his nightstand, the whiskey it once beheld long gone.

     Dean expects her to leave. It would do him justice, because he doesn’t deserve such kindness. But instead, he can hear her shuffle closer. She makes room on the side table, putting the remnants of his self medication down on the floor, the glass thudding softly on the stone surface, and sets down a tray. The smell of bacon fills his nose, and even though his stomach growls in response, he is sure the food would turn to ash in his mouth. Nothing can still the hunger that this perfect dream stirred up. Nothing can fill the hole in his gut that has only grown larger since Sam pulled him away from the world created by the Djinn he was supposed to kill. 

     He gave in to a fairy tale, even though he is well aware they are make-believe. He couldn’t leave that utopia, because for once, he just wanted to be happy. Instead of stepping up and slaying the monster at the end of the book, he was selfish, weak, and a girl died because of it.

     His self-destructive chain of thought is interrupted when the bed dips down, Y/N taking up the small space on the edge of the mattress. Her delicate hand reaches for him, moving his tousled hair from his forehead, running her fingers through his light brown locks. Closing his eyes, he swallows with difficulty, biting down to keep the tears at bay. He doesn’t want her to see him in this state, to see the fucked up train wreck that he is. 

     “Talk to me,” she says softly, her whisper breaking the silence, but Dean shakes his head.      “I can’t,” he returns, hoarse. “You should go.”      She stands her ground. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

     The tired hunter doesn’t have the energy to argue, and for a while, they just are. Dean on his side, huddled under the comforter, Y/N right next to him, one leg pulled under her, the other dangling from the edge of the bed. The motions of her gentle caressing almost lulls him to sleep, but he doesn’t allow unconsciousness to take him. The second he drifts off, he will be faced with either the same old horrific nightmares he has gotten used to, or return to the dream that will never be. Waking up from either will be too devastating for him to handle.

     Wishing she could offer him any kind of solace, Y/N allows her thumb to rub his temple, cupping his handsome face gingerly. The action draws his weary eyes to meet hers for the first time this morning. The slight improvement should be a relief, yet it is anything but. The sorrow that swims in his gaze breaks her heart.

     “It isn’t your fault,” she offers, her words so soft, that if the room hadn’t been draped in silence, the hunter would have missed it.      Dean looks away, however, shaking his head slightly, unable to accept her comfort. “It is. I could’ve snapped out of it.”

     The woman by his bedside furrows her brow, her expression soft and sympathetic. Why does he expect the impossible from himself? Why does he have to rescue everyone on this earth? No one can live up to that, not even the hero that he is. It’s a burden too heavy to bear for any being, a responsibility that sets him up to fail, because he can’t save them all. He would always beat himself up, whenever they would lose an innocent during a hunt, but this time there’s more to it. This time he can’t get up.

     “A Djinn put you under. How could you have known it was a dream?” she says, trying to help him see that this blame is not his to take.      “That’s the thing,” he sighs, the air that flows from his lungs substantial with regret and remorse. “I was aware it wasn’t real. I just… I didn’t wanna wake.”

     Without pausing, her gentle touch traces the scruff on his cheek as she analyses his words that raise so many questions. If he knew what he was experiencing was indeed a fantasy, then why didn’t his hunter instincts kick in? Coming back from a coma as such is anything but easy. Yet just like with a vivid nightmare, once one realizes the terrors are nothing but a manifestation of their deepest fears, they can fight their way back to the surface. What could Dean have possibly seen that would keep him from coming home?      “What did you dream about?” she wonders.

     His focus turns in a thousand yard stare, as if he can see it all again. Every reason that made him decide to lay down his weapons when the creature captured him. Every experience that was so tentative, that he was ready to swap that reverie for reality. Every vision, every touch, every smile, every laugh. Every wish come true. It is right there, just out of reach, displayed behind the glass that encases his memories, reminding him of what will never be.

     “Mom, Dad... they were alive,” Dean begins, the recollections causing his eyes to shimmer. “Your parents too. Sammy was married to Jess. She was pregnant.”

     Y/N listens to the fallen hunter breathlessly, trying not to blink, because she knows it would force the tears to fall from her lashes. Slowly, it begins to dawn on her why he couldn’t find his way back. 

     “There were no monsters, we didn’t hunt. Sam was a lawyer, I owned an auto shop. We had family barbecues, dinner during thanksgiving. It was…” he lets out a shuddering breath, drops brewed by bittersweet reminiscence rolling down from the corner of his eye. “It was simple, peaceful, without the constant worry. No sorrow, no regret. And you, the way you were smiling… I’ve never seen you glow like that.” 

     He breaks away from the perfect vision, glancing at the woman who he got to call his in that dream. The woman who he lived with, in a house by a lake, with a back porch looking out over the water. The woman who he married and gave him two beautiful children. The woman who he loves, and in that perfect world he allowed to love him back.

     Dean tries to swallow down the painful lump that obstructs his throat as a hint of a smile tucks at the corner of his mouth. He could tell her all that, but it wouldn’t do her any good. In fact, that illusion might break her, just like it broke him. Instead, he allows a final sentence to fall from his lips, but the emotion that has closed around his airway only allows a whisper.      “We were so happy.”

     Tears find their way down Y/N’s face, leaving shimmering pathways in their wake. Not a word has left her, not even the smallest sound. She doesn’t trust her voice to ease his dreadful affliction. 

      It makes sense now, why he couldn’t bring himself to pop that bubble. What Dean experienced, it sounds perfect. It is the definition of heaven, not just for him, but for all the people he cares about. It shouldn’t be a surprise to her that the selfless man only wants what’s best for his family, eliminating his personal desires, but it moves her nonetheless. Their happiness, her happiness, is Dean’s.      It’s only then that his choice of words begins to settle in her conscience.      “We?”

     Confusion adds to all the emotions that pass by in her misty eyes like frames of a silent film. The hunter’s gaze meets hers again, and he’s not sure if he should be terrified or relieved when he sees that puzzlement transition into comprehension. The puckered lines between her brows even out as her mouth opens slightly, her eyes growing larger, boring into his soul.      “We were together,” she realizes.

     Dean doesn’t have to confirm, it wasn’t a question after all. She has figured it out already, and that conclusion now hovers between them, neither of the two knowing what to do with the revelation.      “Doesn’t matter,” he eventually whispers. “It was just a dream.”

     The downhearted conclusion has Y/N tilt her head to the side, watching the man who she has loved ever since she met him. The memory is one she holds dear, the wide grin he flashed after witnessing her taking down two vampires with a machete, before he and his brothers even got the chance to make the kill. She didn’t think she needed saving, but when his emerald greens took her in, she felt a warmth flair in her heart. He did in fact rescue her that day, and now it was her turn to rescue him. Y/N breathes in, because in order to do so, she needs to be brave. 

     Her left hand reaches for his, which is holding onto the pillow under his head. She takes it, unfolding his clenched fist, and laces their fingers together.      “It doesn’t have to be,” she speaks softly.

     For a few seconds Dean beholds their entwinement, astounded by the gesture. Is she doing this because she feels sorry for him? Because she’s worried that her resentment would send him further into the dark? But when he glances up at her, the look she gives him stuns the hunter. There’s no pity, nor desperation. All he sees is a softness in her beautiful eyes, a calmness that tells him that it’s alright, that she knows, and that she feels the same way. 

     “Y/N...” he utters, unable to let go of her hand, but not ready to close her palm in his a little tighter. “We can’t. It’s only gonna end sad and bloody.”      She shrugs at that, running her thumb over his rough skin, the motion soothing them both. “Maybe,” she agrees, “but denying this, not giving in to what we feel, isn’t that worse?”

     His chest rises and falls slowly, his focus now locked on their hands again, while the woman still seated on the side of his bed holds her breath. It’s almost as if he’s too scared to look at her, aware how fragile this moment is. They are at a crossroads, and depending on the direction he decides to take, this instant might remain just that, a jiff, or it might be the start of something new, yet terrifying.

     “I don’t want you to get hurt,” Dean sighs, fresh tears glistening though his long lashes.

     Swallowing with difficulty, Y/N looks down, sniveling. She can feel him slipping through her fingers like sand in an hourglass, every passing second taking the battered hunter further away. But before she loses him all together, she strengthens her hold.      “I know you don’t,” she acknowledges, “but having to look back at some point, realizing we missed our shot and watched that ship sail by, that would cause me so much pain, that I--”

     The whimper that falls from her lips, draws his gaze up to study her expression. She’s crying silently, her mouth firmly closed in a thin line. The woman who goes out her way to make him feel better, is breaking in front of him because of his doing, and it hurts him more than anything he has felt in the past three days. Instinctively, he frees himself from her hold, only to take her small hand in his palm, protectively wrapping his fingers around hers. The reassurance gives her just enough strength to continue her plea.

     “After everything we’ve been through, the losses, the sacrifices. Hell, multiple apocalypses…” she begins, barely able to grasp how many battles they have survived. “We deserve this.”

     There is not a doubt in the hunter’s mind that Y/N has earned all the happiness the universe can offer, but him? No, he hasn’t. People have died because of him, lives ruined, families torn apart. He has made too many mistakes, and no amount of good deeds could set the record straight.      “Why would you wanna be with me?” he huffs, shaking his head slightly. “I’m such a fuckin’ mess...”

     Y/N takes him in, the man who has never believed he was good enough for anything. There is not a monster on this planet that could hate Dean more than he hates himself. If only he could see how Sam looks up to his big brother, how proud he would have made his parents, if they had still been alive. If only he could see her, and know how much she loves him.

     Taking a bold step, she begins to lower herself, leaning towards him. The action is rushed, afraid that the coward inside of her might alter the course, but once her lips meet Dean’s, she stills. She can sense him freezing against her and panic jolts through her body, the fear of rejection almost having Y/N pull back herself. But then he eases, his mouth moving with hers. The kiss is short and light. Neither of them intends to deepen the touch, the gesture adding enough depth to the situation as it is.

     When she opens her eyes, his are still closed. Almost as if he was still in the Djinn’s hold, and can’t let go of the bliss that surrounds him. A small smile adorns her soft features as she waits for him to look at her, which he only does when she lovingly brushes her nose against his.

     While his focus bounces over her features, taking in every perfect imperfection that makes the woman before him so unmistakably her, he mirrors her smile. No one wants to disturb this precious moment, but Dean has to let out the breath he was holding for some time. He shifts his head against the pillow, watching how Y/N pulls his hand closer, pressing her lips to the knuckles, lovingly. 

     “I’m a mess too,” she admits. “I’m just as scared, Dean. But, together it might just get a little more bearable. I know I’m just a fraction of that dream--”      “- Y/N.” The hunter stops her then and there, pushing himself off the mattress on his elbow. He might not think of himself as worthy, but he will not stand for her effacing her own purpose. The interruption silences her instantly, her wondering eyes still glossed over with emotion, awaiting. Now it’s his time to be brave. 

     He doesn’t let go of her hand, nor of her gaze. He doesn’t let go of the woman he wants to spend his remaining days with, no matter how many or how few.      “You are so much more than a fraction,” he expresses, heartfelt.

     Having made up his mind, Dean sits up and reaches for her, the warm shade of green only hooded by closing lids when his mouth finds hers. He allows himself to graze over her soft lips, drinking in the one person who he has longed for, but never expected to be with. The sensation that erupts in his stomach once the kiss intensifies is the equivalent to a firework show, the bright colors and sparks lighting up the black skies. Euphoria overwhelms him, the same sense that flooded his conscience when the Djinn lured the hunter into that heavenly hallucination. This is a dream too, and yet it isn’t, because this, this is real.

     The kiss leaves Y/N breathless, yet she is able to sense his warm hand coming up her side and sliding around her back to settle between her shoulder blades, hugging her tight without ever removing his lips from hers. Finally, they are here. After months, years of denial, they are ready to give themselves to each other. Sometimes you need to lose all that isn’t, to appreciate what is. 

     She has to pull every string not to cry in elation, but can’t stop the drops of emotion from rolling down. When Dean feels the wetness against his own cheeks, he reluctantly breaks the connection, cupping her face worriedly.      “Hey…” he hushes.      She shakes her head, dismissing his concern, and laughs through the tears. “I’m okay. I’m just - I’m so happy right now, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

     A twinkle reaches her eyes, making it impossible for Dean to look away. He never thought he would be able to witness her so content, let alone have her admit it out loud. Not in this world, anyway. An image of the custom made dream forged by the Djinn pushes itself to the forefront, Y/N on the porch of their house, comfortable in his arms, absolutely beaming. When he awoke from that coma, he thought that the illusion couldn’t be further from reality, but he was wrong.      “I’ve seen that smile before,” he says warmly.

     Y/N grin grows even wider at that, but before she can ask what the man who she just revealed her affections to means, a rumble rises from Dean’s stomach, causing them both to drop their gaze to where the sound is coming from. Once she realizes what caused it, she giggles, and it’s the greatest harmony Dean has ever heard. 

    “You must be starving,” she comments while wiping her tears, hoping he will finally take in some food after having gone three days without it.     “I could eat,” he admits with a chuckle.      “Well, it’s a good thing I made you scrambled eggs with cheese and extra bacon then.” She straightens her back and shifts to the edge of the bed, taking the tray with both hands. “Scoot.”

     Dean pushes himself up further and sits back against the headboard, his mouth watering when Y/N sets the platter over his lap. Only now does he realize how hungry he truly is. He picks up the cutlery and cuts off some toast, overloading it with egg before he has a mouthful, the delicious meal still warm on his tongue.      “Take it easy, okay? Wouldn’t want you to get sick,” she says kindly, reaching for him and rubbing her thumb over his stubble.      He looks up at here before taking a bite of the strip of meat, his eyes having gained some of that boyish sparkle again. Relieved by the sight, Y/N watches him, glad that she finally managed to get his spirits up. 

     “You want some?” Dean checks with his mouth full, pushing the plate of bacon in her direction.      She frowns at that. “Since when do you share food?”      “Since now, and only with you,” he admits. “Don’t tell Sam.”

     They share a laugh and continue to eat in silence until the dishes are so clean, they barely need washing. The pair leave the darkness of room ‘11’, Dean heading for the showers, Y/N turning the corner towards the kitchen. With a spring in her step, the giddy woman makes her way through the hallways of the enormous building. The tray in her hands feels much lighter, and not just because of the cleared plates she’s carrying. 

     With a smirk on her lips, she hops down the steps into the galley, finding Sam by the fridge, who is restocking it with the groceries he just picked up. It’s not until he notices the empty dishes which she sets down on the counter, that his gaze shoots up to their female companion’s joyful eyes.     “He ate?” he asks, hopeful.     “He did,” Y/N smiles, dropping the plates in the sink. “He’s feeling much better, he’s freshening up now.”      The younger Winchester continues to stare at her in awe, stammering something intellectual, before he pauses and blinks a couple of times.      “What happened?” he can’t help but wonder, surprised by his brother’s improvement.

     She remains silent for a few seconds while she runs the tap and adds dish soap to the hot water. What took place in his room is hard to explain. It required a long list of events, building up to this disclosure. It involved Dean opening up about what he went through, comfortable enough to share his grief and let it out. It included them both being fearless after being scared for so long. It comprehended two individuals, growing together, taking a leap to cross a gap that seemed impossible to overcome. 

     “He let the light in,” she states simply, meeting Sam with a meaningful smile.

     Grateful, the tall hunter huffs in astonishment, before he closes her in a hug and presses a kiss on her hair, not needing words to tell just how appreciative he is of her presence. He  assists her and takes up the task of drying the dishes, the two friends working side by side to finish the chore. They are storing away the plates, the noise of the china being stacked in the cupboards allowing Dean to wait in the doorway without being spotted just yet. He’s freshly showered, wearing his dark grey robe over comfortable clothes, leaning against the post and taking in the woman who has turned his life around. 

     If the bunker had windows, the sun would have shone brightly. The late morning rays would come in through the portals to the outside world, illuminating their home. The beams would have been warm and healing, burning away sadness and discomfort, like it would melt the snow on the last days of winter. 

     But the bunker doesn’t need windows.      The bunker has her.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

[comeandreadawhile]

Au: Boba gets adopted (pt 2)

Part 1

Boba was adjusting.

Perhaps as well as could’ve been expected, having to learn to live in the stronghold of his ancestral mortal enemies as the child of the only Jedi he’d been acquainted with, but Anakin—his new ori’vod, he guessed, who had first come to the temple around Boba’s age—had also taken a while to settle in. He finally had the option to play with children his own age, who weren’t twice his size, and at least the education modules he was given were similar to the ones his dad—

Boba was trying to adjust.

Boba had clung to Kenobi as soon as the man had set down the clanking bundle he’d brought back to the ship with him, and had held fast from the moment they’d left Geonosis’ atmosphere—even as a medic was fussing over Kenobi’s leg, the redhead simply shifted Boba out of the way, half onto Anakin, who’d sat next to the pair on the flight to Coruscant. (Somewhere in the back of his mind, Boba noted how the teen’s attention was torn between him and his new caretaker, and the older girl closeby also being fussed over by a medic.)

Kenobi was certainly trying to make the transition easier. Becoming a High General in the newborn war with the Separtists, in addition to finding out his current padawan had just weeks ago lost his own parent while they were separated, had certainly given Kenobi enough to deal with without unceremoniously adopting a child. Yet he had, and here they were; two grieving, angry children and an already exhausted Master Jedi.

The Jedi bigwigs—council, Kenobi said—hadn’t taken his impromptu claiming of a child lightly.

He was clinging still when they’d arrived to the temple; an emergency meeting of council members to discuss Kenobi’s findings and their concerns of the dawning war had been called. Kenobi had made no move to separate the child from his person and did quite the opposite when the matter was immediately brought up. Boba remembered thinking that if he held on any tighter, he risked choking his new-found guardian. Kenobi simply shifted him a bit higher on his hip, a better hold, at the deep-voiced inquiry. Over Kenobi’s shoulder, Boba noticed an old Master—surely, the person must’ve been one—with a long snake’s tail instead of legs, peering at him kindly from under a thick mane of white hair.

“He’s mine,” was the explanation Kenobi had given. “I will raise him.”

The same deep voice, that had already sounded tired to Boba, now sounded tense. “You already have a padawan, Master Kenobi.”

“Then it is good that I have no intention of keeping him as a padawan,” Kenobi, replied coolly. “I’ve claimed him as a foundling under Mandalorian law.”

“We are not Mandalorians, Obi-Wan,” said a different voice, less deep than the first and oddly accented. Boba could only see a large pink ear in that direction from where he was hiding in Kenobi’s throat. “I would’ve expected this behavior from your master, but not from you.”

Boba did not need the Force to feel the righteous fury the remark inspired in his guardian. A woman—a togruta, his father once called her people—turned slowly towards the pink ear’s owner.

“Master Piell,” she spoke lowly, “that was uncalled for.” The few other people Boba could see looked similarly indignant, and he felt the tensed arms holding him relax minutely at the woman’s admonishment.

The first deep voice spoke again, “Be that as it may, Master Piell is correct in that we are not Mandalorians.”

“The bounty hunter was, and this boy is.” Kenobi responded as if the last minute hadn’t happened.

“We do not take in civilian children, Kenobi, and that doesn’t change because of your fondness for Mandalore’s people.”

“What would have had me do? Leave him on Geonosis?”

“The Republic’s foster system would’ve been alerted of the boy.”

“—and he could sit in the sand by himself, grieving, until they picked him up? You know how difficult it is for older children in that system to find homes.”

“We,” a pause fell that Boba guessed was spent sending a look to a certain Master, “are not attacking you, Master Kenobi. Even if we could adopt every orphaned child into our fold, there is also the issue of attachment.”

“Are we not honor-bound to help those in need?”

“This is not a simple matter of helping! You know that this goes against our code,” The deep voice replied sharply. Boba felt Kenobi tense again.

“You would choose to abide by our code so strictly and whole-heartedly even if it conflicts with the interests of a child?” There was a chill to Kenobi’s tone that made Boba hope to never receive it. A new voice, old and squawky, huffed.

“Both of you, enough. Argue like children, you do. A bad example, this sets.” A cushion shifted. “On this matter, what does Skywalker say?”

Kenobi shifted his feet a bit before answering, “Anakin’s recently lost his own mother; he’s struggled with his attachment to her the entire time I’ve trained him. It’s my hope they will help each other work through their grief in ways I might not be able to. He’s accepted this boy already, Master.”

The ancient voice hummed, a Boba heard the airy taps of wood against tile. “Master Koon,” the voice sounded undecided. “Helpful, your view may be.” The lilt at the end of the sentence, and the quiet sighs of some councilors gave Boba the impression there was a joke he wasn’t getting. A new voice—not unlike the horns the Cuy’val Dar blew on special occasions, noble and deep despite their hollow resonance—joined the fray.

“There is already a strong connection in place,” this Master stated. “It would most likely prove more traumatic for the boy to remove him from Master Kenobi now.” Another cushion shifted, “Besides, who better in this Order to raise a Mandalorian than Obi-Wan?”

“Matters, does it not, that coming, a war is?”

“From my understanding of their customs, certain sects of Mandalorians took their children to war about this one’s age. Am I correct?” The question must’ve been for Kenobi, because he turned his body and answered.

“Yes, Master. Their coming of age rites are performed at thirteen, but most clans start training and going to war as young as eight. I am familiar with their fighting styles and customs, enough to get this boy through his Verd’goten.” Kenobi turned back to the first, critical, deep voice. “Even if I must do so without the approval of this council. I will not go back on the vow I made.”

The voice like strong music hummed thoughtfully, “An admirable conviction, Master Obi-Wan. Your master would be proud of your morals.” The air suddenly felt warmer to Boba, and the voice sounded resolute as it continued, “A Jedi of this Order killed this boy’s father, so a Jedi of this Order will raise him in his father’s place. That is my opinion on this matter.”

The togrutan woman spoke softly, “Exceptions have been made to the code before now, surely they will again.”

“A vote, we shall have,” declared the squawky voice; in the next terrifying minute, silence filled the chamber as hands were raised or stayed, with the blood pumping loud enough in Boba’s ears he wasn’t sure whether or not they’d announced their decision and he’d missed it until the deep voice from the beginning spoke, tight and stern and tired.

“This council has ruled in favor of you keeping your foundling, Master Kenobi. Raise him as befits this order.” Two sighs of relief echoed into the chamber, and Boba saw as the man with the snake tail nodded, smiling under his beard.

“Before we begin Master Obi-Wan’s debriefing...” the voice like horns chimed in, trailing off behind the sound of linens shifting. “It has been some time since a Mandalorian youngling was within these temple walls.” The voice was closer now, and Boba startled as a hand landed on his head. Turning around in Kenobi’s hold, he met eyes—or assumed so, with the mask between them—with a being he’d never seen before. Boba’s first thought was ‘ugly’, and then immediately felt a pang of guilt for such a thought toward the one who’d spoken so in favor of keeping him and his new guardian together. The clawed, orange hand resting on his head gently ruffled his hair before retreating into the Jedi master’s sleeve.

The togruta had made her way over to them as well, peering down at Boba with wide, steel-blue eyes; she swept a gentle hand over his head much as her fellow master had done. He did his best not to scramble as Kenobi made to put him down. “We should give you a proper introduction, then, shouldn’t we?” He kept a grounding hand on Boba’s shoulder as he spoke. “Masters, this is Boba Fett. Boba, these masters are…” and Kenobi went down the line, first beginning with Masters Ti and Koon, who the. Went back to their fancy chairs, and then turning to go around the circular room. The squawking voice had apparently belonged to an odd little green creature, and then Boba met eyes with his neighbor.

He’d have liked to throw up as cold dread wrestled with hot fury in his gut.

Kenobi quieted, he and the other masters going tense and stiff at the boy’s vast and sudden emotional shift. The one Kenobi called Yoda crossed his clawed hands over his cane and spoke as if he expected Boba to bolt; Boba had half a mind to. “Quite distressed, you are. Why?”

Boba wasn’t quite sure how the words got out with how tight his throat had become. “He killed my dad.”

He’d have spat the syllables had they not been choking him. “He killed my dad with a purple lightsaber.”

Boba remembered little of what happened next—torn between running away and lunging at the jedi master’s neck as Kenobi scooped him up and practically ran out of the chamber—somehow ending up in a garden with a winded Anakin to wait out Kenobi’s debriefing. They’d talked, both of them trying to distract the other from recent losses; Anakin even taught him how to blow off steam by skipping stones in one of the larger fountains. Upon his return, Kenobi snatched Boba up and apologized profusely, not having known Mace’s connection to the boy.

They’d gone back to their quarters, Kenobi promising Anakin they’d spar the next day and discussing plans for latemeal with Boba settled back on his hip. The lull in activity only allowed the boy’s mind to wander back to the events leading to his current situation, and both jedi noticed the spike in Boba’s grief and frustration; Kenobi gave him a gentle squeeze as the first sniffle came. “Any ideas for latemeal, little one?”

“Neither of us have spent much time in the temple the last couple weeks but the commissary will be open for a while if nothing else,” Anakin chimed in, sarcasm threading the edges of his tone. Kenobi gave a small ‘tsk’ in response.

“There were plenty of shelf-stables when we left,” Kenobi pointed out. “Besides, a large loud room full of strangers is the last thing Boba needs at present.” He repeated his previous question, and Boba was more than happy to turn his thoughts to potential answers.

“Something warm...and salty, maybe?”

Kenobi nodded beside his head, “There’s a start. What else?”

They carried the conversation on until the trio reached a door set into the wall. Entering the small apartment for the first time, Boba had been struck at the differences, as well as the similarities, to the dwelling he’d been raised in. The jedi clearly weren’t material people, but compared to the sterility of Kamino’s white halls, the room awash in afternoon sun was extremely inviting despite its foreign nature. Plants, slightly wilted from their master’s absence, littered the space’s windowsills, with books in neat piles and rows within several bookcases nearby. Blankets draped over some on the furniture that Boba could see, and the glimpse of a table around a corner hinted at the location of the kitchen.

Anakin had been tasked with showing Boba around the living space while Kenobi went about the kitchen’s stock. He’d been all too happy with the excitement Boba had shown while admiring his collection of ship models, and once latemeal was well underway, Obi-wan had been relieved to pop in and find, despite recent events, his nineteen year old wasn’t too old to play starfighters.

Boba slept in Anakin’s room that night, a belly full of warm soup—it had been just what he needed—and grateful his first night in this foreign place wouldn’t be alone.

The next few days had been a flurry of activity, between the Jedi preparing themselves and their padawans for war, barely being instructed on how to lead the men they’d be assigned—who Boba tried not to think of—and bouts of quiet, where Boba tried to become more comfortable with his new home. Obi-wan, who insisted Boba call him that instead of ‘Kenobi’ his second night at the temple, had begun trying to teach him to meditate, saying it would be a good tool for when he felt stuck or frustrated. The Jedi master said they would pick up Boba’s training soon from where his dad left off.

Boba missed his dad. It certainly leant to his hatred of being alone, and despite the newness of their situation Boba couldn’t help feeling paranoid whenever Kenobi left to attend to some matter or other. What if something happens? What if they change his mind? Will someone else take me? Would someone else want me? What if Obi-wan never comes back?

Yet, each time Obi-wan would return with a tired smile and hug, asking how he and Anakin got along that day. There had a time within the first weeks, with warning of course, that Obi-wan had been gone for a couple of days, and after Boba’s anxiety at their separation came to a head the first evening, Anakin had pulled out a holocomm. He’d pulled Boba onto his leg and suddenly a blue hologram of Obi-wan, unfortunately soaked, sprung up from the device. They’d called again the next night, too. Boba had run to the door the next day when it opened, and was briefly halted. He’d used to run to the door when his dad came home from a hunt; was he forgetting his dad by showing this Jedi the same excitement?

He filed the conundrum away for later when said Jedi called his name. The man’s arms were filled with boxes, with more trailing behind him. “I’ve got some things for you,” he’d said.

To say Boba could’ve cried at what was in those boxes would’ve been inaccurate. Because he did, in heavy sobs, when he opened the first and pulled out one of his dad’s shirts. Going through the boxes with tear-filled eyes and an almost frantic determination to make sure, Boba found that everything personal from the Kamino apartment was in those boxes; his and his dad’s clothes, his dad’s books and even some that had belonged to his ba’buir, and the entirety of the armory his father kept apart from Slave I, among everything else. He tackled Obi-wan’s legs in a hug, wet hiccups making him unsure which language his stuttered thanks was given in. He’d slept in his father’s shirt that night, clutching two more like lifelines.

Boba began his education modules shortly after Obi-wan’s return, content to do them while Anakin went through his saber practice or as a distraction when Obi-wan was busy in with the council. Grief was difficult, especially so sudden a loss, but he was adjusting while working through it. He and Anakin sometimes swapped stories of Jango and Shmi, and it felt good to talk about them even if it left the boys misty-eyed afterward. Boba was trying to adjust.

Then details of Obi-wan and Anakin’s first deployment came.

[jacksjoke]

Title: any old tuesday Pairing: Pang/Wave Ao3 link Excerpt: He doesn’t want to wonder the malintentions behind someone’s kindness the way he used to; he doesn’t want to constantly worry that he’ll be left without warning. Like a wise — and infuriating — boy had said a while ago, the other shoe doesn’t even exist, and waiting for it to drop only serves as a waste of Wave’s time. He knows that, theoretically. And up until two weeks ago, Wave had had a real grip on that as his reality.

     Wave’s parents die on a Tuesday.

     He’s got his English notebook open for the quiet-work portion of the class as he follows the assignment, to print any passage from Charlotte’s Web by hand. Nothing had spoken to Wave in particular; the book was rather bittersweet and at this point, because he has to, he’s chosen a page at random to copy down lest he run out of time.

These autumn days will shorten and grow cold. The leaves will shake loose from the trees and fall. Christmas will come, then the snows of winter… 

     He takes his time because even if the quote doesn’t necessarily mean much to him, he can at least be sure that his handwriting is neat. The headmaster appears in the doorway, beckoning their teacher toward her, but Wave doesn’t spare them much attention as he goes on with his careful work.

     …the days will lengthen, the ice will melt in the pasture pond. The song sparrow will return and sing, the frogs will awake, the warm wind will blow again. All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours —

     “Wasuthorn.”

     He’s asked to speak with the headmaster in her office, and the walk there is strange for a reason he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t think he’s done anything to warrant a scolding; for him to have somehow gotten in trouble when there’s only an hour left of the school-day would be unbelievably irritating.

     His hands flex with nerves as he tries to keep in mind that he’s really only ever minded his business and done his best in class. Unless someone’s made up a story about him, or there’s been some sort of rumour, Wave can’t imagine what he might’ve done.

     His certainty falters when their arrival at the office shows Wave’s grandparents already waiting there.

     Wave can’t help questioning, “Did I do something?” as Headmaster Weerawatnodom ushers him inside. His grandmother’s flushed cheeks give her a look of perpetual discomfort, the buttons of his grandfather’s overshirt have one done incorrectly, like he had been in a rush. “Are you okay?” he asks them.

     They’re perfectly fine, they assure him. Wave is whisked away to his grandparents’ house in a flurry of confusion as they refuse to tell him exactly what’s going on until he is planted on their familiar sofa.

     As it turns out, his grandparents are fine, but Teep and Wipha Worachotmethee aren’t. Wave’s parents had been shot that morning in their duty as officers, Wave is told. The fact is spoken in such a tone that implies even a 12 year old mind should understand that this sort of death is more meaningful or less of a complete waste than another. He’s a smart boy and in a way he does understand, but that doesn’t prevent him from shutting down.

     His interest in class dwindles to half, if that, of what it had been, and if it weren’t for his natural intelligence he would likely be out of luck. What little luck he retains is drained when his grandparents pull him from school into another, public instead of private and therefore more affordable for their lifestyle. Wave didn’t dare ask them to reconsider, not when they’d already sold their own house to move into Wave’s. His parents’ will had made such a request so that Wave, should he lose them, wouldn’t be uprooted from the house he’d grown up in.

     With that sacrifice on his guardians’ end, Wave does what he can to stay out of the way and as quiet as possible. However, the change in schools does nothing to help Wave’s attentiveness in class, and his new teacher is judgmental and prickly, completely infuriated by what she takes as Wave’s disregard for her teaching. His parents only passed a year ago — 11 months and three days — and he’d transferred here less than four months ago. Did she never get the memo that maybe Wave’s inattention in maths doesn’t stem from rudeness, but from simply struggling to function as normal in a world he doesn’t see his place in at all, let alone something so dreadfully easy as maths?

     He’s made to transfer for a second time after the Incident occurs. The woman responsible is fired from her position but Wave can’t possibly stay at this school, where the rumours about him have spread like a forest fire. It doesn’t matter that they’re all total falsehoods; if anything, the lack of clarity around the subject spurs their need to fill the gaps. So he moves again.

     More than ever, Wave hides in his bedroom, and when he’s alone he often can’t help thinking of how the grandparents he’d known for so many years had seemingly died with his parents. He wasn’t their grandson anymore — he was the burden they’d had to sell their own years-loved home for, he was the troublemaking child whose every move was suddenly their responsibility for a lifetime instead of the occasional weekend visit. Wave came to recognise stress and disinterest toward him in place of where had once been hands helping him to stir pots and arms lifting him onto a bicycle.

     He’s resentful, is what it comes down to. Still, after so long, he’s resentful, even though he knows it isn’t fair to them. But with so much of Wave’s recent life reminding him again and again just how unfair things actually are, he found it difficult to tamper that resentment. Why had losing his parents meant losing his grandma and grandpa too? Why did he have to hide away in his bedroom to avoid the fact that neither of them could really look at him anymore? They’re disjointed, a caricature of anything resembling a family, his grandparents at one end of the house and Wave tucked away in the other.

     As though his final year of high school isn’t hard enough, his grandfather dies the week before the semester is set to end.

     He knows how he’s supposed to feel, but it’s been nearly a fortnight since the elder’s passing and the feeling itself has remained elusive to Wave. His grandmother hasn’t cried so much as she’s been quiet, quieter than ever. After the death of his parents, her quiet had become something more resigned than calming, and he’d grown used to that too. She’s again in shift, and allowing her space to grieve is nothing new to Wave. Unwilling to be seen or heard, he’d spent years doing what he could to remain separate from nearly everyone, and up to becoming Gifted he had been content to remain so. Maybe content isn’t the word; it’s more likely that he’d been resigned as well.

     With his grandfather’s passing, Wave thinks of the ways in which his grandparents had had a fair hand in cultivating his negative thoughts, even if they hadn’t been aware of it, and he just… can’t find it in himself to cry.

     In the absence of tears arrives an all too familiar voice in his head, sounding remarkably similar to his grandfather, to inform Wave that the reason he hasn’t cried is because he’s self-centered, that Wave’s care for the world starts and ends with himself. In a correlated sense, those who claim to care for Wave don’t, when it comes down to it, because how could anyone care for someone so self-obsessed?

     Wave knows that can’t be true, because how could it possibly be? But outward logic does nothing to help, and his final semester of high school’s arguably sour end finds Wave in a similar state to a friendless, bitter self he thought he’d left by the wayside ages prior. If not completely discarded, he’d maybe hoped that that part of who he’d been was buried deep enough down to never resurface, but like that incessant voice, Wave can’t seem to shake him.

     He doesn’t want to wonder the malintentions behind someone’s kindness the way he used to; he doesn’t want to constantly worry that he’ll be left without warning. Like a wise — and infuriating — boy had said a while ago, the other shoe doesn’t even exist, and waiting for it to drop only serves as a waste of Wave’s time. He knows that, theoretically. And up until two weeks ago, Wave had had a real grip on that as his reality.

     He’s been staring at his black laptop screen for the past hour. The battery bit the dust a while ago but he hadn’t had it in him to grab the charger from the floor. There’s an incredible tightness to his chest and he also feels like his head is wrapped in fish netting, so although he’s likely conscious, in no way would he bet his life on it.

     Wave can’t sit here anymore. He walks right down the stairs and onto the street, stopping only a few steps off their property. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. He would go to the rooftop but the school is closed to students for holiday — besides which, he’s no longer a student, and that’s an entirely separate headache for another time. He just goes on walking, paying no attention to wherever it is his brain is leading his feet. It doesn’t matter anyway, really.

     He trudges onto a grassy path and however long later comes to a stop in front of his parents’ grave-markers. Their photos smile up at Wave from their place right beside his grandfather’s.

     He hadn’t looked at the newest addition to their family plot, hadn’t even lifted his eyes from the ground when he’d come with his grandmother. But there it is, a shot of him and his grandparents, Wave kept snugly between them as though he belongs, some fantasy world where neither of them had slapped Wave to bruising for lying or made him feel like an outsider in his own home. A sweeping nausea hits Wave and he turns around, unable to look anymore.

     He presses his forehead and hands onto a nearby tree to steady himself, the bark digging hard into his skin. He knows he’s crying when he pushes weakly off the tree to rub at his tired eyes, only to have the palms of his hands sting from the tears. He shakes his head and sets off for somewhere else.

     It’d been another hour of wandering around until he had to accept that walking all over the city can’t change the final destination. The surprise comes when he sees a certain someone with their back to the wall by Wave’s house, eyes on the sky. He’d even brought his dog, for whatever reason. Wave removes his glasses to wipe them down, quietly and ineffectually preparing himself for whatever this is going to be.

     Even with Wave trying to be noiseless, Pang’s attention falls to Wave within seconds of his approach. Wave would ask what he’s doing here, but he doesn’t have to. They’d promised months passed that they would always reply to one another’s messages, even if that message was two or three words, so that the other wouldn’t worry. But Wave’s not responded to Pang in a week, his negative spiral not allowing him room to honour their agreement. He’d even silenced his phone because he knew that hearing his phone beep with any message from Pang would have cracked him, and Wave hadn’t wanted to allow that.

     He knows the system is especially for situations like this, when either isn’t able to communicate like usual, but now that Pang is standing here looking all concerned, Wave has to wonder if they might need to entertain a Plan B.

     Wave doesn’t want to see Pang though. Actually, he does. It’s just that the idea of facing him after six days of radio silence leaves a heavy anxiety in Wave’s gut that he doesn’t want to face right now. He isn’t sure that he’ll be able to handle the sympathy in his eyes, or how he’ll be extra careful in dealing with Wave. Always Wave with FRAGILE stamped across his forehead in blocky red ink.

     He doesn’t try to walk past Pang. He just stands there some distance away, useless, while Pang holds tight to Dip’s leash to keep him close.

     “It’s past midnight,” is the first thing Pang says. Wave gives a slow, meaningless nod. “You left your window open so I tossed a rock through, but… you didn’t answer.”

     “What’s up?” Wave manages. It’s vastly inadequate a question, all things considered.

     “I wanted to see you,” because he’s always been forthright and transparent when it comes to Wave.

     “Well, you’ve seen me,” Wave says, because he’s notoriously dismissive and unable to let himself be vulnerable.

     This mood Wave has found himself in is one that they’ve seen less and less, but if Pang is taken aback, he doesn’t allow it to colour his words.

     “Ohm invited us to some karaoke thing tonight but I said we have plans already,” he says. Wave shifts where he stands and Pang is quick to assure him, “It was just an excuse to get us out of Claire’s typical solo and double encore.”

     Wave sits on the ground. He’s tired and remaining on his feet feels pointless right now. Pang follows suit without hesitation, still talking as he rubs Dip’s head.

     “I had to say I forgot Dip’s after-dinner walk just to get out of the house. Mae thinks he’s taking an extra long bathroom break. Not sure how much time I can buy with that one before she wants to call up the vet. And then Prae wanted to come so I had to promise a whole cake or whatever it is from that French bakery just to shut her up. I can’t even pronounce the name but of course the six-year-old has the menu memorised — ”

     “Are you done?” Wave interjects. “It’s one in the morning, Pang.”

     Pang nods slowly. He releases Dip’s leash and Dip scampers over to Wave, leftover excitement at seeing him for the first time in a week coming back fast. Reflexively, Wave runs a hand down Dip’s head to his back and the dog wags his tail. Prae loves that bakery. She’d become obsessed with France after a school lesson and already asks when their family can visit the country. Prae’s the one who’d convinced her parents to get Dip, so Wave has no doubt she’ll wear them down into Paris. She always includes him in that too, like they couldn’t possibly go on holiday if Wave isn’t going with them.

     It’s dark enough that Wave doesn’t bother wiping at his damp cheeks. He’s a pretty quiet crier, so he just sits it out, Dip in his lap and Pang across the way.

     “I’m sorry,” Wave murmurs after some time.

     “I know. You were caught up again? With the bad thoughts?”

     “I haven’t… I’m not doing well,” Wave says. There’s so much more he needs to say, but the words won’t come out. As it is, he’s speaking through partially gritted teeth.

     His grandpa is gone, and the best memory of him is from before Wave had turned 13. His grandma is a living ghost, his parents are long dead. It’s all too easy for Wave to think that he has absolutely no one left to care whether he’s here at all.

     It’s taken two weeks to cry at his grandfather’s passing and half the tears aren’t even for him. The remaining can be attributed to so many miscellaneous bits and pieces that Wave can’t begin to think about them, at least today. He just focuses on how soft Dip’s ears are.

     “Since the funeral?”

     “Mm.” Wave inhales. “I hear him, and the usual — and before I know it — ” Wave doesn’t go on.

     “Will I sound like an asshole if I say you’ve been doing so good?” Pang asks a few moments later. “I thought — I hoped since it wasn’t happening as often, it might’ve meant — ”

     “I know,” Wave says quietly. An afterthought, though he means it, “You’re not an asshole.”

     “Wave, I… I love you, you know? I just love you and I — God, I hate how mean your brain is to you. Like, you’re supposed to be on the same team and it’s…” 

     “Yeah,” Wave scoffs, “you’d think so.” He sighs a little and shakes his head, eyes on the dark sky. “You came all the way here because I can’t answer a LINE.”

     “It doesn’t matter,” Pang says immediately. “You should know by now I’d run cross-country to meet you; a couple blocks’ walk is nothing. And you are a pain in the ass, but I like that.” They both cringe and Pang says, “So that didn’t come out — ”

     “Let it go.”

     “Letting it go.”

     Wave gets to his feet and adds, “I cried.”

     “Yeah.”

     “I mean, I didn’t… cry at the funeral.” Pang knows this, as he’d been there too. “And I hadn’t up until earlier, and here, just now. Is that… Do you think that’s, like… weird?”

     “Why would it be weird?” Because of course everything is that simple with Pang. “I didn’t cry when my parents told me my grandma died, and I lost it at her funeral. Cried the whole time and looked like a baby in front of my entire family. Brains are weird.”

     Pang takes the hand that goes to relinquish Dip’s leash, giving Wave time to decline the hug, but Wave lets Pang hold him close instead. He always feels like precious cargo in Pang’s arms, but rather than feeling humiliated as he’d feared, Wave feels embarrassed but touched by Pang’s sweet disposition. How he’s still constantly surprised after years of living around it, Wave doesn’t know.

     “Are you alright to go back in on your own?” Pang asks.

     “It’s whatever,” because there really isn’t much else to say.

     “We’re going to have our own place, you know.”

     “Huh?”

     “When we’re at uni,” Pang clarifies. “Like, I just think about how we’ll have a dorm-room to share, the two of us. And then we can get an apartment, if we want to.”

     It isn’t shocking to hear that Pang has ideas for their future, seeing as they’ve spoken about it, but the same as it always does to hear it said aloud warms a place inside Wave, the furnace Pang started up when they met.

     “I’ll be there when you need me and I won’t let you be lonely,” Pang goes on. “You can tell me to fuck off when you have to though; I won’t be mad.”

     “I won’t tell you to fuck off,” Wave says, even if he very well might.

     “Maybe we can have a precaution for whenever you can’t answer messages,” Pang says. “You were too stressed this time to message me but not messaging me added to the stress. We’ll come up with something to help.”

     Wave nods a little against him. Satisfied, Pang gently ruffles Wave’s hair as they pull apart.

     “I’ll get going,” he says. “Mae’s probably got the vet on hold by now. But I’ll call you.”

     “Mm.”

     “Sleep, okay? At least 10 hours.”

     Wave rolls his eyes but nods. “Yeah, sure. You too.” Pang grins and tugs Dip along on the street with a hand raised in goodbye.

     In bed that night, Wave takes his phone off silent. He catches the most recent messages from Pang, before Wave had been responding, but he tries not to look at them and focuses on the present.

let’s take Prae to the bakery tomorrow.

she already loves you more than me, stop this! but i love you more than *anyone so i get it

ugh gn love you

i love you too

     He’ll be fine, even when he inevitably falls apart again. He’ll be fine.

     God, if only he could bet on it.

[vi-writes-stuff]

All I've Ever Known (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Audrey Lee)

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+ (NSFW content)

Premise: A spontaneous date night leaves Audrey questioning the future of their relationship. Set between Book 2 and 3.

Author's Note: It's been a year since I joined Choices, so I thought I'd try my hand at posting a fic. Title from Hadestown. Big thanks to @queencarb and @imaneditorthankyouverymuch for betareading!

I was alone so long

I didn't even know that I was lonely

Out in the cold so long

I didn't even know that I was cold

Turned my collar to the wind

This is how it's always been

All I've ever known is how to hold my own

__________________________________

Doctor Audrey Lee was not used to the sluggishness that once again occupied most of her days. It was not the caffeine-fueled crash she experienced after a long 16 hour shift, nor was it the unpredictable episodes of insomnia that occasionally plagued her.

Leland Bloom had opened up Edenbrook for a few weeks, before shutting it down to finish the major renovations.

As the sun hit her eyes, she felt the warm body pressed against her back tighten its grasp around her waist. For a brief moment, she relished in the warmth surrounding her. She even allowed herself to believe that she could get used to the feeling of waking up in Ethan's arms.

‘If there even is a future for us…’ Doubt whispers into her ear, poisoning the comfort she found in his embrace.

In the weeks before Edenbrook’s inevitable closing, Audrey, like many of her fellow residents, was looking for somewhere to finish her residency. She had been considering a position back home in New York. When she brought it up with Ethan, he acknowledged her response, but there was no following discussion about what that would have meant for their relationship.

Pushing the thoughts away, she settled back into his embrace. She let herself relax as the muffled sounds of the city below filled the quiet space of the bedroom.

The peace lasted all of five minutes before she began feeling restless again. Uneasiness washed over her as the image of her ripping Bloom's billion dollar check flashed in her mind. In the moment, watching the little shreds of paper sprinkling across the expensive hardwood floor of his mansion had been satisfying. Despite that, she couldn't help but wonder if it was the right move.

If she had accepted the check and handed it to Naveen, Leland would have been convinced that she was on his side. In reality, Audrey trusted him as far as she could throw the old man. Her preference was that he landed into the depths of the icy Atlantic Ocean.

Ripping the check was the right move, but it left her in the dark when it came to Leland's intentions.

Sighing to herself, she turned around in Ethan's arms and buried her face into his neck. She felt the reverberations of his pleased hum. There was no use in overthinking things now. They would deal with the repercussions soon enough.

Pressing a gentle kiss against Ethan's neck, she smiled as his eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"It is when I wake up beside you," he mumbled back, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Careful, that sounds awfully sentimental. Wouldn't want my favourite grumpy old man going soft."

Opening his eyes, he sent Audrey a half-hearted glare. The sight of Ethan Ramsey bathed in soft sunlight and his hair mussed up by her hands made her melt.

God, she could look into his eyes forever.

"I contain multitudes," he replied. "Speaking of which, this sentimental and grumpy old man wants to ask if you had plans today."

"No plans." A smirk curled across Audrey's lips as she swept some loose hairs from his face. "But if you had plans that involve us spending more time together in bed, I wouldn’t object."

"You're insatiable."

"Are you complaining?"

He grinned at her. "Not at all."

Leaning in to kiss her, Audrey's hands slid up from his shoulders into his hair. Giving the strands a short and sharp tug, Ethan groaned and bit her lower lip. Leaving a trail of kisses down the column of her neck, he lightly nibbled the skin, eliciting a soft moan from her.

He pulled the sheets away from her body and continued his path downwards. Audrey bit back another moan. Almost immediately, Ethan stopped around her navel and lifted his gaze to look into her eyes.

"I want to hear you, Rookie. Don't hold back."

As a warm hand cupped one of her breasts, his tongue lathered the other bringing her nipples to stiff peaks. This time, Audrey let the moan escape her mouth as she felt herself growing wetter. Lifting his head to lavish her other breast, he shot her a coy smile.

"Much better," he panted. Pinning her wrists against the mattress with a single hand, he slowly made his way down her body as his other hand caressed her soft skin. Swiping a finger across her folds, he groaned. "God, you're so wet for me."

The lust that filled his eyes as his face rested by the apex of her thighs made her shiver.

"Ethan, please," she whined.

When his tongue finally met her soaking cunt, Audrey let out a shaky gasp and an incoherent mumble that sounded vaguely like his name. Her hands threaded into his hair again as he let go of her wrists. Using a hand, Ethan lifted a leg over his shoulder, allowing his tongue to delve deeper. As he sucked her clit, Audrey felt herself tense up as an orgasm rippled through her body.

Once Audrey's breathing slowed, Ethan gently lowered her leg. Through her hazy vision, she noticed his lips and beard glistened in the morning light.

"Please," Audrey begged. "I need you inside of me."

"Gladly."

Pressing a deep kiss against her, she tasted herself on his lips and confirmed her earlier observation. Thankfully, his boxers had been removed last night and he hadn't bothered with putting them back on. The wetness of her first orgasm allowed the blunt head of his cock to easily slip into her throbbing cunt. Gripping onto his shoulders, Audrey panted as Ethan set a steady rhythm, his cock rubbing against her already sensitive clit. As his pace quickened, his thrusts became rougher and he bottomed out causing Audrey to gasp.

She trembled as another wave of pleasure coursed through her body. Ethan followed moments later and groaned into Audrey's neck, the reverberations of the sound causing a delicious tingle across her skin. The couple lounged in bed a little longer as they caught their breaths. Pressing a gentle kiss across her temple, Ethan cupped her face with his hands.

"I wanted to say something before we got sidetracked..." His gaze was impossibly soft as his thumb swept across her swollen bottom lip. "I'd like to take you out on a date. A proper one."

Audrey couldn't help the smile that blossomed across her face. "Really?"

He nodded. "I want the world to know the gorgeous woman beside me is taken. So, what do you say?"

"Yes," she answered. "I'd love to go on a date with you."

__________________________________

Several hours later, Audrey was back in the apartment she shared with her friends. Ethan had dropped her off in the early afternoon with a promise to pick her up at six for their date.

She was looking through her closet, searching for a particular dress she had in mind. Ethan had been tight-lipped about his plans. He had only stated it would be a black-tie event.

"Ah ha! Finally found you." She pulled the shimmering gold dress from her closet. Looking into the mirror in her room, she held the dress up to her body and smiled.

With an hour until six, Audrey jumped into the shower to freshen up. Once she finished styling her hair and applying some make-up, she slipped into the dress. Arranging the slit over her leg, she slipped into a matching pair of heels, a black shawl and grabbed the purse holding her phone.

She entered the living room to see her friends sitting on the couch arguing about what movie to watch. Sienna came from the kitchen carrying a plate of her homemade cookies and smiled at the sight of her friend dressed up.

"Audrey, you look amazing! Isn't that the dress you wore when we did our Boston bucket list?"

She grinned at the memory of what was supposed to be their last hurrah in the city. "It is, but I thought it'd be nice to wear it again for my date tonight."

"Ramsey asked you out on a date? Tonight?" Jackie asked from her spot on the couch.

Various groans filled the room as Audrey nodded.

"Finally!" Jackie exclaimed. "Everyone, pay up. You each owe me a twenty. "

Bryce sighed, pulling out his wallet from his pocket. "God damn it, Lee. Why couldn't he have waited just one more week before he asked you out?"

"Quit complaining," Aurora said, tossing a kernel of popcorn from the bowl in her lap at Bryce's head. "At least you were close, my guess was way off."

Rafael shook his head as Elijah and Aurora both handed a twenty dollar bill over to Jackie. "How did you get it down to the day?"

Jackie smiled. "I'm a psychic, obviously."

"Hold up... Just how long has this bet about Ethan and I been going on?"

"Since everyone saw you kiss at The Hopeful Hearts Gala," Elijah replied.

"And thanks to you, I'm a hundred dollars richer." Jackie pocketed the small wad of cash and leaned back against the couch.

“Thank you, Sienna,” Audrey sighed as she wrapped the black shawl around her shoulders. “My only true friend for having the decency to not partake in this bet.”

Sienna smiled sheepishly as she placed her plate of cookies on the coffee table. Before sitting down on the couch, she pulled a folded twenty dollar bill from her pocket and handed it over to Jackie.

“I’m sorry, Audrey. Raf was the only one who didn’t bet,” Sienna said. “ Dr. Ramsey and I had an interesting talk on the car ride to…” Sienna’s voice wavered slightly and she trailed off before falling silent.

On the car ride to interrogate Travis Perry about the mystery substance he had released in the hospital.

Audrey immediately crossed the room to hug Sienna. It had been months since the incident had happened, but her best friend was still grieving the loss of Danny. Sienna wrapped her arms around Audrey before she pulled back and hastily rubbed at her eyes.

“I’m okay,” Sienna reassured. “Go and enjoy your date.”

Audrey squeezed her friend’s hand in her own before she let go. “Sienna is forgiven,” Audrey declared to the others. “Thank you, Raf. My true ride-or-die.”

Rafael, who was seated beside Bryce, spoke up. “I didn’t want to make any assumptions about your personal life.”

With the most dramatic stare she could muster, she glared and pointed at the others. “The rest of you. Thin ice.”

Several knocks at the door cut off any reply that followed. Opening the door, she found Ethan standing in the doorway, dressed in his suit. His eyes lit up as he looked up at Audrey.

“You look radiant,” Ethan said.

Audrey felt herself grin. “You’re looking pretty good yourself,” she replied.

“Ready?”

“Definitely.”

“Yo, Lee!” Bryce called from the couch before she could step forward. “Just a heads up, I’m crashing on your bed tonight once movie night runs late since you won’t be using yours.”

“OKAY! We are leaving before I strangle Bryce,” Audrey announced, taking the arm Ethan offered.

Bryce laughed as she shut the door behind them. “Anyone wanna bet if she’s coming home tonight?”

__________________________________

Twenty minutes later, the pair were seated inside an elegant Italian restaurant by the waterfront. Looking out the window, Audrey watched the bright lights of the city refract against the dark surface of the water.

“I’m a city girl, but I don’t think I could live anywhere that isn’t close to the water.”

Ethan raised a brow. “Why is that?”

Audrey glanced at the gentle waves before she turned to face him. “I find it calming. It reminds me that the world is big. Bigger than any problem I might be facing. Whenever I felt stressed, I would take the subway to Manhattan and just sit in Battery Park for hours to watch the boats in the harbour or watch the people pass by.”

“I believe you called it ‘people-watching’?”

Audrey was surprised. “You still remember that conversation at Derry Roasters?”

He nodded. “I do,” he said. He reached across the table and instinctively, she placed a hand in his palm. “You said I was lost. You didn’t even know about Naveen’s condition at the time, but somehow you knew something wasn’t right.”

Unable to resist teasing him, Audrey smirked. “If I remember correctly, you said I was only half-right.”

“I stand by that assessment.” His thumb traced the ridge of her knuckles. “What baffled me was how this infuriatingly stubborn intern with the potential to be an excellent doctor kept on surprising me.”

“Speaking of surprises…” she said. “Why a date? Why now?”

The thoughts about the uncertainty of their relationship that morning came crawling to the forefront of her mind again, but she held them back. The night had only begun and as much as their undefined status worried her, she was determined to start the night on the right foot. If there truly was no future for them, she at least wanted to enjoy the time they spent together.

“Well…”

His response was cut off as a waiter came to stop at their table. “Good evening. Can I start you two off with something to drink?”

“We’re catching a show after, would you like a drink?”

“We are? I guess I’ll just have some water.”

“Two waters, please,” Ethan ordered.

The waiter nodded and laid two menus on the table. “I’ll be back in a moment to take your orders then.”

“A show?” Audrey asked. “I thought we were just getting dinner.”

The genuine enthusiasm on Audrey’s face made Ethan grin. “I promised you a proper date. That entails dinner and a show. And if you’re not too tired, perhaps a walk along the esplanade?”

“I could be persuaded. What’s the show we’re seeing?”

He shrugged. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Audrey pouted before an idea struck her. Slowly taking the black shawl off her shoulders which revealed the plunging neckline of the dress, she traced a finger down her neck to her collarbone. “Are you sure there’s no way I could convince you to tell me?” As her finger passed her collarbone, she slowed as she began to trail her finger down the exposed skin.

She felt him squeeze the hand that was still wrapped in his. “You are trying to kill me,” he replied as his gaze followed the path she traced. Gently, he lifted the hand in his and pressed a kiss to it. “As tempting as that offer is, I do believe you will appreciate the surprise.”

Sighing, she dropped the hand he wasn’t holding into her lap. “You win this time, Ramsey.”

__________________________________

As they got closer, Audrey could see the bright white marquee of the Opera House in the distance: L’Orfeo.

“The darkness of night,” Ethan translates for her. “It’s also the Italian and Spanish form of the name Orpheus.”

“As in Orpheus and Eurydice?” Audrey asked, immediately delighted.

“The very same.”

“When I had my Roman Mythology phase as a kid, I used to check out the same big book filled with various myths for months on end.” She had spent countless hours admiring the detailed illustrations and committing the words that filled the pages to her memory, carefully tracing every swooping letter with a finger. “It actually starts somewhat similarly to the first show we saw together.”

“Then tonight, I’ll rely on your expertise.” Entering the theatre, the pair made their way to his private box. They were seated for ten minutes before the house lights around them slowly dimmed and the curtain opened. On the stage, a woman dressed in red held a lyre.

“That’s the Spirit of Music. She’s saying through the power of music, she can calm any troubled heart. She introduces Orpheus of Thrace, who has the same ability as well. He’s the son of Apollo, the god of sunlight and music, and the muse Calliope, ” Audrey whispered to Ethan, their hands interlaced. As the opera progressed, Audrey explained the events of the story unfolding before them. The marriage of Orpheus and Eurydice and the tragic death of the young bride by snake bite that shortly followed. Orpheus, driven by his grief, embarking on a treacherous journey to the Underworld to bring back his lost love.

“Moved by his singing, Prosperina asks her husband, Pluto, to let Eurydice return to the living world with Orpheus. He agrees upon the condition that Orpheus has to lead Eurydice out of the Underworld, but he cannot look back to see if she is following. Orpheus begins the journey, confident that he will be reunited with Eurydice the moment they leave the Underworld, but…”

Audrey swallowed past the lump that suddenly formed in her throat.

“But then doubt comes in. He thinks Pluto is envious of his love. Maybe Pluto is tricking him.” As a sudden noise sounds from off-stage, the actor playing Orpheus turned around to face his Eurydice. His face morphed from happiness to regret in a flash as Eurydice smiled back at him sadly. “Orpheus sees Eurydice. She was behind him the whole time. She begins to fade away and Orpheus is forced out of the Underworld alone.

“This final act deviates from the myth. Apollo comes from the heavens and tells him not to fall victim to his anger and grief. He invites Orpheus to join him. Eurydice won’t be there, but beauty like hers can be found in the stars. Orpheus accepts.”

As the chorus gathered on the stage for the finale, Audrey looked away. Staring into the dark sea of audience members, she took a moment to collect her thoughts.

Building up her courage, she turned to the man beside her, but before she could say a word Ethan’s hand slipped out of her grasp. Audrey jumped slightly in her seat as the audience around them started clapping for the performance.

By the time the house lights turned on, she had lost her nerve.

__________________________________

Although autumn was right around the corner, the weather had been lovely for the past week. Despite the lack of chilly weather, Audrey held the black shawl tightly around herself as she and Ethan walked along the Charles River Esplanade.

Her eyes were drawn to the shining lights of a boat further in the distance. Audrey didn’t even notice that her steps had slowed to a stop as Ethan paused to look at her.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You haven’t said a word since we left the theatre.”

Shaking herself out of a trance, Audrey nodded and laughed, but even she could hear that it was far too hollow sounding. “I’m fine. I must be more tired than I thought.”

“I can drive you back to your apartment, but that doesn’t explain why you’ve been staring at the river for so long.”

She sighed, a wry grin twisting her lips. “I shouldn’t have told you what my tell was.”

Stepping in front of her, Ethan tilted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I-it’s just…” Audrey had to close her eyes for a moment. One breath in, one breath out. The same blue eyes she had seen that morning— the ones she thought she could spend an eternity staring into—suddenly felt like a tsunami that threatened to swallow her. “Ethan, what are we doing?”

The moment she saw Ethan’s eyebrows furrow and the hurt look cross his face, Audrey groaned internally. Barely a second in and she had already stuck her foot in her own mouth. “I phrased that horribly,” she said. Placing a hand by his clenched jaw, her thumb grazed his cheek until she felt the tension he held there ease. “What I meant was, what are we? These last few weeks have been amazing. I can’t describe the happiness I feel when I wake up in your arms, but I also love those moments we just spend together whether we’re making dinner or just having a quiet night in. I don’t think I need to explain how much I enjoy the physical aspects of our relationship…”

She swallowed a shaky breath. “But if that’s all this relationship is-”

“You know it isn’t.” he immediately replied, placing his warm hand on top of hers.

Audrey shook her head. “Do I?”

“I meant every word I said. I don’t want to hide and I’m done pretending.”

“When I was considering a residency in New York, you didn’t say a word.”

“I didn’t want to influence you. I wanted you to make the best decision for your career.”

“And what would we have done? A long-distance whatever-we-are? You're Ethan Ramsey. You’re a world renowned diagnostician for Christ’s sake. You wouldn’t have any trouble finding another position in Boston,” she huffed.

Looking into her eyes, he said, “It’s simple. I would have gone with you.”

She froze. She was certain she had misheard him. “What?”

“As much as I despise idolatry among physicians,” he said. “I wouldn’t be above using my reputation to get a position in the same city.”

“But your whole life is here in Boston.”

“But you wouldn’t have been here.” Ethan cupped her face in his hands, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple and then to a tear-stained cheek. “I need you, Audrey. I know I’m not the most articulate when it comes to my emotions, but know that you’re important to me.”

The sincerity of his voice caused the tears she had been holding back to fall. Wrapped in his embrace, she let the last of her doubts drift away from the recesses of her heart.

__________________________________

All I've ever known is how to hold my own

But now I wanna hold you, too.

__________________________________

Author's Note: Originally this fic was called "Good as Gold" (also based on song lyrics) and was gonna have more smut content, but I might write that and make it a sequel to this instead. 😏