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bumblesimagines · 3 months

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Under The Moonlight

Part 16

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Seven years have passed since (Y/N) and the crew arrived to Constantinople. They've settled in since then, but life has not been easy for them.

CW/TW: Violence, war, religion bashing, vikings being vikings, period era situationships lmao, angst?, hurt emotionally and physically but barely any comfort, red flags? dont know her, (y/n) im begging you there's better fish in the sea

If you're new here and wondering where this came from, you can check out part one here and the masterlist here!

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Seven years had passed since Emperor Romanos offered his sincere gratitude for ensuring the safe passage of his new wife, Eleana who they now were to call Empress Zoe. His gratitude reared its head through riches, rewards, and a place amongst his people, as well as a place amongst his army of men trained to kill and conquer the land of the empire's enemies. Constantinople was home now, even if temporarily.

They'd all settled in, although it'd taken time to grow accustomed to the vastly different culture and language. It'd been a difficult feat for (Y/N), his longing for his real home never dissipating amidst the heat and flourishing city. He missed his settlement in Greenland, his old friends, dearly missed his beloved mother who'd no doubt presumed him dead when he and his siblings hadn't returned home from their voyage. He longed for the cold and snow, the sound of the wind howling at night.

Leif and Harald, ever the adaptable ones, slotted in perfectly with their surroundings.

Harald climbed the ranks with ease, finding himself a stranger no more to Emperor Romanos as his personal bodyguard and newfound general of his own army: the Varangians, an army full of Vikings and mercenaries in need of a home and money. It'd been expected from a Viking prince to slither his way up and coil around such an important role. He ensured the crew joined his army, and took part in the fighting and rewards. But it was never enough for Harald, no matter how many riches he acquired through the years. Nothing was ever enough for him.

Leif took to Mariam's old home and called it his own, his newfound thirst for knowledge only growing after he read through all her books and eventually began seeking it out in places called 'libraries'; rooms of knowledge, he explained. Each time they traveled to fight another war for Emperor Romanos, he sought out the writings and maps of those places, learning new information from ancient and modern times. The sciences of the world around them enthralled him, captivated him into an obsession. (Y/N) preferred it, though. He preferred his brother's eagerness over watching Leif lose himself in grief again.

As much as (Y/N) found himself feeling out of place, fighting for the Byzantine Empire and calling Constantinople had given him much to do; and provided him with chances to see places he never would've dreamt of seeing. Such as the place they'd traveled to now, to defeat the Saracens at the urging of General Maniakes in Sicily. They'd been fighting for six months in what felt like an endless siege, and Emperor Romanos had begun growing antsy.

(Y/N) squinted through the darkness as he walked through the tunnels they'd been digging for the past few weeks, a lantern tightly gripped in one hand and held before him. His eyes slowly grew accustomed to the darkness around him, allowing him to better see the crevices in the dirt walls around him. Short wooden beams and planks held the dirt in place, preventing it from crumpling and trapping those within. All a part of Leif's plan, as always.

"How are we doing, Kaysan?" (Y/N) called out once the man came into view, flashing him a smile and being rewarded with a large one in return. Kaysan chuckled and wiped his hands along his pants, the subtle stink of sulfur lingering in the air around them. Foul-smelling enough to bring tears to one's eyes, but Leif insisted it was needed for his plan to work.

"Your brother is working on the last of the sulfur we need. He says once it is ready, we can set the plan in motion." Kaysan answered, taking a step back to admire the combined work of the last couple weeks. Bundles of sulfur had been pushed into holes expanding across the wall of dirt, ready to be lit by a flame that'd bring down the tunnel and subsequently the wall of the fortress just mere feet above them. "I must admit I had little faith in his plan at first. But seeing what this powder can do when a flame is close to it..." Kaysan shook his head lightly, a twinkle of admiration in his dark eyes.

"It is hard to match up to such a creative thinker as Leif." (Y/N) chuckled, his steps slow as he walked along the wall and took in the wall before him. He'd always known his brother had been destined for great things, whether on land or sea. Leif had inherited the best parts of his parents. No longer the savage son of Erik the Red. No, that title had fallen on (Y/N)'s shoulders, and he accepted it.

"Come now," Kaysan gave his shoulder a small playful push. "You hardly need to match up to him, (Y/N). You're a smart man, and a loyal one at that; and, from what I've heard, you're quite charismatic when you wish to be."

"Have you been gossiping with the others, Kay?" (Y/N) questioned with a teasing grin, casting a glance at the man over his shoulder. It hardly counted as gossip, he supposed. Things with Harald never lasted long, whether he pulled away first or Harald did, but they always returned to each other in a desperate clash. It was vexing and tiresome, and he'd made up his mind a long time ago to put his foot down when it came to the charming prince.

Kaysan gave a light shrug. "It surprised us, is all."

The thumping of footsteps, soft panting, and clinking of lanterns swaying filled the tunnel, and (Y/N) had heard the panting noise enough times to recognize who it belonged to. He made brief eye contact with Kaysan and turned, raising his lantern high and smiling at the sight of his brother, although it faltered slightly when Harald appeared behind him.

"Keeping an eye on things?" Leif asked, his hand rubbing affectionately into (Y/N)'s shoulder when he passed him by. The two Vikings carried sacks slung over their shoulder, no doubt the last of the sulfur they needed to ensure the wall would completely collapse and allow them within. (Y/N) gave a silent nod, feeling Harald's eyes burning into the side of his skull.

"Future King of Norway," Kaysan greeted teasingly, patting Harald's arm and taking the sack from Harald so he could insert the last of it into the dirt walls around them. Harald chuckled breathlessly in return, tearing his eyes away from (Y/N) to study the dirt room. (Y/N) allowed himself to watch him, taking in the grime and blood covering his exposed biceps and face. He'd ridden off to battle once more, no doubt a failure as all the battles before.

"As soon as we take this castle," Harald murmured, his hands coming to rest at his hips. (Y/N) swallowed, his gaze sliding away from the beautiful prince as bitterness settled in his stomach. Despite the years that'd passed, Harald's mind never changed on what he truly desired above all else: the throne of Norway, one occupied by the son of a man Harald once considered a close friend.

"Is there really as much treasure inside as you say?" Kaysan asked, voice strained as he worked to shove the rolls of sulfur into the wall with Leif's help.

"Enough to fund all our dreams," Harald replied.

(Y/N) hooked his lantern on one of the wooden posts and crouched down beside him, rolling up the dark blue sleeves of his tunic and revealing the ink along his right arm. The creature his mother would tell tales of back in his youth; a sea monster that resembled an octopus but grew to be as large as a warship named Kraken.

The head and body of the began around his bicep while the tentacles expanded and wrapped around his forearm, stopping around his wrist. He understood why so many others covered themselves with ink, whether writings or designs. The Kraken reminded him of his mother, of all the times he spent on a boat watching his brother and father hunt for narwhals and other sea beasts.

Dipping his hand into the sack, he wrapped his fingers around one of the rolls and carefully lifted it before he pushed it into one of the holes in the wall. He rolled it side to side, scrapping and mushing dirt until the roll was securely in place. He mimicked the movements with a few more rolls, absentmindedly listening to the three men speak about the plan until he finished, his fingertips lightly dusted in the vibrant yellow powder. (Y/N) stood back up and turned, nearly barreling into Harald's chest plate.

"Can we speak?" Harald asked softly, and (Y/N) felt his skin burn at the knowing glances cast in their direction from Kaysan and Leif.

"We have little to speak about, Harald." (Y/N) told him, scooping his lantern back into his hand and making his way through the tunnel. Harald followed him because the man never took an answer he didn't want, and (Y/N) largely ignored him until they reached the entrance of the tunnel and stepped out into the blinding light of the late evening.

"There's much to speak about, actually. Starting with the most important thing-"

"The throne?" (Y/N)'s features scrunched up, his spotty vision slowly adjusting to the daylight around them. He blinked a few times and his vision finally focused on the bustling camp around them. His gaze darted back to Harald's face, catching the grimace that passed over his features at his words before the general cleared his throat.

"No, I do not... I don't wish to speak of the throne. I know how you feel about it. You know how I feel about it." Harald frowned, his lips nearly covered by his thick beard. He took the lanterns from his hands and hung them up by the entrance, a heavy sigh escaping him. "You've done well in Constantinople for many years. I've seen you flourish. You're not as guarded as you once were. If you can do well in a court like the Emperor's, you'd do even better in a Viking court amongst your own people."

"Except it'd be your court with Christian jarls and Vikings who believe me worshipping a god that isn't theirs is a crime punishable by death. Your religion loves violently, Harald, as do its supporters. They'd condemn you for everything you've done with me." (Y/N) scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief and walking forward deeper into camp toward his tent. They'd had the conversation many times over the last few years, a neverending dance of push and pull trying to tire each other out into admitting defeat. But they were Vikings, and Vikings never gave up easily.

(Y/N) stepped through the flaps of his tent and released a heavy sigh, his feet guiding him to the basin sat on the table filled with warm water. He dipped his hands inside, cleaning the dirt and sulfur off his fingers until the water turned murky. The tent flaps rustled with the arrival of someone else stepping into his tent and he peeked over his shoulders, half-expecting to see Harald but only seeing Dorn. She smiled at him, her hands and sleeves of her blue tunic steeped in dark red. He crinkled his nose.

"Trust me," She sighed. "I know how it smells."

"Come wash your hands, then." (Y/N) smiled, picking up a rag and drying his hands with it as she stepped up and eagerly rinsed her hands clean of pig's blood. Her eyes flickered up toward him a few times, her lips twisting and teeth digging lightly into them. He tilted his head at her and took a seat at the table, reaching out to pluck a grape from the bowl in the center. "What is it, Dorn?"

"Batu and I were speaking the other day, and the topic of you and Harald came up." She began softly, thumb roughly rubbing into the skin of her palm until the streak of blood disappeared. Dorn raised her drenched hands toward her face, wiping off the grime and splatters of blood that'd collected on her skin. "I always wondered what went wrong between you both. When we meet... it seemed as if you two had much unspoken business. Then, during our trip to Constantinople, it all became clear. You were lovers, or former lovers, it was hard to tell at times but you... loved each other. We thought you had reconciled from whatever had occurred and yet..."

"I've come to learn that love is complicated, and at most times it's the worst thing that can occur. Harald is... a lot of things, too many things, truly. If you are worried that the same will happen between you and Batu, I can certainly assure you that it will not. Batu loves you, Dorn. I can see that you love him. You're happy together, content. Neither of you desires more than what you have now. Harald does. He hungers for far too many things, and it will eventually be his ruin. I do not wish to be dragged along with him."

"But you love each other?" Dorn questioned, wiping away droplets of water from her chin and drying her hands on her pants. (Y/N) plopped the grape into his mouth and bit into it, feeling the juices explode along his tongue as he mulled over her question. He loved Harald, he knew that well, but part of him resented him too. Most days, Harald made him wonder if he loved him, or merely lusted after him.

"It's complicated." He answered quietly, and Dorn winced, giving a meek nod and turning on her heel to leave the tent. He watched her depart, a mixture of emotions coiling around his heart and constricting it. (Y/N) released a shaky inhale and ran his hand over his face, forcing away the thoughts of Harald and their odd relationship to focus on preparing himself for a good night's rest and a long morning.

Seven years had passed, but it barely changed either of them.

The following morning, (Y/N) and the others awoke and began preparing for the day ahead before the sun had even risen over the horizon. They changed into clothes more worthy of battle, putting on their armor and chain mail before collecting their weapons. (Y/N) secured his dagger to his hip and retrieved a battle axe, a hefty yet powerful thing that'd do more swift damage than his dagger. By the time the sun rose, the Varangian army had gathered around awaiting instructions.

"Ready?" Leif asked softly, instinctively reaching out to check the straps of (Y/N)'s armor. The younger man smiled and allowed him to do so without fuss, a soft chuckle leaving him when Leif gave an approving nod, his fingers running over the chain mail before his arms dropped back to his sides.

"As always." (Y/N) sighed, glancing at Harald when the prince approached them. The deep furrow in his brows softened when they locked eyes, the determination in his gaze disappearing into a look of longing. Harald had grown over the years, all his training with a disciplined army making him stronger, and larger. His hair had grown, as had his beard, and on the days the two managed to keep the peace without arguments, Harald allowed him to trim them. He looked older, more king than prince, and it made his stomach churn to admit it to himself.

Harald walked past them with a nod, coming to a stop at the entrance of the tunnel and peering into the darkness inside where Batu and Kaysan waited for the right moment. They were to draw the attention of the soldiers and coax them into attacking first so the flames from their attack ignited the trail leading to the sulfur. Once ignited, the two had to run before the tunnel exploded and the wall fell. Harald raised his battle axe and lightly tapped the bell, the one Batu needed to ring when the plan sprung into action.

"You never were good at waiting, were you?" Leif arched a brow, wrapping his fingers around the bell to stop it from swaying and tolling. A small, playful smile tugged at Harald's lips. "Patience. It won't be long now, friend."

"Patience is hardly one of Harald's best attributes." (Y/N) murmured, a hint of teasing in his voice that drew Harald's lips into a full smile. Harald's hand reached out toward him, his palm pressing over his hip and sliding over his lower back; fingers dipping under the silver armor and pressing into the fabric beneath. His touch always felt protective and safe, but it never failed to fill (Y/N) with a false sense of hope.

"It has always been one of yours, though," Harald spoke softly, his fingertips rubbing the fabric into (Y/N)'s skin affectionately. His eyes crinkled, and despite everything that'd been bubbling up inside (Y/N)'s stomach, he returned the smile. The prince's hand moved to the base of his neck, squeezing the exposed skin there lightly. To any strangers, it may have come across as two close friends merely speaking. But it was simply because Harald couldn't touch his face in public as he desired. "We should speak after the battle, (Y/N). I cannot allow another day to pass without us having a conversation."

Pursing his lips, (Y/N) gave a small nod and wrapped his fingers over Harald's wrist. "Fine, Harald." Harald's features brightened and he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together before he released him as the bell began to toll.

The enemy had fallen right for Leif's trap, just as they had hoped.

Harald clapped Leif's shoulder and trekked back to his post atop a mound of dirt overlooking his army of seven hundred men and women. He began his speech, his words of encouragement riling up the army into cheers and shouts, warrior cries and calls. (Y/N) lingered by the tunnel's entrance, searching the dark for any sign of Batu and Kaysan as the army erupted into more cheers and cries. He spotted movement and Batu emerged, his armor slightly singed and parts of him coated in ash. (Y/N) waited with bated breath for Kaysan, but he never emerged,

"Leif," (Y/N) turned to look at his brother, giving a light shake of his head. Leif's jaw clenched and he inhaled sharply, tossing his axe to Batu and motioning for him to join the others before he entered the tunnel, the darkness swallowing him and voice echoing off the walls until it grew distant and hardly audible.

The cries and war horns sounded off through the valley as the army moved, rushing toward the wall their tunnel had led to. The ground gave a light tremor, and through the darkness, Leif emerged with Kaysan leaning on his body, a trickle of blood seeping down from his temple as dark smoke escaped from within the tunnel. (Y/N) called over one of the healers, helping his brother hand Kaysan off to the older man before the two turned and spotted the wall crumbling into a heap of smoke and dust. General Maniakes' men sprinted into action, following after the Varangians and joining the battle.

"Come!" Leif called to him, taking two axes for himself and running toward the fortress with (Y/N) hot on his heels.

Stepping through the rumble of the fallen wall, all that could be heard were cries of anger and pain, the clashing of metal against metal, and the thumping of rushing footsteps as all armies hurried to fight and defend. (Y/N) moved forward, locking onto the first Saracen soldier he saw and swinging his axe. The soldier blocked with his shield and then pulled it away to thrust his sword forward, but (Y/N) anticipated the attack and dodged, raising his axe and embedding the blade into the side of the soldier's throat.

Taking the shield for himself, (Y/N) used it to block attacks from other soldiers, shoving them back and into expecting Varangians who struck the soldiers down with cries and heaves. The first wave of soldiers fell easily and (Y/N) heard Harald's victory cry sound off throughout the air, the tight crowd dispersing throughout the fortress to attack, take, and conquer as they made their way to the castle. The people residing within the walls had quickly fled to the castle for sanctuary, leaving the place largely deserted apart from the second and then the third wave of soldiers.

By the time they reached the castle gates, Emperor Romanos had joined them, and with his appearance came a plea for parley that momentarily stopped the fighting. (Y/N) found his way to Leif, standing beside him and Dorn as the gates into the castle slowly parted, revealing soldiers inside and the people that'd taken refuge watching from windows or along the roofs. Their ruler, the Emir of Syracuse, waited in the center, clad in clothes and robes of gold and black. He walked forward, and despite his city having been sacked, his face remained unreadable.

"Emir," Emperor Romanos spoke, "We have reached your barbican and taken your city. Your castle is surrounded. I have come to ask for your surrender, to save your people unnecessary suffering and death." Leif stepped forward, beginning to repeat his words in Arabic but the Emir raised his hand to stop him.

"A translator is not necessary. I understand you perfectly." He said, waving Leif off before he turned his attention back to Emperor Romanos, his dark eyes studying the shorter man before him. "There will be no surrender. As we speak, a great Saracen army is on its way from Cairo and Alexandria to join us. When it arrives it will be you who is surrounded and destroyed."

"For your sake, you should hope it arrives soon." Emperor Ramons responded.

There seemed to be a certain smugness that passed over the Emir's features, finally breaking the serious stare. "We are not worried. We have food and supplies to last us many months."

"But no water." Leif piped up, and the smugness promptly vanished, the furrow in Emir's brows disappearing and the corner of his lips turning downwards. "Syracuse has six wells. I diverted water from five. Your supply will last a week at most."

At that, Emperor Romanos grinned. "Perhaps your allies will reach you and destroy us before that happens, or perhaps they won't and..." His eyes raised and dragged over the people watching and listening, amongst them women and frightened children. The Emir's head turned and (Y/N) followed his line of sight to a woman with three children at her side, all of various ages. His wife and children, he assumed. "Syracuse will perish. But either way.. many will die. And all will suffer."

"Then I offer another solution," The Emir said, tearing his attention away from his family to look back at them. "Single combat between two fighters. If you are victorious, Sycaruse is yours and you have my promise that my warriors will not retaliate. If you lose, you must depart and not return. Either way, my people must not be harmed."

"And who would your warrior be?" The Emperor inquired with a slight tilt of his head. (Y/N) glanced toward Harald, and then General Maniakes. The brutal, hate-filled man had hardly done much to win his ruler's approval over the last days, at least in comparison to Harald who'd handed him the fortress on a golden platter with little trouble. The Emperor himself would never fight, but he'd certainly unleash his favorite dog on the enemy.

"Me," Emir answered icily. "And yours?"

"I fight for the empire." General Maniakes deep voice rumbled as he stepped forward but Emperor Romanos raised his hand to stop him, shaking his head and turning to look over his shoulder at Harald. The corners of his lips twisted up into a smile, one that made General Maniakes scowl and glare viciously at Harald.

"You will fight my Varangian." Emperor Romanos responded, striding forward toward the Emir and giving a dip of his head. "And you have my promise. Your people will not be harmed and our agreement, honored."

(Y/N) remained silent the walk back to camp, his gaze bouncing between the floor and staring holes into the back of Harald's head as they entered Leif's tent alongside the others. He approached the basin and dipped a rag inside, roughly wiping his hands and face clean to distract himself from his churning mind. He could feel the irritation creeping up his back, an annoyance he couldn't quite pin on anyone. Batu sharpened Harald's axe in thought, the sound filling the silence while Kaysan helped Harald adjust his armor.

"If we were in Novgorod, I could sell a thousand seats and make enough to retire," Batu said and laughed heartily, his words only reminding (Y/N) of the countless times Harald had thrown himself into battle without thinking. He scarcely had good memories of Novgorod, and the ones he remembered vividly were of Harald bloody and battered.

Without thinking, (Y/N) sent Batu a glare sharp enough to get his friend to hurriedly clamp his mouth shut and wince. He cleared his throat and diverted his eyes, subtly motioning for Kaysan and him to make their exit. Kaysan nodded and stood up from his stool, giving Harald a pat on the shoulder as Batu handed him his axe back and smiled encouragingly before the two quickly slipped out of the tent; leaving Harald alone with the two brothers.

"We can select three weapons. I'll start with the battle axe." Harald spoke, approaching the weapon's table and setting the axe alongside the rest. (Y/N) inhaled deeply through his nose and rubbed his fingertips against his temple to soothe the beginnings of a headache away before it could consume him. Leif remained equally as silent and it finally made Harald cave. "You're both quiet, which means you're either angry or worried about something. Perhaps both."

"I worry you underestimate him," Leif revealed with a sigh, raising his head to look at his friend with a growing frown. Harald scoffed, his brows furrowing as his eyes darted between the two brothers, almost as if offended they'd doubt him. (Y/N) squeezed the water out of the rag and set it aside to dry, finally looking up at the prince.

"I underestimate no man who's trying to kill me." Harald retorted, turning his irritated stare onto the weapons spread out in front of him. "We'll both be fighting for our lives."

"No, only you will be." Leif's lips formed a grim line, feet moving slowly as he approached his friend and motioned in the direction of the castle. "He is fighting for his people."

"As am I-"

"What people? Yours or Romanos's?" Leif questioned him sharply, arching his brows and drawing a scowl from Harald. (Y/N) leaned his hip back against the table, his arms folding over his stomach. Harald and his short temper... it was a mystery how the man had lived for so long without getting himself killed.

"I fight today for the same reason I've been fighting for the last seven years! For treasure." It stung, even if (Y/N) had seen it coming, piercing his stomach and sucking him dry of the false hope. "So I can return to Norway and assume the throne of my people, which is rightfully mine. Nothing else."

"I am glad to hear my brother and I are hardly considered things you fight for, Harald, after we've spent the last seven years fighting and living in a foreign country for you." (Y/N) seethed, and the tension in Harald's shoulders disappeared, his eyes squeezing shut and a silent curse forming on his lips. His chest heaved with a sigh and he stepped past Leif, his arm extending to grab him but (Y/N) smacked it away with a scoff. "I can understand caring little for a bedmate but Leif deserves to be someone you fight for after everything he's done for you."

"A bedmate- (Y/N), I-"

"Enjoy your fight, General." (Y/N) shoved past him forcibly and rounded the table before Harald could attempt to stop him. He threw the flaps of the tent apart and stepped out into the sunlight, taking a sharp inhale of the fresh air to calm the fury and hurt dancing along his veins. His fingers wrapped around the handle of his dagger, allowing himself to take a few more steadying breaths.

He'd made the right decision years prior, he reminded himself. Harald proved it to him time after time. He just needed a reminder every once in a while, even if it hurt.

(Y/N) avoided looking in Harald's direction once he finished preparing for the fight, only focusing on following Emperor Romanos into the castle where they'd set up an area for the fight. He broke away from the Emperor's tight crowd to stand behind the table where Batu placed Harald's other two choices of weapon: a smaller battle axe and a sword, with the larger battle axe being the one he walked into the makeshift arena with.

"He didn't mean to say it like that," Leif said quietly, always the one forced to make peace between them. (Y/N) pursed his lips and clasped his hands in front of himself, his fingers wrapping tightly around his palm. "I know you called yourself a bedmate to hurt him, (Y/N). You've seen how desperate he's been these past three years; you've seen how he gets when he hears you have a new lover. You are much more to him than that."

"But not enough to desire a different destiny for himself." Leif fell quiet at that, his softened eyes gazing into the side of his brother's face before he sighed softly and looked forward toward the two fighters when they entered the arena and assumed their positions. Despite his lingering hurt, worry jabbed at his stomach for Harald.

Harald moved first, swinging his axe upward to knock back the Emir's sword, but the Emir moved swiftly, turning on his feet and facing Harald before he could turn around. Harald's jaw ticked and he studied his opponent, switching which hand held the axe before he charged again, grasping the axe with both hands and taking a few swings at him; metal clanging through the air as the Emir swiftly blocked each swing with his sword until Harald turned his axe and slammed the blunt end against his chest, forcing him back a few steps.

The Emir grunted and grabbed Harald's axe, shoving it back and mimicking his movement as he slammed the handle of his sword repeatedly into Harald's chest which forced Harald to stumble backward and just barely dodge a swing from the sword. The Emir charged, giving Harald hardly any time to dodge another swing but he managed to duck down in time and create some distance between them to reassess his approach. The Emir sneered, baring his teeth and grasping the handle of his sword with both hands. He was a good fighter, as all rulers had to be.

Harald charged again, slamming the end and top of his axe repeatedly against the Emir's side before slamming the top near his armpit and forcing him back roughly against the stone wall. The Emir released a shout at the impact and shoved the axe away, slashing his sword at Harald and missing his chest plate by an inch or so. Harald swung again, only for his axe to slam into the wall and break in half, leaving him without a weapon.

With the half still in hand, he managed to defend himself by blocking the Emir's attacks as he sprang and walked backward toward the table. He threw the broken piece at the Emir's head, nearly hitting his ear, and swiftly turned on his heel to snatch both weapons from the table. He faced the Emir once more, eyes narrowing when the Emir approached his own table and took two new swords into his hands. They stared at each other for a brief moment, catching their breaths.

The Emir charged first with a cry - perhaps growing emboldened with the trickle of blood seeping from Harald's brow - and swung both his swords at him relentlessly, turning and swinging as he followed Harald's quick dodges. Harald nearly sank his axe into the Emir's face in a quick turn but the Emir dodged it in time. They continued back and forth, swinging and dodging hits from each other with grunts and cries. They moved viciously and relentlessly, switching between fighting offensively and defensively within seconds as they grew more enraged and desperate for a win.

Harald managed to swipe at the Emir's feet and knock him onto the gravelly ground, the Emir's foot rising up quickly to slam into Harald's knee and knock him down into a kneeling position. The Emir moved onto his knees as well, the blows they swung at each other forcing them to remain kneeling until the Emir launched himself forward and Harald threw himself backward, both men rolling along the floor. Harald moved onto his side and attempted to stab the Emir in the side with his sword but the Emir slashed right through the blade, leaving him with a sword resembling a knife.

The two men scrambled upright and assessed each other again, sucking in large gulps of air and staring each other down. Harald switched the way he held his broken sword and the swing-block dance resumed until Harald swung at the Emir's and was cut just above the elbow. He released a cry of pain and sound around, wincing as he touched his bleeding arm before looking up at his opponent. The Emir stared at Harald, his breathing turning wheezy and his feet staggering. (Y/N) caught the gleam of the broken sword jammed right below the Emir's armpit.

The Emir raised his arm and stumbled forward again, a look of distraught passing over his features as he fell to his knees and slumped forward. While Emperor Romanos's men erupted into cheers of victory, (Y/N) couldn't help but look in the direction of the Emir's wife, watching the tears stream helplessly down her face. Her husband had fought bravely, not just for his people but for her and their children. (Y/N) bit the inside of his cheek.

His father had fought and killed countless of men, simply because he could and felt like it, but at least in Greenland, when you killed a man it was because it was necessary. For food, shelter, to defend your family. But in Constantinople, they took lives to make an emperor richer. They killed for treasure they hardly used, and for little else.

(Y/N) grimaced. He missed home.

67 notes · View notes

seospicybin · 1 year

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BANGCHAN

MY WORKS ARE NSFW & 18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

These are purely works of fictions. There is now way it represent Stray Kids in any way.

* S for smut. F for fluff. A for Angst.

Imprint. (s,f) Jealous boyfriend Bangchan make sure everyone knows you’re taken before lets you go for a night out.

Couch Surfing. (s,f) Bangchan got curious of whom you’re texting with.

Bash. (s, f) You threw a surprise birthday party for Chan but he seemed to dislike it at the end of the night.

Stack. (s) All bets are off for a game night with Bangchan.

Untie. (s) On Bangchan’s birthday, Hyunjin gifts him the best birthday gift he could present to him, and that gift is you.

Mirror Mirror. (s) You and Bangchan have planned a dinner date for weeks but it seems like the plan has to be canceled, and it was all because of you.

Haven. (s,f,a) As an old friend of him, Bangchan offered you to stay in his apartment for a week for work and to rekindle the sparks you once had for each other.

Stars Aligned. (s,f) Part I / Part II / Part III / Final Chan moved to a new apartment and find you as an attractive neighbor who lives next door, and happens to be Jeongin’s aunt. The surprise doesn’t stop there, truth begins to unfold the moment he acknowledged there’s a men in your life.

Thinning. (s,f) You’ve been bestfriends with Chan for a few years. That remains the same until one day he got to leave for the summer. Once he comeback, he was too late to realize that he has feelings for you.

Untie The Knot. (s,f) You finally, finally get to sleep with someone you’ve been secretly crushing on, the popular employee at work, Chris. Everything was perfect until all of a sudden, your father comes barging in and trap him in a family affair.

Homesick. (s,f) The next chapter of Haven. After being separated by the distance, Chan learns to build a new home with you.

One Perfect Wave. (s,f) A part of One Series. You’re back for the summer to catch some waves and a walk down the memory lane with your high school crush, Chan.

Folder 103. (s) Everyone knows that the one item Chan always brings with him everywhere is his laptop but what they don’t know is the contents of a secret folder named 103.

Bad idea, right? (s) Your ex, Chan, makes a return to his social media with a thirst trap. Horny and bored, you decide to see him for the sole reason of getting your physical needs fulfilled. However, as the night goes, you start to wonder if seeing him tonight is a bad idea.

The Fuckboy Next Door. (s,a)

Part I / Part II Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan.

Double Take. (s) I.N x reader x Bangchan. You reunited with Jeongin after being away from each other for months when all of sudden Bangchan caught you both during a steamy session.

Three of A Kind. (s) Bangchan x reader x Hyunjin. Part I / Part II / Part III Late night drinking and a card game, plus two pretty boys? what’s the worst that could happen?

Aces High. (s) Bangchan x reader x Hyunjin. On your birthday, you put your two boyfriends to a test to find out which one of them knows you better and as the celebration continues, they take their turn to put you on a test.

White Noise. (s) Bangchan x reader x Jeongin. Quietly version / Chaotic version Bangchan got annoyed with the noises you made with Jeongin in the next room.

On The Road. (s,f,a) Bangchan, Han & Jeongin x reader.

Part I / Part II

A group of friends going on a road trip that, little did they know, will change their lives forever.

Dark Red. (s,f, horror, thriller) Part III Seospicy's Halloween special.

0325. (s,f) Skz x reader. SIDE A A series of short fics inspired by Stray Kids songs.

#seospicy masterlist #bangchan masterlist

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emo-batboy · 2 years

Note

Fan pages on Twitter with Bruce are making me think of one thing. Kpop Twitter. Do u think they would be making fancams of him too? Photocards? Posters? Buying 10 copies of vogue just for different cover with him?

*takes off glasses* now I cannot reveal the secrets of my Twitter au BUT you came to the right person :DD

NOW CONSIDER

BRUCE WAYNE AS A FORMER MODEL (idk if this has been done before with Battinson? Let me know so I can read it)

So maybe Bruce did some covers for a business magazine in his late teens or early 20’s and it went really well!!

a few luxury brands asked if this fresh-faced Bruce Wayne would consider being an ambassador. Maybe a brand of watches, suits, sunglasses, something business-like or old money

He agrees to work with some suit company cuz his dad loves the brand and he likes them too now

This earns him his first ever taste of A-List Celeb Status. He is on the cover of magazines, not just business and fashion: Gossip magazines. Tabloids. People recognize him and want his autograph. Paparazzi follow him to lunch dates with friends.

They want to know his favorite color, cereal brand, ice cream flavor, and not because they want to be billionaires like him (poor little nepo baby) but because they love him so much they want to know every little detail of his life.

He is given the title of heartthrob over and over again (and I mean look at him, ofc he is)

He despises it with every cell in his body.

BUT he keeps working for this one luxury tailor brand until his contract ends. Maybe two or three years?

He has a good relationship with them, still. Wears their suits mostly, recommends it to friends if they need a new one. But he’s decided it’s not for him anymore.

Now. Every year, during New York Fashion Week, Bruce is invited to walk in their show. (This brand gives all of their ambassadors the opportunity.) Sometimes, he says yes. Sometimes, he doesn’t.

He refuses for a few years (during his vengeance era) until Bruce Wayne changes and decides to make more appearances. NY Fashion Week comes around, and Bruce returns for one (1) show.

Oh lordie the stans

They arrive in droves

EVERYBODY AND THEIR MOTHER SEES THE CLIP OF BRUCE WAYNE WALKING AT THE FASHION SHOW!!

He tears up that fucking runway! He’s a seasoned veteran of course he does

THE BRAND BEGS BRUCE TO COME BACK

And ya know what?

He says yes

Cuz he wants to be personable, likable, approachable, a role model (no pun intended)

His bitterness is slowly dissipating, and he’s grown stronger after the stress of his early 20’s and the hatred of his late 20’s. He’s an Adult TM who can handle it.

This is when he learns about the new emergence of stan culture :)

The edits are EVERYWHERE

Some are from his new collections and looks

Others are made up of early 2010’s Bruce Wayne

Imagine like those sparkly ones with cute music in the background and it’s just Bruce smiling

(And then there’s the thirst trap ones, you know those one)

Pretty boy billionaire Bruce Wayne and his army of fans could declare a nation. They’re your cousin, your friend, your teacher, your goddamn accountant.

Old posters from Tiger Beat 2009 go up on eBay for thousands of dollars

And those old “vintage” fashion magazines where he’s on the cover, those could cost you rent

Bruce walks some new shows and agrees to pose for some magazines (fashion AND business, among others)

Vogue offers him the cover, which he accepts

They run out of stock.

(How is that even possible?)

Fancams of him walking down the street and attending press conferences crop up? That’s what surprises him the most.

He is still very camera shy but the more he gets to know the regular fansites, he feels more comfortable waving and talking to them. (And hopefully they don’t suspect a thing. PLEASE don’t suspect a thing.)

There are a lot of events where they’re not allowed in but if it’s a public event, they will be there

(There are some creepy ones tho, and Alfred handles them accordingly) (with a call to the police) (and occasionally a hose)

It’s fun tho, allows Brucie Wayne, Billionaire Nepo Baby Extraordinaire, to become separate from his nightly persona

This is how Bruce becomes very familiar with Stan Twitter

But he still refuses to make an account for his own sanity

It’s for the best

#bruce wayne #battinson #batman #the batman 2022 #the batman #batman 2022 #model au #battinson is a model #WHAT IF ya know????#I really wish I could put like 50 photos in this post but I can’t

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shortpplfedup · 1 year

Text

Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 1

THE MESSY MESS IS HERE! Here's the week's runners and riders.

1. Nick

It's with one-year warranty. If there's a problem again, drop it here anytime.

Everybody was playing their little games this week but Nick WON for most inventive and effective thirst trap. He clearly knew who Boston was, and he figured out how to get his attention. Now to keep it.

2. Sand

How did you manage to live this long?

HE IS SO FED UP OF THESE HOES, but he is also a softhearted fucker so one hint of vulnerability from Ray and now he's starting to feel FOND. Oh Sand...don't do it. Run a mile. Also, we will ignore the singing.

3. Ray

You’re sulking like we’re boyfies.

This man is so Gemini I had flashbacks. 'You saved me? Well FUCK YOU VERY MUCH.' His pissy faces every time Top came around though? *chef's kiss*

4. Boston

You and I are the same kind. Don’t get his hopes up. If you want to do him, do it and get it over with.

This 'I can be a ho but you can't call me that'-ass motherfucker. Top clearly rearranged his brain as well as his guts when they fucked that ONE TIME. He thought Top would try the novelty of naivete, realise he prefers experience and return to blow his back out again. Instead, he played himself and he doesn't know how to un-play himself.

5. Mew

I’m a grownup. Don’t worry. Besides, I know how to screen people.

Oh Top has met his MATCH. Mew got that heat-seeking missile to nearly blow him, cuddle him to sleep, take him on a date and confess in public, and IT'S ONLY EPISODE 1.

6. Top

A virgin? Seriously? I wanna try. I’m so sick of those fierce ones who already know it all. I want something new.

Oh I HATE THIS GUY. He thinks he's a player but he's the one getting played and I LOVE IT. Mew already has him wrapped around his little finger and it's only gonna get worse. And he knows EXACTLY how Boston feels and is toying with him. Still, when he HOPPED up on that countertop I may have blacked out a little from the downward rush of blood.

7. Cheum

We live in a country where PM 2.5, Covid, and radioactive cesium take turns to say hi. We can die any minute. If you found the right one, you found the right one. Love doesn’t need much time, Mew.

The lone lesbian trying to keep these boys alive and happy like so many over the generations. I am ready to see more of her.

8. Surprise!Drake

How about we continue at my place? There’s alcohol, music, and...me.

LEGS WIDE OPEN WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE!

#only friends the series #bless this mess #only friends weekly character rankings #i support gay wrongs #only friends series #only friends #bl meta series

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shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck · 7 months

Note

Hi so, about the httyd crossover au, it's mentioned that dream was found in a cave, did he hibernated or something like that?

Sorry for bad english, Hope you're having a good day/night

During the "incident" Dream got trapped deep in an underground cavern incredibly isolated from the rest of the world. It became clear he just couldn't find a way out. Trying to blast out from the inside only seemed to destabilize the cavern and risking the entire thing from crumbling on top of him. Luckily there was underground streams with plenty of fish to survive off of. SO he wouldn't starve or die of thirst. But the lack of any sort of light turned his scales a pale grey. Kind of blending into the rocks.(Turning to stone) Dream was trapped in the caves for a very long time essentially just growing up there. Nightmare thought dream had died during the incident and so never looked for him. Centuries later There was an attack on a village that had been built right above The caves. A pack of more aggressive wild dragons attacking a newer settlement of dragon rider allies. They weren't exactly active hunters or hostile to dragons but didn't like having too many around. It would cost them more resources than they could afford. Being fairly new it wasn't the best secured in food or other resources. The fire of the Wild dragons had opened a small cave. Dream eventually found his way out of the caves. He was absolutely ecstatic and relived to finally be free. But also incredibly fearful of the humans that lived there now. In Dreams time Dragons never where supposed to go near humans. But Being stuck in a cave for YEARS meant Dream was rather bad at flying. So he was going to have to stay close to the island for awhile. And hunting on the surface proved very different than in the caves. Which lead dream to steal bits of food from the humans already there. This of course was not going to go unnoticed as Dream is a large dragon and eats quite a bit. Of course Dream could have gone back to the cave but he was scared he would be trapped down there agian. He never wanted to go back. Blue and Ink Had come over with a few Dragon riders and allied dragons. They had heard of trouble and had come to investigate and help clean up the damage from the attack. This leads to Blue finding Dream. Dream would be wary since blue smells like humans. But also Dream hadn't had much interactions with other dragons for so long. and Blue seemed friendly. Blue Ink and Dream become friends over the course of the next few weeks. Dream eventually getting the courage to show himself to everyone. The sunlight Brightens His scales slowly returning their color. He is happier than he's been for such a long time. But a questions still burns within him. .... What happened to his brother?

#herrings rambles #herrings mailbox #Httyd utau crossover au #utmv #dream sans

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modelbus · 2 years

Note

okay, i might be late but— would you consider writing a pt 2 of the ranboo x player!male!reader oneshot? tysm for your work ❤

Of course! I wasn’t exactly sure where to take it, but I did my best!

Check out part 1!

Pairing: Ranboo x M!Reader

Interesting Interview Part 2

You were crazy. This was crazy.

You had been messaging Ranboo for months now, and you two had spent countless hours just talking. It felt insane to even think about how it all started: with just one little interview. And what was even more insane? You were in his city for a game.

They could be minutes or hours away right now, and you could meet up with them. Sure, the two of you had joked about it, but nothing serious. Yet here it was. Your chance to meet him in the flesh after so many years. Of course, you had seen images of him online. Him in general, really. His streaming was going incredibly well, and you loved to message him stupid things during a stream to see how he'd react. And in return, Ranboo messaged you during interviews or games.

"Get your head in the game, kid." Your coach says when you take a swig of water. "Leave the thinking until after we win."

"Yes, coach."

It was hard, of course. Ever since the moment he first messaged you it seemed all you could think about was if there would be a message waiting for you the next time you checked your phone. It was like an addiction. Part of you wondered if this was what internet fame felt like. For every notification you got, a rush went through your veins.

Somehow, you managed to not let it affect your playing. The second you stepped in front of that net was the second your mind tuned everything but the game out. There's a reason you're such a good player, and this was it.

This and the fact that Tik Tokers made a shit ton of thirst traps.

The game goes by smoothly, exactly like your coach had predicted it would. The other team was victim to patterns of play, a weakness your team knew how to exploit well.

So, you walk off with a victory secured and a mind free enough to think about Ranboo and the lack of messages your phone had.

"What's got you all upset looking? We won, man. Would it kill you to look happy?" One of your teammates asks, a grin on his face.

"Did we win? I hadn't noticed." You joke back, taking the towel he offered you to wipe the sweat off your brow.

"Are you going back to the hotel with us? I think most of us are just planning on sleeping."

"I-"

You're cut off by a commotion nearby, making you turn your head toward it.

"I'm not going to get him." Someone you recognize as one of the people working here says.

"No, I swear I know him!" A second voice says, one that sounds weirdly familiar.

Whoever the second guy is, he's being blocked by the worker. You can only assume the worker is talking to someone from the crowd, up in the stands. Maybe they got a little bit too upset their favorite team lost?

"You and everyone else. Get out of here before I call security."

The worker turns away, giving you a clear look at the fan. A fan that, with a gray mask covering the lower half of his face, was incredibly familiar to you.

"Ranboo?!" You exclaim.

They light up, waving. "I told you I knew him!" You jog over, waving off the worker. "What are you doing here?!"

"I was going to surprise you, but man did I underestimate how hard it was to actually get your attention."

"You could've just texted me!"

"I did?"

You look down at your phone, opening your mouth to tell him that you had no new messages, when you pause. An icon you overlooked earlier was very clearly shown on your phone: it was on do not disturb.

"Oh my God." You groan to yourself. "I had my phone on silent."

Ranboo laughs, his eyes scrunching up. He's wearing a mask, but you assume under it they're smiling. "See! I'm not the idiot here!"

"No way, it's still you! You came and surprised me at my own game, then nearly got murdered by security! You do realize that you'll have to wait at least half an hour for me to get out of here, too, right?"

"I wanted to see you play. Which, good job, by the way. You weren't too bad."

"Thanks, I really strive not to be too bad." You glance around the emptying area before looking back at Ranboo. "I'll meet you at the parking lot in thirty?"

"I thought you said thirty was the minimum."

"I'll speedrun, just for you."

They laugh again, and you can't help but laugh with them. This is way better than making him laugh on a call.

"I'm timing you, starting now."

You swear, turn, and make a mad dash for where your team disappeared to.

Exactly thirty-two minutes later, you're walking up to Ranboo in the parking lot, entirely out of breath. Although your coach gave a relatively short talk, it felt like forever when you knew Ranboo was right outside.

"You're late!" Ranboo calls out to you as a greeting.

"Fuck!"

"That means you have to follow my plan for the rest of the day."

"When did I agree to that?!"

"Don't worry about it. First, we obviously have to walk to the ice cream place I promised you was the best in the world."

"Obviously." You nod. "My team was planning to pass out at our hotel, so this better be better than that nap."

"Way to set me up for failure." Is his joking response. "Quick question for you."

"Shoot."

"Do you come here often?" He nods back to where you had come from.

The smile you erupt into is surely stupidly large, but you can't help yourself. This was your guys' thing. When you shared it with that interviewer, you never could've imagined it leading to this.

"Only for the balls."

But you're damn glad it did.

#ranboo #ranboo x reader #ranboo mcyt #ranboo imagine #ranboolive #mcyt imagine #mcyt #ranboo dsmp #dsmp #ranboo x you #male reader

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vividwritinglove · 1 year

Text

You're always worth it - Lewis Hamilton

pairing: fem!reader x Lewis Hamilton

warnings: smut (mdi), choking

words: 1K

————————————————————————

"Really, Lewis?" You sigh to yourself after seeing the notification of a new post in your boyfriend's story. He was just working out and once again sharing his fitness with his community.

Actually, you weren't surprised. He has always been very public about himself. But not when it comes to his love life and especially his relationship with you, he seemed to protect you from the public or the press at all costs. You are so infinitely important to him.

As time goes by, it becomes harder to keep your love a secret. You rented an apartment in the same apartment complex, so that you could move in together without anyone suspecting. In the first few months, everything was so new and exciting, but now it felt like a sort of gilded cage. Your love for Lewis is so strong, but you miss all the things normal couples do: going for walks, going out to eat, shopping, traveling, or just working out together at the gym.

You would love to accompany him to his races. Just be there for him physically and not only via cell phone and in front of a TV. Lewis has been in the public eye for years and knows the downside of being famous. You're not used to it, you've never been in public life before. This is just another reason that he loves about you. This little bit of normality that you gave him as soon as he entered his 4 walls. With you he can be totally himself. No mask, completely unfiltered.

The next moment you hear the front door to Lewis' apartment open. Lewis has returned from his workout. Conveniently, the gym is located a few floors below his apartment.

"Babe, I'm back!" you hear him say and a few seconds later he enters the living room. Sweaty and grinning. That damn smile with that tooth gap. You have to grin as well and hold your smartphone out to him. On your screen the picture from his story.

"Another thirst trap, babe?"

"It's in the eye of the beholder." he still grins, pulling his tank top over his head. You immediately forget what you were going to say at the sight of his muscular and tattooed torso. God, this man just knows how to handle discussions with you. You love his tattoos. A passion you both share. How many times have you traced the dark ink on his skin with your fingers.

"I'm going to take a shower." he says casually, now stripping off his shorts as well.

You swallow hard and press your thighs together. He knows exactly what he's doing and how he could drive you crazy, "I would really enjoy your company."

You don't let him tell you twice. You get up from the sofa and walk towards him, brushing your sweat jacket off your shoulders. As you stand directly in front of him, his eyes immediately move to your lips. He loves to kiss you. Your hands travel up his abs to his pecs. You feel the slight goosebumps forming on his skin under your touch, "This is supposed to be for my eyes only..."

Greedily he presses his lips on yours. His kisses are dominant, you give yourself to him. His hands also wander along your body and linger now on your ass. The next moment he lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his middle. With a lightness he carries you into the bathroom, not interrupting your hot and intimate kiss. He is everything you have ever dreamed of and more.

Only a few minutes later you are under the big rain shower. Cool water pours down on your heated and naked bodies. His every touch makes you see stars. Before him, there was no one who touched you like this. Lewis has experience, did things with you that you would never have dreamed of in your wildest dreams. Just like in this moment. His fingers are magic. You let him play you like an instrument and in return you gave him the most beautiful melodies. He adores you and especially the look on your face when you cum, "Lewis, I... I..."

"Not yet." He murmurs and your grip on his shoulders tightens. He lets go of you, turning you around and you feel his muscular body pressed to your back. He pushes you forward slightly, making you bend over a little, only to enter you right after. Gently and determinedly. Pleasurably you moan, also Lewis throat escapes a growl at the familiar feeling of being inside you. You quickly find your rhythm together. One of his hands moves up to your neck and his fingers wrap around your tender skin like a necklace. The other travels down your torso over your breasts, pressing you even tighter against him. His thrusts become more imprecise, your mutual moans increase and again that comforting warm feeling forms in your abdomen.

"Come on, baby girl. I need to hear you." Lewis murmurs lustfully in your ear, lightly squeezing your air supply. As if on his command, it overcomes you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your knot bursts. Shortly after, Lewis is ready, too. His grip on your neck loosens and quickly he kisses the slightly irritated skin of the crook of your neck. Exhausted, you nestle your face against his. A blissful smile plays around your lips.

After the shower, you two linger a bit in the bathroom. You sit down on the vanity in your bathrobe and rub your hair dry with a small towel. Lewis, with a towel hanging loose around his hips, stands in front of the mirror and puts lotion on his body.

"I want to work out with you tomorrow."

Lewis looks over from his reflection to you, a little puzzled. But then he smiles and nods, "Agreed."

The Next Day

lewishamilton and y/username

#lewis hamilton #lh44 #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fandom

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ashandkatiewrite · 6 days

Text

New Story Alert!

a twist of fate

Written by: @katiekinswrites + @if-you-onlyknew

SUMMARY: One fateful day, Jefferson's father, the Dark One's portal jumper, doesn't return from a job. Taken by force a week later, Jefferson learns that his father's captor and murderer is an evil sorcerer who is guardian to a young princess, Odette of Swan Lake, who has been kept prisoner in her own kingdom. Now a young portal jumper himself, Jefferson sneaks into the castle over the years to spend time with the trapped princess and to tell her of his wild adventures in lands she can only imagine, and to hope that one day she will agree to leave with him and escape her tormentor.

A story about a life built between two people that have nothing in common but love at first sight, a thirst for adventure, and the obstacles that attempt to keep them apart over time and across lands.

Enchanted Forest to Cursed!Storybrooke.

Read the story on AO3.

TAGLIST: @acabecca • @arrthurpendragon • @cas-verse • @cjand10 • @darkwolf76 • @darylandbethfanforever9 • @eddysocs • @jewishbarbies • @ocappreciationtag • @sassysophiabush • @scarletwidoww • @seb-soph • @starcrossedjedis • @thatmagickjuju

#fic: a twist of fate #jefferson mad hatter #oc: odette lake/delilah mason #jefferson ouat #Jefferson x ofc #ouat oc #ocappreciation #ocapp #sebastian stan #victoria pedretti

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sshbpodcast · 29 days

Text

Character Spotlight: Seven of Nine

By Ames

While we definitely miss Kes, her replacement on Star Trek: Voyager definitely succeeds in filling her shoes and then some. Seven of Nine may have been introduced on the show as an obvious thirst trap to boost the show’s sex appeal, but she is so much more than that. The ex-Borg bombshell, with the acting chops of Jeri Ryan and some excellently written story arcs, grows into more than just the sum of her nanobots.

Get assimilated with your hosts from A Star to Steer Her By as we explore the many facets of Seven, whose journey to regain her humanity pairs so beautifully with the Voyager’s journey to make it back to the Alpha Quadrant. Scour through our astrometrics records below for our usual Best and Worst Moments lists and listen to our hivemind discussions over on this week’s podcast episode (jump to 1:32:36; featuring some bonus moments from guest star drone Carl!). Resistance is futile!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor abyss of space After Seven has [reluctantly] joins the crew, one of the first thing she does is start helping out in the astrometrics lab, and in “Message in a Bottle,” she discovers the relay network that our heroes use to send the EMH over to the Dauntless and pass communication to and from Starfleet. It’s an early glimmer of hope after years of tooling around in the Delta Quadrant.

All by myself. Don’t wanna be all by myself anymore. We get an absolute showcase in acting from Jeri Ryan in the stunning “One,” in which she’s left to guide the ship through some nebula or other while the rest of the organic crew members wait in stasis. Seven’s battles with her own demons of isolation, loneliness, and self doubt play out as hallucinations, but she keeps it together enough to save the whole crew from nebula gas!

A single Borg among billions of individuals When home seems to be in reach because of a starship Arturis brings them to in “Hope and Fear,” Seven initially determines that she doesn’t want to go on this roadtrip because of how daunting she finds returning to Earth. Watching her deal with those feelings until she comes out the other side feels like a win, even if Arturis’s scheme turns out to be too good to be true.

The robot has been neutralized. May I leave now? This is just one of those little moments from the show, but I like it enough to include it. In “Night,” when Tom is trying to pass the time during months of monotony, he’s playing some Captain Proton with an unimpressed Seven, who simply deactivates Satan’s Robot with one of her patented “I am Borg”s and it’s just so charming and funny that I’ve got to hand it to her.

Are you my mother? By the time we hit “Drone,” Seven’s able to help her sort-of son One learn the merits of individuality weighed against the dangers that the Borg exemplify, no matter how tempting they may seem. Her taking this new breed of Borg under her wing shows just how far Seven has come in the season since her introduction, and her heartbreak at losing him is real and lovely.

Part of me not unlike your replicator. Not unlike the Doctor. Like Kes before her, Seven develops a rapport with the EMH that is built on trust and their outsider perspectives (oh, and horniness because the Doc can be a bit of a cretin sometimes). Seven fights for his rights in “Latent Image” when she urges Janeway not to blank his malfunctioning memory again – something you couldn’t do to one of the solid crewmen.

You and I wouldn’t be able to play Kadis-kot anymore Another great friendship we see Seven develop is with Naomi Wildman. The young Ktarian starts out terrified of the ex-Borg drone, but by “Bliss,” the two are teaming up to take on the bioplasmic organism, as the only two people on the ship not affected by its hallucinatory effects. They bond over how they don’t have anyone waiting for them on Earth, but they have each other!

Time is the fire in which Braxton burns You know I’ve got to give some love to one of my favorite time-travel stories! Seven really gets to shine in “Relativity,” jumping through time to prevent some sabotage to the Voyager and brilliantly uncovering Braxton’s madcap plan. She knowingly puts herself in danger with repeated trips through time because she knows the importance of this mind-boggling mission.

No really, are you my mother? If you liked Seven’s friendship with Naomi, you’re gonna love her relationship with the dronelings we meet in “Collective.” We meet the Borg children adrift on their vessel and threatening anyone who comes by like puffed-up stray kittens, but Seven tries to save them from themselves and takes in the four survivors (and the Borg baby!), acting like their foster mother.

Definitely in contention for worst parents in Trek While the SSHB team tends to prefer Mezoti because she’s the best, Seven takes a particular liking to Icheb. Like a mother honey badger, she protects him when she smells the danger that his parents pose to him in “Child’s Play.” She figures out their scheme to sacrifice their child and saves Icheb from getting reassimilated, even if it would help his terribly flawed people.

They’re tryna build a prison for you and me to live in By season seven, Seven’s come so far in her character development that she fights for the rights of Iko, the death-row prisoner in “Repentance.” She determines that he can be rehabilitated and given the chance he deserves because he feels true remorse. If Seven got the chance to regain her humanity after everything she did as a Borg, shouldn’t this guy too?

Their isolation may limit their potential, but if that isolation ends, so will a unique way of life This one may not be a particularly good episode, but it’s always nice to watch Seven learn a life lesson. Though she doesn’t initially understand why she should prevent the Ventu culture from getting corrupted by the Ledosians in “Natural Law,” Seven befriends the primitive people and comes to understand the value of allowing them to develop on their own terms.

—

Worst moments

Scorpions are not to be trusted Speaking of things Seven does as a Borg, when we first meet her in “Scorpion,” Chakotay is reluctant to trust this scorpion in Borg’s clothing, who is certainly going to betray the agreement she made with Janeway. And whaddaya know, Seven immediately betrays the agreement she made with Janeway! Just like the scorpion in that parable that Chakotay totally lifted.

Nevertheless, I am willing to explore my humanity. Take off your clothes. Once Seven gets deborgified, it becomes clear that she’s first and foremost here for her sex appeal. And the show is going to remind you of that. A lot. No one is more aware of that at first than Harry Kim, especially in “Revulsion” when Seven just offers to sleep with him to lessen the tension, having no idea how inappropriate that is. How else are we to notice she’s hot???

Quoth the raven: We are Borg Like Data in “Brothers,” Seven feels compelled by some unnatural force to take over a ship and fly towards her homing beacon in “The Raven.” Unlike Data, she’s not just programmed by some Soong or other, but instead is hallucinating all over the place and would like to be reassimilated by the Collective. She even holds Tuvok hostage until she learns the corvid truth.

Jenny, I got your number: Species 847-2309 A big speed bump to Seven’s reintegration comes in “Prey” when the Hirogen are demanding the crew hand over an injured being from Species 8472. Janeway tries to teach her the value of compassion for a helpless creature, but Seven loses any trust that’s she has built up by deciding on her own to issue them a death sentence and beam them over to the Hirogen vessel to be murdered.

Sometimes your words just hypnotize me While we’ve already thoroughly put most of the blame for this one on the EMH’s shoulders, Seven isn’t entirely innocent when it comes to the episode “Retrospect.” She’s quick to believe his quack psychiatry and accuses Kovin of violating her just because the Doctor tells her to. If anyone was going to view the facts first, even under duress, it should have been Seven.

From Alpha to Omega The Borg strives for perfection, so Seven gets super into the Omega particle in “The Omega Directive” so much so that it becomes an infatuation. She stops considering reason and the danger of the situation that this highly unstable particle poses, which seems entirely unlike Seven most of the time. Like, it’s a cool particle, but don’t get everyone killed just to look at it, lady.

This is a starship, not a nature preserve After living among the crew for close to two seasons, you’d think Seven would have a slightly better handle on tact by the time we get to “Someone to Watch Over Me,” but apparently she’s just as inappropriate as ever just so the writers can make a joke. Frankly, watching her study Tom and B’Elanna’s mating habits makes me roll my eyes at the inanity.

We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own Oh, and we can’t forget all the assimilating that Seven did as a Borg, even if it’s hard to blame her as a person for it. But she sure does, so we’ll take that pass and run with it. We have a perfect example of it in the flashback story in “Survival Instinct” when she forces the little mini collective who’ve been showing signs of individuality to assimilate, ruining their very lives.

It’ll be like a simple night's sleep I can’t help but harp on this moment in “Dragon’s Teeth” when Seven opens up all the crypods and releases the Vaad’waur from stasis… for absolutely no reason. Scratch that: the reason was to move the plot forward. But really. Seven of all people should know better than to release swarms of randos without investigating the circumstances first. They could be assholes!

The caretaker array is turning the frogs gay! Okay, while I’d admit that this one might inadvertently (or maybe advertently?) be the funniest episode of Voyager, you’ve got to admit that Seven downloading all the logs into her Borg brain in “The Voyager Conspiracy” is hare-brained. Like when the Doc turns himself into Mr. Hyde in “Darkling,” Seven tampers with her mind and ends up turning into a conspiracy nutjob.

Fun will now commence On the flipside, some of the moments that are meant to be comedic fall flat in “Ashes to Ashes” when Seven teaches the dronelings a basic educational curriculum. She has no idea what she’s doing in providing the basic education of the kiddos… and it’s not her job! It’s clear the writers have only stuffed her in these circumstances for some chuckles, but I see through it!

We aren’t far from the boner of your people While I’ll be the first to stand up for the Chakotay-Seven relationship (rushed though it was), any time there’s weird romantic and/or sexual bullshit in the holodeck, I admit the red flags go up. So when Seven makes herself a holo-Chakotay in “Human Error,” that’s a no no. We’ve chewed out La Forge and Janeway for this before, and just wait until our surprise spotlight next week!

—

Turns out resistance wasn’t futile! We’ve just got one more bonus Voyager character spotlight before our Enterprise series wrap – and it’s a doozy! So make sure you’ve got this holoprogram running, follow the page for future spotlights and blogtivities, celebrate with us as we get through the rest of Enterprise on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast, chat with our hivemind over on Facebook and Twitter, and we are Borg!

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calif0rnia-lovers · 2 years

Text

kiss it better 03.

pairing: jax teller x black!reader | warning: not much in this chapter tbh

sum: you’re back in charming. perfect timing for a storm is brewing. jax teller has an unquenchable thirst for vengeance.

chapter 02.

The moment he comes to Jax knows he has overslept.

The sun was bright, slowly creeping toward the center of the sky. Its rays slipped through the thin curtains casting a glow across the bedroom.

Despite resting for ten hours, Jax’s body remains bogged by exhaustion. Ten hours paled to the amount of sleep needed for his body to replenish the remaining hours of his sleep deficit. His mind attempts to drift to the cellphone across the room. His slumber meant there were unanswered calls and messages waiting for his attention. Jax nuzzles his face back into the inviting warmth of his pillow.

The rise and fall of his pillow come in a steady rhythm, one that could easily lull him back to sleep.

His eyes open to find you asleep. Your bodies had remained close throughout the night. In the center of the bed, you had somehow managed not to be awoken by the sunlight filling the room.

Jax blinks, part of him thinking you would be gone once the action was over. The last few days had passed in an endless blur of moments. He wouldn’t be surprised if the image of you were an evil illusion summoned by his sleep-deprived senses.

Now he is awake, Jax wonders how the news of Opie’s passing reached you. When he was released, his first instinct was to call you. Not Gemma, but you.

He would have, but he knew the number he’d spent years committing to memory was disconnected. The pain he’d felt deep within his chest when he’d first dialed the number to no avail was one he’d never experienced. Its initial impact was sharp, coming as fast as it left. Soon, the sharp pain subsided, melting into an unnatural, soft dull pain that lingered for days. The ache was temporarily forgotten as Jax tackled the fires of his day. It returned to the front of his mind when he had a moment of downtime.

It took him nearly a month after your departure to learn the meaning of the pain resonating in his chest. It was the soft and slow tearing of his heart.

He’d spent months angry at you, the bitter hatred of your decision to sever all ties with him spilling into every aspect of his life. His temper nipped short, leading to Jax butting heads with everyone who stepped foot in his direction. As the exhaustion of being angry wore off, he started the chase of distraction.

Days packed full of tasks for him to complete. The list ran from the rising to the setting of the sun. The moment the list was complete, Jax was rewarded with a night of decadence. A dangerous cocktail of alcohol and heated moments with Lisa.

The vicious cycle was endless, but it kept Jax distracted from the dull pain in his chest.

When his eyes return to your face, Jax finds your gaze focused on him.

“Mornin',” he whispered softly.

“You look like shit,” you manage.

The soft smile your words sparks brings your touch to the warmth of his cheek.

“Trust me, I feel like it.”

You could echo the sentiment, but your voice is trapped in your throat. The soft smile on Jax's lips had faded slowly, his expression inscrutable. His eyes met yours before moving down to your lips.

His gaze pinned you in place, the air leaving your lungs as his touch grazed your cheek. It was a look you had encountered a handful of times in his presence. Each time, Jax had mustered enough willpower to suppress it. As his thumb dragged over your bottom lip, you realized he had no intention of pulling away.

Before he could persuade himself it was a terrible idea, Jax lowered his head and pressed his lips to yours.

They were gone as fast as they had come. The initial action is simple testing of the waters.

When they returned, the kiss was gentle and hard at once. Jax's beard was coarse as it scraped against your skin, his lips soft as they moved against yours.

Jax’s body relaxed, your arms snaking around the back of his neck, his weight shifting to press you into the mattress. Your fingers carded through his soft locks urging his tongue to part your lips. The kiss melted into a slow pace, Jax’s expert exploration of your mouth fogging your mind. You could only think of how to keep his lips on yours.

This was a slippery slope, but neither of you could pull away. Your kisses were different than any he’s previously shared. Jax’s most intimate moments panned out like every moment in his life. Rough, heated, and fast. They satisfied his need for a temporary high yet always left him wanting more.

Your kisses were heartfelt, your touch inviting as it drifted down his spine. The combination mysteriously seized control of his mind. It commanded his body to slow down. It allowed him to savor the softness of your lips, the warmth of your skin under his touch. The way your body responded to his, your hips dangerously arching up to meet his.

The ringing of his phone seemed to break Jax from your spell.

You both paused, panting and breathless, listening to the chime of his phone echo off the walls of the quiet house. Jax’s heart pounded against his ribs, yours beating in tandem.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Jax’s words trail off as his eyes pass over your parted lips.

What was the point of lying?

He had meant to kiss you. Hell he would have done more than that if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“It’s okay.”

You push yourself up, thankful for the distance it forces Jax to put between the two of you.

With fresh air in your lungs, the fog in your mind quickly recedes. An unsettling twinge of guilt tightens your stomach as Jax’s eyes meet yours.

A slippery slope.

A single kiss had tipped the scales. It would take a far more painful act to reset the balance.

You cannot stay here.

The reminder pushes you off the bed.

Thankfully, the ringer doesn’t relent. The moment it dies, the sound returns with a second call. Jax’s eyes track your movements, his silence prompting you to glance in his direction.

“You should get that. I’m going to shower.”

Not tonight.

Your foolish words echo through your mind as you stare down the Reaper grinning at you.

It looks like you’re a bit rusty, sweetheart. You foolishly allowed me to rest.

The slip of your tongue hadn’t registered until nearly an hour after you left Jax alone in his bed.

Not tonight.

The limitation on his retaliation was up. The sun was now high in the sky, blazing down on the crowded parking lot of the Teller-Morrow automotive repair shop.

The patched members of SAMCRO had filed outside with the anticipated arrival of their president. Too intoxicated the night before, Jax had allowed you to drive him home. Which resulted in you having to give him a ride back. Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. But, today, you wish Jax didn’t require your help.

He was across the parking lot, back to you as he spoke to a man you didn’t recognize. Despite the distance between the two of you, you could still feel the weight of his body against yours. The warmth of his mouth against yours, and how easily it coaxed you to cross a line you’d spent years avoiding.

“What’s troubling your mind, sweetheart?”

You find Bobby’s eyes on you. Rubbing a cloth against his glasses, he awaits your response.

You nod in the direction of Jax, your gaze returning to the man he speaks to. Arms crossed over his chest, he rests against the black SUV behind him.

“Who’s Jax talking to?”

“Nero,” Bobby explains. “He’s helping us out with something.”

“Something?” You echo, your brow arched in amusement as Bobby meets your gaze. The action pulls a chuckle from the older man. “Am I better off not knowing?”

“Depends,” he shrugs, eyes watching as your attention returns to Jax. “On how good you were at comforting Jax last night. Don't want to bring out your jealous side.”

Your eyes roll at the implication.

“I got him to sleep,” you sigh. “Something none of you knuckleheads bothered to do.”

Bobby releases a chuckle, unconvinced. “The kid’s stubborn, same as you.”

“How were things with him before…”

Bobby remains silent as he struggles to find words, to sum up, the events that have occurred in your absence.

“Jax has been preparing for the gavel since he was born,” his eyes take in the crowded lot. “But I don’t you can ever really prepare for it, legacy or not. He’s been trying to steer us in the right direction, but…”

With listening ears nearby, you watch Bobby’s brows rise in suggestion. You don’t need him to complete his statement.

You noticed Clay’s absence the moment you arrived. Although you were glad he wasn’t around to add more to his stepson’s plate, you knew Clay’s absence still weighed heavy on Jax’s mind.

Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

With Clay out of sight, Jax wasn’t able to see what he was plotting.

As if sensing your thoughts, Clay steps out of the clubhouse.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”

Your words come out low enough to only be heard by Bobby, but Clay’s gaze scans the crowded lot before settling on you.

He’s visibly aged since your last sighting of the former president. The tubes tucked into his nostrils snaked down his chest to the oxygen tank in his left hand. He looked meek and surely incapable of riding his bike out with the rest of the club. His expression remained unreadable as you lifted your hand offering him a wave.

“I don’t imagine he’s been supporting Jax in his new role?”

With a slight shake of his head, Bobby wraps his arm around your shoulder. Giving you a gentle squeeze, he offers you a warm smile as your head briefly rests against him.

“It’s good to have you back.”

Soon you’re left alone, nervous energy radiating through your body as Jax makes his way toward you.

Despite the feeling, you cannot deny him a smile as Jax comes to a stop before you. The smile on his face is one you’d spent years missing. Paired with the bright blue eyes searching your expression, you almost forget about the circumstances surrounding your arrival the night before.

Not tonight.

You blink, eyes dropping from his to your worn sneakers.

“Thanks for last night,” he says, his fingers finding yours.

Your eyes focus on his split knuckles. Your thumb gingerly passes over the damaged skin.

“And this morning.”

The second half of his statement comes as your eyes meet his.

“I just want you to be okay.”

It’s not a lie. You’ve never meant anything as much as the words you’ve just spoken. The problem is, you know placating Jax’s current state would only lead to a more difficult departure.

“It feels that way when you’re here.” The softly uttered admission is not meant for your ears.

Jax reaches into the chest pocket of his kutte. He retrieves a familiar scratched eight ball. The same keychain you’d passed to him the last time you said goodbye in the same spot years before. The key he’d forged for you still sits on the ring.

His throat clears as your fingers brush his in retrieval of the key. “You can uh–stay with me as long as you’re here.”

You meet his gaze. His eyes are curious. His invitation is a shoddy attempt at asking the question his lips can’t utter.

How long will you stay?

“Thank you.”

You house the keychain in your front pocket, a silence falling over the two of you.

You can feel her gaze before you spot her. It sears into your skin as your fingers remain interlaced with Jax’s.

Jax follows your gaze, a deep breath filling his lungs as he glimpses Gemma's narrowed eyes. The corner of his lips tugs into a smile as he shifts, blocking you from her sight.

“Play nice,” he sighs. The twinkle of amusement in his eyes relaxes your tense grip on his fingers. “The last thing I need is to break up a fight between you two.”

“I’ll play nice if she does.” Your matter-of-a-fact tone morphs his smile into a grin.

He knew your words rang true. He never dreamt he’d witness a woman who could go toe to toe with his mother until he met you.

The warmth of his hands against your cheeks forces your gaze to meet his. You make a point of allowing your eyes to roll as you huff a “fine.”

“I’m only doing it because you asked,” you mumble.

You can feel your body relax as his soft chuckle fills your ears. Your eyes drift shut as his lips press against your forehead. A parting gift he’d given you for as long as you can remember.

“I gotta go,” Jax mumbles. Despite the admission, you both remain where you stand.

Your lips meet his halfway. The featherlight kiss drew his hands down your spine. Pulling you closer, he deepens the kiss as you relax against his chest.

“Be safe, please.”

Jax’s response to your request comes in a gentle squeeze of your waist. He slips his sunglasses over his eyes before starting toward his bike.

Your mind drives away with Jax as he disappears through the parking lot gates. The distraction allows Gemma to settle alongside you, her voice causing you to jump.

“Gotta admit, I’m surprised you lasted the night.” Your eyes remain on the gates, but Gemma can easily read the tightening of your stance. Her shade-covered eyes rake down your entire frame. “Thought you’d vanish before the sunrise. Isn’t that more your style?”

The breath you take comes out softer than you expect. The smile you’ve fixed on your face instantly forces your shoulders to relax.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed, Gem.”

Gemma lets out a dry laugh as you face her. Instead of matching your words with a snide remark, she nods over her shoulder.

“It's too hot to do this out here,” she sighs, her hand raising to fan her face. “Let’s go in.”

You follow Gemma across the lot towards her office.

The cramped room welcomes you with the forgiving breeze of AC. You sink into the seat opposite hers, eyes passing over the familiar walls. Not much has changed. Her desk is still cluttered, stacked high with files and receipts. The only additions you can easily find are the updated photos tacked against the wall.

A soft smile finds your lips as you observe a photo of Jax.

He sits on his Harley, his son seated in front of him wore his helmet. Older than your last encounter, Abel wears a smile that matches his father's.

“You must have really missed it here.”

Your brow arches, gaze leaving the photo to find Gemma relaxed in her chair. She takes a drag of her cigarette before pointing the lit tip toward you.

“You came running back the second you got a chance.”

“I never missed this place. It’s full of leeches that suck you dry.” Gemma scoffs as your eyes linger on her. “I did miss the weather. Winters in New York are too cold for my taste.”

Gemma’s brow lifts at the admission. “Thought you’d be used to it by now.”

“Why?”

“Jax mentioned that’s where you’re from.”

“Not originally. My mom and I moved there when I was four.”

“What about your dad?”

You shrug.

Breaching the topic of family history is never something you enjoy. Let alone with Gemma on the receiving end. Although you had lived in Charming for five years, Gemma can admit she barely knows much about you.

You had never taken a liking to her. Which was fine for her, Gemma never liked you. She watched you arrive, a stranger to the ways of her lifestyle, but you somehow easily fit in. The moment her son laid eyes on you, Jax was incapable of escaping you. The hold you had over her son, Gemma couldn’t comprehend.

Five years, and not once did you allow Jax to cross the line of friendship. That’s why he couldn't get rid of Lisa. As long as the line remained uncrossed, Lisa believed there was hope.

You knew why Gemma didn’t like you. She feared the influence you had over her son, even if you didn’t recognize the full extent of it.

Lisa thought the way to Jax’s heart was sex. She was naive to believe her tactics would work. No matter how powerful, time and time again, men have fallen victim to the lure of a woman’s touch. Men, much more powerful than Jax Teller, had lost their families and fortunes to a woman able to get them in bed. That’s why Gemma permitted Lisa to stay around. Lisa was incapable of seeing the bigger picture, and that’s how Gemma wanted things to stay.

A woman blinded by the power and money she believed Jax possessed would never think to persuade him to desert it.

A woman who could see through the allure and convince Jax to do the same, was dangerous. That is why her comment comes out with a laugh.

“Lemme guess, your daddy’s locked up somewhere. Serving life for some crime he didn’t commit?”

“Might as well be,” you watch her smile dim as you ignore the bait. “He hasn’t laid eyes on me since I was born.”

A silence falls over the office as Gemma’s eyes study you. If you’re irritated by her previous statement, you show no sign.

“Well, you’re doing pretty good without him from what I hear.”

“And what have you heard?”

“You got a good-paying job waiting for you back in New York.” Tapping her cigarette against the rim of the ashtray, she meets your gaze. “How much time they give you to come here?”

You smile at her question.

Classic Gemma.

Skillfully distracting her prey before hooking them with unsuspecting bait. Only, you’ve been in the ring with her before.

“I took a week off.”

Leaning forward, she crushes her cigarette against the bottom of the ashtray.

“Well, since you’re gonna be here a while I got something for you–”

“I don’t need any favors, Gemma.”

Like many things in Charming, favors from Gemma Teller-Morrow came with strings attached.

“It’s not a favor, sweetheart.” Gemma’s eyes roll. “And it’s not from me.”

You watch her stand. She picks a key up from the board hanging behind her desk. Turning to face you she weighs it in her palm, her eyes taking in your current state of confusion.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she steps around the desk walking to the door. “We can finally get this hunk of trash out of the garage. It’s taking up space for potential customers.”

The “hunk of trash” Gemma referred to sits at the center of the garage. The red 1965 Ford Mustang is a sight for sore eyes. It was the last thing tying you to the father you couldn’t remember. Left with your mother, the car was the only thing she had bothered to keep that came from the man who disappeared faster than the ink could dry on your birth certificate.

“If it were up to me, I would have had it crushed at the junkyard when you left,” Gemma says, eyes tracking your movements as you step into the garage for a closer look. “But ya know Jax. He made sure the prospect kept it in pristine condition in case you ever came back.”

“It’s a good thing he doesn’t take after you.”

“You’re right,” Gemma’s nose scrunches at the comment. “Jackson has always taken after his father. Right down to the bleeding heart. That’s what got him killed.”

You jump, managing to catch the keys poorly cast in your direction.

“Phil.” Gemma waves the prospect over. “Follow her, so she can return her rental. Finally, give us a reason to get her car outta here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

"For someone who called me here, you sure delivered an icy welcome." Your comment stops Gemma in her tracks.

Her dark eyes narrow as she takes in your expectant expression. Your words may have stopped short, but the unspoken question is loud and clear.

Why the hell did you call me here?

"See you when you get back."

The prospect watches your eyes follow Gemma out of the garage. He offers you a warm smile as your eyes drift to him.

“So you’re the mystery owner,” he says, hand running over the hood. “Jax’s been gatekeeping this one.”

Your brow arches prompting him to elaborate.

“Everyone who sees this car asks to buy it,” he chuckles. “Just last week, some suit came through and offered Jax 60k, cash if he was willing to part ways with it. Gem was pissed when he said no.”

A smile spread across your lips at the thought of Jax resisting Gemma throwing a fit.

“I’m Phil.” He offers you his hand.

You drop the key in Phil’s hand before starting toward the garage’s entrance.

“Y/N. You can follow me.”

It's not up for discussion, Jackson.

150 kilos. Three weeks.

Damon Pope's voices echoes through his mind as Jax parks before the clubhouse.

His latest meeting with the kingpin was proving to be problematic.

150 kilos. Three weeks.

Jax had difficulty moving fifty kilos to meet Pope's last deadline. He cannot fathom how the kingpin expected him to move more than double that in the same length of time. Let alone convince the club to assist in the matter.

Jax wasn't naive--his table was divided. A divided table can lead to a king's downfall. Clay was a living testament.

Since the meeting, Jax had connected with the Mayan president. Alvarez hadn't bothered to ask if Jax was okay.

"Sorry about your friend, hermano," he'd sighed as he'd answered Jax's call.

The conversation delegated a meet-up for the two MCs. Alvarez knew better than most that the responsibilities of a king did not stop for a loss.

Even if Jax could secure help from the Mayans, it was still too much product.

Fuck.

"So, the rumors are true." The smile on Eli's face stretched into a grin as he watched Jax's pace stall. Damn. He loved catching the SAMCRO leader off guard. "Your girlfriend's back in town."

Jax lifts an unlit cigarette to his lips, eyes taking in the Lieutenant casually resting against the hood of your Mustang. He pauses to light it.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Right." Eli slowly drug out the word, his eyes taking in Jax's current state.

Since their last meeting, Jax had earned himself new bruises.

Jax allows the smoke to leave his lungs before raising his question.

"Is there a reason you're here?" It's a genuine question. What little patience Jax had was threatening to run thin as he took in Eli's smile.

A dry laugh escapes Eli's mouth, the sound tightening Jax's jaw.

Shrugging off the car, he invades the President's space, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"I keep trying to figure out how the fuck you manage to squirm outta every cage I manage to put you in," Eli's growled. "That murder charge was airtight."

"Clearly," Jax huffs. "It wasn't."

Dropping it to the ground, Jax ground the cigarette with his shoe.

"Look, man. If you came to ask how I got out, I can cut this enlightening conversation short. I don't know any more than you do." Jax allowed Eli's fiery eyes to search his.

All the Lieutenant found was two pools of cool blue. The tone of Jax's voice would have convinced most. Eli, however, knew Jax was a master of gatekeeping secrets.

"Now, I gotta go," lighting patting the man's chest, Jax ignored the gritting of Eli's teeth. "I'm sure you're aware, we both have jobs to do. Last time I checked, my taxes aren't paying for you to sit on your ass in my shop's lot."

Eli reacts quicker than Jax. His grip caught Jax's arm, bruisingly pressing into his skin, keeping him in place.

He felt Jax's body change in a matter of half a second. The calm, relaxed posture tensed as Eli's grip tightened. Jax's rigid stance paled in comparison to the frigid icy blue gaze that passed over Eli's face before lowering to his grip.

"There's the man I've been hearing about," Eli chuckled, his smile stretching as Jax's jaw locked into place. He tightened his grip, the slight flinch of Jax's left eye the only sign the pain had registered. "Thought you'd let Pope scare it outta ya."

"I suggest you move your hand," Jax's voice came out low and level, the threat pooling in his eyes loosening Eli's grip.

Eli's touch falls away, the pounding of the blood rushing in Jax's ears prompting Jax to take a step forward. His fight instinct had flipped on as quick as a switch. Jax catches sight of the panic that briefly flashes in the Lieutenant's eyes, Eli's right hand instinctively moving to the holster on his hip.

The pain registering against his right palm pulls Jax's gaze from Eli's holster. Relaxing his clenched fist, Jax forces a harsh breath from his lungs.

"Unless you plan on leaving your condolences, I suggest you get the fuck out of here, Eli," Jax growled.

He didn't wait for a response. Neither man can comprehend what force pulled Jax back. It guided him across the lot towards the clubhouse, prompting Jax to back down from a fight they both knew his rage would easily allow him to win.

"I'll admit I took you for a lot of things, Teller, but not the type of man that would blatantly disrespect Opie by playing nice with the man responsible for his death?"

Eli's words echoed across the empty lot.

They halt Jax's movements, forcing him to stop just shy of the door. A long second passes, Jax's fists clenching.

Eli waits, ready to receive Jax's backlash. He just needed verbal confirmation. A verbal confirmation of the relationship between the Oakland kingpin and SAMCRO.

But Eli's request was denied as Jax yanked the door open before disappearing inside.

You pass Phil another beer, watching as he slides it into the fridge. Phil is behind the bar restocking it in preparation for the meeting Jax had called.

Although most members of SAMCRO had filed through the door an hour ago, you had yet to see Jax. To pass the time, you had busied yourself with helping Phil complete small tasks around the clubhouse.

The prospect seemed to be thankful for your company. He quickly found what Jax liked about you. You were easy to talk to.

Your eyes pass over the crowded room. "So…any idea what this meeting is about?"

Phil's eyes briefly meet yours before returning to the beer you offer him. His voice lowers, prompting you to lean across the bar to hear.

"All I know is…there’s a big shipment the guys gotta vote on today."

"That explains why Jax is tense."

"Everyone is," Phil admits. "Pope is offering the club a lot of money if Jax can pull it off."

Your muscles tense. A cold shiver runs down your spine.

"Pope?"

"Damon Pope, some big hitter from Oakland—"

Phil tenses. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see Jax stalking through the door.

The laughter and conversations quickly die down as the President's return registers.

You watch as Lisa instantly perks up, her posture straightening as Jax's eyes drift to her. Seated at the opposite end of the bar, she has spent the last hour shooting daggers at you. The beer in her hand was nearly empty. She had tried to pass the time by flirting with Frankie Diamonds.

It didn't take more than a single look over for you to register how tight Jax was wound.

His eyes follow Lisa's gaze to you. His brow arches as his eyes meet yours.

“Your guard dogs are extra feisty today,” you note as he stops beside you.

"Can’t do much about that, darling," he sighs, reaching over the bar for a beer. “Not trying to get bit today.”

He glances over at you, surprised by your lack of comment. He takes a sip of his beer before settling on the stool next to yours. He doesn’t object as you take the bottle to do the same.

“Jax–”

“I’m good.” His response is automatic. He’s repeated it a handful of times today. Each time he said it, he believed it would move him one step closer to it becoming true.

“That’s…good,” your brow furrows, eyes watching as he slowly turns the ring on his left hand. “But that’s not what I was going to ask.”

Jax’s eyes lift to find yours focused on the bottle in your hand.

“Since when are you working with Damon Pope?”

To no surprise, your question is met with silence.

In all your years as friends, you had never desired to learn the details of the club’s business. Jax was thankful for your desire. It made it easier for him to filter out the bullshit in your presence.

Jax's brow raises as he accepts the bottle from you. “How’d you hear about that?”

It is your turn to be shocked by the presented question.

You hadn’t expected him to respond, let alone not attempt to deny your words. Instead, of deflecting the question, Jax had taken it head on. The look of confusion on his face causes you to swallow.

“Does it really matter?” You ask, suddenly wary his question may be an act of avoidance.

Jax’s jaw tightens his eyes slowly passing over the room. He releases his breath as his gaze lands on Phil. The prospect trying his best to avoid Jax’s gaze as he ferociously scrubbed a clean table with a rag.

“It does matter,” Jax’s gaze remains on Phil. “The club’s not advertising that information yet. We still got shit to work out—“

His eyes glance in your direction, his words stopping short. He knows he’s already said enough by confirming your suspicion.

“I know it’s not—“

“Your place to speak on?”

Jax watches you recoil at his harshly spoken words. The sight was one he’d hoped to never see from you again.

"Shit. I didn’t mean that.”

He sighs, hand running down his face. His eyes gripped shut. He tried his best to force down the anger still bubbling from his encounter with Eli. Lifting the bottle to his lips, how downed the chilled liquid to the last drop.

His tired eyes lifts to meet your gaze. When he speaks this time, his voice is softer.

“It’s just…I’ve been hearing everyone’s opinion on this all morning.”

“It’s a bad idea to work with him, Jackson.”

The conviction in your voice gives Jax pause. His brow furrows.

“What do you know about him?”

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