#the struggle of wanting to hit certain story beats every chapter... the word count just keeps getting higher and higher.............

[orcelito]

OK. Can't report any more progress made on the chapter bc I got caught up reading a fic lmaoooooo

Oh well. There's always tomorrow.

[roanofarcc]

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE → THE COME DOWN

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 4.7k || masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

The instant Steve pulled the stolen car into the Byers driveway, every ounce of adrenaline disappeared. It hit him all at once after he threw open the car door and stumbled out, falling to his knees in the grass. The world spun too quickly for him to stomach. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pass out, throw up, or both. The only thing he could get his body to do was close his eyes. 

A hand shook his shoulder lightly and a soft voice sounded in his ears. “Steve?” Sunshine called his name. 

He swallowed down his nausea and peeled his eyes open. “I’m good. I’m just-” 

“Beat to hell?” Dustin finished Steve's sentence, standing over him with arms crossed. “You look awful, dude.” 

“Thanks, bud,” Steve muttered. With a groan, he struggled to his feet and attempted to move toward the front door, but pain clouded his mind and halted his movements. He swayed forward but was caught by both Sunshine and Dustin.

Before they could walk up the driveway, a loud “Fuck!” echoed through the quiet night, and their attention was pulled back to the car where Mike sat halfway out with one foot in the driveway and the other hovering slightly in the air. 

“What’s wrong?” Sunshine asked. 

The kid, as irritatingly stubborn as the rest of them, shook his head and tried to stand again, but the second he tried to stand on both feet, he fell back into the seat. “It’s my ankle,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Max, Lucas, help Mike inside and we’ll get Steve,” Sunshine directed. 

They all made it inside. Sunshine and Dustin exchanged words that Steve missed; he was more focused on not falling face-first to the ground. The pain in his face let him know whatever Hargrove had done wasn’t pretty, and he didn’t need to mess himself up anymore. Besides the pain in his face, his knuckles stung, his vision was a little blurry, and he was certain a rib or two was bruised because it hurt every time he inhaled. 

He was led into the bathroom and all but collapsed on top of the closed toilet seat. Dustin left and Sunshine quietly rummaged through the cabinets until she found a small basket of medical supplies. 

He felt terrible, but he didn’t want to admit that. It felt a little unfair of him to do so, when Sunshine saved their asses multiple times that night and also looked beat up because of it. Steve felt like he deserved to mull over his mistakes with the dried blood around his cuts and thundering headache. 

“Sunshine, I’m fine-” 

She shot him a look that cut him off. He pressed his split lips into a thin line as he gazed into her golden eyes. “Just let me help.” 

He was too tired to argue, so he sighed in defeat and stayed quiet as Sunshine wet a washcloth and pressed his against the cuts on his face. She tried to be as gentle as possible, but Steve couldn’t help but wince each time the washcloth touched one of his deep scrapes either from shards of broken glass or Billy’s knuckles. 

The pain was a lot, so he tried to distract himself from it. He focused on Sunshine, who leaned down close to his face. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Fresh red and purple bruises had grown along the bridge of her nose and spread out across the apples of her cheeks. Blood stained the skin between her nose and upper lip, and it was smeared across the corner of her mouth in a way he hadn’t noticed before. It stared for another moment before he realized the blood had come from a nasty split along the corner of her mouth that he was sure wasn’t there before. 

He wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing before his thumb brushed across the skin just under the split, wiping away some of the dried blood. “What happened?” he asked. It was stupid, in the grand scheme of things. The number of injuries they all had accumulated throughout the past day and night was staggering, but something about the cut didn’t sit right with him. 

Sunshine paused and backed away from him to gaze at herself in the mirror. She was quiet for a moment like she was trying to remember how she managed to get that cut throughout their hellish night. Then, she shook her head and discarded the bloody rag in the sink before she grabbed a box of band-aids. 

“Billy,” she replied, simply, and started to cover his face in the color band-aids that Steve assumed were Will’s because they had pictures of characters Steve didn’t know. 

“He hit you?” He didn’t know what happened after Billy knocked him out; the last thing he remembered was a plate being smashed over his head and then hitting the ground. The next thing he knew, he was in the backseat of a car being driven by a child. But the thought of Billy hurting Sunshine or any one of the kids caused anger and guilt to rise steadily inside of him. 

“Well, I did try to blind him.” There was a light humor to her voice, but Steve didn’t find it funny. He wanted to believe his fight with Jonathan last fall was a fluke; his mind had been all over the place and that threw him off his game. But, failing to stop Billy from getting inside and causing damage just confirmed that he was not a fighter. He got himself beat up, Sunshine got hurt, and who knew what else happened while he was miserably knocked out. 

“I’m sorry," Steve sighed. 

Sunshine stopped what she was doing and peered at him quizzically. “For what?” 

“For not stopping that asshole from getting inside or hurting you. And God only knows what would have happened to the kids if you weren’t there. I…I’m sorry.” 

Steve couldn’t read the expression Sunshine wore, but there was something about the gaze in her eyes that was overwhelming. Her eyes were red, probably from whatever kind of toxic air was inside the tunnels they were in, but the little illuminated flecks of gold intensified her gaze. 

“The kids are okay. I’m okay. You, on the other hand, are not.” 

With a half-hearted shrug, he replied, “I’m just a little banged up.” 

Sunshine dropped what she had been doing and sucked in a shuttered breath. “I thought he was going to kill you.” The lowness of her voice startled him; it was twisted with emotion. It almost sounded like she was on the verge of tears, and he couldn’t wrap his brain around why. “He wouldn’t stop. A-And you just…I was so scared, Steve.” 

Her words took him aback. She stared at him with such an intensity in her eyes that it nearly took his breath away. He was sure no one had ever looked at him like that before; he wasn’t sure anyone had ever seemed to care that much about him before. Steve didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about it, besides confused.  His head hurt too much to think about it. 

Clearing his throat, Steve tried to reel himself back in. “I’m fine. It’s gonna take a lot more than some mullet-wearing-asshole to kill me, okay?” 

A small and tired smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “Promise?” 

Steve returned the smile. “Promise. Unfortunately, that means you're going to be stuck with me for a while.” The world wasn’t going to end that night; they had time. 

“I’m okay with that,” she replied and continued placing band-aids across his face. Once she was done, she leaned back against the wall and let out a breathy sigh. “There’s medicine in the kitchen that should help with the pain. We can-” 

“Yeah, I’ll get some later. But now, it’s your turn.” He stood up, ignoring the pain in his muscles as he moved, and gestured to the seat. “Sit.” 

She looked ready to protest, but he turned away in search of more first aid supplies. He heard her huff before she sat down. Comfortable silence engulfed them. He cleaned the blood off her face and was careful not to disturb the angry bruises from using her powers any more than they already were. There wasn’t much either one of them could do with the supplies Ms. Byers had. In her defense, she probably wasn’t prepared for her home to become the home base for a monster-infested night. 

Steve changed the gauze that covered Sunshine’s tattoo and winced when he saw the bruises the vines left behind. If her wrists were already black and blue, he could only imagine what Mike’s ankle looked like; no wonder the kid could hardly walk on it. 

Once they both were in slightly better-looking shape, voices rose from the living room that indicated the others were back. They wordlessly left the bathroom and found the Byers clan and Nancy in the living room. 

The newly arrived group turned at the sound of Steve and Sunshine’s footsteps. Nancy rushed towards them, sweaty and disheveled. "Jesus! What happened to you guys?"

In the mess of feelings and pain that had a hold of his body and mind, Steve had almost forgotten that he and Nancy had officially broken up just hours prior. Almost. 

“Long story,” Steve said, brushing off her concern. 

Sunshine pushed the attention away from them quickly, not necessarily wanting them to know they did exactly what they were instructed not to do. “How is he?” she asked, looking at Will who was fast asleep in Jonathan’s arms. The kid looked just as bad as he had when they left, but noticeable calmness to his slumber. They had gotten the Mind Flyer out of him, thank God. 

“He’ll be okay, I think,” Jonathan said. 

Joyce approached them after she had checked on the kids, who were scatted around the living room. Dark circles hung under the woman’s eyes, but there was a sense of ease in her shoulders. Steve couldn’t fathom what she felt like after all she and her family had been through. She had nearly lost her son again. Yet, somehow Steve knew Joyce would never give up home on her sons, no matter what kind of otherworldly dangers they had to face. 

Steve wondered what it was like to have a mother as devoted and determined as Joyce. She had fought monsters and entered another dimension to save Will, all while everyone in town called her crazy. Steve loved his mother, but he didn’t believe she’d go through all of that to get him back. Joyce was unlike most parents in Hawkins, as were Sunshine’s parents. Most were shitty, absent, or indifferent. But Steve was glad that the kids who had been through the most had good parents to fall back on. If anyone deserved that, it was them. 

Joyce’s face scrunched up in concern when her eyes landed on him and Sunshine. “What happened? Are you two okay?” 

Steve nodded his head. “We’re okay, Ms. Byers.” 

She didn’t seem to believe his words, but she didn’t say anything else about it. 

“Listen, everyone’s staying here tonight,” she said to everyone. “You can call your parents in the morning, but I don’t want anyone leaving tonight.” 

No one argued. Dustin and Lucas gathered pillows and blankets from around the house and piled them in the living room. Max and Luke finished sweeping the glass up off the floor, and Mike iced his ankle. 

Jonathan put Will to bed, and Joyce followed her boys. 

When they were alone, Nancy turned back to them with her arms crossed over her chest. “Alright, what actually happened? You two look a lot worse than when we left. And don’t say nothing.” 

They didn’t get the chance to say anything before the front door was swung open and a young girl stumbled inside. Leia’s hair was matted to the sides of her head and blood stained underneath her nose in a nearly identical fashion to Sunshine's. Behind her trailed Hopper, who carried a passed-out El in his arms. 

“El!” Mike shouted and tried to stand up from his seat. “Ow,” he grumbled but didn’t let his messed-up ankle keep him from El. He grabbed a hold of her limp hand and squeezed it sweetly. “El?” 

The girl was out cold, though, and didn’t so much as stir in Hopper’s arms. 

Joyce peaked out from Will’s bedroom at the commotion. “You can put her in my room, Hop,” she said. Hopper nodded and headed off in the direction of Joyce’s room, with Mike right behind him. Steve had a feeling that the kid wasn’t going to leave El’s side for the rest of the night, and it didn’t seem like Hopper had the heart to shoo him off. 

Bounding up to Sunshine, Leia smiled up at her sister despite the tiredness that was clear on her pale face. Sunshine was quick to look over Leia for any injuries, but she seemed okay under their circumstances. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Sunshine asked, brushing a couple of knotted pieces of bright blonde hair behind Leia’s ear. 

“I’m sure, just a little tired.” Leia smiled as Hopper and Joyce returned from tucking their kids into bed. “She did it. El closed the Gate!” 

“And she’ll be okay?” Joyce asked the chief. 

He nodded. “She will be. And Will?” 

“I hope so.” 

Just when Steve thought they’d all be free to pass out on Joyce’s floor, Hopper turned to him and Sunshine with furrowed brows. “What the hell happened to you two?” Steve didn’t think they looked that bad. He didn’t think they looked bad enough to warrant so many looks of concern. 

Everyone had gathered together in the living room and all attention was placed on Steve and Sunshine, much to Steve's discomfort. 

Dustin chuckled awkwardly under his breath. “It’s a funny story, actually. Well…okay. It’s not funny, per se, but-” he was cut off by a quick slap on the arm by Lucas. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Nothing happened here. Nothing…at all.” Subtle, Steve thought. Dustin was about as subtle as an earthquake. 

Hopper was a cop and knew how to see through bullshit better than most. So, when he turned to Steve and Sunshine, Steve knew he couldn’t bullshit his way out of that one. “Somebody talk, now.” If anyone was going to get in trouble, Steve knew he rather it be him than Sunshine, even if both of them were technically kidnapped by the gaggle of middle schoolers. 

He was about to explain what had happened, but Max cut him off, much to his surprise. 

“It’s my fault!” she rushed out. “I sort of snuck out of my house earlier with Lucas, so my mom sent my stepbrother to look for me. But he’s an asshole. He found us here and…” She trailed off for a second and looked over her shoulder at where Lucas stared at her. Max’s face was pinched with guilt that didn’t seem fair. “He tried to hurt Lucas, but Steve and Sunshine stopped him. But then Billy kind of beat the shit out of them.” 

Hopper was quiet for a moment before he raised his brows at the teens. “Is that true?” Steve and Sunshine nodded. With a deep sigh, Hopper ran his hands down the length of his face. “Jesus. Okay, well, where is he now? I can call whoever’s on duty-” 

“No,” Steve cut him off. He didn’t want to explain to the Hawkins P.D. that while, yes, Billy did beat the shit out of them and threatened a child, they did steal his car. “Really, it’s fine. We’re good.” 

“Yeah, besides, Max took care of him,” Dustin said, earning himself a look from Hopper that told him he better elaborate. “He kind of was about to kill them and probably us. So, Max stuck him with whatever was in those syringes you gave to knock Will out.” Steve didn’t know that part. He looked to Max, whose cheeks were tinted red, and eyes were glassy. 

Hopper blinked, probably trying to process that information on top of everything else that had occurred that night. A few curse words were muttered under his breath before he asked, “Where is he now?” 

“It wore off, but he was still pretty out of it and just left. He left his car too.” Lucas was the better liar. It probably was what happened, just while they were away in the tunnels because Billy was gone when they returned, and Steve was grateful for that. 

“Okay, I think that’s more than enough questions for tonight,” Joyce said, much to Steve’s relief. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. Everyone, make yourselves comfortable. And I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.” Joyce gave Hopper’s arm a light squeeze, prompting him to follow her into the kitchen, and leaving everyone else to make up their sleeping arrangements in the living room. 

“Max,” Steve called out, beckoning the redhead over. She stepped into the hall, just out of earshot of everyone else. “You know Billy and I’s fight wasn’t your fault, right?” 

His words seemed to throw her off. She turned her gaze onto her shoes and shrugged. “I mean, it kind of is. I’m the reason he came here in the first place.” 

Steve felt awful. Not only was Max thrown into an impossibly terrifying situation with monsters that nearly killed them three times over, but she also had to live with that ragging asshole. If Billy was willing to beat up some kid he hardly knew, what did that mean for Max? It was a shitty situation that Steve knew he couldn’t fix, but the least he could do was make sure Max didn’t feel like what had happened was her fault. 

“It’s not your fault. Billy’s been looking for a fight since you guys moved here. We would have fought sooner or later, and that’s not on you.” 

Max was quiet for a moment before she said, "I’m still sorry about your face and stuff.” Her jaw clenched in anger, but her eyes were still glassy. “Billy, he’s just…he’s so angry all of the time, and I-” she cut herself abruptly. “I’m just sorry, okay? I’m sorry he came here. But thanks for at least kicking his ass a little. He deserved it.” 

“Any time, kid. And if he ever tries to mess with you or Lucas again, I’ll let you borrow my bat.” 

A small smile formed on her face, and Steve counted that a win. “Thanks,” she said and tossed a look over her shoulder for a moment before she looked back at him with a little bit of fire back in her eyes. “But I think I’ll just borrow your girlfriend, instead.” With that, she turned on her heel and rejoined the rest of her friends, leaving Steve confused as to what she was talking about. His hurt still hurt, and he thought maybe he had just misheard her. 

He felt heavy on his feet and made his way over to the couch, falling beside Sunshine. She greeted him with a bump of her shoulder. “Everything okay?” she asked. 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

Sunshine replied with a quiet hum and leaned her head against the back of the couch, closing her eyes. Steve followed suit, letting his exhaustion overtake him. His body sank comfortably into the couch, below the broken window that was hastily covered with a tarp to keep some of the cold air out. Someone spread a blanket across them, and he felt himself begin to drift off, but a weight fell onto his side, and he peered through half-open eyes to see Sunshine’s head resting on his shoulder. 

Sleep was quick to overtake his body, a body that was finally able to rest for what was no doubt the longest night of his life. 

That night, Mike slept on the floor of El’s bedside with his ankle iced and his affection toward the girl overpowering any pain. Nancy sat upright in Will’s desk chair, not daring to close her eyes as she watched over Will and Jonathan’s sleeping figures. Joyce and Hopper shared a cigarette and hushed conversations over hot cups of coffee. Lucas slept curled up on the ground in a sleeping bag he was close to outgrowing, with his lucky bandana still wrapped around his forehead and his wrist rocket within arm's reach. Luke slept in the armchair with his knees pulled into his chest and his face scrunched up. Max and Leia shared an air mattress, too tired to care they were strangers. And Dustin camped out right in front of the couch where two people he had grown a fondness for sleep.

All of Hawkins slept soundly through the night, once again saved by unsung heroes. 

→←

“Should we wake them up?

“I don’t know, they look peaceful. Maybe we should let them sleep?” 

“But what if they can’t wake up? Oh, God! What if they’re dead?” 

“Uh, no. They’re definitely breathing.” 

Sunshine groaned as a swarm of voices assaulted her ears. She rubbed her eyes and winced as her fingers met the settled bruises on her skin. Each little movement of her body ached dully, which she knew was payback for pushing herself. 

“Oh, shit. I think we woke them up.” 

Sunshine forced her eyes open and was met with a series of faces that leaned in too close, startling her into a more awake state. She sat up and yawned. “What’s going on?” 

Dustin smiled at her and pointed toward the kitchen. “Hopper made waffles.” 

Mike rolled his eyes. “Eggos. He put Eggos in the toaster.” 

Beside him, El nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! They are very good.” 

At the sight of her sister, Sunshine’s flooded with relief. “You’re awake.” 

“Yes,” El replied. She narrowed her eyes, which were freed from the dark makeup that covered them before and studied Sunshine for a moment. “Are you okay?” All things considered, Sunshine was fine. She was alive, Will was monster-free, and her three siblings were back in her life. 

“Good!” Leia said, excitedly and loud enough that it woke Steve up. She grabbed Sunshine’s hand and pulled her off the couch. “Because we have so much to tell you!” 

They all took a seat at the table, with a groggy Steve trailing behind them, chuckling softly at the energetic kids. A plate of waffles sat on the table and steaming mugs of coffee were already laid out on the counter for them; Joyce had made them moments ago, according to the kids, before she went to check on Will. 

It wasn’t until Sunshine took a bite that she realized how hungry she was. They all ate waffle after waffle until they were stuffed. 

Once the waffles were gone, coffee was drunk, and certain doom had completely been washed away, they could properly catch up. 

“This isn’t what I thought would be waiting for us back in Hawkins,” Luke said, curled up on one of the chairs with his knees pulled up to his chest, but he seemed a little less tense than he had last night. “I guess the monsters and stuff make sense, but I didn’t think you’d still be here. Why did you stay?” he asked Sunshine. 

The question caught her by surprise. It was crazy how fast her attitude on the town changed. Before she and El escaped, she had been hellbent on running as far away as they could and never looking back. But she had found a home within the people of Hawkins. Her parents remained and so did she. That was her answer, but she felt guilty when she explained it to Luke and Leia. She had a home to return to, and Luke and Leia did not. Maybe they were out there somewhere, and maybe Sunshine could help them find each other. 

Leia smiled brightly with a mouth full of waffles. “Really? You found your parents? That’s awesome! What are they like? Are you nice? Do you have your own room? Oh, man! I wish I had my own room. I had to share with Luke, and he snores.” 

“I don’t snore!” Luke protested. “Would you’ve rather shared a room with Dottie? Or Axel? Hmm? No, I don’t think so.” 

In all of the chaos that had ensured, Sunshine didn’t have much time to think about the fact that there was another child of the Lab out there in the world. “Eight. Kali. Why didn’t she come back with you?” 

A somber look crossed all three kids’ faces. El answered, vaguely, “She said no one here could help us.” Sunshine found that strange. If Kali knew the wonderful people who lived in Hawkins, who had helped her and El, she’d have to change her mind. Kali could have a home with them. But Sunshine did understand the appeal of being anywhere but Hawkins. Without the people she had grown to love, Hawkins was a town packed full of bad memories. The lingering ghost of the Lab shadowed them, and some days were more overwhelming than others. But Sunshine believed Steve when he said no one would let her or her siblings end up back there. 

“She’s scared,” said Luke. “She’ll never admit it, but she’s scared to come back. We were too, but we needed to find you. And we did.”

Leia grabbed a hold of Sunshine’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “And we’re not leaving you, again. I don’t know how, but we’ll figure out a way to stay here. All that matters is that we’re together.” 

“You can live with me and Hopper,” El suggested. Sunshine also hadn’t fully grasped the idea that El had been in Hawkins the whole time, hidden by Hopper who had spent the last year lying to her. She was mad, but she was grateful someone cared for El. It was complicated, too complicated to think about at that moment. 

“You guys could join our party, like El!” Dustin practically bounced up in his seat with enthusiasm a bit too bright for the morning hour. “Of course, we’ll have to ask Will and take a vote, but…oh. First, you guys will have to meet Will, when he feels better. But I think he’ll be cool with it.” 

Under her breath, Max mumbled, “Unbelievable.” 

Beside her, Mike rolled his eyes dramatically. “Relax, Zoomer. You’re in.” 

“Whoa, wait. Really?” She tried to hide the excitement on her face, but it was impossible to miss. 

“Sure, whatever.” Sunshine saw right through Mike’s ‘I don’t care’ attitude. He was morphing back into his old self with his best friend safe and El back in his life. Maybe everything would return to a new normal; Sunshine hoped so. 

“How’s your ankle?” Sunshine asked Mike. His ankle was still wrapped, and she noticed a slight limp in his walk, but he seemed less miserable than last night. 

Mike shrugged. “Fine. It’s not broken, I’m pretty sure. How’re your guys’ faces?” He looked between Sunshine and Steve. The latter had remained quiet, leaning against the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee in his hands. The colorful band-aids on his face helped make his injuries look less awful, but the bruises started to form overnight, and it would be a while before he was back to normal. Sunshine knew school for Steve would be rough come Monday, but she hoped Billy left him alone, at least. At least she only had to answer her worried parents’ questions, not the whole student body’s. 

“I feel about how I look,” Steve replied. 

“So, awful?” Mike smirked.

A playful glare narrowed in Steve’s eyes. “You’re a little shit, you know that, Wheeler?” 

The kids all erupted in laughter; it was a welcomed sound. After their hellish night, she should almost pretend they all had woken up from a normal sleepover. She glanced over at Steve, who was already looking at her. 

“We’ll be okay,” she said, though it was lost to the kids' ears as they found themselves engrossed in another conversation. 

Steve smiled softly and replied, “Yeah.” 

The air of dread fled, and the sun rose in the cloudless sky above Hawkins. Nothing was normal by any means, but things felt like they were on the right track. Sunshine felt that things would be okay after all; they would be okay after all. 

Tag List. @sattlersquarry , @leptitlu , @echoing-oursong

[pars-ley]

Bare yourself (part three)

Pairing: CEO Jimin x female reader

Summary: After a serious hack from your office building, fingers start being pointed but in which direction is the right one and where will that leave you and your boss, Jimin?

Genre: CEO au / smut / angst / series / workplace au / strangers to lovers au / boss/employee au

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Phone sex / Masturbation m and f / Police interrogation / Explicit language / CEO Jimin

Word count: 3.5k

Beta: @erotikkook thank you!

Notes: Ok, so this took me a ridiculously long time to finish, life is manic but here's the next chapter. Thank you for being patient. Hope you all enjoy!

Taglist: @jungkooksbroski @unoriginal-username15432 @yoobikook @vonvi-blog @itsohhonney @kpopnoobsstuff @namyoongles @btsmosphere @autumnbear @ownthesunshine @btstista​

"Miss l/n, we know the hack came from inside the building. All I want to do is find out who's responsible. Which means I need your cooperation." Detective Kim Namjoon peers at you over the frames of his dark glasses. 

"And like I've said, you have my full cooperation. I cannot tell you anything more than I already have." You respond leaning forward on the table, desperate for him to believe you.

He slumps back in his seat and sighs. "Miss l/n, we can't keep doing this back and forth routine. I-"

"Sir, I love my job and I love this company," you interrupt. "I also think very highly of my boss, I. Would. Not. Do. This."

"How high?"

You freeze at his sudden change of questioning. "What?"

"How high?" He repeats. "Is something going on between you two?"

You straighten your back, looking at him through narrowed eyes, feeling the rock of a lie settle in your stomach and weigh you down. "Mr. Kim, I am a professional."

He puts both his hands up in surrender. "No offense intended ma'am. It's just that some of your other coworkers seem quite smitten with him."

You almost roll your eyes, knowing you were probably just as dreamy eyed as your co-workers but too proud to admit it.

"Oh, and they did mention the two of you cosying up at a recent work party."

You resist the urge to swallow as your heart pounds violently inside you, panic squeezing your pumping organ in a vice grip. You thought no one had noticed your exchange or your absence when you both left.  

"We were talking, yes. He offered me a promotion and wanted to discuss it."

He looks impressed. "Wow, what a good opportunity, he must trust you a lot."

"He did." 

"Until this?" He scrubs a hand over his smooth face and you nod.

"Um-hm. What would you say you could hack into?"

You frown, not understanding the question. "Sorry?"

"Could you hack just about anything?"

Thinking about it you shrug, "Most things I'd say."

"Even something as impenetrable as this program?"

You laugh. "Sir, I designed the security portion of this program, I wouldn't need to hack into it." You lean forward again. "Let me explain something to you, if I were to do something like this, I would have been in and out without anyone knowing. I would know how to cover my tracks without being detected."

You pause rubbing your temples, "If you ask me, this was done by someone with a limited knowledge of hacking and computers. Either that or this person is trying to frame someone in the company. They're your two options."

He smiles at you, two dimples forming an endearing crevice in his cheeks.

"They told me you were smart."

You rub your face ignoring his remark. "I have been here for hours. Am I free to go or are you going to charge me with something?"

"Just one more question. What were you doing last night?"

Your heart stutters before pounding guiltily against your ribcage, with every beat you're almost sure you can hear Jimin's name. Ji-min. Ji-min.

Folding your hands in your lap to disguise you pinching your wrist under the table, trying to do anything to keep your hectic mind calm as you know you have to lie.

"I was at home."

"Alone?" 

The smirk he gives you makes your stomach churn, as if he can see right through you and your lies, as if he can see everything that transpired last night flashing behind your eyes. 

"Yes." Your voice comes out raspy, a sudden dry patch in your throat makes you swallow involuntarily.

"Run me through your evening." He sinks lower into his seat, you're almost waiting for him to pull out a footstool and put his feet up.

"We set up the project, waited for it to go live-"

"Who's we?"

"My team, myself and Mr. Park."

He nods and gestures a hand for you to continue.

"Once it was live, we monitored it for a few hours, checked everything was in working order and most of my team went home for the night. It was pretty late by then."

He jots your account down on his laptop, the keys clicking furiously as you speak.

"What time is 'late'?"

"Around 10ish."

He raises his brows. "Is that a typical work day for you?"

You shake your head. "No, it was only because we wanted to make sure everything went ok with the go live, a few tweaks and adjustments had to be made, nothing major."

He nods, eyes focused on his screen. "Is that usual at the end of a project, tweaks and adjustments?" 

You shrug. "Sometimes yes, on big projects, sometimes you can't see certain errors until a go live."

"Ok, so it's 10 o'clock and your team have gone home, leaving you and Mr. Park. What happened next?"

You massage your temples. "We spoke in his office."

"About what?"

Your hand slams down on the table, an action you didn't intend. "Is that relevant?"

He looks up startled, then smiles. "Why? Have I touched a nerve?"

You resist the urge to lean across the table and pound your fist into his smug face and instead lean back in your seat with your arms folded, an attempt at shielding yourself. "We spoke about the project and the result. It seemed to be successful, at the time, so we had a celebratory night cap."

He shoves his laptop aside, leaning forward on his elbows, ears pricked and ready. "Let me get this straight. You and the - forgive me - handsome Mr. Park are alone in the building, in his office and having a night cap, late at night?"

"Yes." You reply bluntly, the arrogance of him, so sure he'll find your lie, flaming your veins with rage.

"Does Mr. Park regularly have his colleagues in his office for a night cap?"

"I wouldn't know sir, I'm not his secretary."

"Even if you were, she'd have gone home hours ago, according to you." He pauses watching you, his eyes so intense they feel smothering-suffocating. 

His stare eases, releasing you from its hold. "Ok continue, what happened after your night cap?" He relaxes and goes back to typing. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, air feeling light and free again.

"We talked, I finished my drink, then I went home."

"How did you get home?"

You pause. If you lie, they're bound to see the footage of you and Jimin leaving the building together, with you getting into his car. 

"Miss l/n? How did you get home?" 

Here he goes looking expectantly over the rim of his glasses again.

"Mr. Park gave me a ride home."

And there was that infuriating smirk again. "Is that so? Was his driver there or did Mr. Park do the driving?"

You feel the heat on the back of your neck as you're reminded of how Jimin's hands felt on your skin, hot and eager in the back of the car. "His driver took me."

"With Mr. Park."

You nod slowly. 

"And I suppose he just said goodnight and off you went?"

"You're correct, sir." 

"And Mr. Park will vouch for this story of yours?" He taps his bottom lip with the pen he just pulled out of his pocket.

You nod. "He will because it's the truth." You're both praying and hoping you'd have a chance to speak to Jimin before he got interviewed...if he hasn't been already. God, if they found out you were lying about this, it would make you look so guilty.

"Uh-huh. One other thing…"

Fighting the frustrated growl boiling up inside you, you give him a false smile.

"Do you have any idea why someone would want to hack this software?"

You mull it over briefly, "I would imagine, seeing as it's a security breach for information, that it's to steal. Most of our clients are..." you struggle to find the appropriate wording.

"Rich." He intejects.

You nod agreeing.

"Ummm." He adds watching you, before sitting up and closing his laptop abruptly. "Ok, miss l/n, you're free to go. But we'll be in touch, I assure you." 

He stands up and you quickly follow him out of the room. When he shows you the direction the exit is in he turns to face you and holds out a hand. 

"It's been a pleasure, miss l/n, I know you probably won't be able to say the same, nevertheless." He shakes your hand with a half smile causing the dimple to return, somehow completely softening his face.

You nod and leave as quickly as your tired body will let you.

The cool, night air hitting your face immediately calms your panicked mind. You need to speak to Jimin but it might not be safe to do so.

"Are you ok, y/n?" A deep voice sounds from beside you, silencing all your other chaotic thoughts.

You spin and see Taehyung leaning casually against the pillar of the building smoking.

You relax at the sight of a familiar face. Jimin's personal assistant has always been friendly and kind towards you. You weren't sure but rumours in your company suggested that the two of them were even brothers, although you doubted it as they didn't resemble each other in the slightest.

"Yeah, glad to be out of there though." You reply, massaging the back of your neck.

"I bet, you've been in there a long time. I saw you leave to go to the station with them hours ago."

You nod. "It's been a long and very trying day. Are you waiting to be interviewed?"

He nods, taking a long drag, you watch as the end illuminates orange. 

"Well, I hope they don't keep you in there too long."

"They shouldn't. I've been away, only got back last night. Don't see how much use I can be to them."

He flicks his cigarette into the road and closes the distance between you.

"Listen, if there's anything you need or if you just want to talk or rant, anything. Don't hesitate to give me a call." He hands you his card. "This is a tough situation for everyone, we all need someone every now and then."

His bright, boxy grin has your mouth upturning before you know it. You thank him and hail and cab. Glancing at him, you see him watching you as the car drives away, unsure as to whether he's flirting or you're reading too much into it and he's being his usual cheerful self.

You shrug it off. All you can think of is getting home, running a nice, hot bath and forgetting this day ever happened.

*****

Back to reality as you sit with your silk robe wrapped around you, your laptop positioned neatly on your thighs, going through every possible way someone could have hacked into this, looking for how they got in. 

But nothing made sense, this was definitely not a hack done by someone with limited knowledge as you originally thought. 

There was no trace of anything left behind, no mark that anyone had even been in. Which only means, the hack had to be someone with inside knowledge of the project already, it definitely wasn't an outside hacker.

A more alarming finding was discovering the computer used for the hack was actually yours.

But why make it so obvious where the hack took place and which computer...unless...someone is trying to frame you. This wasn't something you had realistically considered. 

If you were honest, no one was even jumping out at you as a suspect. You trusted everyone in your team and everyone who helped on this project.

You sigh, massaging your temples as you try to clear your mind.

A harsh knock on the door makes you jump and you glance at your phone. 

02.31.

Who on earth would be knocking at this hour?

You head over, opening the door slightly with the chain still pulled tight across, to see a man; hat pulled down covering his eyes, standing there handing you a small, brown package through the gap.

"It's from Jimin." He says quietly. You watch his mouth - the only part of his face you can see - stretch into a gummy smile, before turning and exiting the building. 

Bewildered, you close the door and rip open the box. Staring at its contents and searching for some kind of note explaining what on earth this is for. 

A phone. 

What are you supposed to do with it?

You take it out, examining it and noticing the mistletoe background. Just like the mistletoe you first kissed Jimin under.

You jump out of your skin, fear firing an ice bolt right through you as it lights up and starts ringing.

Hesitantly, you answer. "Hello?"

"Y/n," Jimin's breathy voice sounds in your ear and sends a scattering of goosebumps across your skin. "I'm sorry for the cloak and dagger but I'm unsure if I'm being watched."

"By the police?" You ask, worried at the urgency in his voice.

"Not just them. Listen," he starts before you can interject. "I want you to know that no matter how it seems or what I say in front of other people, I do believe that you had nothing to do with this hack."

The relief that floods you has your shoulders relaxing instantly, not even aware they were tense. "I am glad to hear you say that, thank you."

"I also want to apologise, I did not mean for your involvement with me to put you at risk of any trouble."

You frown, trying to make sense of his words. "I really don't see how the two are connected."

He sighs and the urge you have to comfort him, to wrap your arms around him until his stress is eased, almost has you putting on your shoes and coat. "It doesn't matter. Things are complicated with me and it wasn't fair for me to drag you into that."

"Hey, hey," you sit down on the edge of your bed. "You didn't drag me anywhere. I'm a big girl Jimin, I can make my own decisions, last night being one of them and I definitely do not have any regrets about that."

You're met with silence as you find yourself fiddling with the bedsheets, reminiscing his touch. 

"I most definitely do not regret it either." He finally says. You think you can hear a slight smile in his voice. "That was a moment I had wanted for longer than I care to admit."

His unexpected confession causes a furious blush to creep up your chest.

"I wish I could see you." The desperation in his voice makes you hot underneath your robe.

"Why don't you come over?" You ask, hesitantly biting your lower lip.

"I wish I could, lord knows I do, but I can't risk it, for your sake." 

You collapse back on the bed in frustration, his scent jumps up and captures you, pulling your mind into filthy places. "My bed sheets still smell like you." You say the words before thinking them through. 

"Do they?" His voice is suddenly husky and full of want. "And what is going through that impressive mind of yours?" 

"You are. Your touch, your taste, how I wish to feel your perfect lips on me again." Your hand makes its way down to open your robe, cool air hitting your skin and puckering your nipples.

"Hmm-mm, and what are you doing while you're thinking about me?" He asks.

"What do you want me to do, Jimin?" You accentuate his name, knowing how much he loves it when you say it.

"Touch yourself." He whispers.

You waste no time in obeying, as your fingers travel quickly down to your throbbing clitorous. The feel of your fingertips massaging your sweet bud makes you moan.

"Oh god, this makes me want to see you even more." He groans. 

You use the phone to snap a quick photo of your actions and send it to the number you're on the line too. "Incoming message, sir." You say teasingly.

"Oh, fuck," he says in the distance and instantly followed by the sound of his trouser zipper being undone. "You make me crazy." His voice is right back at your ear.

"Jimin, I wish it was my mouth around your rock hard cock." 

"Me too, angel. God, what I wouldn't give to feel you around me. Tell me, what would you want me to do to you?" He grunts, the sound of him pleasuring himself causes a gush of arousal to spill from your eager hole and you spread it over yourself.

"I'd want your mouth on me...everywhere, tasting just how wet I am for you." You pant.

"Just for me?" 

"Yes, all for you." You lightly trace circles over your swollen sweet spot, toes curling when he breathes your name down the phone.

"I want to be inside you, again." 

"Anytime, anywhere, just tell me." You whisper, that undeniable build up already at peak point. "I'm going to cum." 

"That's it angel, cum with me." 

You unravel, back arching off the bed and burying your face into the sheets, relishing his scent. You hear him orgasm, repeating your name continuously. It makes you smile inside and it makes you feel powerful knowing how much he wants you.

"I have to say," he says, after you both get your breath back. "That was not the reason for me sending the phone."

You can't help but laugh at that. "What was the reason?"

He sighs again. "Mostly, to apologise and to have a way to speak to you that I know is safe. We have to be careful, now."

"Why, what are you so worried about?"

A long pause. "I can't," you can almost hear his inner turmoil, the fight with himself. "I'm just trying to protect you. You don't need to be involved."

You're about to argue but something inside you stills. If you push someone like Jimin too much, he'll only clam up further, he'll open up when he's ready...you hope.

"Keep this phone on, ok?" He pleads.

"More late night phone sex?" You tease, chewing your lip.

"I wouldn't say no," he laughs. "I do, however, just want to be able to talk to you, if that's ok?" 

You nod and realise he can't see that. "Of course, anytime."

"I wouldn't say that, you'll never get me off the phone." 

You feel yourself smiling like a cheshire cat, feeling like a lovesick school girl again. What has this man reduced you to?

"Goodnight y/n. Sleep well, angel." He hangs up the phone, leaving your heart stuttering and your stomach flipping with excitement. The prospect of something new on the horizon, even with all the current problems you're facing, something still seeming positive might come out of this. All you can do is hope.

******

Getting ready for work the next morning you felt conflicted, part of you was on cloud nine, drifting blissfully along on nothing but hope and dreams. The other part was dreading the work day and what it could bring, plus you still had your own discreet investigating to do.

A harsh, yet cheerful rap on your door, startled you. 

Rushing to the door to see who it is, a small part clinging onto a chance it could be Jimin, only to be disappointed when you open the door and find detective Kim Namjoon staring back at you.

"Ah Miss l/n, I'm so glad I caught you before work, could I come in?" The same smug smile stretching his full lips as he leans casually against your door frame, his laptop hooked under his arm.

"Really? Right now, I'll be late for work." You reply, feeling a bit like a deer caught in headlights.

"That's ok, I've already informed your boss of your late arrival." He assures you cockily. "So, can I …?"

You grit your teeth and step out of the way, gesturing for him to enter. 

You watch as he studies every inch of your living area, peering into your bedroom.

"What is it I can help you with, detective?"

He turns to you, "Ah, yes of course." 

Setting his laptop down on your dining room table, hitting a few keys and spinning it round towards you. "You might want to sit down for this." He says, as he hits the play button.

You ignore him and watch. 

Video footage of your office building, of you walking to your office partition specifically. You watch yourself sit in the empty building, at your computer and leave again. You look up at the detective, confusion marring your brow and he simply taps the screen where the date and time stamp are.

You follow it, and re-read it at least three times, eyes open wider than ever, as if that'll somehow help you see different numbers.

The frown creases deeper into your forehead as your brain catches up with the fact that the video shows you, alone in the building, at the exact time and date of the hack. 

[bumblebee-moreno]

Sacrilege (Part 4; Selkie!Tovar x GN reader)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Word Count: 1094

Warnings: Brief mentions of insects (Caterpillar, centipede)

A/N: Kind of a filler chapter, but it was necessary to get to part 5 (Which by the way, I'm hoping to post part 5 on Saturday)... Also so sorry about the wait! I locked myself in my room today and wrote ahead a bit so hopefully there won't be anymore long waits like this.

The sun beats down on your neck as you pull aside the leaves on another shrub to uproot the weed sprouting underneath. Wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist, you spare a glance at Pero.

A caterpillar is perched on his bent index finger, held only a few inches from his face. Pero’s eyebrows are furrowed as he curiously inspects the hairy creature.

You take the base of another weed into your hand and pull. The plant doesn’t budge. You pull again, leaning back in an attempt to use your body as leverage.

Beside you, Pero lets out an ear-splitting screech before toppling backwards with a thud. You scramble to Pero’s side to see if he’s all right.

“It tried to climb onto my nose,” Pero answers sheepishly. A chuckle escapes your lips as you help him to his feet.

“Come help me with this weed,” you pull Pero to the stubborn plant.

You show him how to hold it so it doesn’t break free of its roots. Pero pulls the weed from the soil. You feel a twang of annoyance at how effortless he makes it look.

“Do you want to help more?” you ask.

Pero chews his lip for a moment, no doubt remembering what happened when he’d tried to make breakfast. You hold back a wince as you recall the painful clatter of your entire silverware drawer hitting the floor.

Hesitantly, Pero nods. “I’d like that.”

You show him how to deadhead the flowers, which he picks up pretty quickly. After you’re fairly certain Pero knows what he’s doing, you resume weeding the garden.

You pull aside the branch of a shrub and sigh at the collection of weeds underneath. That’s what you get for not finding the time to work on your garden’s upkeep all month, you suppose.

When you glance over at Pero, he is very gently scrutinising every branch for dead flowers, determined not to miss a single one. You smile to yourself.

Where is Pero really from?

Perhaps he’s a sailor who injured his head at sea. That would explain why he thinks he’s a Selkie: seals are abundant this time of year. He could have seen one close to the time of injury and incorrectly connected the dots.

But then… Why wear armour?

You can’t think of a single situation that doesn’t leave massive holes. But still, you refuse to believe his Selkie story. As much as he seems to be telling the truth, the fact remains that Selkies don’t exist.

You startle a bit when Pero lifts your chin until your eyes meet his. Gently, he tucks something behind your ear. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that it’s a flower.

“I know you’re struggling to understand,” He murmurs, hesitantly removing his hand from your chin. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

You smile softly. “It’s just…” I’ve always been told that Selkies aren’t real.” Just the word feels foreign on your tongue. “I mean, as a kid, the only actual stories I heard about them were from the town drunk. He’s a sweet man, but he’s always been a pathological liar, so no one really believes his stories.”

Pero nods, visibly concentrated on choosing his next words. “If you’d like,” he begins slowly. “I could show you.”

“Show me?”

“After dark,” Pero adds. “So no one sees. We’ll go down to the beach, and I’ll show you how the coat works.”

“I’d like that.” You bite back a smile. A part of you hopes he’s actually right about being a Selkie.

After a moment of thick silence, you turn back to the garden to begin trimming back rogue branches.

“So Pero, you seemed really interested in my teacups yesterday,” you speak up.

“The art on them is beautiful,” he nods before tenderly picking up a small frog.

“You like art?” You clip a few more branches.

“Yes. But it’s also important.” Pero sets the frog on the ground, letting it hop away. “It’s how we alert others of nearby dangers: poisonous vegetation, poachers’ traps, nesting grounds.”

“Oh. So Selkies are pretty social then?” you decide to play along.

“Yes. Does this surprise you?”

“No…” You chew your lip for a moment. “it’s just… You were by yourself when I met you.”

“We don’t often leave the ocean. There wasn’t exactly a line of volunteers to join me.”

“Oh.” Then you frown. “Why don’t you guys leave the ocean much?”

“It’s easier to survive in the ocean,” Pero shrugs. “On the ocean, humans live on the surface. We can dive down to escape. On land, humans control everything. We lose our advantage.”

“I didn’t realise humans were so dangerous.” Pero’s story has a lot of details for being bullshit. Maybe he’s actually right? No. Selkies aren’t real.

“Selkie coats are valuable.”

“So… If it’s dangerous to leave the ocean, why are you here?” you ask.

Pero falls silent. He stares at the ground for a few moments. “That crowd we first met in… what were you doing?” Pero changes the subject.

“Oh, um… I sell fabric.” You cut a few more branches before moving onto another shrub.

“Fabric?” Pero’s head tilts like a confused puppy.

“Yeah. I weave it at home and people buy it to make clothes and bedding,” you explain, pulling a water-damaged leaf from its branch so the rot doesn’t spread.

Pero just stares at you blankly, like he’s still confused. “That many people join that dreadful crowd just so you can give them fabric?”

“Umm, sort of…” Pero hasn’t even heard of a market? Has he been living under a rock? “There are lots of different things other people sell, too. There are tables with food, housecleaning supplies, art, and a lot more. People go there to buy supplies they need so they don’t have to learn how to make them themselves.”

“Oh.” Pero stares at a leaf as if it had just told him a perplexing riddle.

You sigh. This is going to get old quick. “It’s called a market. People use money to buy things they need. I sell fabric so people give me money that I can use to buy other supplies I need.”

“Oh.” Pero lets a centipede crawl into his hands. “I don’t like the market.”

“Me neither,” you laugh.

“War was less scary.” Pero watches the centipede with a child-like wonder.

You don’t know how to respond.

Pero was in a war? Maybe that’s where he got the idea he’s a Selkie? It would certainly explain the armour.

Taglist:

@adikaofmandalore​ @itsaisopodkillmepls​ @andriecastana​ @kideyz​ @jassiepoohbear @justanotherblonde23​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @insomniamamma​ @ah-callie @pascalisthepunkest @trashbin2 @anatanotegami @northernpunk @pumpkin-stars @balthromaws @beesting77 (if I missed anyone or there’s anyone who would like to be added, please let me know!)

[lost-in-the-80s]

You Don’t Want My Love - Chapter 3

Pairing: Duff McKagan x reader

Words: 3,786k

Summary: Guns n Roses hires a new tour assistant, but nobody thought that Duff would fall for her.

In this chapter: Erin’s arrival on the tour turns the band upside down. Y/N hadn’t realized how much she needed a friend until she had her to talk to. Y/N and Slash go to an arcade.

A/N: 1- I was struggling with this chapter, so sorry if it’s shitty. 

       2- I was thinking about making a playlist inspired by this fic, do you guys want it? If so, let me know! 

       3- Also, reminding you that I’m posting a new chapter every Tuesday.  

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots​ @ginny-rose-sixx​ @rumoured-whispers​ @vinylvintage​ add yourself to my tag list :)

Previous chapter  |  Next Chapter

After Tom’s departure Y/N couldn’t avoid feeling a little lost, she’d grown used to him instructing her and she missed his participation at the silent book club. It wasn’t a club though, just the two of them, sitting backstage reading without saying anything.  

The only good part about Tom leaving was that she finally got his bunk. It felt weird during the first night,  to sleep somewhere that wasn’t the couch, but as soon as she fell asleep her body got used to it. 

Duff was on the bunk on top of hers, as she was a light sleeper she would hear him mumbling some things while he was sleeping. He moved a lot also, which would usually wake her up, but she didn’t really mind.

It had been a week since Tom left and the things with the boys were starting to get back to normal. Duff helped her get more along with them, inviting her to play cards with the boys one night and asking about her opinion in random conversations, just so she could participate.

The two of them had grown quite close during this week, he was a nice guy, she could tell that. He always asked her to join them wherever they were going and even helped her with some of her duties when he had some free time.

And that was quite the problem. She liked his company, he was easy to talk to, and when there wasn’t a subject he would ask for her opinion on the books she was reading. He was a sweet boy. Too sweet to say the truth, and she was starting to want to be around him. But she shouldn’t.

Duff was from a completely different world, the two of them were complete opposites and the only reason why he was spending time with her was because he had no one else to. She knew that as soon as the tour ended she wouldn’t ever see him again, so she didn’t want to become too close to him.

She and Steven were back to normal, he never acted like that again and Izzy, well, Izzy was a hard person to read, he had never been rude to her, but they didn’t really talk. She didn’t take that personally though, he didn’t really talk to anyone.

Things with Axl remained the same, he hadn’t talked to her for eight days and counting, sometimes, she would laugh at one of Duff’s jokes and he would give her a death glare, but she tried to ignore.

Slash was another story. She talked to him, but just the necessary, she was still upset about what had happened during the party and expected him to apologize, but as the days passed, the less probable it got for him to do so. 

In that morning, she woke up before the boys, and after doing her routine and checking up her agenda she realized that they would reach the next city around ten in the morning. 

Talking to the bus driver, he informed her that they would stop for breakfast in thirty minutes, which allowed her to do her favorite part of the job.

Getting inside the bedroom area she turned on the lights while saying loud enough for all of them to hear. 

“Good morning, princesses! It’s 7 in the morning and we’ll make a stop for breakfast in thirty, so move your asses out of the bed and get ready!” 

Leaning against the wall opening, she saw Axl exiting his bunk, his hair was a mess as he slowly walked towards the bathroom while rubbing his eyes.

The second to wake up was Steven, just like her, he was a morning person. He got up quickly, putting a white tank top on before giving her a huge smile. “Good morning, Y/N!”

“Good morning, Steve!” She smiled back.

As soon as Axl left the bathroom and Steven got in, Izzy plopped on the ground beside her, he was dressed in just his underwear, which made her look in the opposite direction. However, she did notice the dark circles underneath his eyes and the remains of the hickeys Cheryl had left on his chest.

Cheryl had decided to accompany another band last Saturday, hugging Y/N tightly and telling her to call when she opened her boutique before leaving. 

As per usual, Slash and Duff didn’t get up. 

Getting close to Slash’s bunk she touched his shoulder slightly. “Slash! wake up!”

He mumbled in response and so she moved to Duff’s.

“Duff, time to get up!” Her head was at his bunk’s level. 

He moved slightly before opening his eyes, focusing directly on hers. A small smile appeared on his face. 

“Good morning, Y/N.” His voice was husky due to his sleepiness and for an odd reason, her heart started beating twice as fast.

“Good morning, Duff.” She smiled sweetly before walking out of the room.

Sitting on the couch, she grabbed a Vogue magazine and waited until the boys got ready. As the minutes passed by, all of them joined her in the living room, except for Axl, who was, as always, late. 

When the bus came to a stop and they got up to exit Axl finally showed up, she, Axl and Duff were the only remaining people on the bus and she stopped to let him go first, he was already hating her, she didn’t want to give him one more reason to.

“You can go first!” He gestured with his hand for her to pass. 

She looked at him waiting to see if he was being sarcastic, but the smile on his face told her that he was in a good mood. Strange, she thought while she exited the bus. 

The bright morning sun hit her skin and she stopped for a while, allowing the warm feeling to take a hold of her. Starting to feel as if someone was watching her, she turned around, finding Duff walking slowly towards the snack bar.

“He spends eight days without talking to me and then he suddenly decides he’s ok with my presence!” She scoffed while joining Duff.

“Erin is coming, so he’s in a good mood.” He looked down at her.

“Who’s Erin?”

“His girlfriend.” He opened the door for her to get in first.

“But he was hitting on me when I arrived.” She frowned.

“Oh, that! He was only joking that night.” Duff smiled at her, letting a small chuckle escape.

She and Duff sat beside Steven, in front of Axl and Izzy, Slash being to her right.

When the waitress arrived, she started making the orders, a month with them had been enough time for her to know that they had certain habits.

Izzy would always ask for a black coffee and a pack of cigarettes in the morning, while Steven would ask for pancakes. Slash and Axl liked scrambled eggs with coffee and Duff would usually eat pancakes with Steven.

After asking for the food, she took a pack of cigarettes out of her purse, giving it to Izzy. 

“Thank you!” He smiled at her. “You know, I didn’t expect much from you Y/N, but your efficiency is something to be recognized!” 

The compliment made her smile. “Thanks.”

As soon as the food arrived they started eating while making small talk.

“These scrambled eggs remind me of my grandma ones!” Sash smiled, “You guys wanna try it?” He extended the plate for the rest of them.

Steven got some for himself, while Izzy simply shook his head. 

“Want some, Y/N?”

“No, Thank you.” She replied while looking at her plate. 

She didn’t see Slash frowning when he looked at Izzy as if asking if he had done something wrong, to which he shrugged.

---

Back at the bus, she focused on her reading while Steven put some cartoons on the TV.

Sitting in front of her, Slash spoke up.

"Did I do something you didn't like, Y/N?"

She stared at him for a couple of seconds. How could he not remember? She thought.

Taking a deep breath, she closed the magazine. "Actually, you did."

He stopped for a second as if he was trying to remember. "What was it?"

"You seriously don't remember?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "...No?"

They all started to stare at the two of them. Even Axl, who was expecting to see a fight. He had seen what had happened that night, but he thought Slash remembered.

"You tried to kiss me that night at the party." 

"Wha-... Whe-... Oh shit, was that you?"

She nodded as a response.

Axl and Steven started laughing, Slash's face was full of confusion and embarrassment.

"Wait! She's the hot chick who you were complaining about?" Duff interjected, making fake quotation marks with his fingers.

Slash's face got hot and he thanked that his hair covered most of it.

The boys started laughing harder, even Izzy joined them.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry, Y/N! I swear I didn't recognize you, I wouldn't ever have done that to you!" He rubbed his forehead and his embarrassment was enough to make Y/N realize that he was telling the truth.

"I'm so so sorry!" 

"It's ok, just don't make it happen again!" She pointed a finger at him.

"Sure, sure! You have my word!" 

---

After two more hours on the bus, they finally arrived at the hotel. They were in New York, and their hotel was huge, the lobby itself making Y/N's last apartment look like a shoebox.

She walked towards the receptionist and stopped in her tracks when she heard a high pitched scream. Turning around she saw a girl with reddish-brown hair running towards Axl, who embraced her tightly.

She was wearing white denim pants and a black tank top and seemed to be taller than Y/N. Brushing it off she went back to work, making the boys’ check-in. But she couldn't deny that she found the scene cute.

When she was giving the boys their keys, Axl stopped her to make presentations.

"Erin, this is Y/N, our assistant. Y/N, this is my beautiful girlfriend Erin." He was smiling again.

She looked at the girl, finding her smiling while extending her hand towards Y/N, who shook it, smiling a little.

"Nice to meet you!"

"I'm glad I'll have some female company around here!" Erin said, smiling harder.

If she smiles more, her cheeks will start aching. Y/N thought to herself.

"What do we have for today, Y/N?" Axl asked.

"Soundcheck at 2, interview at the arena at 4:30 and the Gig at 7."

"Sorry, doll, I won't be able to go with you." He turned towards Erin.

"But you promised me we would go shopping in New York!" 

"I can't, babe, I’m sorry."

She looked around and a smile appeared on her lips.

"Can I take Y/N with me then?"

Y/N looked up from her agenda. "Me?" Her eyes slightly widened.

"What if we need her?" Axl said.

"Let the girl go, we can survive without her for a day!" Izzy said, patting Y/N's shoulder before heading to the elevator.

"Do you wanna go, Y/N?" Axl asked.

"I could use some shopping." She smiled.

Erin made a happy sound before hugging her. "We're gonna be best friends!!" 

The action made Y/N laugh while hugging her back.

She was going shopping? In New York? She couldn’t believe it!

Once in her room, she took her time making a quick happy dance before quickly changing her clothes for a pink dress and some white high-heels, finalizing her outfit with some sunglasses. 

Getting at the lobby, Erin intertwined her arm with hers and so the two of them got in a taxi and drove towards downtown. 

The girls entered a store, starting to try clothes.

“What do you think?” Y/N asked, showing Erin a short black skirt. 

“Wow! You look fierce!” 

Y/N smiled, turning around to look at herself in the mirror again.

“But it’s a little bit short on you, sweetie, if you want I can get you a bigger size.” The saleswoman said while looking Y/N up and down. 

Y/N checked the skirt in the mirror again, it was definitely short, but she liked it. 

“Who cares if it’s short?” She asked, shrugging.

“If I was into girls, I’d definitely bang you!” Erin said laughing.

The woman’s eyes widened while she turned around leaving the two alone. 

“I hate it when they keep giving opinions.” 

“Uhh, me too!” Erin rolled her eyes. “Are you hungry? ‘cause I feel like my stomach is going to eat me!”

Y/N laughed. “I am!”

“Let’s go eat something then! it’s already 4 pm.”

“Really? Wow, time flew!” 

Getting near the store cashier Y/N started to get worried, she had picked lots of clothes by impulse and now she was worried that she wouldn’t be able to pay for all of this.

“Should I charge everything together or separately?” The woman asked when they put the clothes on the counter.

“Se-” Before she could finish, Erin interrupted.

“All together!” She handed her the credit card.

Erin looked at Y/N and saw the confused expression on her face.

“Axl gave me the band’s card, he said I should pay for your clothes since you keep up with him every day.” She giggled slightly.

“So turns out he’s not that much of an asshole!” Y/N smirked.

Erin nudged her. “He’s not an asshole, he’s just…. just…”

“Temperamental?” Y/N laughed.

“Sensitive!” Erin replied, but laughed along.

After getting their bags, the girls walked side to side towards a beautiful café, where they ordered cake and tea, sitting at a table on the sidewalk.

“So, where are you from, Y/N?” Erin asked when they finished eating.

“North Dakota”

“Wow, and how did you end in LA?”

“I got a scholarship at UCLA.” 

“Really? That’s awesome! And what course did you take?”

“Fashion. I wanted to be a fashion designer.”

“Oh, that explains a lot.” She mumbled before taking a sip of her tea.

“What do you mean?” Y/N leaned against her chair.

“Nothing, it’s just that, the boys get the feeling that you don’t like working here.”

Y/N frowned, but Erin kept talking before she could say anything.

“It’s like, you’re efficient, and you do the job perfectly, but you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself, it’s almost as if it was an obligation for you.”

Y/N stopped to think. “It’s just that, I had so many dreams, and none of them happened, and I’m feeling frustrated you know? I wanted to accomplish many things, but life hit me with a bus.” She looked to her plate, sadness overtaking her.

“Hey, I get that! Sometimes things don’t go as planned.” Erin touched her hand, offering her a warm smile. “But try to see this by the bright side. Like, what are your biggest dreams?”

Taking a deep breath, she drank the remaining of her tea before answering. “I wanted to open my own boutique and I wanted to travel the world”

“Why are you saying I wanted? You can still do these things!” Getting closer to Y/N she moved the flowers in the center of the table away, trying to see her better. “You want a boutique right? If you use the money you get with the tour to invest, in three years you’ll have enough money to open it. My dad works with the stock exchange, I can ask him to give you some tips!”

“Really? Would you do that?”

“Sure!! And you said you wanted to travel the world, girl, what are you doing right now? Look around, you’re in New York, in a few months the boys will go to Europe, you are traveling the world.”

Wow. Y/N had never realized it. She was indeed living one of her dreams. 

“I know that this wasn’t your dream job and that it must be really annoying to deal with the boys and stay for so long in that bus, but at least you’re not dealing with paperwork behind a desk.”

A smile started to form on Y/N’s lips. Erin was right, this was way better than paperwork. She could go to parties, dress whatever she wanted, stay at the best hotels and to be honest, she kind of liked being around the boys.

“Yeah! You’re right, Erin! This is not so bad!” 

Erin nodded excitedly while drinking the rest of her tea. 

“I think we should go back.” Y/N informed while checking the time on her wristwatch.

“Really? Can’t we stay for more? I wanted to go to more stores.” She pouted.

“I’m afraid not. Your boyfriend will freak out if nobody gets him his damn towels.” Y/N rolled her eyes, but giggled a little. “Speaking of it. What does he do with so many?”

Erin raised her hands in defense. “I have no idea.” She whispered while shaking her head.

---

The rest of the day went on by fine, Y/N helped the boys before and after the gig and collapsed on her bed when they got back to the hotel. So many hours walking in heels granted her a long and deep night of sleep.

She couldn’t avoid letting a small satisfied moan to escape from her lips when she got comfortable in bed. It’s so good to lay in a bed that doesn’t shake with the road. She thought, before falling asleep.

The next morning, Y/N woke up with her bedroom’s phone ringing. 

“Yes?” Her voice was grog and she barely could open her eyes.

“Y/N, I want to ask for breakfast, but I don’t know how to use the hotel’s phone.” Steven’s voice filled her ears, he seemed to be hopeless.

She frowned while rubbing her eyes. “But, how did you call me then?”

He paused for a minute. “With the… phone…”

She laughed. “Hang the phone and then press 0, the receptionist will answer you.”

“Oh, ok. Thanks, Y/N!” 

“It’s no problem, Steve.” She hanged the phone, laughing again.

Stretching up she saw it was 11 in the morning already. “Looks like I’ll have brunch!” She smiled, she loved brunch. 

After taking a shower and putting on a pair of jeans with a red blouse, she left her room, asking for the receptionist where she could find a good restaurant nearby. 

---

It was 6 o’clock now. She was in her room reading, her legs rested on the bed’s headboard while she laid upside down. A knock on her door took her away from the romance she was currently addicted to. 

Opening the door she found Slash leaning against her door frame. 

“What are you up to?” He asked casually.

“Just reading.” She pointed towards the book with her thumb.

“Put a jacket, let’s go out!” 

“What? To where?” 

“There’s an arcade nearby.” He put his hands in his pant’s front pockets. 

“Hmm, I don’t know…”

“Come on, everybody is out for dinner, we’re the only ones who stayed.”

Her lips turned into a thin line as she tried to think. 

“Come on, it’s gonna be fun! You can read some other time!”

“Fine! Give me 5 minutes!” She closed the door on his face, before rushing to find her new denim jacket she had bought the day before.

Applying some mascara and a nude lipstick she got her purse and exited the room.

When they got on the street, Slash spoke up.

“Once again, I’m sorry about the party! It won’t happen again!”

“It’s ok!” She assured him with a small smile.

Entering the arcade a red light covered their skins, Tears for Fears played in the background and she smiled, she loved them. 

“What do you wanna do first?” Slash asked after they got the tickets.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s my first time!”

“Oh, so you’re having your first time with me?” He tried to smirk, but ended laughing.

She playfully slapped his arm while laughing. “Idiot!”

“Ok, pinball it is!” He yelled.

Slash taught her how to play and started complaining when her punctuation became bigger than his. “This is not possible! You’ve played it before!”

“I haven't, I swear!” She put her hand at her heart. 

They went on with the night, playing many different games. When they passed by Dance Dance Revolution she stopped in her tracks.

“Oh my gosh! Let’s do this one! Please!”

“What? No way!” He started walking towards another game.

“Come on, you’re owing me after the party!” 

“I’m disappointed you’re this type of person, Y/N.” He touched his chest, pretending that she had hurt him.

“Please!” She laughed at his drama.

“Ok, but I’m just watching, no way I’ll play this.”

She shrugged. “As long as you hold my purse!”

Choosing Walking On Sunshine by Katrina & The Waves she started dancing, stepping on the lights with mastery.

Her heart filled with happiness, she loved to dance, and she missed doing it more often.

“Wow! Great score!” Slash congratulated her when stepped out of the game.

“Thanks.”

He was leaning against another game table, looking into her purse, her small mirror was in one of his hands. “How do you manage to put so many things here?”

She got the mirror from his hand along with her purse, while shaking her head at him.

“You lied.”

“Me!?” She scoffed.

“You said you had never been to an arcade, but you destroyed that game!”

“It’s the truth. I had never played that.” They started walking towards the exit.

“How did you do so good then?”

“I was a cheerleader, I know how to dance.” They stopped, getting their jackets.

“A cheerleader huh?” They entered the empty streets and Slash lit up a cigarette.

She shrugged while making a bun with her hair.

They entered the hotel and got in the elevator.

“You know, for someone who listens to ABBA, you’re nice.” He teased her while smiling.

She rolled her eyes. “For someone who wears a shirt saying ‘I’m a slut’, you’re nice.” 

They laughed. The doors opened and they started walking through the corridors.

“This is my room.” She pointed stopping.

“Yeah, I know. It was nice hanging out with you!” He stopped on the other side of the corridor, in front of his door.

She nodded. “I can say the same.”

“Good night, cheerleader!” He said smiling, before entering his room and closing his door.

She rolled her eyes and entered her room. Something inside her head told her that they’d be good friends.

[mimiwrites2000]

Legends

Chapter Thirteen ~

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie/ Eren x Mikasa/ Jean x Hitch (other pairings will be added as the story goes on)

Words count: 6966

* spoilers for chapter 127 and up

Summary:

an injury

a miracle

an understanding

and maybe 'everything happens for a reason' holds some truth in it, and all of it leads to that tingle of emotions with unsolvable maze that hypnotize its victims

~a story of broken hearts who are searching for a cure while mending each other’s wounds

The air was salty.

Armin licked his lips, and he tasted salt, as if he kissed the ocean.

Seagulls hunted for generous travelers who tossed bread crumbs, seeking nourishment.

The sun was hot on his skin, coated with a slick layer of sweat. Blonde strands of his bangs sticking to his forehead, he kept brushing them away, but the soft, salty breeze ruffled them back on his face.

It was a hot summer day, hotter than usual. He should probably get inside his rented cabin, but the ocean had him under its spell. Armin held a book in his hands, neglected. His eyes never wavered off the infinite blue laid in front of him, blending with the sky in the middle. The white foam made by the ship matched the fluffy clouds scattered upon the sky.

The ocean enchanted Armin, it did since the very first time he saw it, and every time he sees it, he has all these unexplained sensations trembling in his veins, and he completely loses himself in the vast blue around him, the endless waves, and the sun's reflected rays on them, adorning the blue with glimmering glints of white.

He floated on a canvas with a bucket of blue paint spilled on, and he was that one, marginal dust on it. He couldn’t see the end of the canvas, and he lost the starting point long ago.

The ship broke through the waves, making its way to the safety of the island, and a tingle of excitement tackled Armin’s lips into a smile. He suppressed it, shaking it off.

The rage from two days ago felt so foreign to him at that moment. He almost forgot about the clutched paper in his hand; the reason he was on a ship, on his way to the continent.

Connie, whom Armin left in his house, had promised Armin he would take care of the house. Even though it wasn’t that big, and it’s not like Armin had a backyard filled with plants or a pet to take care of, still, Armin had a strong feeling that when he comes back, he’s gonna be greeted by a heap of charred wood replacing his house.

If anything calmed Armin a bit, it was his certainty that Connie wouldn’t step into his office. Since their training day, Connie had this cold war with books and theoretical subjects, and Armin was sure that his friend wasn’t nostalgic for those days-

“Ha!” Someone screamed from behind Armin, and he jumped in his place, a gasp left his lungs as he turned around to strike whoever the intruder was.

His eyes landed on someone that he was perplexed - to say the least- how coincidence brought them together, on this ship.

“What the hell? Hitch?!” Armin cried out, hating his shaky tone. His heart was beating so fast against his ribcage, it might as well jump out his throat.

Hitch laughed out loud, clapping her palms on her thighs, attracting other travelers’ attention. The flowery-patterned summer dress she was wearing ended right above her knees, her hair pulled away from her face in a bun so messy that seemed it might break at any second. Armin couldn’t help but admire how pretty she was.

He swiveled his gaze back to the ocean he was lost in a minute ago, disappointed at his interrupted moment, but after the shock wore off, he realized that he missed Hitch immensely.

“Oh God,” Hitch choked out between hiccups of ceasing laughter before she dropped beside Armin, “you should’ve seen your face!”

“Ha ha, so funny,” Armin tried to sound annoyed, but the smile on his face seeped into his fakely-bent-up tone.

“What a great coincidence! What’s up, Brainiac?” Then she leaned closer to him, and whispered “can’t risk calling your real name, after all, it’s been three years since you died.”

Armin rolled his eyes at the nickname, conceded to ignore it, but he answered her inquiry anyway: “I was going to ask you the same question, what business do you have here?”

“The ship? Nothing, I don’t work here,” Hitch retorted, spreading her arms on the bench’s back, crossing her legs, and Armin rolled his eyes again, “ok ok, I just have some business on the continent, what about you?”

Armin unconsciously tightened his grip on the paper in his hand, overlooking that this unremarkable gesture didn’t get past Hitch, who immediately snatched the paper from Armin’s hand.

“Hey!” he tried to get it back, but Hitch slapped her palm on his face, stopping him as his hands flailed helplessly, trying to retrieve the letter.

“Oh, well isn’t this interesting.”

“This is really none of your business-”

“Dear Armin…” Hitch started reading out the letter, and Armin groaned.

Dear Armin…

We’re so sorry if we were too much trouble today… we’re just worried for you and want you to be happy…

So we may or may not have asked Hanji for a small favor

Mikasa and Eren, and little Ymir

A small stick figure with two ponytails was drawn at the bottom of the paper, beside Ymir’s name.

“Little Ymir… isn’t that the queen’s kid?”

After a struggle, he released himself from Hitch’s grip. He rolled his neck and crossed his arms, nodding.

“So the queen still trusts her kid with these two morons?”

Armin didn’t answer; however, he did wonder how she knew about that… but considering what Mikasa told him a few days ago, about Hitch and Jean…

“What are they talking about?” she asked, checking the letter’s back.

“Oh…” Armin reached into his pocket, there was no point in hiding it from Hitch anyway…

Hitch read through the formal letter, her eyes scanning over it so quickly Armin thought her eyes would roll to the back of her head.

Her eyes lingered at the bottom of the letter, where the official cof the Survey Corps was.

“This is…”

“Ten official days off from Commander Hanji…”

Hitch gawed at Armin, before she lobbed the paper, giving Armin a second to catch it before it flew with the wind.

Hitch scoffed: “And I thought your dog died or something.”

“I don’t have a dog-”

“And what are you so upset about?”

Armin bit the inside of his lower lip. He trusted Hitch a long time ago, since the old days of spending sleepless nights at a certain cold basement, staring at a bulk of clear crystal, a girl floating in the middle of it…

Armin shook his head. He wanted to lie about the letter, come up with any excuse, but he couldn’t. Maybe the heat affected him, but... he suddenly had a foreign impulse to talk and talk, to let it all out…

“You know I didn’t ask for it…” Armin started, he was hesitant for a moment, but when he glanced at Hitch… she was listening, giving all her attention to him.

He took a deep breath and continued: “I never asked for a break, and they acted on their own, and I hate when they do that and it makes me feel pathetic and I’m so fucking done with them looking down at me like I’m still the weak nine years old kid- ouch!”

Hitch flicked her finger at Armin’s nose, he winced, wishing he could glare her to death.

“Yeah you are so pathetic,” she conceded, not stopping a second before saying it, “you never leave your house, you’re failing at relationships-“

“It was just one fucking relationship-“

“-and you developed a temper.”

“I didn’t.”

“You sure as hell did.”

“Ok so what?” Armin turned to her, frustration flailed his hands in front of his face.

Hitch raised an eyebrow at him, before she clicked her tongue: “You’re hopeless.”

Armin swallowed, he was thinking of any retort, any snarky comment that would throw her off, a remark that will make her as annoyed as he was.

It hit him, and he knew exactly what it was.

He leaned back on the seat, and with as much calmness he could muster, he said: “Well, it looks like you and Jean are much closer than I remember.”

From the side of his eyes, Armin saw the muscles in Hitch’s forearm clinch, the edge of her eyebrow uptick.

Armin fished for another comment: “I never thought he was your type-“

“Oh shut it, don’t mention that fucker’s name.”

If Hitch was trying to throw Armin off with her comment, then she vastly succeeded; it felt as if she kicked him off the deck and into the ocean. He flinched and shook his head, stared, trying to decide whether Hitch was joking or not, but she looked so serious, and Armin found himself speechless.

Guilt surfaced up his throat, because he knew exactly what it was like to be teased about this exact same topic.

“I-I’m sorry, I just thought you and him… you know, maybe you’re right, I’ve probably grown a bit impulsive through these…”

Armin forgot the rest of the sentence when he saw Hitch shaking… with laughter.

She bursted out in cackles and Armin touched his face, checking if he grew a third eye.

“You’re-” she snorted, “unbelievable!”

“I’m so done with you,” Armin got up, taking his suitcase with him. Hitch was dying of laughter as she clinged onto his wrist, splattering pleads for him to stay but half of her words were gibberish through laughter.

“No no no please please wait!”

“I’m so fucking done with you-”

“No no I promise I’ll explain!”

Armin plopped himself back on the bench, suitcase falling beside his jittering feet.

He tried to keep his eyes on a seagull as the hysterically-lost-it-all woman beside him gradually got herself together.

Hitch wiped a tear away as she said: “I knew I have it in me.”

“You’re not explaining yourself.”

“You’ve developed a temper alright,” Armin started to get up again, but she anchored him down with a hand to his shoulder, “no no please listen,” he sat down, but didn’t look at her.

“I’m going to the continent because I’m auditioning for a movie.”

“Uh… a what?” Armin heard that term somewhere before, he couldn’t put his finger on it…

She turned to him and elaborated: “It’s like… a play, but not really, it’s just… a bunch of pictures…” then she stopped, gesturing with her hands, as if the movement would compensate for her non-existent, poor explanation.

“Oh…” Armin remembered what she was talking about, it was these movies that are shown in places called cinemas… motion pictures.

Actors, directors, screenwriters… he read about these in one of his books.

“And… you want to become... an actress?” Armin asked, his eyebrows scrunched together. He would certainly be the happiest for Hitch if she became a big star, but he couldn’t imagine a soldier choosing that path after years of serving in the military….

“Well, after the war, the whole Military Police branch was wiped out. I thought, why not?” She retorted, shrugging her shoulders, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh right…” of course the Military Police was terminated in the aftermath of the war. There was simply no point in dividing themselves into three military branches. The same goes for the Garrison. All the soldiers were given the option of transferring to the Survey Corps or retiring…

Armin might be the only one from the original corps still serving in the military, beside Hanji of course… even captain Levi retired and opened a small coffee shop…

“You have that look on your face,” Hitch commented.

Armin raised an eyebrow.

“That look,” Hitch pointed at Armin’s face in circles,”it’s like that… that face you used to make when you stared at Annie.”

“Oh…” Armin went silent.

“It was that look… like, you were just absolutely out of it, like you’re dreaming or I don’t know, but very distracted,” Hitch looked at Armin, the seldom look in his eyes stopped her.

He looked away, pressed his lips, his eyelids fluttering,

“I…” Hitch softly shook her head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s ok.”

“I know she meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah…”

A beat of silence, seagulls’ cooing puncturing it. 

“Do you…” Hitch muttered, “still think of her?”

Armin’s jaw clenched.

A beat of silence.

Hitch clicked her tongue: “and by the way, I wasn’t lying about Jean.”

Armin’s jaw relaxed a bit, glad she changed the subject.

“I can’t stand him, and he can’t stand me, and I don’t even know if what we had is even considered a relationship,” She said casually. Armin didn’t know how to reply; should her offer comfort? because apparently Hitch wasn’t that close to Jean after all, and the break up -if it’s even should be called that- didn’t seem to affect her in the slightest…

Armin gazed back at the ocean. A thin line of land was steadily boldening as the ship cruised towards it. At that moment, Armin wanted to freeze the boat for eternity, to stay in the midst of this vast, bottomless blue.

“I…” Hitch said, and Armin turned his head towards her. He was taken aback by the soft look on her face, she was being genuine, but she didn’t continue her sentence, she merely looked in Armin’s eyes, and he understood everything she didn’t say.

I’m sorry about her.

“It’s fine, it really is fine,” Armin said, a smile on his lips, it didn’t reach his ears.

Hitch’s lips pressed into a thin smile, before her face brightened up, a light bulb flashed above her head, and she suggested: “You know there’s this place that I heard off, it’s some sort of a village, or maybe a small town, anyway, it has some really interesting places, besides, it will be holding a massive celebration for the third anniversary of the end of the war.”

“….and?”

“And? Seriously?” Hitch rolled her eyes, but Armin didn’t fidget. She smacked her lips before continuing: “I can meet you there, in two days, I had other plans, but I can delay those, I can get you a room at the same hotel I’m staying in, we can have fun, yeah?”

After that, Armin found himself standing at the harbor, a small piece of bagel-brown paper in his hand, an address scrabbled on it, as Hitch waved off to him.

At least, he had plans.

~~~

Armin had two days for himself to discover the city he was staying at.

He mooched around the town, his suitcase dragging beside him. Just like the first time he visited Marley with the survey corps a few years ago; the same overwhelming jitters of astonishment rushed through his body. Enthusiasm of unveiling-the-unknown awakened in his heart, pumping quivers in his veins.

The mid-day sun overhead, shedding light on gray-tiled streets meandering between similarly-gray markets, contouring the sides. Puffs of smoke emitting from chimneys, blending together in a whirl of a gray before mounting up, the sunlight filtering through it, softening, adding a touch of haziness to the atmosphere.

In contrast to the gray-dull blocks, people clad in rainbow-palette charades, a flurry of liveliness, carrying singing instruments alongside it, its harmony a blend of melodious laughter, rhythmic chatters, nostalgic uproarious kids’ squeals, and the shopkeepers howling offers.

People spoke different languages. He recognized his own language spoken here and there, but in completely different accents that he didn’t understand parts of it.

One cohesive symphony delicately orchestrated. 

Melodies from afar punctuated the coordinated harmony, adjoining another layer of ecstasy. Armin thought that it was his ear putting together all these overwhelmingly-pleasing sounds and making up this melody, but as he snagged his way through the sea of colors, the music source got louder, the notes in sync with Armin’s heartbeat, pulsating in his ears.

His feet led him to the sound, and it was close, so close. Armin broke out of a curtain of people, and-

A guy sat on a carpet woven from the rainbow beams, his fingers strumming strings effortlessly, on an instrument that resembled a guitar, but its neck thin, its body a hollow swelling of light brown wood. He played it like it was second nature to breathing, the notes compatible with the thudding of boots and chatter, merging in congruence. He faded with his surroundings, his gray unfamiliar-clothing matching the jagged bricks of the building behind him, only a few eyes glanced at him or at the colorful carpet beneath him. 

When he saw that Armin was staring, he winked at him.

Unexpecting it, Armin backed away, accidentally stepping on someone’s foot.

Armin tumbled but didn’t fall, he stuttered out: “I’m so sorry!” 

A man, the man Armin stepped on his foot, was babbling in a language Armin never heard before.

Armin flailed his arms around, trying to apologize somehow, but he stopped; the man smiled, bowed his head, and put his palm on his heart.

Dumbfoundedly, Armin found himself tentatively mimicking the man’s gesture.

After that, the man beckoned Armin to follow him, and started down the street. After a hesitant moment, Armin nodded and walked side by side with the man.

Their walk was interrupted constantly by the man stopping every few steps to greet someone. Armin wondered if everyone knew each other in this town… then it dawned on him that you don’t have to know someone to wish them a good day.

The town itself was a decaying skeleton of bricks and stone, but the souls occupying it blew life into every crevice of it, blooming as those souls grew older, their bond solidifying like bricks within walls.

They jostled their way through the current of colors. With every step they took, a sweet aroma wafted through the air. Armin sniffed, spotting a coffee shop down the street. The man invited him in, offering a hot drink and a weird dessert that Armin had no idea what it was made of, except for the flower petals adorning it.

The man refused any payment, doing the same hand-on-the-heart gesture from earlier.

A few minutes later, Armin resumed roaming with a warm cup in his hand. The burnt-brown mixture was not different from any other coffee, but the smell and the taste had a unique twist to them, accompanied with the flowers-infused dessert; an addicting taste that he could get used to. Armin couldn’t pinpoint the different ingredients, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

Beside the coffee shop stood a thin tall construction with a pointy head, like a pencil. Armin saw exact replicas of it scattered around the town as well; different colors and sizes, but same embellishments. He didn’t know its function; it reminded him of a lighthouse, but it certainly wasn’t; no lighthouse is in the middle of land.

A marginal part of Armin found it hard to admit it, but he felt… happy, or more like relieved. He surprised himself by the sudden feeling of wanting to go out, to see people and walk through crowds, not interacting with them, but merely watching from afar. 

He was caging himself in a shell, forbidding himself from this very primitive liberty for so long. 

A new yet rudimentary form of freedom.

He regretted treating Mikasa and Eren badly a few days ago. When he first read the letter, he boiled with anger. Ignoring Connie’s shouts, he sprinted out his house, taking the shortest route to Mikasa and Eren’s place, and when he reached it, he barely held himself back from denting the door with knocking.

Eren cracked the door open, and when he saw Armin, he slammed it shut in his face.

That was when Connie stepped in, and after tedious tirades and three cups of coffee, he convinced Armin to take this vacation and ‘enjoy his time’.

Armin bought a postcard and an envelope, intending to write to Eren and Mikasa and apologize to them.

He spent the rest of the day walking through town, taking in as much detail as possible, collecting memories to tell, and when his legs were numb enough to stumble upon, Armin decided to get something to eat.

He sat on a bench at a square, a spacious square with a fountain centering it, kids splashing water, as their parents shopped at the markets surrounding the place. A mouth-watering aroma allured Armin to a traditional restaurant where he got a sandwich with a drink, both have foreign names that were too hard for him to pronounce.

As his muscles relaxed, he realized how tired he was. He didn’t rest after the long boat trip, captivated by the charming spirit of that town, besides, he had been walking for hours with a suitcase as an extra weight. He needed a place to stay for the night.

A small girl with unruly red locks flailing around her face jumped around, her green, flowery dress swirling with every step she took. A stack of newspaper weighing in her hands, obviously a burden.

Armin waved his hand, catching her attention. With a smile on her face, she approached him, handing out a newspaper.

“Thank you,” Armin said, but the girl skewed her head at him in confusion, she probably spoke a different language.

“O-oh, um… thaaaa….nnnkkk….yooouuu…” he repeated it again but slowly, only to realize it wouldn’t make her understand. But then, she pointed at her ears, and it dawned on Armin; she was deaf. He remembered the hand-on-heart gesture from the coffee man before, so Armin bowed his head, and put his hand on his heart. The girl smiled, and did the same. He paid for the newspaper, and the girl trudged back to the middle of the square, holding the newspaper stack tight to her chest, keeping it dry with the kids splashing water around.

Armin opened the newspaper. He sighed when he saw most of it was written in the language he spoke.

The first title made him choke on his sandwich.

As the third anniversary of the war is nearing, the world is wondering, is it really over?

Armin scanned through the rest of the page, his mouth inching wider with every word, a crumb of chewed bread fell out his mouth. 

Is it really over? Are all titan shifters actually dead?

Or is it just another trick from the devils of paradise?

The world demands proof that the Eldians are unable to turn into titans anymore, and it won’t rest until the truth is out.

Armin couldn’t believe his eyes, and suddenly, the sandwich in his hand was no longer appealing.

~~~~

The hunting for an affordable inn started. Armin roamed the streets again, instead of keeping his chin up and reading signboards, his gaze was fixated on others; he felt every pair of eyes on him, only watching him, somehow knowing that he was the colossal titan, with one, unremarkable scratch, he could blow this whole city, charring it into dust, as if it never existed before.

Fear shoved the ruthless joyfulness into a far, abandoned corner, cackling. Sweat broke on Armin’s forehead, his heart beating fast in his chest.

For the first time in three years, Armin felt unsafe.

All he knew for the past three years was living for his own self, safely. He was still stuck with the military, and he had troubles sleeping the first few weeks he moved alone into his house, but it was as if he was reborn, turned a new page, and started a brand new life. Even if the whole world declared his death, for him, it was a new beginning.

Armin needed a quiet place, as fast as possible.

He entered the very first inn he laid eyes on.

The inn was in the middle of the town, with an affordable price and clean rooms. Not big but not small. It wasn’t crowded nor was it empty. He booked a room closest to the emergency exit, hastily snatched the key from the concierge's hand, throwing a trembling thank-you over his shoulder as he scuttled as fast as he could up the stairs, reaching his room, checking the number engraved on the key twice, before going in and locking the door.

He flopped his suitcase on the bed, closed the curtains, then double checked that the door was locked.

Stepping into the bathtub, he stayed under the warm spray of the shower longer than needed, all the while checking behind the curtains.

He snuck under the blankets, unexpectedly cold after the warm shower, slept with one eye open, as light gradually faded behind the curtains, denoting the end of his first day of this unforeseen vacation. 

The last thing he thought of before drifting into an uneasy sleep- was buying a ticket back to the island, first thing in the morning.

~~~

Light crept into the room as the sun rose up in the sky. Armin didn’t see it, he was under his blankets, speculating the closed curtains, his heart thudding loudly in his ear.

His ears perked up for any sound.

His throat was dry as a desert.

His water bottle was across the room.

Armin observed it, unmoving. He closed his eyes for a long second, hoping that when he opens them, the water bottle would be right in front of his face.

But it didn’t move an inch.

He should get going, get up, gather his stuff, and leave.

This is ridiculous, Connie himself would be ashamed.

He got up, a shiver went up his spine the moment his toes touched the carpeted floor. Even though he was aware he was being an idiot, he couldn’t shake off this paranoia. Tiptoeing to the water bottle, he reached to it, his mouth getting dryer, his fingers were an inch away from it-

KNOCK KNOCK!!!

Armin hit the water bottle, knocking it off, water spilling on the floor, splashing the curtain.

Freeze.

He didn’t dare move a limb.

His brain went through every possibility of who could be at the door. Angry people with torches and swords? Maybe men in black with guns in their hands? Or it was the government on a mission to arrest him? Or- 

KNOCK KNOCK!!!

Armin flinched. He took a deep breath, and approached the door with inaudible steps, as light as he could. It felt like ages before he reached the door. He spied through the peephole, it was blurred with dust, but it was enough to see a figure of someone standing there.

A woman.

A blonde woman.

No way no way no way-

Short

Petite

Armin leaned against the door, squinting, trying to decipher her features, his heart involuntary beating faster in his chest-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!!!

Armin fell back, tumbling on his ass, a grunt escaped his mouth. He slammed his palm on his mouth, the pain from the fall momentarily vanishing, but it was too late.

“Alright if someone is in there, for God’s sake just answer the fucking door, I got other businesses to do!” a gruff voice called from the other side of the door, impatient, their tapping foot could be heard from down the hall.

That’s not… her...

“Y-yes?” Armin squeaked out.

“Towels? This is room’s services, do you need extra towels?”

What? Room service? I didn’t ask for-

“Just answer the goddamn question-”

“N-no!” Armin half shouted, trembling, “th-thanks I don’t need t-towels please.”

“You got a letter,” the gruff woman added.

A letter? Wha-

“Hello?! Can you stay with me for one fucking minute-”

“I’m sorry!” He blurted out, “f-from whom?”

“Do I look like I would know?” A very loud sigh, “are you even gonna open the goddamn door? Actually nevermind-” 

Armin heard rustling, before the tip of white paper sneaked under the door.

“Next time answer the door faster, just wasting my Goddamn time, as if I had any more time to waste…” the complaints faded down the hallway.

Armin layed on the floor for extra few minutes, energy drained out of him.

Another letter.

Armin feared what could be in it.

He slit open the top of the envelope with trembling fingers, shook it, a small piece of wrinkled brown paper fell out.

He held it so close to his eyes, rereading the few lines over and over again.

Ayyooo Armin!

I hope you enjoyed your free time!

Just a reminder about our meeting tomorrow, oh and I already got you a train ticket and a room in that hotel

See ya there!

Hitccchhh~

He didn’t leave his room for the rest of the day. Plans of leaving to the island seemed way far off reach.

~~~

At night, Armin took the train to the town Hitch told him about. Keeping his eyes down, his movement unnoticeable, dissolving within the train’s car.

It was barely dawn when he arrived, the sky a dark blue, the moon absent.

It was one of those nights where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face; the surroundings plunged into darkness. The only available light coming from fluorescent street bulbs with vague halos, fireflies zipping around them. He barely got himself to the hotel Hitch told him about, the process of checking in all but blurry. Paranoia substituted by exhaustion. He flopped on the bed, only able to kick off his shoes before he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

He woke up at noon.

Sweaty, hot, tangled in the sheets, the sun glaring through the window.

Sleeping at dawn and waking up at noon was one of the things Armin avoided for the past three years; he was an early bird who liked mornings. When he woke up with the sun scorching in the middle of the sky, it was as if he fell off a cliff and all his bones were broken, muscles from head to toe aching.

Of course, the morning buffet the hotel provided had long ended, (now that he was aware of it, the hotel Hitch recommended was rather nice… pricey as well, he noted to talk about this with her, he couldn’t let her pay for it). Armin could no longer ignore his stomach walls clamping on each other, so, with caution, all his senses fully activated, he left his room, making sure to hide all his personal stuff underneath the mattress and behind the closet.

Only then did he have a chance to look around the town.

Frighteningly astonishing, it looked as a bucket of rainbow splashed on it. The silent buildings decided to grow non identically; each one sprouted from its roots in fortuitous angles, frozen mid dance on inaudible tunes.

A canvas of a bored artist and a brush, spontaneously drawing strokes wherever and however. And what was a mere boredom act had become a masterpiece others marvel at.

It was quiet for such a colorful city, even though people zipped up and down the streets, but for Armin’s eyes that were still adjusting to the light, it was all but a blurry gray-scaled lines.

After his vision cleared… he found out it wasn’t much different than when they were blurry.

People clothed in three colors… black, white, and gray. Striped, dotted, and squared. Their faces wore similar schemes; stoic, prosaic, blank. All busy and in a hurry, scurrying down the streets, everyone going on with their day, not glancing at one another.

Armin, with his blue shirt and brown pants, felt so out of the place.

Any sort of the modern technology Armin saw when he first visited the continent- were nowhere to be seen; there was not a single car on the streets, only black bicycles that passed by him like wind. The zig-zagging chimneys sprouting from houses didn’t blow gray toxics into the air, and the air tasted different; clean and refreshing. 

However, the fresh air didn’t seem to affect the people at all, either they were too used to it, or simply didn’t care.

Armin swallowed, thinking why on earth did Hitch recommend this city. Yes the place was nice, cheerful and pulsating with life, but its people were as emotionless as an unremarkable stone on the sideroad.

It wasn’t about the fanciness of a place, its color or its shapes, it never was and never will be.

it was all about the people.

They either spread life in town, or rob it from it.

Armin tried to not make eye contact with anyone, and not because of his dilemma of being exposed, but because everyone seemed intolerable to a delaying-glance.

He permitted himself to stroll the streets and discard his situation on the shelf for a while.

After all, it was ridiculous. 

Utterly ridiculous.

He took a turn right, a turn left, walked for some time, went through alleys and squares… it was too late until he realized he could no longer go back to the hotel.

He was lost and had no idea where he was, internally freaking out.

Do not panic don't panic do not panic

If his frantic thoughts showed on his face, he’d probably be an easy prey and get blindly robbed. He must stay sharp and focused.

Time passed, and Armin decided that he wouldnt find his way back if he didn’t move, and soon enough, he found himself walking through a traditional market rounding a vast square, traders wearing hints of color, intruding the greyness of the town-people, Armin realized that this market was attended by foreigners.

In the middle of the square, a small stage was being set up, almost finished. From people’s questioning stares and glances, Armin concluded that it was as foregin to them as it was to him.

But after fleeting looks, people would resume their life, running errands, their kids killing time waiting for their parents; playing and hopping around.

Armin forgot his hunger and that he was lost for a second, watching the kids.

Much like his younger days, with Mikasa and Eren in Shiganshina...

The atmosphere ignited nostalgia’s candle under Armin’s nose. He sighed, wishing that he invited his friends with him, maybe having company wouldn’t have gotten him in the mess he meddled in, why didn’t I even think about that?

Armin’s stomach grumbled in response, reminding him that he didn’t eat anything since… the day before...

The side market-stands with fresh fruits watered his mouth. He swallowed, approaching a stand where shiny apples were snatching glances from everyone at the market.

Armin picked two apples, one red and one green -he didn’t have a personal preference- and any food on an empty stomach is worth a fancy meal at the monarchy’s feasts.

Horns echoed.

Every head in the square swiveled to the center, where the stage was completely set up, a middle aged man standing on it, his chin up, beside him a younger man, a younger replica of him. Four musicians, carrying small horns that were a shame for real horns, standing behind him.

Classy 

“Attention, people of this town,” the old man with a round belly announced, hushed murmurs transpired, and Armin heard admirable words like it’s the Mayor! Or how humble he is!, which made Armin raise a confused eyebrow.

Everyone went quiet, and as if on cue, the Mayor continued: “As words had been going around, we’re holding one of the biggest festivals here, in memory of ending the big war. Three years ago, when the world saw peace again!”

Claps erupted, Armin grimaced at the Mayor’s meek wording.

The mayor’s chest inflated with pride (or ego?), the buttons on his gray-striped shirt threatening to pop off. He raised his hand, and the crowd, once again, fell into homage silence.

“And as I promise you, my dear people,” few people sighed, “I’ll make it worthy for your praise and admiration. People from all over the world are going to visit us, and from my place here, I ask you for generosity and hospitality, and to take advantage of this trade investment! It’s a great opportunity for your markets to flourish!”

The crowd clapped again. The Mayor half bowed, before he descended the stage, his younger look-alike following him.

Comments, squeals, and whispers spread rapidly, and the square was as alive as it was before the pause.

“Young man?” 

Armin turned to the seller, he almost forgot where he left. He reached into his pockets, but stopped when the seller whispered to him, his accent heavy but understandable: “Did you see what he did? He’s using the people, his people for money!”

Armin’s mouth opened and closed several times, taken aback, before he asked: “What do you mean? Isn’t this for their own good?”

“What? No young man, no. I take it you’re not from here?”

Armin shook his head.

“Well let me tell you something,” the seller leaned closer to Armin, his voice dropping to lower than a whisper, “that man owns this market, he takes 50% percent of the profit, from every single one of us!”

“...what?”

“Exactly!” the seller looked right and left, making sure no one was eavesdropping on them, “half of my hard work goes right into his pockets!”

Armin scrunched his nose; he had a bad feeling about the Mayor the moment he saw him. Armin didn’t know why the seller was telling him this… maybe he just wanted to let it out…

“His son looks no better than him… I’m sorry young man, I shalln’t hold you up any longer.”

Armin nodded with an apologetic smile, handing several coins for the seller, he turned around and-

He pumped into someone, and a paper bag full of groceries was dropped out on the ground, the two apples slipping from his hands and falling into the mix.

“I’m so sorry! I-I apologize!,” Armin knelt and started picking the goods and putting them back into the bag.

Armin wasn’t bothered that he picked up all the groceries by himself, their owners not doing anything; it was his fault after all.

When he was done, he stood up, glancing at the two apples which were no longer edible; one split in half and facing downwards, the other had a huge soft brown circle on it, contradicting how appetizing they looked just ten seconds ago.

“There you-” Armin’s voice stopped in his throat.

His eyes met a pair of familiar icy blue eyes, wide open, boring into his own.

“Annie…” Armin whispered, his eyes widening.

It was her, blonde hair in a bun, blue eyes- it was her.

No doubt.

Annie...

There is no way this is actually happening; she can’t just vanish for years then pop out of nowhere like this.

That wasn’t fair, it was ridiculous, the world had a plan, and Armin was a toy controlled by someone else, snickering at him as Armin couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t believe his eyes.

He spent three years trying to forget her, they can’t go through this again-

She yanked the paper bag from Armin’s hands, pulled a gray cape over her head and walked away.

Armin froze for a moment, but when he saw her figure fading into the crowd, he darted behind her.

“Annie! Annie, wait! Please wait!” Armin called, as he pushed through people, whose sudden purpose was hindering Armin from getting to Annie. He accidently pushed a guy who happened to be holding a basket filled with eggs to the rim. The guy staggered, squelching half of them on the ground.

“Hey! Watch out!” The man complained, but Armin didn’t acknowledge him in the slightest.

She didn’t slow down, she maintained her fast pace, ignoring Armin’s calls, pulling the cape further down her face when people started giving them suspicious glances.

“Annie! Please!”

More eyes looked at them.

Armin barely kept up with Annie, trying so hard to not lose sight of her. Until they reached an intersection, people double the number, bicycles zipping past Armin-

She turned right.

Armin sprinted, crashing into bodies, people throwing profanities at him. He turned right and-

She was gone.

She vanished.

Armin halted in his tracks, his breathing erratic, staring at the last spot he saw Annie at.

Was that… was that a facade? 

A hand clapped on Armin’s shoulder, he jumped, only to see that the hand belonged to a man.

An angry man, with a basket of half cracked eggs.

The man was shouting, complaining, cursing. But Armin didn’t hear him; his ears ringing, his mouth dry, and his sight swaying.

A few blocks away, a blonde carrying groceries bag was hastily leaving the scene, covering her head, not turning around to check if he was behind her.

Ignoring the awkward glances from passbyres, she kept going until she was out of the center of the town, where houses scattered over vast land, and it was more peaceful than the market, less crowded, less people.

She walked to a small, humble house, took out keys and unlocked the door. Discarding the bag in the kitchen. She beelined to her room, closed the door behind her.

She looked around the room, searching for anything to break, to smash, anything to let out her anger on, anything.

When she decided she mustn’t leave a trace of her rage, she sat on the ground, leaning against the door, and bit down hard on hand. Closing her jaw as hard as she can on flesh, until she tasted her own blood.

Sharp pain shot from her hand, she let it go with a hiss, watching blood dripping on the ground.

She watched her wound.

A labored, shaky sigh left her mouth, she rested her head against the wooden door as she eyeballed steam emitting from her wound, flesh forming and healing, accompanied with a murmur of a hiss.

“Are you done? Did you let it all out? Or you wanna bite your other hand?”

She looked up, a girl sitting on her bed, legs crossed, a smirk blasted on her face.

“What… what have you done, Hitch?”

.

.

AAAAAAAAAHHH Oh my GOD I didn’t update Legends in so long I’m so excited to finally post this dkgdlsajgkds Thanks for everyone who tolerated this story not being updated for some time, thanks for sticking around, I really appreciate it I know I haven’t been updating as much as I used to, I’m gonna graduate soon, so I’m a bit busy with university right now The thing is, I’m too attached to this story, and only recently I realized this. I started writing this story in April 2020, it was the beginning of lockdown and all the crazy shit we’re going through right now. It was my own escape, and I enjoyed writing every single word of it I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ll never abandon this story, because it became a part of me that I can’t live without So thank you guys for coming along this journey, I appreciate it. ALSO SORRY FOR ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER I’M SO SORRY OH MY GOD Ok that’s all, feedback is always appreciated, here on tumblr or ao3 (or twitter uwu) OK THANKS AGAIN YOU GUYS I LOVE YOU MWAAAHH

[stubbychaos]

The First Time He Sees Her

A one-shot for Saviin’ika

This goes hand-in-hand with chapter 1 of Saviin’ika, for those who might not have read it yet

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Paz sees his nurse before he meets her for the first time and is stunned by her selflessness and beauty.

Rating: T for language (there are a couple F-bombs bc Paz has a sailor’s mouth tbh) and the tiniest bit of violence since Paz is injured.

Word Count: 3,000ish

Warnings: Unless you count tooth-rotting fluff and Paz absolutely crushing on his little nurse, there are no warnings!! There’s mentions of Paz’s injury from the first chapter, but nothing too descriptive!

A/N: Thank you to the anon who sent that super sweet ask about me writing from Paz’s POV. I’m not sure if this will meet your expectations, but I hope you enjoy it regardless!! I actually had a lot of fun writing this much fluff after writing all the angst for the newest chapter. I might do some more of these if you guys are interested in certain parts of the story?? <3

The first time Paz sees you, you’re smiling so brightly and it’s enough to make him freeze him from across the street where he’s found himself cemented to, his visor instantly fixated on your plush pink lips and the whites of your teeth.

You're not the one he's smiling at and for some reason that feels like the biggest crime in the galaxy--and Paz has witnessed many crimes and atrocities in his lifetime.

He’s clutching a canvas bag filled with several supplies and fresh food for his tribe as he watches you crouch down in front of a crying little boy who must have tripped and fallen, his little palms bleeding as you carefully inspect them with furrowed brows. 

Unintentionally, Paz finds himself cocking his head to the side as you shuffle through a small cross-body bag, seeming to search for something in particular and your smile widens as you pull out a little glass jar with some sort of soft purple substance in it.

A smile stretches across Paz’s lips as he watches you completely drop to your bare knees on the cracked pavement so you’re more eye-level with the child and you begin the tender task of rubbing the ointment into his minor wounds, all while reassuring him with a bright smile that everything is going to be alright. Your smile is a soft, comforting one, Paz notices as you easily cheer up the little boy with warm words, the skin at the corners of your eyes crinkling and a part of him is tempted to get a little closer to you so he can hear your voice better. It’s a breathy, lilting melody that barely reaches his ears underneath his helmet, but the sound of it comforts him and he’s not even the one who’s injured.

You’re asking the child innocent little questions to distract him--“What’s your name, sweetheart? Where are your parents? Do you have siblings or pets? What’s your favorite color? Yellow? Mine is purple but I like blue as well!”--and Paz finds your dedication to this child that you don’t even know so sweet and honorable when he’s only ever dealt with scumbags in the village.

You’re a breath of fresh air, Paz realizes with a soft grin, watching as you do everything possible to comfort the tiny boy who seems to be warming up to you, growing shy when you tenderly ruffle his messy curls before you pull some gauze out of your bag to bandage his hands. You tend to his little wounds with the utmost care, as though you’re nursing graver wounds and Paz nearly chuckles when you inform the boy he is far stronger than any soldier that you’ve ever met.

Then he notices your long, shiny mane and he melts.

Paz thinks he’s never seen such a beautiful head of hair in his entire life. The long waves tumble down the length of your spine with a healthy shine, the locks curled at the ends and he’s in absolute awe, knowing that you must have spent years growing out your beautiful mane. Then he spots little bundles of violets tucked behind each of your ears and his smile grows tenfold, not used to seeing such vibrancy in the little village that resides above the covert. 

Paz thinks you must be some sort of beacon of hope and purity in a place filled with criminals and greedy bounty hunters and his breath hitches in his throat and his heart stops beating as you remove one of the little bundles of flowers from their home behind your ear. His eyes follow your tiny hand as you pluck a flower from the bouquet and offer it to the blushing child who’s no longer crying, but instead smiling shyly at you as he happily accepts it.

The Mandalorian tenses a little when a man steps out of the building that you’re kneeling in front of on the sidewalk and he watches as the man roughly grabs you by the elbow and pulls you to your feet with no regard for your own comfort. Even with the soft smile you give the little boy as he waves goodbye to you, it no longer meets your eyes and Paz notices the way you drop your head as the aggressive man tugs you back into the building.

Paz spots the sign on the outside of the building and realizes it’s an infirmary, and that you must be some sort of doctor or medic and everything suddenly makes sense--your kindness towards the child and how you hadn’t hesitated to step outside to tend to his minor wounds.

Paz isn’t even aware there’s an infirmary in the village and he’s grateful for this new information, especially since him and so many others in the tribe are always getting injured during training and sparring. As he makes his way back to the enclave a smile still stretched along his concealed features, he hopes he will soon again see you--the pretty medic that wears bright violets in your hair.

It happens sooner than he wishes for, to be honest.

Two weeks later, Paz is storming into the infirmary that he had never known to exist before you, gripping his bloody side as he searches specifically for you and immediately, his eyes zone in on the small figure that’s hunched over in a chair at the front desk.

At first, you don’t even notice him, utterly focused on finishing whatever the hell it is you’re writing down in a big white binder, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth and your brows furrowed in concentration.

“You.”

Immediately, your head whips up and it takes Paz a moment to remember how to speak when your wide, expressive eyes somehow meet his; a part of him actually worries that you can somehow see him, despite his helmet. Almost instantly, your gaze lowers to his chest and he knows the look of fear all too well and dread settles deep in Paz’s chest when he realizes that you’re afraid of him.

His voice is strained as he tries to ignore the intense pain flaring like hot coals in both sides of his ribs, “I need medical attention... please.”

“Oh! Okay,” You quickly stand up, still refusing to look at his helmet and you tuck a non-existent lock of hair behind your ear--it must be a nervous habit, Paz realizes and manages to smile a little at your awkwardness, actually forgetting that you can’t even see him, “I think there might be someone who can--”

“No!” Paz hisses through clenched teeth, his ribs aching fiercely and he has to force himself to lower his voice to something softer so he won’t frighten you when he notices how badly you flinch at the sound of his deep voice, “I want you to tend to my wounds.”

Paz watches the way your nostrils flare a little, the muscles in your jaw slightly shifting as you force yourself to nod and immediately, he dislikes how frightened you are of him as he stalks past you and into the slim hallway and he realizes he’s already ruined your first impression of him. Angrily, he struggles to remove his heavy equipment as you quietly usher him into your little office. He’s a little surprised to find your desk and the window sill decorated with well-cared for flowers and plants, the vibrant flora seeming so out of place in such a bleak village, though it still comforts him for some reason.

“W-Would you like some help sir?”

Your voice--so quiet and so fucking sweet--is filled with such hesitation and is still just as much of a melody as he remembers it to be from the first time he’d seen you tending to that child.

Immediately, he turns to you and curses the Maker because you look so frightened by his appearance, your tiny hands wringing together nervously and he forces himself to relax and drop his guarded facade when you offer to help him remove his armor. Paz is grateful when you bravely step forward to remove his cuirass, taking great care and caution as you fiddle with the latches with small, skilled hands. He’s surprised that you somehow manage to figure out how to remove his chest plate and he nearly laughs through the pain when you fumble with the weight of his Beskar cradled in your small arms as you carry it to your desk. 

He remains complacent as you return to help him remove all of his extra armor and padding, though he has to force himself not to grunt when you help him untuck his tunics from the waistband of his pants. You’re asking him questions about his injuries and what he was stabbed with--your voice that same soft melody--and he wants to apologize for being an asshole after rudely answering your gentle questions, but all he can focus on are your small hands and how cold they are against his warm skin and how he’s not fucking used to being treated so delicately.

He’s being an absolute asshole towards you and he loathes that you’re clearly growing more frustrated with him with every sarcastic sentence he offers you, but all he can focus on is how he can feel your tepid puffs of breath hitting his bare skin as you stitch his wounds, your pretty face only inches away from his stomach. You’re mumbling something about how lucky he is that the stab wound isn’t deep and the thought of him being stabbed and body-slammed by another Mandalorian makes him ‘lucky’ nearly has him laughing.

He decides not to mention that he had initially been distracted by the pretty village nurse and your pretty flowers during the middle of an intense sparring match and he makes some sort of sardonic remark before he can stop himself. He’s muttering some nonsense of how you should be used to violence and gore, what with being a doctor, but you’re quick to correct him and Paz admires the irritation in your small voice.

He thinks that he must not be the first to judge you and what you must have been through.

“I’m a nurse, actually. The infirmary only has one doctor and he barely works here since he’s always traveling,” You correct him, eyes trained on the way the curved hook of the needle pierces his skin, nylon thread bringing the torn flesh back together, and Paz feels sorry when he notices the exhaustion evident in your hushed voice, “Sorry if you expected to be treated by an actual doctor when you stormed into the the infirmary asking for my help. There’s not really a huge need for medical professionals in the village–most people are dead before they even make it here.”

Paz is surprised by the bleakness in your soft voice and how you almost seem to put yourself down for only being a nurse, as if your job is somehow not important and he remembers how kindly you had treated the little boy’s extremely minor wounds with such tender care. It seems unfair that someone with such a kind, tender heart could feel such insecurities, but he thinks you must not be used to being treated with respect.

“Why did you ask for me?”

The question throws Paz off guard and he struggles to form a coherent response when he feels the curved hook of a sterile needle piercing his bloody flesh. Paz wants to tell you that he’d seen you comforting that distraught child just a couple weeks ago--that he’d witnessed you tending to the tiniest of scrapes on the boy’s hands that really didn’t even require medical attention. He wants to tell you that he wants one of the little violets that’s tucked behind your ear, but he knows it would sound ridiculous and perhaps childish, so he responds with:

“You were the only one that actually looked competent.”

You still wear an intense expression of confliction, but you nod slowly and Paz is grateful when you continue to stitch up his wounds with great precision and grace, your fingers moving so fluidly like water against his bloodied flesh. He knows he’s only making everything worse for himself when you kindly and nervously ask him to stop fidgeting around so much, but the soft feeling of your fingers brushing against his skin every now and then is too much and he--

“Fine. Just hurry up.”

The way he says it is so fucking rude and he knows it and cringes the second he sees the expression of disappointment and distaste among your lovely features, you eyes barely glancing up at him through the lenses of your big glasses. You must be so used to cruelty from others and he sees it in the way you shake your head a little as you finish his stitches, or how your eyes momentarily dart up to his helmet and hands, as if confirming you’re not going to be struck or beaten by him.

Then your hands are on Paz’s tender ribs and he nearly jumps right off the cot at how soft and delicately you are pressing your hand against his damaged torso, like he’s made of the most fragile glass and not of impenetrable Beskar. Suddenly, you’re standing up, rambling something about a bacta salve that you made yourself and Paz is quick in his attempts to stop you, feeling utterly undeserving of such medical care after he already antagonized you enough, though you don’t pay attention and he watches as you makes your way to your desk.

He sits up a little higher when he notices you struggling to reach the top shelf that’s connected to your desk and how you have to stand on your tippy toes to reach for a big jar that’s filled with a bright blue substance. He’s nearly halfway off the cot to help you, but your fingers gently curl around the glass jar before you’re approaching him once again. There’s a tiny smile tugging at your lips from the mere thought of relieving the ache in his ribs and Paz is quick to catch your wrist before your bacta-clad fingers can touch the side of his stomach.

“I don’t want your pity.”

Your voice is more confident when you speak and Paz grows warm at how willing you are to argue with him, “It is not pity, Mandalorian.”

You smile sweetly at him, a gentle expression that immediately has him loosening his grip around your tiny wrist, “Then what is it?”

“Kindness.”

Paz stares at you, absolutely stunned as he drops your wrist and lets you tend to his bruised ribs with the softest pressure possible. He tilts his helmet to stare up at you and wonders how something so sweet and soft has lasted this long in such a cruel village. He feels the soft pressure of your cold fingers against his ribs and smiles underneath his helmet, though it’s a sad one as he thinks of all the ungrateful patients you must get on a daily-basis and he longs to tell you that he’s grateful for your tender touch,

Instead, his mouth grows dry and he remains silent as you finish tending to his wounds and it’s not until you silently offer him the little jar of bacta salve that he shows his gratitude with a sharp nod and a tiny ‘thank you’. Paz feels awful for not having credits to give the sweet nurse, but he figures that money is something you do not care much for and simply accepts the precious gift without another word. He thinks of your selflessness with the little boy from the other day as you kindly escort him out of your office and briefly wonders if you’re just this genuinely sweet with everyone you meet.

As Paz leaves your office, utterly aware of you sheepishly following him, he’s half attempted to give you some sort of payment for your hard work and dedication to your job, but before he can even reach into his pouch, an angry voice is calling out your name.

“I thought I told you to have those reports done today by sundown and it’s almost kriffing midnight. I’m tired of telling you how to do your job! Am I not punishing you hard enough? Is that why you’re too stupid to understand how to do something as fucking basic as filing reports?”

Paz instantly sees the way your head lowers in shame as the same man who had forced you back into the infirmary weeks ago antagonizes you and before he even realizes what he’s doing, his fingers are wrapped around the handle of his vibroblade, ready to kill the man if he chooses to harm you severely. The Mandalorian doesn’t like the way this man berates you--how he refers to the sweet nurse as pathetic and incompetent and his heart aches in his chest when he hears how defeated and broken you suddenly sound as you attempt to apologize.

After being told to leave the infirmary, you quickly turn around and Paz is just as surprised as you are as the two of you face each other. Your eyes are fixated on the firm grip he has on his vibroblade and it takes Paz a moment to realize that the poor nurse is not only afraid of that cruel man, but him as well. Slowly, Paz removes his hand from the handle of his blade and watches sadly as you quickly skitter past him, clearly terrified of what cruel men were capable of and he feels it deep within his chest as he watches you quickly make your way down the rocky sidewalk.

“Nurse.”

Paz barely speaks, but it’s enough for you to freeze in your tracks, not uttering a single word as he slowly approaches you. Your shoulders are practically touching your earlobes with how tense you are and shame fills his entire being when he realizes just how terrified you are of him--just how much pain you must have endured if you’re this afraid.

A tear slowly slides down your cheek and...

Maker, what have you been through to feel such intense fear? Could they really beat down someone so precious and innocent to the point where you fear that everyone wishes to harm you?

“It’s too late and dangerous to be walking alone. I’m going to walk you home.”

Paz reaches out to grab your small elbow, but you quickly back away with an intense flinch and he fears that you’ve somehow decided to mistrust everyone you meet. Against his better judgment, he offers you his beloved vibroblade, giving you the option to stab him if you start to feel threatened at any point during the walk home and finally, your beautiful eyes meet his through the protection of his visor.

Paz stares at the beautiful flowers tucked behind your ears with reverence as you question him in a small, timid voice, “Haven’t you uh, been stabbed enough for one day?”

Before he can even attempt to stop himself, the Mandalorian finds himself laughing at your innocent question and nods a little, “Yes, I think I have. Now, let’s get going.”

You offer him the tiniest smile, something only slightly similar to what you’d given the little boy from weeks ago, but Paz is willing to accept anything at this point, even if it’s a ghost of a smile from his tiny nurse.

His heart swells when your fingers eventually curl into the crook of his elbow and he can feel the soft pressure against his skin as you allow him to walk you home.

Paz quickly decides that your company is just as lovely as your warm smile.

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild  @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion​ @tangledlove27 @justrunamok​ @haloangel391​

[justimagineitblog]

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 7

A/N: Here is Chapter 7! Thank you so much for your prompts! If yours wasn’t used in here, sit tight because it will probably come into play in the next chapters x I hope you guys enjoy the little flashback toooo...... 

This one is extra long to make up for my absence, I’ve had some family troubles going on which is always 10x worse because we’re confined in quarantine together and I know many many people are struggling with being around and stuck with toxic family members too...

I hope this gives you some escape during this time, it certainly did for me xx 

I’ve been sitting here mulling over this paper work for so long the words are starting to blend together. But I refuse to stop working. It’s my only distraction from thinking about what happened at the meeting yesterday. God knows what kind of consequences Michael received for putting Gina in her place.

My heart lurches as the door to the office opens, but it settles again once I see that it’s only Polly coming in, cursing as she wrestles with her coat.

“Fuck it’s cold out there” he hisses as she looks over and realises I’m here way earlier than I need to be “You’re here early”

“Couldn’t sleep” I sigh “Figured I’d give myself some extra time to get back into the swing of things, in case I’ve forgotten”

“You haven’t forgotten, you’re too good at it” she winks, reassuring me.

I want to talk. I want to talk about anything and everything with her. But all I can seem to want to bring up is Michael and what happened yesterday.

Reading the look on my face, she gives me a sad smile.

“I called him last night. Apparently Gina seemed to be surprisingly reasonable when he got home” She pauses, before continuing with a smirk “Maybe some things you said put her into place”

Trying not to make it incredibly obvious, I exhale slightly in relief. I didn’t even realise I had been holding my breath.

“Is he coming in today?”

“Yes, he is, work as usual”

God. I can’t tell if that makes me happy or makes me want to crawl into a hole. It still feels weird to me, the prospect of being around him but as virtual strangers. Not as lovers. And then there’s the fact that Gina has suddenly had a change of heart and is letting Michael work with me. Is that all just manipulation? Is this just part of her game?

“And Gina is letting him?” I blurt out “Are you sure she didn’t fall and hit her head on the way home?”

Polly scoffs, “I think she already hit her head a long time ago… But, I also think she realised you were right about this benefiting her. That’s if she’s as smart as she is bitchy”

Polly chuckles and I can’t contain my own laugh as she sits down across from me at our work desks.

No matter what Gina is doing, whatever game she is playing by acting okay with all of this, I still flashback to the day Michael asked me to stay away from him and Gina.

“Whatever she is thinking, I still think it’s only best if I try and keep out of their way as much as possible-“

Polly sighs. I know she’s frustrated. I know she wants Michael to be served giant reality check and shake him out of whatever trance he’s in. And I want to do that to. I want to hold him, I want to bring him back. But my mind is constantly in battle about whether he can be brought back or not.

You see, I was sure that he loved me. And then I had that ripped away from me. Since then, nothing feels certain to me. Everything feels like its an unknown. Like I’m just waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under my feet without warning. So how could I ever be sure of anything Michael does from now on?

“You know it’s about time you start putting yourself first” Polly raises her brows at me.

I hum in reply as I stand up from my desk to make a much needed cup of coffee. Putting myself first isn’t my strong suit, and I really do not wanting to get into that conversation at this hour in the morning.

This time when the office doors swing open again they bring with them not only a cold breeze, but Tommy, Arthur and Michael.

I’m greeted with them shivering and grumbling ‘good-morning’ as they try and shake the cold. I’m dying to look at Michael, to read his face, to see what stories his eyes have to tell today. But I don’t. I keep my head down, continuing to make my coffee.

“One of those for me?” Tommy asks playfully, smiling as he comes up next to me. When I look over at him, he gives me a little nudge and a reassuring smile. He knows how hard this is for me to be here, around Michael. This is his way of letting me know he’s got my back today.

“I’m making coffee, does everyone want one?” I call out to the chattering Shelby family behind me, who are all taking seats around the table for our morning meeting.

“Only if it’s an Irish one” Arthur replies with a laugh, earning a disapproving slap on the arm from Polly.

I smile to myself as I make our coffees. I still remember the way they all like it. Without even having to think about it. How many sugars they take. Who likes a lot of milk and who doesn’t. And I missed this. Making coffee for the Shelby’s on a cold winters morning, getting us ready for the day ahead. Like our little ritual.

As I carry the hot drinks over to them, handing them into their cold hands, this is the first time I take a look at Michael. We make some fleeting eye contact as I hand him his drink last, before sitting down at the only seat left. The one directly across from him. Goddamn it. I swear that Tommy, Polly and Arthur would have planned this.

Tommy launches into todays plans straight away. But it doesn’t take long for his talking to fall into the background as my attention goes to Michael. Moments ago he was listening to Tommy intently, but now, he’s staring at the mug in front of him like he’s seen a ghost.

Making Michael coffee used to be our thing. He used to hate coffee. But for some reason, he liked the way I made it for him. Lots of sugar. Not a lot of milk. Not to hot, but enough to warm you up on a cold day. My heart starts to race. His face is twisted into a half smile, half frown. Like this moment is painfully bittersweet. God knows its such a trivial thing. But it was our thing. Every morning we would kiss in the kitchen, and I’d hand him a warm mug as we woke up together. This would have been the first time in over 6 months that we have shared that moment again. And of course, these are the circumstances its under.

He fiddles with the mug, running his hands over it before shaking his head. I wonder what he is thinking, what he might be remembering, as he stares into the coffee like his mind is elsewhere…

FLASHBACK

Michaels bare feet pattering down the hallway behind me is followed by a steady pair of hands that wrap themselves around my waist.

He pulls me back against his chest and I let myself sink into him, my head falling back to rest against his shoulder.

“Good morning” he mumbles, pressing soft kisses along my neck and jawline. His strong arms tighten around my waist, enveloping me in warmth.

“Hi” I coo in return, turning in his arms to face him.

I smile immediately at the sight of him. I always do. His eyes are tired, puffy, his hair pushed all out of place.

He closes his eyes in content as I run a hand through his hair. Biting down on his bottom lip, he pulls at my waist to get me closer to him. Our bodies are pressed up against one another, my arms draped over his shoulders and around his neck. There’s no way I could get closer to him than this, but still, he always tries. And I don’t mind. At all. I think we would be constantly joined at the hip if we could.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” He whispers jokingly. I couldn’t even count up all the ways Michael tells me and shows me his love. It’s every day. It’s in both grand gestures and in little moments. Like flowers for no reason.  Kissing me in front of his friends and family. Always holding my hand when we’re out, and giving it a little squeeze when he knows I’m anxious. The way he looks at me from across the room, and already knows what I’m thinking.

“No, I don’t think you have mentioned it before…” I furrow my brows, pretending to think.

“You’re right” he nods “There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary for that”

My heart flutters, skipping all kinds of beats. We’ve been together for four years now. But no one. No. One. Has the effect on me that Michael does to this day.

“ ‘I love you’ will just have to do then” I chuckle

“Well in that case, I fucking love you”

Every time he says it, it’s like the first time. With an intense passion. It never gets old. He never uses it flippantly. It never loses it’s meaning. He still looks at me with those eyes, with awe and love. And god knows I still look at him like that. From the moment I met Michael I looked at him like he hung the stars and the sun in the sky himself. I adore this man. Being those close to him, I can see all the little freckles scattered across his nose. I could spend the rest of my life counting the.  His eyelashes are fluttering and behind them are his eyes. The colour of the Tenerife sea. I can see the little creases and lines, from laughing and smiling. I hope I put some of them there.

He watches me back, admiring me just as intently as I am admiring him.

“You’re so beautiful” he breathes, barely even in a whisper. Like it was a thought that slipped out, that he didn’t even mean to say out loud.

He presses his lips to mine, kissing me sweetly. It’s tender, but without enough passion to make me want to take him straight back into that bedroom down the hall.

When he pulls away, his eyes stay closed for a moment, his forehead resting on mine. Savouring the moment. I wish I could live in this moment right here with him forever. In fact, I’m not quite sure what I would do with myself without these moments. Without Michael.

“Coffee?” I ask, as the kettle finally boils in the background.

“Mmm,” he hums nodding “Please”

He lets me go from his grip, and hops up on the kitchen counter. He sits on the edge, watching me endearingly as I make his coffee just the way he likes it.

“3 sugars, warm but not to hot, just a dash of milk for one Michael Gray” I smile proudly as I stand between his legs, handing him his drink.

These are my favourite days. If I could freeze frame this I would. But I know I don’t have to. Michael is my forever. And I want to spend the rest of my forever waking up like this.  

He chuckles, smiling down at me gratefully as we drink our coffee together.

FLASHBACK ENDS

Suddenly Tommy’s voice gets louder as I come back to reality, realising I’ve just been lost in a memory. I look around the table nervously, relieved to find that no one noticed. Oh god how long was I distracted for.

“And finally, Isabelle… You’re willingly accepting and returning to the role of Head of Acquisitions?” Tommy asks me, a smile on his face. He already knows the answer. Tommy and I were quite the pair back before I left the company. Little partners in crime. He always trusted me, from the get go. And I’ve missed my job. Michael aside, I think I would always found myself working for the Shelby’s.

“Yes sir” I nod back, and Arthur cheers excitedly, clapping his hands.

“You still remember what to do?” Tommy teases

“I might have to fix up the damage you did while I was gone but I’m sure I can handle it” I tease back, earning a laugh from Polly. She always loved having another female working around the company to even things out.

In the corner of my eye I can see a fleeting smile on Michael’s face, before he clenches his jaw and it disappears. Like he’s trying not to reminisce on how much this feels like old times.

“Right, that’s all then?” Polly asks Tommy, and he nods.

“That’s it, everyone clear?”

I’ve got my work already cut out for me today. Now that I’m back in the Shelby company as Head of Acquisitions, I’ve got a lot of liaising the catch up on. A lot of companies that invest in us, that we protect in return who I need to check in on and make sure all ends of our deals are being held up. This is my forte.

And luckily, it’s going to keep me busy and distant from Michael. What I said to Polly earlier still stands. I still need to keep my distance from him. I have to. I can’t expect that he is ever going to snap out of whatever he is caught up in and come back to me. Cause god knows I cannot tell what this man is thinking or where his head is at anymore. I will only break my own heart even more if I wait for something that might never happen.

We all leave the meeting table and I gather my paper work from my desk before heading out for the day. And it’s a long day. But luckily for me, our clients and business partners were mostly excited to see me back in the business. And because of this, they were willing to comply with almost anything. See Arthur had temporarily taken over my role while I was out of the company, and he has a much more… unconventional way of liaising with clients.

It’s dark, almost 6pm by the time I begin to head back to the Shelby limited office, to finish up my paper work from this morning before going home. Adamant that no one is going to be in the office, I let myself in and finally relax from today. I even do something I used to do all the time when I was alone in here, which is flick the radio on and hum along.

Completely content with myself, I float around the desks organising my files and folders, signing of on legal forms and feeling some kind of familiarity and normality in my life again. Maybe I don’t have Michael. Maybe when I leave here tonight, I’m going home alone instead of home to him. But at least I have this. This job. Something to cling on to, something familiar from before my life was turned upside down.

As I flitter past the radio I turn it up louder, swaying to myself. But I’m snapped out of my temporary bliss when I hear a door open and shoes walking across the floorboards.

I spin around, completely startled to find Michael standing, staring back at me just as shocked.

“Fuck” I hiss, placing a hand over my chest as I try to steady my heart rate “I didn’t realise you were here” I stutter over my words.

He shakes his head quickly, his eyes darting to the ground then back up at me nervously.

“No I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you” he quickly replies “I didn’t even hear you come in until I heard the music”

My attention quickly turns to the radio, which is playing obnoxiously in the background. I reach to turn it off, but he stops me before I can.

“Wait, it’s fine, I like it on” he rubs his neck, as the tension and awkwardness just grows stronger.

I nod in reply “I was just finishing up some paper work, I’ll just finish it up a home” I side step away from him, heading over to my desk.

“No, no don’t, I’m going back to my office I was just checking to see who was here ” He insists, and I watch him wearily.

Weeks ago he was staring at me stone cold, heartless, asking me to stay away. Now he’s apologising for accidentally frightening me and insisting that I can finish my work here.

We stand there like fools, both not knowing what to say to each other.

Say something Michael. My mind is begging. Just say what you’re thinking.

But of course, he doesn’t speak. He just stares at me, like he’s not sure where to look or when to speak. Or maybe he’s scared of what might come out of his mouth if he lets himself speak. What he might confess. Reveal.

I begin to play with my hands nervously. How long is he going to fucking stand here for?

My question is answered when he buries his hands in his pockets and gives me a nod, before turning and heading back to his office.

I’m still glued to my spot until he closes the door behind him and he is out of my sight.

So much for a relaxing night alone, finishing off paper work.

I’m only in the office for another 30 minutes maximum, as I rush around trying to get this work over and done with. I went from wanting to hang out here all night, alone and working with the radio going to desperately hurrying to get out of here like my life depends on it.

I’ve probably filed the remainder of the papers wrong, and will have to deal with that tomorrow. But that seems like a pretty good option compared to being stuck alone in here with Michael.

Finally signing of the last document, I lock up all the windows and check the doors are locked too. I wrestle my coat on and clutch at my keys nervously, making my way to Michael’s office.

Just tell him you’re leaving and then go.

“Uh, I’m gonna head home. I locked up all the ” I begin, as I step into the door way of his office, clutching at my keys and bag nervously. As my eyes fall over him, I find him sitting at his desk, his head hanging in his hands.

When he hears my voice his head shooting in my direction, as I startle him. He quickly tries to compose himself, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair.

“Uh yeah okay thanks” He breathes, his face distorted in embarrassment.

He looks exhausted. His eyes blood shot and tired. Like some weight has been on his shoulders and its getting harder and harder to carry.

I realise I’m just standing there staring at him. That’s something that Michael and I seem to be finding ourselves doing a lot recently, because we can’t find the words to say to one another (or maybe we know exactly what we want to say and can’t bring ourselves to say it ). I quickly turn on my heels, wanting nothing more than to run out of there.

I’m almost at the door when I hear him suddenly call out my name.

“Izzy!” He calls, and I halt in my tracks immediately at the sound of my name. At the sound of him saying my name.

“Just wait a second, will you come here?” he asks out breath from the other side of the room.

I pause at the door for a moment, gathering my composure before I turns around and face him. I take a few steps closer to him and he does the same.

I don’t speak, I just wait, holding my breath in anticipation for the words that follow.

“You don’t need to avoid me like this” he breathes, his chest rising and falling heavily, and I can tell his heart is pounding.

I don’t need to avoid him like this. Are you kidding me?

He returns from America after not hearing from him in 6 months, with a wife. He demands me to keep my distance. To quit the job at the pub. To leave the company. For his sake and for his wives sake. And now he wants to stand there and tell me I don’t have to avoid him?

With all the rage and disbelief bubbling in me, I expect myself to launch into a screaming match, yelling at him about how dare he tell me I don’t have to avoid him.

But suddenly, all I can do laughs in complete and utter disbelief. My arms raise and fall back down by her sides in exasperation.

“What do you want Michael?” I beg, shaking my head at him “You told me to stay away… so thats what I’m doing. You came back from America with a new fucking wife. Am I supposed to act like everything is fine? You wanted this Michael! You told me to keep my distance. This what you wanted!”

Now my chest is rising just as heavily as his. I shake my head at him. I cannot believe this man who I used to know inside and out, is now the single most confusing thing to me on this earth.

He looks down, turning his back to me as he puts his coat on and picks up his hat.

I glare at him in anger, thinking that he’s just about to say nothing yet again. But when he turns back to face me, my stomach drops. As our eyes meet, I discover that there are tears welling up in them.

And then, a tear spills over, rolling down his cheek.

“You’re right. I wanted this” He breathes, sounding completely unconvinced, his voice quiet and shaky.

And just like that, he turns and leaves the room, exiting the building through the back alley door. As I stand in the lurch, left in the wake of the tsunami of emotions between Michael and I, one word rattles around in my head.

‘Wanted’

TAGLIST

@shadow-of-wonder

@marvelismylifffe​

@saintd0lce

@haphazardhufflepuff​

@peaky-things​

@burnitup​

@swweett-insanityyy​

@ganjeolhiddaeng​

@thoughtfulfreakalpaca​

@infinitelycharmed23​

@chloeforde​

@ashtronomyyyy​

@livingforbarnes​

@cleverdreamerhoagiewolf​

@elleclairez​

@marvelschriss​

@carezzesuigraffi

@l0tsofpennies

@siliethkaijuy

@ineedabifriend

@bloodorangemoonlight

@maiabiovillage

@yoheyyosup

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 2

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~2,300

Warnings: None

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah slid into a chair and regarded the lovers. Kate was sitting in Richie’s lap, rolling her eyes as he pressed intermittent kisses on her cheeks and neck. She’d grown used to their easy affection since the brothers had saved Kate from Amaru. For the first few days, Richie had hardly let go of Kate’s hand, would go where she went, snarling at anyone who came a little too close. Even now, he didn’t go very long without touching her, no matter the situation—a hand on her thigh, a the small of her back, toying with her hair. Kate seemed to take it all in stride, a soft smile that somehow made her look impossibly young.

It was Kate’s eyes that Lilah noticed first when she’d stepped through the doors of Jackknife Jed’s.  They flashed with gloom, aging her in a way that in no way reflected in her actual face. Looking at her made Lilah feel so disjointed that she still struggled to hold the younger woman’s gaze. Still, despite the unease, Lilah liked Kate. She certainly made dealing with the ever-arguing brothers just a little bit easier. Lilah couldn’t so easily be out-voted any more, and that was worth the disquiet she sometimes felt in Kate’s presence.

The door to the office flung open, Seth barreling through with no regard for how it hit the shelf behind it, a few of Richie’s knickknacks shaking in their stands. He was wiping sweat from his brow, his ever present frown just a little deeper than normal. Lilah’s eyes narrowed as she watched him come closer.

“Hey, watch the merchandise,” Richie called out, one hand lifting from around Kate’s middle to gesture broadly at the memorabilia.

Fandom was the one thing that Lilah and Richie really agreed on. They’d spent a lot of time on stake outs talking Star Trek, and then Firefly, followed by a whole host of niche geeky topics. He was surprisingly insightful about the little details that made each show unique. And, Lilah had spent a lot of time in hotels watching old B horror movies to be able to hold her own when he went down a rabbit hole.  It made the fact that she disagreed with him about the tenants of Jedi life acceptable, in his mind.

“We’ve got bigger problems than Obi Wan’s lightsaber, Richie.”

Seth was definitely in a mood. He might not understand Richie’s interests, and he might roll his eyes when his brother went on a tangent about canon timelines, but he at least respected Richie’s belongings enough that he didn’t intentionally screw around with them. This, whatever it was, was serious. Lilah eyed him narrowly, waiting.

Eyes vaguely betrayed, Richie muttered, “Its Mace Windu.”

Kate patted Richie’s arm lightly, saying, “What’s the problem?”

Rounding his desk, Seth sat heavily. After a deep sigh, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, tossing it on the desk in front of him. It bounced, making a soft ‘shhh’ sound as it slid across the pressed wood of the tabletop.

“We got a message today,” he explained, “And I don’t know what to make of it.”

Lilah leaned forward and plucked it up with two fingers. The paper was a heavy vellum, thick woven. She unfolded it, curious. The ink was a deep red, the lettering thick. As she brought it closer to read, Lilah caught a fragrance that had followed her in the weeks since their last failed mission.

Oh, no.

The letter was meticulously worded. The writing thick and bold, swirling softly around the crosses. Formal. Elegant. Commanding. Brasa.

Lilah read and re-read it, “He’s asking for peace.”

She looked at Seth, brows lifted in surprise. Then, she stood, stepped to Richie’s desk, and handed it to the younger brother. All the while, she tried to keep her face as neutral as possible. Lilah was grateful that Seth never bothered with the overhead lights, that only the lamps on either desk illuminated the room.  Her face was hot, her hands shaking. She didn’t know how to stand so as to draw no attention to herself while she internally panicked.

“He’s playing a game,” Seth said as he opened a drawer in his desk, pulling out a bottle, yanking out the stopper, and drinking straight from it. “Its a trap.”

Richie took a few moments to read the letter before Kate took it from him. She stood and read it, as well. Lilah watched her face, trying to discern her reaction. Kate chewed her thumbnail as her eyes flicked over the page, her brows together. A shadow passed over her expression.

“No,” Kate uttered so low that Lilah almost didn’t hear it, “He’s really asking for peace.”

Lilah didn’t have the time to think about how she might know that, or the implications. Or, how she might feel about those implications.

Seth scoffed, “How the fuck do you know that?”

Setting the letter down on Richie’s desk, Kate shrugged, “I spent a lot of time with him when I was...when she was inside me.” She sniffed, “Even though Amaru thought they were bullshit, he obeys the old laws. This is a formal call for peace talks. He’s written it in his own blood.”

Lilah felt her eyes widen, shocked that Kate could tell whose blood was on the paper. Shocked even further that someone would write a letter in their literal blood. Shocked still further that she cared how he might have procured his own blood in enough supply to write such a letter.

There were a few side effects from Kate’s possession, little quirks that Kate would sometimes display without really thinking. She’d stand up way too fast, know who might walk through the door next, hear conversations from the next room. Lilah did her best to just roll with it, but this was a little bit too freaky for Lilah’s normal ‘roll with it’ sensibilities. She deliberately set it aside, hoping that she wouldn’t need to examine the thought later.

Richie lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke through his nose, “Why now? We’ve spent the last six months fighting and killing each other, and now he wants to talk peace.”

Lilah sat down, folding her hands in her lap as she tried very hard not to think this was about her. She could not be so self-centered as to think that Brasa would give up a war just because she happened to be on the other side. A war he was, by all accounts, winning as the Gecko’s ceded more and more territory to the culebras he seemed to govern.  There had to be another explanation. A trap, maybe, a false sense of security.

“Alright,” Seth drawled, “We get him in a room and gank him.”

Kate gasped, looking horrified, “We have a chance to get real progress, here. Do you want to fight forever?”

Lilah definitely knew the answer to that question. Seth’s entire life was a fight—physical or otherwise. He wasn’t comfortable if there wasn’t some sort of conflict to battle through, his brother at his side. Even if they achieved peace, he’d be at someone’s throat within twenty four hours. It was both endearing and utterly frustrating to watch him cycle through the same motions over and over.

Seth rose, leaning his hands on the desk, “You, more than anyone, have a reason to want every one of those snakes dead.”

Sneering, Kate crossed her arms, “I, more than anyone, have a reason to want all of this to stop. I don’t want to see any more death.”

Behind her, Richie shifted uneasily in his chair. Lilah took each of them in, knowing there was far more history than she was privy to playing out right in front of her. It left her feeling like she couldn’t make a good decision, didn’t have enough data to create a strategy. This was not her preferred method of moving through life. She remained still, waiting.

“We should meet with him,” Kate asserted, hip cocking to the side.

It was not a rare occasion that Kate would insist that they act in a certain way. She had a strong moral compass that clashed with the brothers’ more criminal predilections. More often than not, Kate centered them, kept them from going too far. Lilah was grateful. She had never been successful in stemming off their momentum, once they got started.

“Absolutely not,” Seth shot back, his mouth a firm line.

Lilah surprised herself by adding, “I agree with Seth.”

Richie stubbed out his cigarette, “I’m with Kate.”

This was not surprising. Richie tended to side with Kate on most things. Lilah caught the look he sent Kate, though Kate was still looking at Seth. His eyes were following the line of her petite body, admiring in a way that made Lilah look away, embarrassed.

Seth circled his desk, leaning his hip against it, “Two against two. How’re we going to break the tie?”

There was a beat of silence, then Richie stood and offered up his fist, “Best out of three?”

When Richie beat Seth two to one, Seth gave him a hardy ‘fuck you’ and strode from the room. Richie heaved a beleaguered sigh and followed him. Lilah dropped her head in her hands, boggled by the decision making skills of her partners. Rock, paper scissors...honestly.

“Why don’t you want to meet with them?”

Lilah lifted her eyes at the question, feeling her chest constrict, “I won’t have to do the actual meeting, Kate.” Lie, lie, lie, Lilah, “I just don’t think we’ll be successful.”

Kate tilted her head to the side, “You think its a trap?”

Lilah grabbed onto that line of thinking. It was logical, far more logical than ‘No, Kate. I just don’t want to meet up with someone who claims I am his bondmate and with whom I have exchanged blood’. Even in her head, it sounded so incredibly stupid. Not to mention the fact that she’d been hiding it long enough that admitting it would only lead to suspicion.

“I think Seth is too hot headed,” Lilah clarified quickly, “I think that it’ll fall apart before it even gets started.”

There, that was a convincing lie that was pretty grounded in enough truth that even Lilah half believed it. She very carefully did not study Kate’s face to see if the lie had landed.

Kate moved closer, her ancient gaze peering at Lilah carefully, “You’re right.”

Oh. Okay.

“Thank you.”

“You need to go with them.”

Ah, fuck.

“What?”

Kate nodded, her expression hardening, “You go with them, keep things level, make this work.”

“Me?” Lilah didn’t like how high her voice came out. She cleared her throat, “No, you know them better than I do. You go. Bring me whatever contract they draw up, I’ll red line it, make sure its fair.”

That was her role. Look over the game plan, find the flaws, work out the kinks. In that, Lilah was comfortable and safe. No need to put herself back in a room with Brasa. No need to let this get even more out of hand. No need for the messiness that would come from that.

Shaking her head, Kate took a step back, “I can’t. I can’t face him. What I did to him was,” she searched for words, “terrible.”

The sudden turn of Kate’s tone, the way her face screwed up in real disgust, made Lilah sit up and stake notice. Where had this come from?

She inhaled, trying to parse the words, “What does that mean?”

Kate’s eyes were focused on the middle distance, her mouth quivering, “Amaru loved torture, all kinds of torture. She didn’t care who it was that she hurt. I—she liked,” Another breath, “Brasa was blood bound to her, she could make him do things, do anything. She never got her hands dirty, but him…”

Lilah waited for more, but Kate simply stopped speaking. She looked shell shocked, tears welling up. God, but Lilah had been completely fooled by Kate’s frequent smiles and clear headedness. She hadn’t known how much trauma the hell queen had put Kate through, hadn’t even thought that Kate was conscious of the things that she’d done while trapped inside her own body. Moved to action, she stood and embraced Kate, saying to her the only comfort she could think to give.

“Its the past. And, it wasn’t you.” Then, “Are you still blood bound?”

She felt like real shit for asking, but she needed to know what Brasa’s relationship was with Kate, and if it would make their own relationship (did they even have a relationship?) more complicated. Kate made a soft sound in the negative and Lilah let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. That was one complication she had, thankfully, avoided.

Kate’s body was taut, “When she first brought me back, when I met him, I felt the power I had over him. And, she abused it. I drained him dry that first night, to regain her strength. After three days, when he managed to stand up off the ground, she did it again. Because she could.” Kate pulled back and looked at Lilah, “That wasn’t even the worst of it. How can I look him in the eye after all that?”

Lilah shook her head, “Like I said, it wasn’t you. And, if he really wants to talk peace, he’ll set it aside. If not, fuck ‘im.”

That, at least, was the truth. Lilah had been fighting his kind of less than a year and she was tired of it. She wanted peace. She wanted to go on nice, normal jobs—jewel theft, a bank heist, possibly even some fine art that they could sell on the black market. Stuff that was in her wheelhouse, in her comfort zone. If he was going to hold Kate responsible for the actions of Amaru, then he wasn’t worth negotiating with. Full stop.

Kate loosed a soundless laugh, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

[not-majestic-bluenicorn]

Crescent || Chapter 12

Fandom(s): ATEEZ

AU: Treasure Hunters

Genre: Action, Fantasy, Sci-Fi

Relationship: Everyone x Everyone, Established Hongjoong x Yunho

Language: English

Status: Ongoing

Chapter WC: 8,446

Warnings: Character Death, Stabbing, Fighting, Blood, Aliens, War, Funerals, Kidnapping, Attempted Kidnapping, Mentions of Child Abuse / Child Work, Explosions, Murder Attempt, Robbery, Homeless/Runaway Character, Torture, Mentions of Slavery more will be added.

Chapter Warnings: Fighting, Blood, Injuries, Mentions of slavery.

Summary:

"The slaves are escaping!" Yelled a man as he turned the corner and saw Seonghwa going up the stairs. At that moment, Seonghwa ran forward and threw all of his weight against the man. He was not going to be dragged back down into the hold.

AO3

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Tagged: @angel0taiyo​

It took them about a full day to prepare for everything, and with every passing second, Hongjoong became more and more tense. He wished to just hurry in and save the hostages, but he had to keep the well-being of his crew in mind. They couldn't just jump into battle like that, they had to prepare. As far as he knew, Mingi and Yeosang were making the last few checks to the bomb Mingi had prepared under Yeosang and Jongho's instruction. 

Jongho had opted to help save the hostages, since it would probably be easier if Mingi and Yeosang moved by themselves with their guard, since Jongho wasn't really necessary after he had helped determine the attributes of the ship's engine. Hongjoong didn't really want him to participate in the raid, worried about his mental health, but Jongho had been very firm in his decision. 

All that was left was to wait until they were at the perfect distance to use warp speed. So Hongjoong was waiting in his quarters, nervously opening and closing his brother's compass. He had never been nervous to lead a team into battle before. Why was he nervous now? Maybe it was because he had come to care a lot about them, because there was never supposed to be any danger but now he was pulling them into it.

He was used to leading soldiers, but now his team was made of so much more than just that. Some of these people didn't even have any sort of military training. Was this the right decision? He knew it was worth risking his life to save the people in the slave trading ship, but was it right to risk the lives of his crew as well? He knew his soldiers would follow him no matter what, he was their prince after all, but what about those who had no idea about his real self?

Yunho walked in right at that moment, and Hongjoong opened and closed his compass one more time. It was almost like he had sensed Hongjoong's nervousness. And to be fair, the captain wouldn't find it weird if his lover had actually sensed something about his attitude. Yunho walked up to him and softly pushed the compass back into Hongjoong's coat pocket, offering his hands instead. Hongjoong squeezed them softly and sighed, comforted by Yunho's presence.

"I don't think I've ever seen my General so nervous before battle," Yunho said, making Hongjoong smile.

"Well, we are doing something illegal after all," Hongjoong chuckled, breathing out slowly.

"I'm pretty sure that's not what worries you," Yunho huffed. "Even as a prince, you've never been quite worried about doing a couple of illegal things."

"I've never done something illegal," Hongjoong frowned.

"You know, except aiding a serial robber to run away from the law, I'm sure you've done nothing illegal," Yunho smirked. Hongjoong shook his head, pouting slightly.

"That's different though, it doesn't apply..." Hongjoong insisted, although he couldn't quite explain why to Yunho.

"Why?" Yunho tilted his head. "Is it because of this Wooyoung guy?" Hongjoong's eyes widened in surprise and Yunho nodded, knowing that he had hit the nail on the head.

"Did you hear me talking about it with Mingi?" Hongjoong asked, remembering that Yunho had been lying next to him at that moment.

"Not all of it, I was pretty asleep still, but I did hear some of the conversation," Yunho nodded. "You don't have to explain it to me now though, I can see you're troubled and you don't know much yourself."

"I really don't..." Hongjoong sighed. "I wish I knew more."

"Aside from that, what is truly worrying you about this fight?" Yunho returned to their previous topic. "I truly have never seen you like this before a battle."

"I'm just scared someone will be injured for my selfish wishes," Hongjoong sighed even more deeply this time. "Not everyone here has fighting experience, I'm throwing them to the wolves."

"You're doing no such thing," Yunho assured him. "It's not selfish to want to help people, you don't even know the specific person that Wooyoung is looking for in that ship, you heard slaves and jumped into action." Hongjoong sighed again and nodded, knowing Yunho was right.

"What about you? How do you feel about the whole ordeal?" Hongjoong looked into Yunho's eyes. "Are you scared?"

"Of course I'm not," Yunho smiled. "Sure, it's not a great memory to relive, but I have you and the crew fighting by my side, I've nothing to be scared of."

"I'd never let something like that happen to you again," Hongjoong smiled back, "thank you for trusting me on this one."

"I want to save them as much as you," Yunho noted. "Gotta share the joy of being rescued by the royal family."

Hongjoong chuckled heartily at Yunho's joke; he felt so much better after speaking to him. He realized that he owed a sense of security to the crew, precisely because some of them didn't know how to fight. They were already willing to help him, so Hongjoong was responsible for making them feel safe and confident that they could pull it off. They saw him as a leader, so he needed to be one. And Hongjoong was certain now that he could do it.

--

Mingi had already checked the preparations of the bomb five times. Saying he was nervous wasn't nearly enough to express how he was feeling, after all, he knew nothing but the life he had led in his community. In his community, everyone was close to each other and they all saw for the youngsters and cared for their elderly, the sole idea of fighting slave traders had never crossed Mingi's mind.

He couldn't stop shaking, repeating in hushed whispers what Jongho had taught him about The Sailfish's engine hours before. He didn't really need to memorize it, because Yeosang would be there to guide him, but it gave him something to hold onto. Just as he has begun to check the bomb for the sixth time, Yeosang arrives and sits next to him on the floor, stopping Mingi right before he begins.

"I think you've checked it enough times," Yeosang commented.

There was no malice in his voice, but Mingi still felt like he was being reprimanded. He was quick to whisper an apology as he retrieved his hands from the bomb and held them on his lap, pulling and letting go of the fabric of his pants several times. Yeosang observed him for a few silent seconds before smiling softly and looking at Mingi.

"What is worrying you?" Yeosang asked, placing a hand softly over Mingi's right hand.

"Do I seem worried?" Mingi asked with a bit of sarcasm, but his voice came out strangled, and he immediately regretted it. "Sorry, you're right, I'm really nervous right now."

"But why?" Yeosang repeated. "Maybe I can help you ease your worries."

"Well, I've never been in a fight before, I don't know how to fight," Mingi mumbled. "I'm scared of not knowing what to do. Plus, my leg is basically useless, you saw what happened when we were running together in your home planet, I couldn't keep up and I put you in danger when I fell, and-"

"Mingi, breathe..." Yeosang stopped him from rambling on, since he was starting to make little sense. "Okay, let's see... First of all, you're not going to fight, you're going to strategically plant a bomb inside a ship and blow it up, which is your expertise!" He smiled, while Mingi stared perplexed at him.

"Second, your leg is not useless, it helps you walk doesn't it?" Yeosang continued and Mingi nodded slowly. "Third, you got the story wrong, you didn't put me in danger, I put you in danger, since those people wouldn't have chased us if I had kept my hands to myself."

"But-"

"No buts," Yeosang raised a finger. "Your fear of getting hurt during the battle is completely valid, but don't forget our mission isn't to fight, no one wants you to fight, they want you to do what you're best at." Yeosang smiled again, squeezing Mingi's hand. "Plus, I'll be with you the whole time, I'm not the best fighter, but I won't let anything happen to you. I'll protect you, it's a promise."

Mingi stared at Yeosang for the longest time, unable to know what to say. How was someone supposed to reply to such a statement, anyway? He looked away and nodded, softly pulling his hand away so Yeosang couldn't notice how his palms had begun sweating or how fast his pulse was under his skin. If Yeosang did notice, he didn't say anything, and just let go of Mingi without complaint.

--

Seonghwa struggled to wake up. It had become increasingly more difficult to awaken or stay awake as he was starved by the ship's crew and beat up every other day. The crew had taken him as some sort of punching bag in which to vent their frustrations. Seonghwa was in pain all the time and he was so exhausted his sleep had become dreamless, taking Wooyoung's comforting presence away from him.

Sometimes, another of the hostages would offer him rests of their dinner whenever their captors weren't looking. But the food had become scarce in the last few days, and it was difficult to count the pass of time as the meals became less frequent. Seonghwa still clung to the hope of Wooyoung's words, believing someone would come to save them.

He was still trying to fully wake up and sit on the floor when he heard a commotion upstairs. He didn’t fully process it until the other captives began screaming, huddling together in fear of the unknown. This time, Seonghwa succeeded in forcing himself to sit up, and finally understood that something was happening up in the deck. With his hands chained behind his back, he struggled until he was able to push himself to his knees and then finally stood up.

Dizziness overcame him for a moment and he closed his eyes, taking deep breaths until it passed. He knew that if he fell back down, he would most likely not get to stand up again, and he wanted to know what was going on. Ignoring the screams and cries of fear from the other captives, he approached the door to the hold.

It had been left open and unguarded, as whatever was happening out there seemed to require the attention of all the guards. He painstakingly made his way up to the deck. The sound became louder the more he walked, until it was very clear that there was a fight going on upstairs. Wooyoung was real, and he hadn't lied, someone was going to save them all.

Just as he made his way to another floor, he heard footsteps running towards him. He stopped in the middle of the stairs and took a deep breath. His heart was beating fast, and he mentally prepared himself to fight for his life and for his freedom. At the very least, he could hope that they found him soon and helped him, because he didn't know for how much longer he would be able to go on.

"The slaves are escaping!" Yelled a man as he turned the corner and saw Seonghwa going up the stairs. At that moment, Seonghwa ran forward and threw all of his weight against the man. He was not going to be dragged back down into the hold.

--

The combination of their surprise apparition with the mock explosives Mingi had prepared were enough to take The Sailfish by surprise. The Crescent stopped slightly above The Sailfish and they quickly jumped on deck one after another. The captain of the enemy ship was quick to sound the alarm and order his men to attack, but their surprise attack was enough to give the rescue team a good head start before they could be stopped.

"Go!" Hongjoong's order was simple, but his crew didn't need more.

He saw through the corner of his eye as Jaeyoung, the soldier appointed to protect Mingi and Yeosang, escorted them towards their objective, and then he had to focus on the battle. They had agreed that, if possible, there should be no victims in order to protect the crew, but Hongjoong had insisted that they should do whatever it took to make it back to The Crescent.

Hongjoong deflected a sword that came his way and quickly advanced, thrusting his sword forward and cutting the man on his side before kicking him away. He could feel Yunho standing next to him as he fought his own battle, offering him protection at the same time. Hongjoong's eyes scanned the deck quickly as often as he could, paying attention to the status of his crew members. He was ready to jump in front of a blade if it meant protecting them.

A fast movement in the corner of his eye alerted him of an incoming attack, and he guarded just in time, stopping a sword centimetres away from his face. Hongjoong grunted as he pushed forward with his own sword. The man pulled away and tried to thrust towards him again, but Hongjoong was faster as he hit the man's hilt with a quick flick of his wrist, disarming him. His sword transformed into a baton and he knocked the man unconscious with a clean hit.

He gave a quick look around and noticed San finishing a fight with another slave trader, not noticing that his back was uncovered and someone was approaching him from behind. Hongjoong ran quickly towards him, not even giving Yunho the opportunity to stop him. He activated the shield on his forearm protector right before jumping in front of the blade, stopping it in time.

"You're unguarded!" Hongjoong yelled at San as he pushed his shield forward. He pressed a button on his forearm twice, causing the shield to disappear and reappear right after, trapping the blade within it. Hongjoong quickly threw his arm to the side and snapped the enemy's blade in half, before hitting him with the hilt of his own sword on the side of his head and knocking him out.

San stared at him in disbelief, and Hongjoong turned to look at him, putting his guard down for a few seconds. San only had a moment to react as he saw someone running towards Hongjoong from behind him. He realized at that moment that he didn't want to kill Hongjoong, nor did he want to let him die, so San pushed him aside and thrusted his sword forward, stabbing the enemy right as he's getting to them.

Hongjoong stared at him and San stared back, breathing hard. It was a terrible moment to realize that he now cared about his mission, but not in the way he should. After Wooyoung's visit to his dreams, he had been terrified, thinking his superiors had found out; he had told himself everyday that he needed to finish it off. He should have let Hongjoong die at that moment. But now he realized he just couldn't, because he was starting to care.

"Watch out!" Yunho yelled and San and Hongjoong turned at the same time, just in time to see a throwing knife bury itself in an enemy's arm as he dropped to the floor in pain, less than a meter away from them. "Stop daydreaming, we're in the middle of a fight!"

"That was amazing San, you just saved my life," Hongjoong said, putting a hand on San's shoulder. "Thank you." 

San cursed softly under his breath as he felt a soft blush spread on his face and neck. This was truly a terrible time to realize he cared. Still, he couldn't get distracted now if he didn't want to die, so he joined Hongjoong and pushed through the battle. He would have to work his feelings out later.

--

"You little piece of shit," the slave trader grumbled as he sat on top of Seonghwa, using his hands to choke him.

Seonghwa felt so weak he didn't have the energy to do anything. He was trying so hard to not pass out, but with his hands tied behind his back, he couldn't even fight to push the man away. He shouldn't have jumped against him, it had been a stupid choice, and now he was going to die and ruin Wooyoung's efforts.

"Get off!" He heard an unfamiliar voice yell, and suddenly the weight on top of him disappeared.

He began taking big gulps of air, desperately trying to bring oxygen to his lungs as he coughed and trashed around. Someone helped him to sit up and guided him through breathing until he managed to calm down. He looked up and saw a young, black haired man sitting next to him. The man was looking at him with worry, but Seonghwa wanted to scream in joy. He was safe.

"Here, the keys," a woman said as she gave the man a set of keys.

The man sat behind him and worked the keys until he managed to unlock Seonghwa's handcuffs. Seonghwa sighed in relief as he brought his arms forward. Moving hurt so much that a few tears sprung to his eyes as he gently massaged his shoulders, trying to make it a little better. 

"Are you alone?" The woman asked.

"There's more down in the hold," Seonghwa muttered, voice rough from what had happened earlier.

"I'll stay with him, go look for the others," the man that had saved him gave the keys to the woman and the rest of the crew disappeared downstairs. "Are you okay?"

"Better than I've been in days," Seonghwa sighed, closing his eyes. "Who are you? Did Wooyoung send you?"

The man's face changed when Seonghwa mentioned Wooyoung, showcasing a mix of surprise and tenseness. Seonghwa guessed he was right about the assumption, and that was everything he needed to know. He wished he could see Wooyoung right then, and thank him for giving him hope and fulfilling his promise.

"My name is Jongho," the man answered, still looking surprised. "I guess Wooyoung sent us, I don't know all of the details, to be fair."

"Thank you for saving me," Seonghwa smiled the best he could. He knew he looked terrible and was dirty and bruised, but he was thankful that Jongho wasn't pulling away and instead offered to support him.

"Don't thank me," Jongho smiled back and helped him stand up. "Let's get you out of here."

--

Yeosang guided Mingi and Jaeyoong through the ship, as he was the most familiar with its structure. They had gone in with the rescue team but had taken different parts early in their trip to the depths of the ship and now they were alone. They could hear the sounds of the battle, but they became less and less apparent the deeper they made it in, until it sounded more like a restless murmur than a fight.

Mingi was gripping the bag which carried the explosive like his life depended on it, which it kind of did. He was extremely nervous about getting things wrong. For obvious reasons, they hadn't been able to test the explosive, and he just didn't have enough confidence to trust that his calculations were correct.  For now, he just focused on following Yeosang and tried his best to ignore his worries.

After a few minutes of walking deeper and deeper into the ship, stopping every time they heard suspicious noises and checking around corners, they made it into the engine room. Jaeyoong forced the door open and they quickly made it inside, leaving the door open for a quick escape. They would focus on installing the bomb and activating it. Then they would have to run back to the deck.

Of course, the point of it was to make the explosion their big, dramatic exit. Everyone else needed to time their part of the mission correctly to be able to get out of the ship in time. The explosion wasn't just a way to render the ship useless and prevent the slave traders from following them, but also the distraction they needed to be able to get out. As Mingi thought about it, the pressure he felt increased, and he began to sweat.

"Don't be nervous," Yeosang said next to him, startling him out of it.

"Huh?" Mingi asked, voice shaky.

"Don't be nervous, everything is going to go as planned, I promise," Yeosang repeated, patting Mingi's back. "Here, we gotta install the bombs, we got this."

Mingi nodded and took a deep breath before setting to work. Yeosang had drawn a diagram with Jongho's help on how they had to install the bomb. He calmly guided Mingi through all of the key places as Mingi did what he knew best and set the bomb. Yeosang couldn't help but notice how amazing it was to see Mingi focused on doing something he had confidence in, because as soon as he began to work, his insecurities vanished and he made quick work of the explosives.

Soon enough, Mingi was done and he stood up to admire his work. He felt a thrill run through his spine as he came to the realization of how important his job for that mission was, and he felt proud, because he knew he was doing it right. They checked everything once again to make sure it was all in place, and then Mingi activated the bomb.

"Let's go, we have seven minutes to get to the deck," Mingi said.

Yeosang guided them back towards the main deck. This time they walked faster and a little more carelessly, assuming everyone would be up on the deck trying to fight back the invasion. They encountered the last few members of the rescue team taking the hostages out to the deck and helped them make it to The Crescent as Hongjoong and the fight team pushed back the crew of The Sailfish.

"Move quickly!" Hongjoong ordered, not even looking at them as he pulled a man back from his shirt and stopped him from reaching towards the crew.

They had left someone on board The Crescent so that they could level the ship and make it easy for them to cross. The crew helped the prisoners board the ship and then boarded after them. Yeosang nervously checked his clock as the seconds ticked down to the seven minute mark. Hongjoong ordered the retreat and all of the soldiers began returning to the ship as the front line kept the enemy at bay while they waited for the explosives to go off and give them an opening.

In just a moment, there was the loud sound of an explosion and The Sailfish shook, throwing everyone off their feet. Hongjoong and the rest took that as their signal and they quickly got up and retreated to The Crescent. The crew of The Sailfish was confused and lost from the explosion, which gave them the perfect opportunity to blast off into space, successfully completing the rescue.

There was no time for celebration as they began tending to wounded. Hongjoong quickly checked those who had been in the front line with him; there were some minor injuries here and there, but they had basically made it out unscratched. He went to each member of his crew personally to check on them, and then made sure everyone was gathered at the main deck to give them instructions.

"Okay, I want the crew members to help me take our guests to the infirmary, we must perform an immediate health check to see they're not suffering any complications," Hongjoong instructed. "We don't have enough medical personnel on board, so if you know first aid then please help perform it until we can give them proper attention.

"Once we're sure they're okay, we'll take them to eat a proper meal and get them new clothes, understood?" Hongjoong asked, and everyone shouted their affirmations. "I want to thank everyone for the amazing job you did back there! This wouldn't have been possible without this amazing crew, thank you." Hongjoong bowed deeply, and the crew cheered. 

Even those who hadn't been certain at first felt happy about having helped. Hongjoong felt relieved knowing he had been able to save everyone and still bring his crew back to the ship practically unscathed. He knew they wouldn’t be able to get away with things so easily, but for now, he needed to make sure they were all okay. He would push his worries aside and deal with things as they came, there was nothing else he could do.

--

Once they had taken care of the wounded, and made sure everyone was alright, Jongho went looking for Mingi. He wanted to show him who Seonghwa was, since so far it seemed like only he and Mingi knew his name, and he could only bet Mingi would be worried. He found Mingi sitting by himself by the deck, just looking at everything else unfold in the ship. He seemed tired, and he wondered how his side of the mission had gone.

Jongho sat next to Mingi after making his presence known. Mingi fidgeted a little before smiling and looking at Jongho. He still looked somewhat shaken and nervous, and he guessed it must have been really hard for him to carry out the mission. Jongho smiled and wrapped one arm around Mingi's shoulders, pulling him into a half-embrace that was meant to be reassuring and almost congratulatory.

"Are you alright?" Jongho asked after a little while.

"Yeah, I guess I'm a little bit shaken," Mingi chuckled. "It was quite the experience."

"You did amazing though," Jongho smiled, "it blew up just as planned. You helped us get out of there."

"I wouldn't have been able to do it without your help," Mingi said. "Your guidance about the ship's build helped a lot."

"Or my help, you know," Yeosang said, startling both of them out of the hug. They hadn't seen him coming. "But like, I understand my contributions weren't as great." He said with feigned indifference sitting right next to Mingi who had suddenly grown tense.

"O-Of course not," Mingi rushed to say, "I wouldn't have been able to do it if you hadn't been there, I-"

"Mingi, I know," Yeosang smiled, stopping him with a simple gesture. "I was just kidding, I'm sorry."

"Oh..." Mingi nodded, understanding. 

They settled into a comfortable silence, just observing the rest of the crew move around the deck. No one came to tell them anything, everyone deserved to take their own little breaks here and there, and so they were left to their own devices. Eventually, Mingi fell asleep between the other two, snoring softly here and there. 

Jongho pushed his head on top of his shoulder so he could get a little more comfortable. Yeosang observed this and smiled, bringing his legs close to his chest and leaning his head on his knees so he would be able to look at both Mingi and Jongho. He couldn't help but smile when he saw Mingi's sleeping face, so peaceful. Jongho was just looking forward, quietly thinking to himself.

"I think I'm really fortunate," Yeosang mumbled.

"Why do you say so?" Jongho asked. He tried his best not to move much so he wouldn't disturb Mingi.

"Because I'm here, with you, and not back on my planet," Yeosang was still observing both of them. His eyes scanned the bridge of Mingi's nose and the way his eyes fluttered as he dreamed of something. Then they moved towards Jongho, appreciating his side profile.

"You mean here with the crew or...?" Jongho left the open question, a sudden feeling of uncertainty settling in his chest.

"Both," Yeosang said. "Of course I'm grateful to the crew, Captain Hongjoong especially, for taking me in and saving me back there in Tebos." Yeosang raised his head and stretched his arms. "But I'm mostly thankful for being here with you and Mingi, the two of you were the first ones to believe in me and step up for me, so I'm thankful."

Jongho hummed softly in acknowledgment, not knowing what to reply to that, although he knew Yeosang wasn't expecting any sort of reply. They stayed in silence for a few more minutes before Yeosang stood up. For a moment, Jongho thought he would leave and felt like reaching out to stop him. Instead, Yeosang sat next to him.

"Lend me your shoulder," he said, mimicking Mingi's pose.

"Suit yourself," Jongho replied, letting him lean on his left shoulder and fall asleep. And just like that he realized he had forgotten to tell Mingi about Seonghwa, but he guessed that could just wait.

--

"Okay Hongjoong, you can drop the act," Yunho told him once they were in the privacy of the main quarters.

Hongjoong immediately slumped on a chair and groaned. He made quick work of his coat and shirt, taking them off and dropping them on the floor. His coat was dark, so the blood hadn't been evident, but the white shirt he had been wearing underneath was caked with it. At some point during the fight, one of those bastards had cut his side. He had managed to keep collected all throughout the fight, but of course Yunho had noticed.

"Honestly, I can't believe you decided to check on everyone else first while you were bleeding out," Yunho huffed, bringing another chair to sit next to him and begin checking the wound.

Yunho had taken a first aid kit from the infirmary during Hongjoong's mandatory visit to check on everyone else, since he knew his boyfriend wouldn't like to be treated in public. Hongjoong just grumbled something as he looked at the wound. It was very superficial, and the bleeding made it look worse than it really was, but it did hurt like hell.

"You're lucky this isn't worse, because it could've been." Yunho continued reprimanding him as he grabbed a wet towel and began wiping the blood to make it easier to treat the wound. "You know, your hero complex might be fatal one day."

"You always tell me this," Hongjoong complained, taking deep breaths to avoid yelling because the treatment hurt. 

"Because you never listen," Yunho smiled. "But well, I probably wouldn't have fallen in love with you if you weren't so stupidly reckless."

"Can you stop insulting me? I'm wounded!" Hongjoong pouted. Yunho leaned in to kiss his little pout before grabbing the salt water solution and cleaning the wound. "Fuck that hurts," Hongjoong dragged the s, trying to keep himself from swatting Yunho away.

"Patience, I'm almost done..." Yunho carefully cleaned all of the wound before gently drying the area off and grabbing the bandages. "Please stand up."

Hongjoong stood up as ordered and Yunho began to carefully bandage him. The wound was relatively long, but not wide enough to require stitching, nor was it deep enough that they should worry, so a simple bandaging should suffice. It would hurt for a while while it healed, but Hongjoong didn't need a wound to complain about things anyway, so Yunho guessed it wouldn't make much of a difference.

"There we go, done." Yunho patted the bandages softly, on the side opposite to the wound.

The captain quickly draped his arms around Yunho's shoulders and buried his face in his chest, pouting and letting out fake sniffles. Yunho chuckled softly and carefully wrapped his arms around Hongjoong, mindful of his injury. Hongjoong looked up at him and pouted his lips, asking for kisses. Yunho gladly complied.

"Are you alright?" Hongjoong asked, paying attention to Yunho's expressions.

"Yes, nothing but some minor bruises," Yunho nodded. "They'll heal quickly enough."

Hongjoong nodded before going quiet. His mind was still in the battle, thinking about San's actions when he had saved him. Hongjoong had seen him make the decision in that split second, almost like San hadn't been certain about saving him, but when he had, it was almost like something had changed in San. Hongjoong couldn't stop thinking about him, he was worried.

"What is worrying you?" Yunho asked after observing him for a few seconds.

"San," Hongjoong replied with no hesitation, biting his lower lip. "He's been acting a bit strange."

"Go check on him, then." Yunho said, disentangling Hongjoong from himself.

"But I'm spending time with you right now," Hongjoong muttered, only half convinced.

"You're not going to pay proper attention to me unless you go check on him, I know you." Yunho softly flickered his forehead. "Besides, I agree, he's been acting a bit weird, so go check on him."

"Fine, only because you insisted," Hongjoong yielded, giving Yunho one last kiss before leaving the quarters.

It took him a while to find San. He looked for him in the crew's quarters as well as in the infirmary and the dining room, but couldn't find him anywhere. Eventually he ended up looking throughout the whole ship, until he found him sitting on the hold's floor cleaning his own wounds. Hongjoong sat in front of him and grabbed a wet towel, folding it to help wipe his wounds.

"What are you doing?" San asked, stopping as Hongjoong began wiping a wound on the calf of his right leg.

"Helping you tend to your wounds," Hongjoong said simply.

"How did you find me?" San asked again, still frozen in place.

"By looking for you, how else?" Hongjoong scoffed, putting the towel again and grabbing some cottons to wipe the wound with the salt water solution. 

"But why?" San insisted, a little defensive.

"You ask too many questions, did you know?" Hongjoong gave him a warning look. "I just wanted to check on you, I'm your captain, I worry."

"Right..." San finally gave in, not wanting to upset Hongjoong. He went back to cleaning a superficial cut on his left arm.

He wasn't that wounded and didn't really need help. He had taken care of worse injuries all by himself before, they had trained him for that after all. He knew how to take care of the worst of injuries, and had helped tend to the people they had rescued before finding a quiet place for himself. He didn't need Hongjoong's help, but it felt nice to have it.

San didn't complain while Hongjoong cleaned and covered his wounds with gauze. He didn't say a thing and just acted compliant until the other was satisfied with his work. Hongjoong's first aid was very clean and precise, and San could tell it wasn't the first time he did something like that. He wondered what horrors had Hongjoong seen in war, if they were too different to the ones he had encountered himself.

"What's up with you these days?" Hongjoong asked once he was done, giving no sign that he was planning to leave.

"What do you mean?" San asked, immediately becoming defensive and giving himself away. Hongjoong was right, something was wrong with him those days, but he couldn't just tell him, could he?

"Well, you yelled at me the other day, and you seem very agitated these days," Honjoong listed out, lifting fingers as if he was counting. "It does make you look a little less cold but you're still pretty much unapproachable.”

San sighed, it was impossible for him to deny that he was acting weird. But how was he supposed to explain to Hongjoong that San had been sent to kill him by a mysterious man and that now he couldn't do it because he had started developing some sort of feelings. He wasn't supposed to feel, not for his victims at least. That was not how he had been built, how he had been trained.

"I just have a lot in my mind these days," San explained. "It's not something you should worry about."

"I won't pressure you into telling me if you don't want to," Hongjoong explained, "but you can't stop me from worrying, you're part of my crew, my family."

"You really don't make things easier, you know?" San groaned, wanting to smash his head against the wall and end with his difficulties. 

"Yunho tells me that often," Hongjoong chuckled.

"Well, your boyfriend is right," San huffed. "Why haven't you told the rest of the crew about it, by the way? It's not like you're doing a great job at keeping it secret."

"Well on one side, there was the bet," Hongjoong said, reminding him about the bet they had made on who would ask them first. "But also because we keep our relationship in line when it comes to work, sure we display affection sometimes, but I'm still his boss."

"Isn't that hard?" San asked, resting his head on his hands over his knees.

"Sometimes," Honjoong nodded, "he's a very devoted person. Sometimes he forgets we're equals, and I have to remind him he doesn't have to die for me, you know?"

San nodded, although he didn't actually understand what it meant, wanting to die for someone. He wondered if he ever would. He had been taught to seduce, to pretend, to act out feelings, but he had never learned about what it was to actually feel it. With all he had done, he probably didn't deserve it anyway.

"You're fortunate to have each other," San mumbled, surprising himself with his words, but still getting them out. "I'm kind of envious."

"Don't be," Hongjoong smiled. "One day you'll find someone like that for you, you're a good person San."

His heart skipped a beat and he hid his face in his hands. He wasn't deserving of those words, but Hongjoong didn't know, so he wanted to be selfish and let himself bask in them, just for a moment. He heard Hongjoong stand up and pat his clothes to get rid of the dust. He felt a warm hand pat his hair softly and looked up just for a second, breathless.

"I gotta go check up with our guests to make sure they're doing fine," Hongjoong explained. "See you later."

San watched him march away and cursed Hongjoong in silence, for making everything more difficult for him.

--

Seonghwa felt so much better after he had been given proper water and food. The shower had taken away all of the dirt and sweat that had settled onto his skin, and the clothes he had been given felt soft and comforting on him. He had been tended to and all his injuries were now bandaged. He did have one broken rib that had already begun to heal, and he guessed he hadn't noticed because he was always in pain.

He had been given a bed in the infirmary along with other victims that were in more drastic conditions like him. He watched as the rest of the ex-captives walked into the infirmary to receive indications from the Captain. Seonghwa had been itching to have a personal talk with Captain Hongjoong, wondering if he also knew about Wooyoung and if he had been the recipient of his cry of help, but he hadn't had the opportunity yet.

"Thank you for being patient and reuniting here with me, I'll be brief." Hongjoong said once he had gotten everyone's attention. "We unfortunately can't return you each individually to your homes, so what we're planning to do is arrive at a commercial planet and help you contact your embassies there so they can guide you home.

"We think a commercial planet would be best since they have the most embassies available," Hongjoong explained, "We're also looking into contacting a non-profit organization that will make things easier with the lack of documentation, so you'll be protected in case something goes wrong."

"We should anchor somewhere in a few days." Yunho added. "For now, just focus on getting your strength back. We also have an intergalactic communication device available, if you would like to try to contact your families."

Seonghwa felt panic. Sure, the plan sounded great for people that wanted to go back home, but he didn't want to return to his family. Despite all that had happened, he didn't want to go back to feeling useless and like a dead-weight all the time. Plus, there was Wooyoung. Seonghwa needed to find him and his best shot was to stay with these people that were somehow connected to the Somnum as well. He couldn't go home.

"Wait, please!" Seonghwa called them.

His voice was still hoarse, but Hongjoong and Yunho heard him and approached him, stopping him from standing up and following them. Seonghwa was still feeling weak, and standing up would have probably been a bad idea. Hongjoong and Yunho looked at him in confusion, not really knowing who he was or what he wanted from them.

"I can't go home," Seonghwa said quickly, trying to explain himself now that he had gotten their attention. "I can't go back there, please don't send me back." He almost begged. Hongjoong and Yunho exchanged a look of confusion.

"Why not?" Yunho asked, looking at Seonghwa suspiciously.

"It's just-" Seonghwa struggled with the words, nor really wanting to tell them what had happened to him back at home. "There's no place for me if I go back."

"Then, would you like us to drop you off somewhere? I'm sure that can be arranged." Hongjoong added, trying to placate Seonghwa, who seemed desperate.

"Can I stay with you?" Seonghwa was quick to ask. He wouldn't be able to find Wooyoung otherwise, since he seemed to be connected to this ship. He needed to stay. "I'll make myself useful. I'm very good with numbers and I have a lot of connections, I can get you deals for anything you need to buy." It wasn't a lie. His father didn't want him to inherit the family business, but that didn't mean Seonghwa hadn't learnt about it.

"Wait a second," Yunho said before pulling Hongjoong aside.

Seonghwa observed them talk, desperate to be accepted into the ship. He didn't want to go home and the slave traders had stolen all his stuff, so he didn't have anything to continue a journey by himself if they didn't let him stay. Still, he knew he was suspicious, since he didn't have anything to prove his identity anymore. Yunho and Hongjoong finished talking and approached him again.

"Okay, you can stay," Hongjoong said. "But we still need to get back your paperwork and identifications, so you're gonna have to help us with that." Seonghwa nodded enthusiastically, relieved that it had worked.

"Thank you so much," Seonghwa sighed, finally feeling like he could rest.

"What's your name, lad?" Hongjoong asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Seonghwa, Captain." He replied firmly, leaving his last name behind.

"Well, welcome to The Crescent, Seonghwa."

--

San paced around the hold bitterly, mentally preparing himself for the scolding he was going to get. It had been a while since he had last contacted his boss, and he still didn't have good news about the mission he was supposed to be doing. In fact, he only had bad news about it, but of course he couldn't tell his boss that. Despite everything, San was still trying to get out of it alive.

"Hello, code CS-710-28. I assume by your expression that you don't have good news." His boss said as soon as San opened the communication channel.

"My apologies, sir." San said, head down. He knew his apologies were no good, but there was nothing else he could say.

"Right," his boss scoffed. "What was it this time, then? Why haven't you finished it off?"

"We got into a fight with another ship, they were a lot more so I was busy fighting," San explained, "I tried to force him to be uncovered, but Yunho is always by his side, it was impossible." San sighed, the lies flowing out easily like water. "I believe he was injured, but since we're back on the ship he must be getting treated right now."

"You're fucking useless, code CS-710-28." His boss laughed, and San just fixed his eyes on the ground, hopping this would be done quickly. "I'm disappointed in you. You better hurry up with your mission and come back, the Black Room will be waiting for you."

The transmission cut off and San let out a long sigh. He leaned against a wall and let himself slide against it until he was sitting on the floor. Everything was becoming worse and worse for him, now even if he returned victorious, there was a punishment waiting for him. His body shook involuntarily as he remembered the Black Room, and the times he had been in it before.

The Black Room was just like its name promised: a small, squared room with every inch painted in the darkest black he had ever seen. It was cold and dark. It felt like being entombed but with enough space to move and breathe. It was impossible to tell up from down or left from right when you were trapped in it; time didn't pass but it felt like an eternity all the same. San hated the Black Room with all of his being, and he didn't want to go back there.

But as things were, he also didn't want to fulfill his mission. In fact, he didn't want to be part of it at all anymore. Who could seriously want Hongjoong dead? He was the kindest and most selfless person San had ever met. Hongjoong didn't deserve to die, didn't deserve to have an invisible price tag over his head. The thing was that if San didn't carry out the mission, someone else would, and they probably wouldn't hesitate like him. He needed to do something.

He needed to discover who was behind all of this.

--

Wooyoung had been waiting nervously for who knows how long, hoping someone would go to sleep soon so he could visit them and see how Seonghwa was doing. He waited until he couldn't wait anymore, and then tried to go to sleep. Wooyoung tried to visit Seonghwa's dreams first, and although he could feel him sleeping, Seonghwa was so exhausted that he wasn't dreaming, and Wooyoung couldn't reach him.

He decided to try with Mingi instead, who knew who Seonghwa was. It didn't take him long to find Mingi, already used to visiting him in dreams. When he appeared, Mingi greeted him with a warm smile, and Wooyoung immediately ran to hug him, happy to see that he was all in once piece. Mingi received him with open arms, albeit a little confused and embarrassed for the sudden display of affection.

"I was so worried!" Wooyoung exclaimed, hugging Mingi tight. "I knew everything would go well but I was still so nervous that my visions had maybe failed me, or something."

"We're fine!" Mingi was quick to reassure him. "Sure, there were a few injuries, but we all returned safe and sound, and we rescued all of the slaves."

"I'm so glad," Wooyoung sighed, relieved, still very much clinging to Mingi. "Have you seen Seonghwa yet, is he okay?"

"Actually..." Mingi's voice lowered. He had completely forgotten to look for Seonghwa because he had spent his time with Jongho and Yeosang instead, how embarrassing! "I still don't know who he is?" Wooyoung looked at him in surprise.

"Why not?" With how curious Mingi had been about everything Wooyoung had told him, he had expected him to go looking for Seonghwa already.

"Well..." Mingi tried to think of a lie, something he could say to evade the answer. "I was distracted with someone- I mean! Something! I was distracted with something else!"

"Let me guess, Yeosang and Jongho?" Wooyoung grinned, enjoying the way Mingi's neck and face turned all red.

"This is unfair!" Mingi complained. "Why did you ask if you knew already?"

"I didn't!" Wooyoung laughed. "You just confirmed it for me. I was guessing based on your dreams and my visions."

"Ugh." Mingi frowned. "I hate you." Yet, his arms were still wrapped around Wooyoung's middle.

"Sure, sure." Wooyoung smiled. "There's nothing bad with it, you know?"

Mingi just shrugged, not really wanting to talk about his potential crush on two of his crew members who probably didn't think as highly of him. He was content with their friendship, even if it was quite hard to be around them without his heart feeling like it was going to explode like one of his bombs. He could take it, though.

"I saw what you did in one of my visions, by the way," Wooyoung continued, this time his voice wasn't teasing, it was sincere. "I'm really thankful that you listened to me when I asked you to rescue Seonghwa. Thank you for being brave and telling Hongjoong, and thank you for getting into that ship and blowing it up."

"I didn't do much..." Mingi shrugged, a little embarrassed.

"You did a lot, they wouldn't have been able to get out without your help," Wooyoung smiled. "You were so cool back there too, installing the bomb and taking care that you all got out in time."

"Stop," Mingi blushed once again. "It's embarrassing when you say it like this."

"Like this how?" Wooyoung tilted his head. "All close and personal?"

Mingi let out a little unintentional squeak as he felt Wooyoung's arms tighten around his neck. Wooyoung let out a hearty laugh before standing on the tips of his toes and pressing a soft kiss to Mingi's cheek. Mingi squeaked again and took a step back, tripping. They never hit the floor, and instead just hovered softly a few feet from the floor. Mingi looked around and saw they were floating, and immediately turned to look at Wooyoung.

"Are you doing this?" He asked, hesitant.

"Yeah," Wooyoung nodded.

He was still holding onto Mingi, arms around his neck. The position had brought their faces closer, and they couldn't help but just stare at each other, hearts racing. Mingi couldn't remember ever being so close to someone, to the point that he could feel Wooyoung's breath like a ghost on the skin of his chin.

"I think..." Wooyoung breathed out, eyes briefly glancing at Mingi's lips before darting back up. "I should go now."

Wooyoung didn't give Mingi time to protest. He disappeared, leaving Mingi with arms held up where he had been hugging Wooyoung's back. He was still floating, looking up at nothing as his heart pounded fast inside his chest. Mingi was certain he was going to lose his head if he kept collecting crushes like he was picking flowers out in the field.

[a-forgotten-spirit]

Dabi x Hero Reader (5)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem Hero in training, Shinso x Reader (Platonic), Bakugou x Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Going on Patrol and meeting with a certain villain crush. 

Words: +-3300

Warnings: Feeling hated, fighting villains, being called a ‘Little Plaything’ (Not by Dabi), singing a creepy song, reporters being pushy, walking through a park at night, Dabi being possessive, aggressive and obsessive, best friends with Shinso, friends with Bakugou.

Tags: @wnygirl2012​ @chaotic-neutral-logic-sass​ @immortalwolf18​ @axerrri​

A/N: Please comment, I love feedback so much and I tend to continue stories when people actually like them. Thank you for reading. I am still taking requests.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 ________________________________________________________________

Chapter 5

“Are you ready?” Midnight asked as we made our way out of the school gates, my peers pushing to know why I got to go on patrol and they didn’t. Her arms were behind her head in a lazy kinda walk. 

“I don’t know” I answered honestly as we began to walk to the city, I was excited no one could mistake the hope in my step and the excitement coursing through my veins. My problem was that people knew me and I now had to deal with that. 

She hummed and turned her eyes to my form as we walked, she was taller then I and I looked up meeting her eyes. “I love your quirk” she began and my heart skipped a beat, my breathing catching up later “It’s an amazing quirk for the field and will make you a great hero” he smiled. 

The rest of the walk was nice and peaceful, being stopped by her fans and young kids. I was in my hero costume, a simple one-piece suit that showed my arms, feet, kind of like a wetsuit with a mask running along with my eyes, then the headset resting atop my head. I had special moves that I had perfected that no one knew about. Not even Aizawa, it was my last resort. I even had some fans ask to take my photo, I was hesitant until I saw my face plastered on their wallpaper and the hope in their eyes. How could I refuse, I took some photos and made sure I held them close before continuing on patrol.

Hours had passed and nothing was out of the ordinary which I liked, no criminals thinking they could get away with things. I got a few more waves and some fans of Midnight. It was perfect just a nice day off. I had forgotten my original plan of trying to find Dabi, now every time I passed an ally I looked down and my heart sank when I didn’t see him. 

Midnight stopped in her tracks, a hand coming to her ear, I waited for my heart racing. “There’s an emergency” she started and we were running, heels clicking on the ground as we did. Running past civilians and Pros alike. “What’s happening” 

“Three criminals are loose in the city after trying to take on an office building. Two went down there and one the other way. Quirks unknown” the officer rushed and I was now being pushed down the road by Midnight. 

“You go after the two, the strongest always go alone. Go get them Siren” she smiled and I was off. Running through the streets and skidding as I looked around for them. Then an explosion found them. 

Coming around the corner I ran past people and into their line of view, something acidic was falling from one of their mouths. “You’re that girl who sings” one called out over the screams of people. Though none were in their direct fire line. It was me, they were focused on me.

“Siren, pleasure to meet you” I smiled leaning to the side. All I had to do was sing a note and I was in the lead, the acid was rotting the road, I had to stay away from his mouth. 

“I think it’s cute you want to be a hero, though heroes don’t usually sing a love song to villains” was he serious, I could see some people filming, I had to be professional. I had to be nice, I’m a hero. 

“Is that it?” I asked and he stepped back, I knew my face wasn’t impressed and I'm sure the way I leaned to one side my hand on my hip was proving my point, his eyes seemed to grow wide, fear? “After all the articles, phone calls, emails, messages, people camping outside my school, people trying to find my family, being called a villain myself, half the population hating me. That’s what you go with” I asked having counted all the things on my fingers before raising an eyebrow “That’s it” I questioned. 

Shaking his head a smirk widening on his face he laughed lowly “I think it’s a valid argument” he started my eyes narrowing. I had to keep them busy, I didn’t have two quirk suppressant cuffs. I had one pair and I didn’t know his quirk. The acid man didn’t care, a follower, not a leader. “That guy is weak, being lulled by some high schoolers singing. I would never” I hummed and he turned his eyes to mine. 

I hummed again and began to laugh, a hand coming to my stomach as I did. He seemed to reel back, there was that fear again. He did fear me, he wanted to be high and mighty. How cute. “Now,” I asked and I opened my eyes and shrugged “I’ll give you this chance to hand yourself over to the authorities or I will have to bring you in by force,” I told them and stood to my full height. 

“I’d like to see you try” he yelled the last word, mouth wide in a twisted smile, his fingers elongating into spikes and hurdling full force at my form. Such a strange quirk though I guessed it could be used in some situations, I wasn’t worried. Why should I be? 

His spiked fingers stopped just before hitting my skin and the acid man stopped in his tracks as the music began, the beats running through my body with the velocity of one of All Mights punches. They looked terrified when they couldn’t move, I pulled down the speaker on the headset “I never make a sound, fingers crossed I shut my mouth” I sang my hand rising as I watched their quirks begin to fade “Thoughts they’re creeping through my teeth, drip, drop the night is loud” I walked forward coming to place one half of the cuff on one of their wrists, the opposing side now connecting the two. “Silence seems to drown me out, box my thoughts and give me some relief” their eyes showed fear as I began to walk back to the police. 

“How” he cussed out, breathing raged and all over the place. He was struggling. That’s cute. The acid man, pupils were blown and body happily complying with what I was making them do. I was right, he wasn’t in charge. This man with the spiked fingers quirk was. 

I turned and smiled “I wanna let you down, make you toss and turn around” the song was creepy but had a good beat and made my racing heart calm down even if only a fraction. It was worth it. “Won’t you give me what I need” I turned back to the road and made sure to avoid the people and keep my hand on the cuffs. “I wanna let you down, and I’m always lost but never found” I pushed calm into the male and he soon stopped resisting. “Won’t you give me what I need” I finished the verse. 

I was a few blocks away from where I knew some Police were so I just had to keep singing, that was not a problem “Tick, Tock, make me creep” I could feel my shoulders sag as my eyes slowly closed and my voice went into a more deep and croaky voice. “Never-ending counting sheep, never get any sleep” people moved out of the way and I could see a few phones out. Here we go again. “Tick tock make me creep” I turned to look at the two criminals who were just bobbing along with my voice. I wasn’t too far off now, only a little bit more to go. I could see them, I could see the police. They watched as I walked up. “Never-ending counting sheep, never get any sleep” I handed them over. 

Individual cuffs were placed on the two of them and they were placed into the van still bobbing along. I could see Midnight walking back in too, dragging a sleeping body behind her. I was asked to place him into the van with the others. He would be knocked out for a few hours. I nodded. 

I stepped into the van, placing the man down on the seat and then crouching forward to restrain him, cuffs being clamped to the middle pole in the van “Dabis’ little plaything” I heard a whisper and turned. “I didn’t think he was serious when he said you were powerful” it was the spiked finger man. My own hands clenched.

“I’m not anyone's’ little plaything, I don’t belong to anyone” I grit out, what the hell was he doing. All thoughts of Dabi had disappeared while I was working and the fact that this little villain wannabe is trying to rial me up was getting on my nerves. 

“We don’t like him and seeing you made me think I could get revenge. Of course, he’d be into some powerhouse” he laughed still coming off his high. I went to step out of the van as his voice continued “He had a thing for you, I’d watch my back” 

“I should be saying that to you, I’m not the one going to prison” I smirked as I shit the doors to the van with a medium sounding slam. Not enough that people knew I was angry but enough that it did make a noise and let out a little of my anger. 

I was debriefed and thanked by the police, then came the cameras. The news running around and trying to get to the scene. “Siren, over here. Siren” I let my head fall back as my hands came to rub my eyes. I flicked up my mic and walked over my face unimpressed and stoic. A phone was shoved out and it was me singing not half an hour prior. 

“Thank you for filming me, it means a lot” I smiled. I had to be polite, I had fans. I met them today, people did like me. It was just newscasters wanting something to snowball with. 

“What was the meaning behind this song” a microphone was thrust into my face instantly as some Pros watched me, everyone knew me. They were trying to help and I appreciated that truly I did. 

“I would just like to say a huge thank you to Midnight who allowed me to go on patrol with her and help me fulfil my dreams of becoming a real hero, though I can’t leave out the three girls who stopped me this morning wanting to get a photo. I love you guys, I’ll make sure to do my best for you” doing a closed eye smile I tilted my head and then gave the microphone back as the newscasters seemed to stop dead in their tracks. I was taking their footage as a medium for my success. They can do as they wished. I was becoming a hero. 

“Siren have you seen Dabi since your debut” another microphone. Of course, they’d bring him up and from the smirk on her face, she knew what she was doing. Camera’s inched closer as I took the new microphone. 

“Make sure to watch my debut online, you can find it anywhere. Follow me on twitter @N/A. I’ll make sure everyone is up to date on my life and training as a hero” I smiled and her eyes fell, I’m making this all about me. This was my time. 

“By not answering you just indirectly admitted to seeing him” another started though my smile never faulted. I stayed in a calm and chilled composure as I just went with what they were saying. “What do you two have?” she yelled. 

“Well if I had seen him, I would have reported it to the authorities. Just because I have a license does not mean I can abuse it, remember that, growing heroes. Thank you all so much for coming. Remember my twitter is @Sirensings” I waved happily “Bye guys” handing the microphone back I walked away standing behind a van, no cameras could see me. 

“You did well with that” I looked up seeing Midnight standing in front of me, smile wide and hip pushed out on a lean. “It takes a lot of effort not to go off but you did well. Adding your socials for publicity was also a very smart idea” her thumb rose is a good job kinda way and I nodded. 

The area was cleaned up and we were on our way back to school. Midnight got us a car knowing camera crews were still trying to talk to us, they needed another job, a hobby, a pet, something. Arriving at the school I stepped out and cameras were placed on me. I was waving and saying hello to everyone as I passed, Pros were holding them back as I walked through. I could see Shinso waiting just inside the gates when I made my way back in bringing him into a hug. 

“I saw your little show and the whole declining all questioned” his mouth spread and he laughed, walking into the school as he continued to go on about how cool it was I just directed everything to myself. 

I made my way into the dorms Shinso and I was talking about the day, I could see I was getting a few looks as I passed. I didn’t care, I had fans, I had people who liked me for me. People who wanted me to succeed, genuine people like me. I had taken down two criminals down by myself and showed myself to be a hero. 

“Hey Y/N” I heard my head turning about from my current conversation to see Bakugou calling from the couch. I walked over “That shit was cool, reflecting all the questions” he smirked and I could hear a few pops from his palms as I nodded “Next time just kill them” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m going out for dinner tonight so don't make me anything” I received a nod and Shinso and I was off again. Walking to my room in quiet chatter, I asked what he had done that day and what their quirks were. Finally making it to the destination I closed the door and turned to have a serious look “The criminal with the spiked fingers said he was surprised I was as strong as Dabi said” I said it quietly. 

His eyes went wide and he shook his head. I unclothed, placing my hero costume in the box then closing it tightly leaving the case on my desk as I grabbed some more comfortable clothing. “So he’s talking about you” he questioned as I ran my fingers through my hair. 

Nodding I whispered with an almost silent sigh “Yeah” coming to sit on the makeshift bed I laid down and looked at the ceiling. “He said ‘Of course he’d be into some powerhouse’ and then told me to watch my back. I’ve never felt more guilty in my life” I whispered again and moved my arm to lay over my eyes. 

“Go find him” I removed my arm instantly eyebrow-raising and mouth slightly agape. Sure I said I was going to find him but saying something and doing it are two entirely different things. “I’m serious, go out and find him. Tell him to stop spreading shit, let it all spill out” he nodded. “You already told Bakugou you were going out” 

“Yeah to go for a run or something after a stressful day not hunt down a serial killer who I also have a crush on” I muttered and his lips quirked up. I flushed and let my head fall back into the pillows once more. 

“If you go to a secluded location, I’m sure you won’t have to do much searching” he whispered. He was right, Dabi had found me in a matter of hours when I left that first night. I’m sure he could do it again. 

I nodded sitting up before I stood slowly “I’m going to go find him” I moved to get dressed into a different, clean, thick jumper. Tights clung to my legs and my phone in hand with a headset around my neck, the cord connecting to my phone. “I’ll be back, I’ll keep you updated” I whispered and walked to the front door “Lock the door when or if you leave” a smile and I was walking out the door, down the stairs and then out of the house. I walked past students and then out the doors. 

Placing the headset over my ears I began to scroll through my music landing on a song with a strong beat and loud lyrics. I needed this, I needed the world to be drowned out even if only for a little. I let the air from my lungs, it was night time now Dark and cold, the jumper fell past my fingers and the bottom of the jumper past where it was meant to be. It was comfortable, no one could judge me. Making my way through the park, no one comes here now. I headed into the woods beside the park, I continued to walk as I came to the rocks above a little pond. Pulling down my headset I let the music play into the world. 

I wasn’t sure how long I stood just watching the water ripple as the wind ran across in a race to get to the other side. My music played lowly having turned it down after arriving. Nature allowed the area to not be silent and my music helped to do the same. I had heard some twigs crack and break, only a few almost silent. 

“I know you’re there” I called out but never turned around my hands comfortably placed into my jumper, warm and insulated. I was just watching the water and listening to nature as I heard the sound of deliberate steps walking close. 

“You shouldn’t have your back to someone like me” he spoke voice low and monotone. Just like before, just like the first time. I couldn’t help how my heart just seemed to speed up or the fact my hands grew sweaty even though they had been fine just moments prior. He came to stand next to me, though my eyes never left the water. 

“Why are you talking about me to other criminals and slash or villains?” I asked slowly. My voice sounded so calm, maybe it was the weather, the music, the view, or it was just him. 

It was silent for a few moments, I was waiting for him to respond as I just sighed out only then did he answer “I’m warning people if they fight you. They will lose” rolling my eyes. I lightly turned my head to view him and then licked my teeth. A low groan and our eyes met, his eyes were glowing. How could someones’ eyes glow without the use of a quirk? “I’m very protective of things I'm interested in” his lips spreading stitches pulling tightly. 

“I’m a person not some figurine from a store. You can’t just go around and say shit like that you know that right” I growled out body now fully turned to him, the music seemed to fit my mood. Beat fast and lyrics mostly just screaming words. He didn’t move, though his smile didn’t fall at all, 

“Why don’t you say what you want to say. You left quite abruptly the last time I saw you and I also saw you on TV, you did well. Such a strong quirk” his hand moved to my hair, lightly playing with the strands next to my ear, I could feel his fingers lightly graze the soft skin of my face. His eyes focused on what he was doing as I just stood there. “Who was that guy you hugged” his hand tightened as I was brought into his body “Answer me little Siren” ________________________________________________________________Chapter 6 

[badwolf-in-the-impala]

~Whiskey Lullaby~

~Chapter 11~

Image credit: Myself @badwolf-in-the-impala​. None of the images are mine, only the editing.

Previous Chapters:  ((Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10))

Rating: Mature/18+

Warnings: Alcohol and drug use/abuse, violence, suggested physical/sexual abuse, kidnapping, sexual content, angst...So much angst.

Chapter warnings: Language, smoking, someone gets punched in the face and a whole lotta feels.

Word count: 4,264

A/N: I’m a shitty person when it comes to posting, I’m sorry...I also forget this chapter even existed. Oops. x_x Also huge shoutout to @jacksonroseroth​ who helped in the making of this chapter and always comes to my recue when I get stuck writing! ^-^

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

Once they were sure Tawni had left the room, Tig gave Teagan one last hug before jetting off, having gotten a text to meet the guys in the chapel. Teagan bit back her tears, having enough with crying for the day as she sat down in the chair beside Chibs’ bed. The steady beeping of the EKG machine drummed in her head as she sat there in silence. He wasn’t out of the woods, but he wasn’t dead. Her only regret was he hadn’t woken up yet so he could talk to her. Teagan just wanted to hear his voice right now, more than anything.

“God...I’ve really fucked it up this time.” She gave a bitter laugh as she shook her head, leaning her elbows forward onto the edge of the bed as she cradled her head in her hands. “I feel like this is all my fault, and the two people I trust and care about most? Well, Tawni hates me; And you?” 

Teagan let out a long sigh as she ran a hand through her dark hair, looking up to study a very unconscious Chibs. His head bandaged and face scraped in places from where he hit the ground during the explosion. He looked so broken and helpless lying in a hospital bed compared to his usual tough exterior that everyone saw. 

“Well -- You almost died.” She finally whispered, catching a stray tear with the back of her sleeve. “Shit, you still could. Please don’t.” Teagan choked out a sob as she took his hand gently, her voice going soft as she spoke to him. The fact that he likely couldn’t hear her briefly crossed her mind as she chewed her lower lip anxiously, but she continued anyway. 

 “There’s so much I need to tell you still...Things I should’ve told you already, probably, if I wasn’t so shit at talking about my feelings.” Teagan admitted guiltily. “Things I’m scared to admit because I’ve been here before, and I fucking swore to myself; I fucking swore! That I wouldn’t go down this road again. But alas, here I am. God I’m an idiot.” 

Things fell silent again for a little while, the steady beeping of the EKG machine being the only noise to fill the room once more. Teagan not knowing how to continue on, not that it mattered anyway. Chibs was unconscious and he would likely remain that way for quite a while. But the bigger question that had been weighing heavily on her mind -- Especially following her blow up with Tawni -- was not so much her own feelings, but his. It wasn’t something she had really even considered bringing up yet, what with everything that had been going on. But now? Now she wondered.

Just what exactly was it that he saw he saw in her? I mean sure, it wasn’t like things were really that serious between them, but they were serious enough that he cared for her well being. Her safety even. He cared enough to help her put herself back together every time she fell apart, even though he barely knew anything about her. Save for the story that had been pieced together all those years ago when she left Charming. The story that everyone knew so well. The story, that was only half truth.

Teagan could feel the tears beginning to prick behind her eyes again, forcing herself to draw in a few deep breaths as she tightened her grip on Chibs’ hand, trying her best to ground her emotions again. But her voice still faltered as she spoke aloud the question she wasn’t certain would ever be answered.

“What is it exactly that you see in me?” Tegan whispered. Her brows pulled tightly together in confusion as she ran a thumb carefully across his scared cheek and down his jawline before allowing her hand to fall away. Before Teagan could say anything else, the door swung open, making her jump. She quickly pulled her hand away and wiped her face as she stood. “Sorry, Doc. I just wanted to-”

As Teagan turned, expecting Tara to be standing in the doorway, she, instead, came face to face with an older, darker skinned woman with black hair that had begun to salt and pepper, holding onto the bag slung over her shoulder with a hip popped, hand propped on it, with a posh and annoyed look on her face.

“Oh. Um, sorry. I thought you were--Who are you?” Teagan asked, slightly confused. She’d never seen this woman around the clubhouse before and Chibs never mentioned any woman that even came close to what she looked like.

“I think the question here would be who the hell are you?” She asked, a thick Irish accent coming through. Teagan’s eyes shrunk back.

Oh, God, not another one. Teagan thought. She’d never met Tawni’s mother and she hoped to God this wasn’t her. Granted Tawni was as pale as the day was long, but stranger things have happened. Taken aback by the woman, Teagan blinked and cleared her throat before she said, “Um, I’m-I’m Teagan?”

The woman pursed her lips and gave a soft ‘Mhm’ as she rounded the bed and set her bag down. Tossing her dark mane over her shoulder, she turned back to Teagan and said, “And would ye mind tellin’ me why yeh’re so broken and upset over m’husband’s accident? And why you were touchin’ him like that?”

It took everything Teagan had to not let her mouth drop open in shock and start yelling. Chibs never once mentioned he had a wife. Not when he held her that first night, not when she spent multiple nights in his bed. He didn't even bother to tell her when they were mere articles of clothing away from doing the do.

‘Alright…That puts a new spin on shit.’ Teagan thought, not trusting herself enough to say anything out loud just yet. Teagan opened her mouth to explain, but the woman cut her off with a wave of her hand and said, “No. Don’t tell me. I don’ need ta’hear any lies out’o a Crow Eaters mouth.”

“Excuse me?!” Teagan shrieked. That one label sent her over the edge. She did her share of whoring around when she was younger, but goddamnit! She was the sister of one of the members! She was as far from a Crow Eater as you could get without being an Old Lady! “Listen, who the hell do you think you are?! You don’t know me!”

“Oh, sure, please!” The woman shouted back. “I know Filip has his fun wit’ you American girls. But never once has one o’them shown their face when I’m around!”

Teagan was about to channel Tawni and reach across Chibs’ bed for a right hook to her face, when a nurse hurried in through the open door.

“What is going on? ICU is for immediate family only!” She said. Teagan opened her mouth to lie and say she was family, but the Irish woman beat her to it with, “I’m his wife.”

The nurse gave her a sweet smile and nodded before turning to Teagan and saying, “Miss Trager, you need to leave. Dr. Knowles is looking for you anyway.”

Teagan huffed at the nurse, shooting daggers at the woman before turning on her heel and marching out of the room.

~

Gemma had lost track of Teagan after reprimanding Jax and just prayed that Teagan didn't end up running back into Tawni. She really didn't need to deal with an angry Irish girl and a Trager, at least not at the same time. The last thing they needed was an all out brawl between a couple of hot headed biker chicks on hospital grounds. But after checking around with a few of the guys, she confirmed that Tawni had indeed gone back to the Clubhouse. And judging from the commotion coming from down the hall nearest Chibs’ room, Gemma could only guess that’s where Teagan had ended up.

“Shit.” Gemma muttered under her breath as she quickened her pace as she moved towards whatever in the hell was going on; Stepping back just in time as Teagan blew around the corner and passed her, Tara hot on her heels trying her best to stop her.

“I’m serious, Teagan, you really need to stay overnight for observation! You have a concussion for Christ sake, just let me help!” Tara tried to reason.

“I don’t fucking need anymore help!” Teagan stopped so suddenly that Tara almost smacked right into her. Taking a quick step back with a wide eyed expression as Teagan rounded on her like a viper about to strike its prey. 

“Hey! Knock it the hell off!” Gemma managed to butt in between the two, putting a hand to Teagan’s chest as she pushed her back. “This isn’t the goddamn WWE. Now why don’t you calm down and tell me what the hell is going on?” 

“He has a fuckin’ wife!” Teagan all but screeched before storming off down the hall towards the exit to the stairs. ‘Explains a lot.’ Gemma thought to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose as she turned to face Tara. “I got it from here, Doc.”

“Good luck.” Tara called after her as Gemma took off after Teagan, catching her on the stairs.

“Wanna slow down before I have a fucking heart attack?” Gemma shouted as she struggled to catch up in hopes of talking Teagan out of whatever in the hell she was about to do.

“Fuck off, Gem!” Teagan shouted back as she hit the last flight of stairs and made her break for the door. Gemma caught her by the arm just as she was stepping outside. “Seriously, Gem, I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

“And what is it exactly you think I’m gonna say?” Gemma shot back, hands flying to her hips as she gave Teagan an irritated and disapproving look. 

“I don’t fucking know!?” Teagan yelled as she fished around in her pockets angrily for her pack of smokes, struggling to light one as her hands trembled from all the emotions coursing through her. So angry at this point she could hardly see straight. “I told you so? You’re a fucking idiot? Stay away and stop getting involved with the fucking Club members?!” 

Teagan gave a brief pause as she took a long drag off of her cigarette, running a hand aggressively through her dark hair as she exhaled. “Jesus, fuck; Why didn’t you tell me he had a fucking wife?!” She rounded on Gemma, who stood still as a statue, waiting for her moment to interject. 

“Maybe ‘cause it ain’t my place, for starters.” Gemma snapped. “And before you go jumping on that fuckin’ high horse of yours, maybe take a step back and think? It’s not like he fuckin’ knows shit about your own past, aside from the bullshit story everyone else knows. So why would he feel obligated to tell you anything about his? Especially when you two aren’t even exclusive. I mean Jesus, Teag, have you two even talked about your feelings?”

“No…” Teagan admitted reluctantly, taking another drag off the cigarette burning between her fingers as she turned her back. Gemma had a point, even if Teagan didn’t want to admit it. But that didn’t change the fact she felt lied to. Betrayed even. Even if Chibs was never hers to begin with, it didn’t change the fact that he had kept this very important bit of information from her. 

“Then why should it matter?” Gemma stated. “His business is his business, nobody else’s!”

“He’s fuckin’ married, Gem!” Teagan shouted as she whirled around, seething again. “I don’t give two fucking shits why, or what his reasonings for not telling me are, that’s not something you just keep from the person you’re getting involved with!”

 “Jesus Christ…” Gemma gave a frustrated sigh as she closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Teage--”

“NO, Gemma, I’m done. I’m.Fucking.Done.” Teagan cut her off before taking one last drag, flicking the cigarette butt to the sidewalk as she began looking around for a way back to the Clubhouse. Panic setting in as she realized everyone had gone home except for Gemma. 

“Look, Sweetheart, I know you’re upset, and don’t get me wrong, you have every right to be--But this ain’t the time.”

“Seriously, just save it! OK?” Teagan snapped, closing her eyes as she rubbed at her temples. A sudden wave of dizziness hitting her out of nowhere.

“You need to calm down…Let’s just go back inside for a bit till you cool off.” Gemma stated firmly as she moved to take Teagan by the arm and lead her back inside. Gritting her teeth as Teagan pushed her way.

“I’m fine...Gem…” Teagan shot back as she pulled away, reaching a hand out to steady herself against the pillar in front of her as the edges of her vision started to blur. But by then, it was already too late. Her hand missed the pillar entirely and her vision quickly went black as she fell to the ground, Gemma managing to grab her before her head hit the concrete.

“Shit…” Gemma muttered as she laid Teagan carefully on the sidewalk before rushing back inside the hospital to grab a nurse.

~

The slow and steady beeping filled her ears as Teagan came to, finally hooked up to monitors and IVs. She let out a soft groan as the EKG beeps began to pound against her skull. Before she could have any other reaction, from the corner, almost making her jump and fall out of bed, she heard Gemma say, “Oh, good. You’re not dead.”

“Jesus Fuck, Gemma!” Teagan shouted, the EKG beeping wildly for a moment or two before the steady pace continued. Teagan sighed and tried to move but found it rather painful with needles sticking out of her arms. She sighed and shifted, trying to get a better look at her surroundings. “Why am I still here?”

Gemma slapped down the magazine in her hand and crossed her legs. “Because you almost took a fuckin’ cement nap if I hadn’t caught you, Teagan Marie.” She said. Teagan let out another groan.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Gemma! Not the middle name shit! I got that enough growing up!” She said. Gemma uncrossed her legs and stood, stalking over to her bed.

“I don’t give a shit what you got growing up, missy.” Gemma said. “You’ve done enough damage, you don’t need any more in your life. You don’t want me to treat you like you did growing up? Then fuckin’ grow up!”

Gemma walked away from the bed and grabbed her purse from the table next to her chair and made for the door. With her emotions running high, probably from the drugs Tara put her on, Teagan fought her tears, though they came through as she said, “Wait...Gem. Please don’t leave me alone…”

Gemma stopped and turned to her. Teagan couldn’t stop the tears seeping from the corners of her eyes as she struggled not to completely break down and sob. Gemma sighed and set her bag back down, going back over to her and taking her hand.

“Teagan...This is serious shit we’re in right now. And if you’re gonna stick around, you’ll be involved. Do you really think it’s a good idea to get involved with Chibs? Let alone any member right now?” Gemma asked, lowering her voice to a softer tone. Teagan sighed, looking away from Gemma, angry with herself for crying again.

“I don’t know, Gem. It-It’s different this time. With Chibs.” She said. “He doesn’t treat me like I’m a no good degenerate like everyone else does.”

“Oh, baby.” Gemma said with a soft chuckle. “That’s not true; Jax doesn’t. Tawni never did. Clay doesn’t. I don't.”

Teagan gave her a look that made Gemma smirk and add, “Alright...Not all the time. But still, Teagan, I mean…”

“Gemma.” Teagan took a breath and said, “I think I might be in love with him.”

Gemma blinked, shocked, and said, “Are-Are you serious? Jesus, Teage, you’ve known him for like, a month.”

Teagan rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fuck. Gemma. I’m trying to be fucking happy for once in my life! Genuinely happy! And he’s fucking married!” Teagan said.

“Honey. That’s never stopped him before. Jimmy O’Phelan stole Fiona from Chibs before he exiled him from Ireland. Sure he still loves her, but...Well, he has needs too. He’s had relationships in the past. It doesn’t bother him. Why should it bother you?” Gemma asked.

“Maybe because I don’t want to be called a fucking Crow Eater by that bitch again?” Teagan hissed, her anger getting the better of her and making the EKG go off again. Gemma sighed and said, “Alright, honey, you need to calm down. If you want the Doc to clear you to leave, you’ve gotta get that anger under control.”

Teagan sighed and nodded, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Good God, did she want to get out of this fucking hospital. She cleared her throat and said, “Um, is-is he awake?”

“Teagan…” Gemma sighed.

“Gem, I just want to make sure he’s okay. Tell him I’m sorry.” She said.

“For what?” Gemma asked. Teagan opened her mouth to respond, but stopped when she realized she wasn’t quite sure.

“I-I-” Gemma stopped her and said, “Look. Before you do anything, I want you cleared by the doc. Make sure everything is working right up there. You’ve taken a few punches already and we don’t need you passing out on us again.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Alright. But can we make it quick? I want to fucking shower too.” Teagan said. Gemma chuckled and gave Teagan a kiss on her cheek before she left the room to flag down Tara.

~

After a lengthy talk about making sure she was monitored for the next few days, Tara finally cleared her to leave. Teagan couldn’t change fast enough. Gemma had run back to the clubhouse and packed her a small bag of new clothes. Once she changed and the papers were signed, Gemma walked Teagan up to Chibs’ floor and stopped her.

“Just give me a minute, Teagan, okay?” Gemma said, sitting the girl down in a nearby chair before sidestepping to the door. With her hand on the door knob, she stopped when she saw Fiona sitting in the chair, reading a magazine.

‘Oh, shit.’ She thought as she slowly opened the door and walked in. Fiona glanced up as the door opened as surprised to see Gemma as Gemma was to see her. With a sigh and uncrossing her legs, Fiona put down her magazine and stood. Gemma went to the counter to set down her bag as she said, “You’re a long way from home, sweetheart.”

“Yes. I am.” Fiona said, rather matter of factly. Gemma braced a hand on the counter, the other on her hip and asked, plainly, “Why?”

“I was worried about him.” Fiona said, almost a hint of offence in her voice. Gemma looked unconvinced as she said, “Could’ve sent flowers.”

Fiona’s face was full of annoyance at this point, uphased at how much Gemma hadn’t changed over the years. With an equal annoyance in her voice, she said, “Just needed to see him, Gemma.”

Gemma glanced at Chibs, making sure he wasn’t awake and listening as she crossed in front of Fiona and said, “We are in a shit storm here. The last thing we need is you turning him inside out.”

Teagan stayed out of view from the window on the door, ear pressed to it, listening. She didn't know what Gemma meant by ‘turning him inside out’, but she didn't need an interpreter for it, and booked it, swiping her bag from the chair and beelining for the elevator. Clearly, this Fiona woman had an effect on Chibs and, after all, she was his fucking wife. She didn't want to ruin Chibs’ relationship with her and had her mind made up, even before she hijacked Tig’s bike, parked with the others. She hotwired the Harley, strapped on Tig’s helmet and took off as the club came running back outside, ready to deal a beat down, but they were all caught off guard to see Teagan as the thief.

“Hey! Teagan-!” Tig called in disbelief. He sighed and turned to his crew, staring at them for a moment before he said, “Unbelievable.”

~

Teagan lit into the Clubhouse like the place was on fire. Ignoring Piney’s attempts to slow her down and tell him what the hell was going on as she passed by the bar and made her way down the hall to the dorms; Throwing the door to her room open. The sound of it slamming against the wall sending an echo loud enough down the hallway that it could’ve woke people up in the next County over. 

Grabbing her pack from the closet she quickly began to stuff in the essentials. Making sure to do so quickly as she knew at least a few of the guys would be on their way back and pulling in soon. Tig being among them, given she had just stolen his pride and joy. So the sooner she got out of there, the better. Besides, the last thing she wanted was anyone trying to stop her…

Her mind was made up...She was done. Charming had been her last chance at a safe haven, but now that had been shattered into a million pieces and all because she let her feelings get in the way. Just like she always did. Funny she had actually believed that things had actually turned in her favor for once, and that maybe she finally had a shot at real happiness despite the shitstorm that had been chasing her all her life. But she couldn’t have been more wrong.

“What in the fuck are you doing?” Tawni grumbled crankily from the doorway of Teagan’s room, still half asleep; Teagan turning and narrowing her gaze. 

“Leaving.” Teagan snapped as she tugged the zipper on her pack shut and threw it over her shoulder before stalking out of the room. Shoulder checking Tawni on the way out when she didn’t move.

“Seriously?!” Tawni huffed as she turned and started after Teagan. “You’re gonna be a bitch this fucking early?!”

“I’m done. Gone. Not fucking coming back. You should be fucking happy!” Teagan rounded on Tawni, causing her to take a step back as she stared at Teagan a little shocked as those few that remained in the Clubhouse fell silent. “Can’t fuck your Uncle if I’m not around anymore, right? Because as if things weren’t shitty enough -- To add insult to injury, my best fucking friend--Sorry ex best friend, just assumes, that I would go behind her back in such a way--”

“Teagan--”

“Fuckin’ save it Tawn, ‘cause I don’t give a shit anymore.” Teagan cut her off before she could even start. “And to think, I actually fucking cared...I mean genuinely fucking cared, for the first time in a long time...But he’s married, so crisis averted. ” She laughed bitterly, turning on her heel as she started for the door again.

“And you’re answer to it all is to run like a fucking coward? Just like you’ve always done?!” Tawni started after Teagan again, not ready to let her go so easily. But she stopped when Teagan dropped her bag abruptly, her fist suddenly connecting with Tawni’s jaw, sending her to the floor.  

“I thought you were my fucking friend.” Teagan’s voice was calm, showing in it the level of hurt she was feeling right now as she shook her head.

“C’mon, Kid, don’t do this.” Piney butted in as he got to his feet, holding his hands out as if he was trying to calm a wild animal as he approached her. Stopping when Teagan held out a hand to stop him, and picked up her bag.

“Save it.”

“What the fucking Christ, Teagan?!” Tig hollered as he came bursting through the doors of the Clubhouse, Jax and Opie close behind. 

“Don’t.” Teagan snapped coldly as she pushed past her brother and out the door; yanking her arm from Opie’s grasp when he tried to grab her.

“Come on, Rave...Don’t do it like this.” Opie pleaded with a sympathetic expression as he stared down at her as she pushed past him out the door. “At least tell us what’s going on?”

“She’s fuckin’ my Goddamn Uncle, is wha’s goin’ on!” Tawni shouted as she came flying out the door in the midst of all the chaos, hellbent on finishing what had just been started.

“You know…” Teagan gave another hollow sounding laugh, turning with tears in her eyes to face Tawni who stopped when she saw her twisted expression. “I actually wish I had gotten the chance.”

Without another word she turned, crossing the lot the rest of the way to her bike, securing her pack to the sissy bar before she climbed on and pulled on her helmet. The sound of the engine roaring to life drowning out Tig’s shouts as he came running across the Teller-Morrow lot after her; Falling just short  of reaching her as she pulled out of her space and hit the throttle. Leaving behind a sea of shocked and confused faces in her wake as she left it all behind.

Hellbent on never looking back.

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

Lemme know what you guys think! I promise things pick up soon and get more interesting lol And if you want to be added the taglist, or removed ((it’s been a long time, I’d understand if anyone's lost interest)) just let me know. I’m actually getting ahead on chapters, so hopefully I’ll be able to start posting a little more often.

TAGLIST: @jacksonroseroth​ @cole-winchester​ @stacie-marie-bloom​ @journeyrose​ @penny4yourthot​ @xbreezymeadowsx​ @miss-nori85​

[lassluna]

Swan’s Hourglass (2/?)

Emma Swan had a mission. Find a place to start New Hyrule, her kingdom apparently. It was her mission as Princess or Savior or whatever. It’s going terribly if she’s honest. No one ever gave her Princess or Savior lessons growing up. She really has no idea how to be a Savior. She doesn’t even really want to in the first place.

But when the Demon Ship kidnaps her son and she gets stranded on a strange island with only an old woman and peppy fairy for help, Emma will have to do what she has to do to rescue her son, even if that means putting a certain self-proclaimed pirate captain in his place.

Legend Of Zelda AU

Ao3 FFN

AN: Happy Father's day everyone, I hope everyone is having a good time spending time with their families. Thank you so much for the support this story has gotten! This story would not be what it is without the lovely @spartanguard​ for beta reading it, @eastwesthomeisbest​ for her FABULOUS art as well as @cssns​ for putting this event together.

Chapter 1: Awake

“Mom!”

Her eyes shoot open and she sits up with a gasp, clutching her chest as she struggles to catch her breath.

Her vision is fuzzy when she looks around, and her limbs are sluggish at best. She doesn’t see Henry, she doesn’t see the ship or anything she recognizes.

“Henry,” she utters, her voice raw and her lips tasting like salt.

Salt. From the water. She was in the water.

Suddenly Emma feels cold, cold through her bones and she’s shaking, shivering really.

“Henry!” she calls out again, looking around, but there’s no sign of her kid.

“Hey, you’re awake!” says another voice, from a figure kneeling beside her. “Thank goodness you’re ok; when I found you washed up on the beach, I swore you were dead.” She blinks at the figure, trying to concentrate on her, but it proves difficult.

Her hands move and they come into contact with sheets, softer than the sheets in The Darling. The bed was larger too.

Eventually, her vision clears to realize she isn’t on a ship, or on a beach, but in a bed on solid land. She also realizes she isn’t alone.

“Granny didn’t think you were dead, so we brought you inside to Granny’s spare room—well, my room, but it’s still just the spare room,” the woman continues. Emma blinks trying to figure out who she is and what she is even talking about.

The woman looks younger than her, so early 20’s, has darker blonde hair falling short on her shoulders, tanned skin and she just. Keeps. Talking.

“Wh-Where am I?” Emma asks, her voice rough to her ears and she feels incredibly thirsty.

The woman’s eyes spark at her talking. “So you can talk, I was worried. We’re in Mercury Island in the East Sea, only real land mass in this area, at least according to Granny, and Granny knows every—“

Oh god . Emma thinks. Should have let me drown…

“Tink, are you talking this poor girl’s ear off?” says a second voice, interrupting the girl and entering the room. It was an older lady carrying a plate of food.

At first, she considers denying it, wanting to get up and look for Henry, or this Demon Ship that had taken her kid.

But her stomach growls and she still feels cold. Emma knows that if she has any chance at finding her kid, she needs to stay strong.

She takes the food; it’s a warm bowl of broth with some sort of noodles, she isn’t sure exactly, only that it’s delicious, the warmth waking up her sluggish body more and more with every sip.

“I’m so sorry about Tink, she gets a little bit excited. I’m Granny,” the woman says, smiling kindly at Emma; she has a motherly feeling, as if she enjoys caring for the less fortunate. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Emma.”

“Tell me Emma, how did you come to be washed up on our beach?” 

Emma swallows, hesitant to share her story, but coming to the conclusion that she needs help and these people are all she has.

“I was sailing with my son. We were attacked by the Demon Ship, a big ship, scary designs and an unnatural fog,” she describes. She sees Tink’s face pale and the woman frowns darkly. “They took my son. I need to get him back,” she insists.

“Granny…”Tink says, glancing at the older woman.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie, but finding the Demon Ship—why, it’s impossible,” she insists. 

Emma narrows her eyes. “You’ve heard of it? What do you mean impossible?” she repeats.

“People have been trying to find the Demon Ships for years. No one survives the encounter,” Granny explains.

“But I survived,” she points out.

“Then count yourself lucky, Emma. Try to forget what you lost and move on.” Her words hit her to her core.

“That’s not happening,” she snaps. “My son is on that ship, and I’m finding him no matter what,” she insists, moving the soup away. “Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

She stumbles slightly when she stands. Tink moves to help her but she brushes her away.

“Well if you’re that stubborn,” Granny begins, “There is one other survivor that I know of.” That catches her attention. “Before you, he’s been the lone survivor of the menace; he still hunts the damn thing. Can’t imagine why.”

That does seem useful; someone hunting it must be familiar with Demon Ship and would have the most information, and given that he survived it, he might know how to defeat it and get her son back.

“Where do I find him?” 

Tink looks to Granny nervously. “You don’t mean…” 

The old woman nods.

“I do. You’re looking for Captain Hook, and you’re in luck; word around town is he made port on the other side of the island last night. He’s most likely still there.”

Get to the other side of the island, find this Captain Hook fellow, and save Henry. It sounded like the makings of a plan.  

“Alright,” she agrees. “If you could give me directions to this port, I can get out of your way as soon as possible.” 

Granny shakes her head. “If only it were that simple sweetie, but the safest way to the port is through the bridge and it’s out. The builder should be along in a few days to fix it, but until then, you’re stuck.

“My son doesn’t have a few days!” she snaps. “You said safest,” she recalls. “What’s the other way?”

The old woman shakes her head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“What’s the other way?” she repeats. Emma doesn’t care about danger. 

“There’s a path, but no one ever uses it,” The older woman begins.

“It’s covered with monsters!” Tink interjects. “You can’t go there, Emma; it’s not safe.” Emma rolls her eyes.

“Look, thank you for your hospitality but I’ll be fine,” she insists. “If you can just point me to the path, I’ll be going.” She moves towards the door, but Granny stops her. “Listen, lady—“ But the old woman just shakes her head. 

“I’m not stopping you, Emma,” she assures. “But you can’t go running around in those rags. I have a few things that might fit you.” Emma looks down at her clothes. The dress she’s wearing is completely ruined, sea water having done its job on the skirt and the rip in the back being too bad for a regular patch. 

“Now, I have an adventurer’s tunic; legend has it that the one who wore this-“ But Emma cuts her off, not even glancing at the green she holds, looking straight at a dark blue and brown vest and pants respectively hanging besides it.

“Will this work?” she asks. Emma glances at the clothes Granny is about to offer. “Sorry; green isn’t my color.” The old woman looks a little shocked before she nods.

“Perfect.”

//

Apparently this ‘super dangerous’ path was in fact super dangerous. 

The moment she stepped out into the path, three red demons attacked her. They were small but had claws, teeth and bright yellow eyes. They took one look and lunged for her. It took Emma by surprise and she barely got away.

It had taken kicking one in the face to get them to back off. The second she could, Emma ran back to town, where they apparently did not want to follow.

Tink is the one who finds her at the beach kicking at the sand, trying to find something on the beach to use for a weapon. That’s all she needs: a weapon to beat these things and get to port.

“Granny was right,” Tink says when she sees her; Emma glares at her. “The path is too dangerous.”

She rolls her eyes. Emma is not in the mood for an “I told you so.” She ignores her.

“Especially without a weapon, and the only weapon on this side of the bridge is Granny’s old sword but she doesn’t like to use it.”

Emma’s head pops up. “Sword?” she repeats. Tink’s eyes go wide.

“I shouldn’t have said that, like I really shouldn’t have said that, but sometimes I don’t know how to shut my mouth,” she admits.

“Why didn’t Granny mention a sword?” she asks. That would have helped her get through the monsters and would definitely be a big help in her mission.

“Granny is a pacifist,” Tink admits. “She keeps the sword because a friend of hers made it,” Tink adds. “But I don’t know what friend; I think it’s the cannon maker in another island but I’m not sure…” She trails off, talking about this Marco fellow, but Emma doesn’t care.

“Where’s the sword, Tink?” she asks.

The blonde shakes her head.

“It’s in the shed, but Emma, please—you can’t take it, it’ll get you killed and it’ll be me getting you killed and I really don’t want that.” She pleads with genuine emotion and Emma believes her—she honestly cares.

“Ok, Tink,” she says softly to calm the upset girl.

“You promise?” Tink asks. Emma hesitates.

“I promise.” Perhaps it’s a little juvenile, but she crosses her fingers behind her back.

Emma waits until Tink is called to do her daily chores to make her way to the shed. A part of her feels bad about stealing from these kind people, but she just says to herself that she’ll give it back as soon as possible.

Maybe even compensate them for their troubles. It would be a harmless theft.

(Emma tries to push the sight of a concerned Tink from her mind.)

She focuses on the mess of a shed, boxes and crates of food in every inch of it. It takes a good while before she finds a chest in the back of the room. The box is good and sturdy with a design etched in the wood. She wishes she can see it, but the chest is too old to properly make it out.

When she opens the chest, Emma is pleasantly surprised by what she finds. 

She had expected some rusty blade too heavy for her to handle one handed. It was what she was used to seeing when she was with Bae. Or something lighter and slender, like a cutlass.

This was a one-handed double edged broadsword; long enough to give her some reach, but short enough to give her some power. It was always the type of weapon she preferred. It was the kind of sword her father once had, and while she later learned how to wield one on The Darling , her father’s weapon of choice always held a place in her heart.

She can tell by the sharpness and gleam of the metal that someone kept great care of the weapon. She picks it up and it feels right in her hand. She swings it, once, twice, three times and grins at the crisp sound of it cutting through air.

This is exactly what she needs; this is exactly the weapon she needs to rescue her kid. She looks around, finding a holster to secure the weapon to her side. Beside the chest, she notices a wooden shield. It also looks relatively new. A white bird design was painted onto it. She picks it up. 

She’s heard of people fighting with both a sword and a shield and she wonders. Bae never bothered with one. He thought they were too cumbersome, and considering his own fighting style, he was probably right.

Emma suddenly feels guilty for wanting to take both these things from the old woman who helped her.

“Mom!” 

Emma shivers. She would never forget the sound of Henry calling for her. That was the reason she was doing this. This time, the means justified the end.

 “What are you doing?” It catches her off guard to the point that she nearly drops the sword. Emma turns around slowly.  

 “ That’s a good question,” Emma admits. She honestly didn’t think she’d get caught.

“You’re stealing from us?” Tink says, sounding devastated. “You promised you’d wait, you said—“

Emma gave a sigh. “I’m sorry, but it’s my son, my only family; wouldn’t you do that for your family? Your grandmother?” she asks. “Every minute I wait, I feel like he’s hurting, like he’s scared and alone and I can’t have that.” She tightens her hold on the blade.

Tink looks at her for a long moment, an almost blank look on her face.

“Granny isn’t my grandmother,” she admits. “I-I lost my memory. Granny found me. I was half drowned and injured; she nursed me back to health and gave me a sanctuary while my memory came back…” she trails off.

“But it never did.” Tink smiles in confirmation. Honestly, Emma feels for the younger girl. She knows what it feels like to feel lost in your own head, unsure about anything at all. She seems different from the happy go lucky chatterbox from earlier.

“I don’t know if I’d do what you’re doing if the situation was reversed; I don’t know if I have a son, or a loved one, a family.” She shakes her head. “But you’re right—waiting is stupid. We should go. Your son needs you.”

“We?” Emma repeats. That was the last thing she expected. “You don’t need to come; you don’t need to risk your neck for me,” she insists. 

“But I want to!” she insists, all her spunk springing back into her. “I want to help you find Captain Hook. Plus, you shouldn’t have to go it alone. You have me to help you; even if I can’t fight, I can watch your back.”

Emma nods; that seems helpful. “But when it starts to get tense, you’re going to have to keep quiet and not distract me, alright? And just until we get to the docks and I find Captain Hook.”

“Deal!”

//

The red creatures don’t stand a chance against a fully armed Emma Swan. The first one she finds, she sneaks up on, and stabs it in the back before it has a chance to turn on her. It howls in pain as it dissolves into darkness.

Its cry alerts the other two to her presence, they jump at her with a vengeance, but she pushes them back with the shield on her arm. They try to circle her, but she doesn’t let them, charging at one while blocking the other. It takes a few swings before they’re both vanquished as well.

“You do know how to swing a sword,” Tink says amazed. Emma smiles shyly. She really doesn’t, but the bare basic she knows is enough for now. It has to be.

//

The town is a lot smaller than Emma imagined. Maybe it’s because she’s used to bustling port cities, or hidden castle towns, but this town is absolutely tiny. 

There is a small tavern, a small inn, a shop or two and a boathouse. There are barely any homes either. It just feels sad and dead, like the life in this place just wasn’t there. Emma doesn’t understand it.

 “I guess we can start at the shipyard,” Tink suggests, looking over at the ships. There are only a few, one standing out larger than the rest. Tink leads her right to that one.

“This is the one I remember Granny pointing out as his,” she explains. They look around, seeing not a speck of life on the ship. “Hello?” Again no one. There wasn’t even a crew on board.

“Are you looking for someone, miss?” says a voice; Emma sees an older man, sword at his hip and gruff disposition approach them.

“We’re looking for the owner of this ship. If you happen to know and want to tell us, of course…” Tink says meekly.

“Captain Hook,” Emma says louder, more assertively. “Can you tell us where he is?”

The man laughs. “Why on earth would you want to know where that sorry seaman is?” he asks. Emma crosses her arms stepping forward. 

“That’s none of your business sir. If you can’t help us, we’ll just find someone who can,” she says boldly.

“Probably drowning his sorrows in more rum at the tavern,” the man says leering at her. “But I wouldn’t bet on him helping you. The man is obsessed with only two things, rum and his suicide mission.” He laughs, eyes glancing at Tink. Emma steps in front of the younger girl.  “Perhaps I can be of service to you sweetie.” Emma takes Tink’s hand.

“Thanks, but we’ll take our chances.” She pulls Tink right along.

“I get to come to the tavern with you?” she asks delightedly. “I’ve never been to a tavern before.” She almost giggles. Someone seriously has to take this girl out more...

“Well I’m not leaving you with Prince Charming back there,” Emma says certainly. “Come on; just stay close to me.”

The tavern isn’t as raunchy as Emma expected; it was just a bar with a bartender and a few unconscious guests. Considering it was pretty early in the afternoon it was better than Emma expected.

“Excuse me?” Emma asks the bartender. “I’m looking for Captain Hook,” she says slowly. “Do you think you can point me in the right direction?”

Before the man has a chance to reply, one of the drunks near her shoots to life.

“ Captain Hook ,” he says with obvious disdain. “Good for nothing pirate! Beat me at cards; cheated me, cheated me I tell you,” he insists with a raised fist, knocking over his half empty glass onto the floor.

“Linebeck, no one cheated you at cards,” the bartender assures him.

“There were 6 Aces in his deck, 6! I counted them. 1,2,3…” He seems to get a little lost at that point. Tink tries to help him finish counting but Emma can tell a lost cause from here.

“Can you help me find him?” she asks the bartender once more.

“The Temple!” Linebeck shouts once more. “He conned me out of my key to the Ocean Temple!”

The bartender turns his head sharply. “Linebeck, you didn’t. You know the man is crazy about that,” he says. 

“Conned me, I say!”

“What is he talking about? Where is Captain Hook?” Emma demands. When no one answers, she takes a breath, trying to calm down.

“Look, I’ve traveled a bit to find him, fought some monsters, stole from a little old lady’s house; so if someone doesn’t start talking, I’m going to be really mad.”

There’s a look between the bartender and the crazed drunk.

“The Temple of the Ocean Queen. Hook has been coming and going for months trying to get in there, but it’s locked up tight. The only key there somehow ended up in Linebeck’s hands. Now Hook has it so he’s probably there,” he explains. Tink’s eyes go wide. She obviously knows something about this Temple. “And if he managed to get in that place, then you might as well give up, because he’s surely dead by now.”

Dead?

“He can’t be dead!” she exclaims.

“Emma…” Tink pleads. “He’s right; the Temple, Granny says-“ Emma shakes her head storming right out of the tavern. “Emma!” she calls, chasing after her.

“Which way to the temple?” she demands.

“You can’t go!” Oh, but she can. 

“What if he’s not there yet?” Emma tries. “What if we just go to the gate and look around?” she persuades.

Tink thinks about it for a moment. 

“Do you know how to get there?” she asks. The girl nods.

 “Just take me there Tink; that’s all I ask,” she insists. The smaller blonde looks uncertain, but she does lead the way through a path riddled with monsters towards the ominous blue building. As Emma says they do look around, look for any sign of the sea captain, but there is none, not until they get to the gate where there is a collection of chains undone, slightly open where you could slide through.

It was plainly obvious Captain Hook had found his way inside. 

“I have to go in,” Emma states plainly, looking at her companion.

“Emma, going in there is a suicide mission,” Tink insists. “People go in there and never come out. It’s a fool’s mission,” she adds, her hands on Emma’s arm, wanting to pull her away.

Emma glances at the tall, intimidating building and Emma can see what she means: it radiates an unsettling feeling.

“You said that this Hook fellow is the only one crazy enough to hunt down the Demon Ship,” Emma reminds her.

“Yeah but—“ Emma doesn’t let her finish.

“He’s in there, right?” Again Tink nods. “Then I have to go in there, find him and get him to take me to the Demon Ship,” she concludes. 

“But Emma,” Tink says; she's practically pleading with her. “If you go in there, you’ll die,” she says like a certainty. It leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

Sour, but familiar. 

“If it’s my only chance at saving Henry, then I’m prepared to die trying. If you’re scared, I get it; this isn’t your fight, this isn’t your problem. Go back to Granny’s; you’ve done enough.” She has; Emma is incredibly grateful for her help, but here is where they part.

She doesn’t let Tink answer, knowing nothing the young woman can say will change Emma’s mind. Emma doesn’t need anyone else to believe in her; she has Henry’s belief and that is more than enough for her.

It takes a minute to push the heavy doors open, but once the door opens, light floods the room so she’s not in complete darkness. 

The first thing she notices is how grand this place looked. It looks more like a palace than a temple, like something out of a storybook. She can see an alter up at the top where a Queen could stand and address a gathering of people. She can see where grand curtains could be hung, a door that could be towards a war room, or rooms for guests or family. It didn’t feel like a temple, a building existing to protect something sacred; it felt like a castle, strong and secure, but filled with darkness. 

The next thing she notices are the voices, low and sad voices. 

“Death to all who enter the Ocean Temple.” It makes her turn around sharply, as there’s a cold feeling in the back of her neck. All she sees behind her are bones.

“ Life drained in an instant; abandon hope, all ye who enter here.” She whirls around again, sword at the ready; still nothing. Emma thinks she’s starting to get the feeling why entering here is a suicide mission.

“If you’re going to be spooky, at least be original,” she quips at the voices.

“Who has to be original?” another voice asks. Startled, Emma swings her sword, absolutely tired of this. Tink lets out a shriek as she barely jumps out of the way. “I know you’re mad but seriously?” the blonde cries out.

“Sorry,” Emma replies. “This place is…creepier than I thought it would be,” she admits, glancing around. She doesn’t hear any more voices. Tink nods in agreement, stepping away from a skull she just notices. “What are you doing here?” she asks. “I thought I was on a ‘suicide mission’.” It makes Tink flinch.

“I made a promise that I’d take you to Captain Hook,” Tink reminds her. “I-I don’t like breaking promises.” Emma raises a brow. “Plus, I figured it would be safer if we went in together. How could I let you go in alone when I know you’re fighting for your son? What type of person would that make me?” she asks.

A sane person.

“You don’t have to, Tink,” Emma insists. “Like I said outside, it’s my battle to fight.”

Tink crosses her arms stubbornly. “Sorry Emma, you’re stuck with me,” she insists. “Whether you like it or not.”

Emma wonders if Tink coming with her is a good idea for exactly two minutes before she steps on a booby trap and Tink pulls her back just moments before a sword could come down on her head.

So maybe the annoying talkative blonde was really starting to grow on her.

Tagging: @phiralovesloki​

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Boston Boys [Part Three]

Summary: After returning home from visiting family, Elsa becomes the victim of a bank robbery and kidnapping.   Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 2420 Chapter Warnings: language, bank robbery, kidnapping, guns. Square Filled: The entire series (bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo​​​. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

Boston Boys Masterlist

The front door of the Manhattan penthouse opened; Elsa groaned and put a rush on finishing her makeup. Though it was her first night home in a while, she had hoped that she could avoid seeing her mother until breakfast the next day at the earliest. The staccato beat of heels clicking against the wood floor of the common parts of the place told Elsa she wasn’t going to be so lucky.

“I thought you weren’t coming in until tomorrow,” Margaret commented, inviting herself into Elsa’s room and kissing her daughter on the cheek.

Elsa scowled and wiped away the lipstick on her face. She touched up the foundation and powder there, then went back to choosing a lip color.

“I wasn’t expecting to,” Elsa lied, “but Brie and Ben are having a dinner get-together, so I thought I’d come into the city early. I’ll probably catch up with Brie afterwards.”

Margaret sighed as she inspected her newly-manicured nails. “Maybe she can talk you into coming home for good.”

Elsa dropped a lip gloss into her clutch and stood from the makeup table. “Let it go, Mother. I like Boston. I like the university, I like working at the bank. Why is it so horrible that in my mid-twenties --”

“Late twenties,” Margaret interrupted.

“Why is it so horrible that no matter my age, I want something different than what you thought my life was going to be? I appreciate every single thing that you and Dad have done for me. I appreciate every penny that you have poured and do pour into my education. Do I think it’s fair that you let Alexis and Daniel do whatever they wanted after undergrad and paid for it because they stayed in the city, but because I wanted out, I have to pay my own way outside of school? Absolutely not.” She sighed. “I’m not getting anywhere. My point is, Mother, that I’m happy. I like figuring life out for myself. Yeah, it’s rough sometimes, but I’m getting there. And I like it.”

Margaret shook her head. “You’ve had so many opportunities afforded to you, Elsa. I only wish you could see the potential in yourself that your father and I see in you.”

As her mother walked away, Elsa said nothing. This wasn’t the first time Margaret had deemed her daughter a disappointment, and Elsa was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Deciding not to dwell on it for the moment, she finished what she needed to do to be ready to meet her friends.

The dinner party was pleasant enough. Elsa was able to catch up with several friends she hadn’t seen in several months. She always enjoyed the time with the people she had grown up with, but the longer she was away, the more distant she felt from most of them. Only Ben and Brie seemed grounded enough from the posh New York lifestyle they had all grown up with to make Elsa feel like she was still part of the circle.

She was deep in thought over this while she helped Brie clean up. She was loading the dishwasher, but had been rinsing the same plate for a few minutes now.

Ben shooed her away. “You’re not really thinking about dishes, Els. You and Brie get a glass of wine and go talk. I’ve got this.”

Elsa gave him a grateful smile. She poured two glasses of wine, then went to find Brie putting the dining room back into its normal arrangement.

“Your husband said he’s got the rest, that we should talk.”

Brie smiled and accepted the glass of wine, then followed Elsa out to the balcony. Brie handed her a cigarette, put one between her own lips, then lit both of them. Smoke rolled from Elsa’s lips, followed by a sip of wine. She followed that pattern for a couple of minutes; smoke out, wine in.

“So, how’s Beantown? Really, I mean,” Brie asked. “Nevermind everything you told everyone else. Be real with me.”

“I’m always real with you,” Elsa chuckled. “Boston really is great. I love it there. The university is amazing. I actually like my job at the bank. I mean -- it’s not makeup and YouTube, but it gets me by.”

Brie laughed. “Shut up. I love what I do.”

“I know you do. You have a real passion for it. The thing is, I love what I’m doing. My passion is history and film, and I’m putting those together. The bank is getting me by, and I do like working there. I just … Margaret can’t keep her thoughts to herself, and it gets me thinking.”

“Oh, please,” Brie sighed, rolling her eyes, “please tell me your mother isn’t on her ‘you’re not living up to your potential’ bullshit again. Do you know how many people we just had dinner with who would kill to be in your position? To be out from under their parents, to be living their own lives? But they’re too scared to be without the money. They don’t have that potential, Elsa. You do.”

Elsa smiled at her friend. “Thanks, Brie. That helps.”

“Good. Now, let’s get down to the really important information.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“Are you getting laid?”

Elsa laughed so hard, her wine spilled over onto her pants. She ran inside for some paper towels to mop it up, then was back out on the balcony, motioning for Brie to give her another cigarette. Once it was lit and she was back to her smoke and wine pattern, she sat back in the chair and shook her head.

“Not getting laid. Honestly, I don’t think about it that much. I’m focusing on school and work, you know? That keeps me busy enough.”

Brie shook her head. “All those beautiful Boston boys, and you’re not even taking advantage. I bet there’s a long line of them who would show up if they knew where you really came from.”

Elsa only shook her head. She had gone on dates with some guys from school, but nothing ever came from those outings -- and she was okay with that. She had other things to concentrate on.

After a bottle and a half of wine gone between the two of them, Elsa decided it was better to crash in the guest bedroom when they were ready to wind down. She’d hear it from her mother in the morning, but knowing her father would be there, laughing behind his daily Wall Street Journal print-outs made it all worth it.

The morning of the bank robbery, Elsa woke up before her alarm. She had slept better than she had in a while, being back in her own place in Boston. It used to be the reverse; she slept better in New York than anywhere else. Somewhere along the way, she guessed, Boston had become home.

She took the extra time to have breakfast, a cup of coffee, and take her time getting ready. She had been away from the bank for a week, and she wondered if the day would drag or go quickly back in her normal routine. She didn’t mind either way, she decided, since she was back to classes in the late afternoon as well.

When the masked, hooded group came into the bank, Elsa’s calm came to a screeching halt. There was yelling and screaming and crying -- so much was happening at once, but Elsa was stuck in her spot. All she could think about were the guns in their hands and the fact that it was her day with the code for the safe.

“Elsa! Elsa has the code!”

The words brought her back to the present as one of the men came towards her. He climbed over the counter; Elsa backed away from him, out of instinct.

“Are you Elsa?”

Fearing the words would be her last, she closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes.”

The man gestured towards the safe with his gun. “Open it, Elsa.”

Before she could think to stop her emotions, tears were flowing from her eyes. She kept the rest of her demeanor as calm as possible, and her brain raced to remember the code that had been in her email that morning. The numbers jumbled in her head and her fingers shook as she tried to make the keypad complete its intended function.

“C’mon! Open it!”

Another man in the group yelled from behind her, causing her to startle. Her tears rolled thicker and faster down her cheeks; the man standing with her put his hand over hers.

“You know the code,” he encouraged quietly. “We aren’t gonna hurt you, okay? We’re here for the money, not for any of you. Take a deep breath, try it again.”

Elsa closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath through her nose, then let it out through her mouth. She took her time, but didn’t linger. Finally, the numbers made sense and her fingers worked. The safe beeped three times, and the heavy door unlocked.

“Good girl,” the man commented before moving her aside. Elsa retreated to sit where the other tellers were huddled together as two of the men raced into the safe.

Maybe she would make it out of this alive. They were getting what they wanted, she had cooperated like they asked. They could take what they wanted and leave, and Elsa could forget this ever happened.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

A feminine voice cursed from the back room, and a fourth member of the group came racing towards the front. That person looked at the man who had overpowered the guard, gave a hand gesture, then turned to the group of tellers on the floor. Elsa locked eyes with the woman, and fear gripped her all over again. The woman gripped Elsa’s arm and tugged her up from the floor.

“You’re coming with us.”

Elsa struggled, but that only got her thrown in the back of a van and hit about the face. She could feel blood coming from near her hairline, but still all she could do was stay quiet and try not to show too much emotion.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Suddenly, the man who had told her to open the safe was between the two of them. The woman was accusing her of activating an alarm. The argument continued, but Elsa’s ears were ringing and she felt as though she might pass out.

The van sped away, bringing Elsa back again. Her hands were secured behind her back, and she was blindfolded and gagged. Elsa was aware of someone sitting next to her, but she was too afraid to move or ask questions.

She figured it was roughly twenty minutes before they stopped and someone helped her out of the van. The woman warned that they knew where her family lived, where she lived, and that if she talked to the police, there would be hell to pay.

Someone sat her down on the curb, and the now familiar voice of the man who had been at the safe with her directed her to sing her favorite song to herself before removing the blindfold. Elsa sang it twice before being sure they were gone. She nudged the bandanas away from her eyes and mouth with her shoulders before getting up from the curb and screaming for help.

The hospital was buzzing anyway, but being surrounded by police and medics only made Elsa more anxious. Too many people were coming and going, making it difficult for her to keep track of all of everyone. In her mind, if she didn’t know who was who, it was simply too easy for one of the robbers to come into the room and finish her off.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know there’s a lot going on here, but Ms. Chapman needs some quiet, and I need the same to examine her. If you’ll excuse us, please.”

Elsa’s eyes met those of the young doctor waiting at the curtain for the room to clear. A nurse stayed behind, but Elsa already felt less tense with the three of them left in the room alone.

“Thank you for that,” she commented quietly.

“You’re welcome,” the doctor smiled, pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves. “I’m Dr. Juneau, this is my nurse, Elizabeth. Besides your head, can you tell me if you have any other injuries, Ms. Chapman?”

“Please, call me Elsa,” she began, “and no, I don’t think I’m hurt anywhere else.”

Dr. Juneau nodded. “To be on the safe side, if it’s all right with you, Elizabeth and I will help you into a gown, and we’ll do a full work up. Is that okay?”

Elsa agreed to change out of her clothes. Elizabeth put them in a bag, but Elsa had a feeling as soon as she got home, she’d strip out of those clothes and throw them away. Surely, she’d never wear that outfit again.

“All right, we’ve got this cut near your hairline -- should be easy to stitch up. We’ll get a plastics guy in here, make sure there’s little to no visible scarring. What’s your pain level?”

The exam was thorough, and went on for the next fifteen or twenty minutes, at least. Elsa was taken to imaging for x-rays and a CT scan, and when she returned to her room, Dr. Juneau was there with another doctor.

“This is Dr. Mackey,” she introduced. “He’ll take care of that cut on your head. You’ve got a concussion, as well, so I want you to take the rest of the week to rest. Really try to be as relaxed as you can. I know that won’t be easy, considering.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Elsa expected that Dr. Juneau would leave Dr. Mackey to it, but instead, she stayed at Elsa’s bedside, ready to hold her hand or talk her through the process, whatever Elsa needed.

“Dr. Juneau --”

“You can call me Aurelie.”

“Really, you don’t have to stay. I appreciate it and all, but I’m sure you’ve got other patients.”

Aurelie cleared her throat. “That’s true, but they’re all fine, for the moment. You told us you have no one in the area we can call, and since you won’t let us call your family …”

Tears welled in her eyes, certainly not for the first time that day. This time though, Elsa cried happily for the return of some semblance of the calm feeling she had when she had woken before her alarm that morning.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​ @hurricanerin​​ @horsesandbandsforlife​​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​ @shynara51​​ @sea040561​​ @softrogers​ @pinknerdpanda​​ @xtina2191​​ @jackryanplz​​ @beakami​​ @heartsaved​​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​​

Boston Boys: @atc74​​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​ @becs-bunker​​ @shield-agent78​​ @patzammit​​ @crazyandanonymous4u​​ @ntlmundy​​

[artistic-writer]

The Paradox of Light :: CS AU : Rated E :: Part 1

Title: The Paradox of Light by @artistic-writer​ Summary: Imagine having one person, one constant, one love in your life that holds your head when you go under the surface. They will be there forever, holding your hand through everything life can throw at the pair of you, but what happens when a crack forms? What happens when it grows into something neither of you can control? What happens when the one person who was there to guide you becomes an obstacle and rather than hold you up, they pull you down? How do you find your way out of the darkness without your light? Rating: E Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, alcoholism/alcohol abuse, sexual addiction, domestic violence, fighting, choking, erotic asphyxiation (use in a non-informed manner), depression, death of Liam Jones, panic attacks, PTSD, attempted rape/non-con/dub-con, stab wounds, bar fights, rehab/AA meetings

- but there is a happy ending to this story, i promise.

Author’s Note: I missed this ficversary because of everything that is going on in the world right now, but its been in the plan to re-release it as a multichapter for some time.  It’s A LOT otherwise and whilst I initially always intended this to be a one shot, because I wrote it in one go, its not logical to expect people to stop and read so many words in one go.  The lovely fanart by @itsfabianadocarmo​ features in all chapters, so go show her some love!

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!  This fic has a lot of them for a reason.  If you want to ask about any, please don’t be afraid to message me.

Part One [ below the cut ]

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At first they had hated each other, with Emma setting her sights on the older Jones brother. Killian was nothing more to her than a thorn in her side. Cocky, arrogant and with a boyish smile that she wished she could slap right off his face, he was not for her. No, Emma Swan wanted Liam Jones, the stronger, more level headed of the two, but with a decade between them, by the time Emma had worked up the courage to tell him how she felt, Liam was announcing his marriage.

When Liam moved from their sleepy little hometown, leaving Emma’s teenage heart in pieces and Killian to continue his roguish antics unchecked, was when Emma began to notice him. He had a certain appeal. He had a car, would take her anywhere at the drop of a hat and puberty had been kind to him, with unblemished skin and a dashingly handsome growth that sprouted from his chin. The more Emma looked at him the more she felt that the bravado and confidence he exuded was more for just show. In private, when it was just the two of them, Killian was different.

One day in high school, they had decided to skip their respective classes and hang out at the edge of the school field. Killian was kind, less presumptuous and respectful when it was just the two of them and Emma liked it. He gave her his jacket when she was cold and his smell made her feel safe, like she was home, which considering she was adopted, was huge. Even the Nolans, her adoptive family, couldn’t completely fill the hole in her heart left by being abandoned, but somehow Killian could.

Killian’s senior prom was the turning point for her. He was a few years older than Emma and had promised to take her to both his and hers. He insisted because if nothing else, attending his with her would be a dry run for her own. Killian taught her to dance that night, holding her close, splayed hand pressed delicately to her lower back, the tips of his pointed ears turning red when Emma had pressed her body further into his, her early teenage yearning for Liam Jones long since gone.

“There’s only one rule. Pick a partner who knows what he is doing.”

Emma had often thought about his words, long after her prom and into her college years, but whilst she had attended a local one, Killian had followed in his brother's footsteps and joined the Army. They never lost touch, sending letters to each other that mentioned everything and anything they could talk about. It was no substitution for the lilt of his accented voice, or the smile on his face that never failed to pick up her mood, but it was all she could get between his visits home.

When he was on leave, the first place he always went was her house. It was familiar to have him near her again, laughing and joking as they did silly things like play cards and swim in the lake. Emma knew he never wanted to talk about what he did in the line of duty, she could only imagine, so she never pressed him and knew that if he ever wanted to, he would tell her. Instead they spent their time poking fun at each other, acting more like a couple than most couples they knew, but with an annoyingly platonic and chaste intimacy that left Emma pining each time he deployed and left her with a seared cheek from his kiss.

But he was a gentleman, and she expected nothing less from him.

Five years went by between Killian joining the military and the day he came home. He was a ranger, the most elite sniper in his class, able to hit a target from over two thousand yards away, but his career had ended when he had been injured in the line of duty and subsequently medically discharged. Shrapnel now littered his torso, had embedded itself in his shoulder joint and had ripped through the muscles of his left upper arm like it was paper. A sniper with the inability to fire a weapon was useless, and rather than push paper for the rest of his life, Killian had come home carrying more than just physical scars and it was the wake up call Emma needed.

She had been beside herself to learn of his injuries. Her heart had skipped a beat in her chest and her blood had run cold through her entire body when she had been informed by Liam via an early morning phone call.

“He’s okay, he just wanted you to know that.”

That was the exact moment Emma Swan vowed to share her feelings that she had kept locked behind closed doors for so long. She loved him and needed to tell him lest she risk losing him with him never knowing how she felt.

The day he arrived home, waiting for him on the military airstrip in her senior prom dress was Emma, hair blowing in the warm breeze that whipped across the tarmac. There was a brief silence between them and people stared at her attire, but Emma did not care. She had finally realised what she had been fighting for so many years. Killian Jones, her best friend and confidant, was the man she loved and wanted to spend the rest of her life with. So she had told him.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“In your prom dress?”

“Shut up and listen.”

“Okay, love.”

“I love you, Killian. I’ve loved you since I was sixteen and you held me at your prom. ‘Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing’ you told me…”

“Aye, Swan, I did…”

“Then I hope to God you know what you are doing because I am petrified.”

“I’m sure we can work it out.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

Eight years later and they shared everything. The transition back into civilian life had been hard on Killian, but Emma was always there for him. She watched him cry, watched him scream and watched him fight with the demons inside of his head on a daily basis. It never went away, but it got easier, and on more than one occasion Killian had told Emma that she was his saviour. Only she knew how to help him, calm the beast and soothe his soul, but Killian’s descent into darkness had only just begun.

The day Killian’s phone rang and a police officer informed him of his brother’s demise was the day that would haunt Emma forever. Liam had been killed in a car accident on his way to visit them, the car having rolled along the highway so many times they had struggled to free his body. Emma would never forget the blood curdling sound Killian made as he screamed Liam’s name, collapsed to the floor and curled into the childlike ball of sobs. She let him cry, she let him shout and she let him smash every door in the house in his rage, and then after everything, she let him drink.

Killian Jones had lost count of the bottles he had seen the bottom of since the death of his brother. Each rum laden glass cask gradually weighed less as it emptied but the sorrow that felt like it was crushing him only got heavier. Liam had died quickly, in a car accident with no clear person to blame, and it had changed Killian forever. Whatever demons he carried from active service were amplified, the voices in his head taunting and eating away at his resolve.

There were no answers to his pleas to God at the bottom of the bottles, and even worse, there was no absolution.

  Six months ago

It had been only a short time since Liam’s death, but Killian had spent every second he wasn’t at work at the local bar. He always shot Emma a text letting her know where he was for which she was thankful. His drinking was starting to spiral and it had become pretty apparent that he was drinking more and more to try and quell the voices in his brain. It was wrong, Emma knew that, but it calmed him and helped him sleep, and despite her brain telling her it was wrong to enable him, her heart ached each time he sobbed himself into a slumber, so she let him drink to forget.

Or at least she thought she was. There had been a shift in his behaviour recently and whilst Emma figured he was starting to sober up, clear the niggles in his brain and finally begin to accept his loss, Killian was in fact becoming a functioning alcoholic. His breath reeked of booze each time he returned home, sometimes with bloody knuckles and sometimes with a glassy stare, but each time he was the same. Drunk, and the more he needed to drink to forget, the more frustrated he was becoming with being without his brother.

That night he came home, stumbling through the door and groggily mumbling to himself as he toed off his shoes at the door, Emma simply greeted him as usual without judgement. She was hurting as well. Liam had been her friend too, but as much as she was hurting, she could never compare to how hard Killian had fallen into the darkness of sorrow.

“How was work?” Emma asked, the question becoming somewhat of a code between them. It was something she had devised in order to gauge his level of inebriation and also work out how bad his mentality had been compromised during the day. She shifted her weight, resting a hand to the kitchen island as she watched him struggle with the zip of his jacket.

“It was unusually dull,” Killian slurred sarcastically, his balance suddenly compromised as he tried to pull his arms free from the confines of his sleeves. He stepped sideways, foot landing heavily on the hardwood floor with a thud as he tried to keep himself upright. Finally freeing his arms he staggered backwards into the lounge and sank down onto the arm of the couch with a sigh when the back of his thighs hit the solid mass.

“And your colleagues?” Emma prodded, moving to stand before him. The voices in his head were something he dealt with every day, sometimes successfully blocking them out, but it seemed the demon of drink always gave them free reign to torment him before he had consumed enough to silence them.

Killian screwed up his features, the rosy tint in his cheeks from too much rum hidden under a swipe of his hands as he covered his face with a wavering nod. “Chatty,” he whispered into his palms, inhaling deeply and letting his body hunch over as tears sprang from his eyelids.

“Hey,” Emma soothed, stepping between his parted thighs and pulling his hands from his face. His face was warm beneath her hands as she cupped his head, tilting his head back so he was looking up at her. “I’m here,” she told him softly, searching the clouded grey hues of his eyes with her own. “I’m here.”

Killian couldn’t stop the sound he made escaping his throat as he cried, the wail cutting straight through Emma’s chest and splitting her heart in two. He buried his face in the softness of her sweater, muffling his cries against her body and wrapping his arms around her, desperate to hold onto anything. “Don’t go,” he sobbed. “I need you.”

“I’m here,” Emma repeated, her voice watery from the lump that had begun to sting the back of her throat. “I need you too,” she whimpered, pinching her eyes closed just enough to let a single tear roll from her eyelid and scorch a line down her face. It fell from her chin and down the back of Killian’s shirt, his cries subsiding as he pulled his head back to look up at her.

It had taken weeks for her own grief to manifest enough that she had cried for her friend. Emma wasn’t sure where rock bottom actually was, but she was pretty sure they were both there at this exact moment in time, the silence between them echoing with the words neither of them needed to say. Killian had cried a literal river for his brother, but this had been the first time Emma had shed a single tear, and it had somehow ignited the need within both of them to feel again.

“Emma…” He gulped after her name, his voice raspy and gritty, the emotion in his words all he needed to tell her exactly what he needed as he rested his hands to her hips and gently pushed himself to his feet.

“Killian…” Emma sighed his name, looking up at him through her eyelashes with a prickle of heat that surged over the skin of her neck and through her entire body.

“I want…” he began nervously, unable to stop the way his gaze lingered over her body and his hands toyed with the hem of her sweater. His fingertips barely brushed the surface of her exposed skin but Emma gasped audibly, her eyes fluttering closed and her hand grasping the fabric of his shirt between shaking fingers.

“I know,” Emma said softly, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips as she watched her hand against his chest, the quickening heartbeat beneath her fingertips matching the pounding in her ears. Emma lifted her gaze, blinking away more tears. “I want to feel too.”

The first thing they both felt again was softness of lips slightly salty from tears, mouths sliding against each other haphazardly and clothes being discarded with abandon. There were no words, only the soft pants and heavy breathing that accompanied their ascent to the bedroom, a trail of clothes in their wake. It was like a bright light in both of their lives, neither having made love since Liam’s death, and they savoured every second.

Even drunk, Killian knew every inch of her body, every curve, dip and patch of silky skin committed to his memory. And he knew exactly how to make Emma feel, how to excite every cell in her body the way she needed in that exact moment. Killian never stopped touching her, taking his time to make sure that every hair on Emma’s body was standing to attention for him before he dipped his head between her thighs and finally gave her what she needed.

Emma’s cries were like music to his ears and Killian lapped at her essence like he was hearing her moans for the first time. They urged him on, his own need growing hard between his legs with every gasp she emitted from her slightly parted lips. He didn’t open his eyes, he didn’t need to, because the sounds Emma made as she writhed beneath his assault told him everything he needed to know.

The first time she came, her body stiffening as he relentlessly flicked his tongue over her clit, Killian felt something other than his own arousal surge through him. It was like a drug, a calm washing over his woes and guiding him from the depths of pain. He needed more and when Emma’s cries subsided he surged upwards and impaled her in a single thrust of his hips, watching the way her features twisted in pleasure and loving the feeling of being whole.

“I love you,” he whispered, stilling inside of her and stroking the side of her flushed face with his fingertips.

Emma could barely focus, her eyelids rolling open and fresh tears stinging her eyes once more. She blinked them away and Killian wiped them from existence with a gentle swipe of his thumb over her cheek. “I love you,” he repeated, holding her gaze as he angled his hips a little and sank into her further. Emma’s back arched off of the bed, her body yearning to feel more of the light that only Killian could shine on her.

“Oh God, I love you so much,” she gasped huskily, finally releasing the breath she had been holding and almost losing herself once more with the barest of movements. When Killian began to move and her walls fluttered around him, Emma groaned, more symphonic tones that made him want even more than before.

Killian’s hand found hers, their fingers lacing together and their palms pressing together so firmly that Emma almost couldn’t feel her fingertips anymore. He lifted their joined digits above Emma’s head, increasing his pace as he pressed the back of her hand into the bed, his grip like a vice, tethering him to her and both of them to reality.

Killian’s other hand found Emma’s hip and his fingernails dug into her skin, a sensation she didn’t find unpleasant because like the burning between her thighs and the increasing pressure in her stomach, it made her feel, and that was all she wanted. She wanted the light once more, to bathe in its glow as she lost herself and fell from grace at the hand of the man she loved, the swivel of his hips and the drag of his length along her inner walls delicious and torture at the same time.

Emma was so close it was almost painful, the room filled with the stench of sex and alcohol fading away as the pin pricks of white began to flicker behind her eyelids. She felt Killian’s forehead rest against hers and the warmth of his rum laced breath invade her nostrils as his own body shuddered, his knuckles turned white with his grip and he whimpered her name like a prayer.

“I’m here,” Emma panted hoarsely, her hand finding the side of his face and her lips ghosting over his.

It was enough to send them both into oblivion, their bodies basking in the rays of euphoria and numbing the sting of pain they both felt in the very depths of their hearts. They were lost in each other, swaying in an ocean of pleasure that they would quite happily have drowned in should the waves become tumultuous, but they didn’t, instead gently lapping at the edge of their subconscious, chasing away the agony.

For now.

[likesomekindofcheese]

Songbird of Jamestown Chapter Five

Pairing: Samuel Castell x fem! Reader

Word Count: 6898

Summary: You are among the English maids in 1619-1620 who have agreed to board ship for the new world in Jamestown, with the intention to marry the men there. You have chosen to find a husband and life of your own and pay back the company, than be pre bought and bound to a random stranger. Life is difficult and you and your friends struggle, but there is a certain recorder who’s willing to help. He’s kind-hearted and handsome ...and has already been pledged to another.

A/N: this chapter is shorter than I intended (I have other WIPS and requests that need attending and after debate, the ending to this chapter felt better for the development of the next one), but here we are! A very dramatic chapter that was both fun and painful to write. I hope you like it and please comment or share if you do!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, angst, drama, Jocelyn being Jocelyn, scenes of vomiting, sickness.

Taglist: @bluesfortheredj​ (sempai) @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @theworksgaga​ @itscale​ @theoneandonlyeclecticepileptic​ @queenlover05​ @rubystarflight​ @themficsilike​ @namelesslosers​ @itsametaphorgwil​

“Come, all you very merry London Girls,

That are disposed to Travel,

Here is a Voyage now at hand,

Will save your feet from gravel.

If you have shooes, you need not fear

For wearing out the Leather,

For why you shall on shipboard go,

Like Loving Rogues Together, 

Some are already gone before,

The rest must after follow

Then come away and do not stay,

Your guide shall be Apollo!”

      - Lawrence Price, “The Maiden’s of London’s Brave Adventures”, 1623.

“Miss Y/L/N …”

You thought you heard his voice. 

“Oh Y/N, please…wake up, be strong again….”

You wanted to just croak out his name. Your lips parted, and a sound came out. It wasn’t his name. It was only a sound.

“Miss Y/L/N? Can you hear me? Take this!”

You could barely see him but a sudden taste that hit your tongue, full of bitterness. Then a drop of water that was brought to you. But no blots of color formed. No more signs of him. Only darkness.

Sometimes something like a nightmare came across your vision. You thought you saw something, but then it faded before it could devour you. Sometimes there were dreams, sometimes not.

Then another voice came up. It could have been an hour. It could have been a day. It wasn’t his voice, but a voice. A soft, lilting voice.

“Oh, dear Lord, please heal this lady. You know she is a dear, kind woman. No one has ever treated me as nicely here, other than my master and mistress of course. But she is a good friend. Your book even says a friend sticks closer than a brother. So, I must beg you, if it is in your will, to heal her from this dreaded and sudden illness. I would be most saddened if she were to die. You have placed me in her life, and unless You have planned so, please don’t take her away from it. Give her health again and wake her up, Amen.”

The words were flooding outside you when you woke up. You were lying on your bed, Mercy was right next to you. Her pale face and little brown head looked blurry, but you saw her turn her head at once.

She gave a grin and placed a hand over her heart, leaning to you.

“Oh, providence is kind! Miss Y/L/N!” she cried, getting up and then pausing. She knew you were too weak to embrace. She pulled herself back.

Your vision flooded back and you saw you were at home. You felt sticky and sweaty. Your bed was beneath you and you saw you only had your shift on.

“M…Mercy…what…what’s happening?” you croaked.

Your throat felt dry from the lack of use.

“You were found just outside, fainted!” she recalled.

“Did you find me?” you ask.

“Oh, it was the Tavern Keeper’s wife, the red haired woman…she was out walking in the dark to your home to see you, she said, when she heard your cries and came a runnin’. Found you right on the dirt, right out! She dragged you in here, ran, and fetched the doctor quick as she could, stayed up all night with you, she did!” she said, almost excitedly. Her eyes wide as if telling a story.

“Verity…oh, it was Verity! Mercy…am I dying…If I’m dying there’s someone…I need to…I need to speak to…” you said.

You knew the one thing you didn’t want to say had to be said to him if your time was running out.

“You’re only sick. That’s what the doctor says. But you might…I hope you won’t…” she said. Her eyes looked down and she frowned.

You reached out a hand and touched her cheek.

“Oh, mistress Mercy, I heard your prayer…and I’m so lucky to have you,” you comforted.

“I’ve prayed every hour I could…my master was with the doctor when Verity was running, so he and my mistress even prayed with me for you in this room for an hour today. I think all of our prayers worked. It was my Master who even got you to your bed the other night, but he insisted on leaving outside when you got changed to your shift, ‘cause you know, you were asleep but it still wasn’t polite, he said!”

You felt your lip bite and a small laugh escape.

“Why, Miss Y/L/N, colors coming to your cheeks, even! You’re getting healthy, I know it!” she cheered.

“How long was I asleep?” you interrupt, a little embarrassed.

“About a day.”

Your head hurt and you were dizzy. You groaned from the pain and Mercy fetched a cool cloth from a bucket. You nodded as thanks.

“Mercy…what did the doctor say about me? What do I have?” you ask.

Your memory was coming back. And you had a dreaded feeling you knew exactly what happened to you.

But…it couldn’t be, could it?

“He says you’re only sick and that’s that. He did get you to swallow some medicine and he says you need more…which…oh dear! I forgot! Now you’re awake! I have to get him! Excuse me, m’am...”

She gave a curtsy and off she went like a squirrel to a tree. Your dizziness came in and out. You found your arms, while shaky, could pull yourself up. Your stomach felt like it had a stone in it. Even the sight of your food in the corner made it turn and you felt the threat of vomit rise in you.

A little later, a man entered with Mercy trailing behind him. He was of average height, with dark hair that curled yet was brushed back. His face had hints of scruff with a pale, square head and a sunny smile.

“Hello, miss. Doctor Priestly at your service,” he greeted.

He even bobbed his head as if you were a lady. If it weren’t for your weakness, you would have bobbed your head for a curtsy as well.

“See, doctor! My prayers have worked! I did have faith enough!” Mercy cheered excitedly.

She grabbed your hand to help you get up to sitting on your bed upright.

“It seems your faith and my medicine are a powerful team, Mercy. Go find your mistress and let her know at once that Miss Y/L/N is awake. She’ll want to know how her servant is, she’s been very fretful for two days for her.”

Mercy once again scooped her red skirt into her tiny hands and ran out the door. He pulled out a vial from his bag, poured some clear liquid onto a spoon, and fed it to you. It tasted disgusting as overcooked cabbage, but you made yourself swallow it. It was the same bitter aftertaste as the drink you were fed while slightly conscious.

“Here, two days of rest and this medicine and you will be fine,” he assured you.

What happened couldn’t be true, it was too insane to be true. You shouldn’t be in this predicament at all. Or were you? There was one way to find out.

“Doctor Priestly…what’s wrong with me, what am I sick with?”

“I’ve not told a soul about your condition… for Mercy’s sake.”

“Mercy?” you asked. “What’s she have to do with it?”

“I remember when she arrived here. She was an orphan boarded from England sent here to work and make a life for herself. Poor thing had more than one master beat her senseless when she was small. I couldn’t afford her, so Castell took pity on her and placed her under his wing for her protection. He’s almost like her father in an odd way, but he’s still her employer. But that is her life, no family and only drudgery. “

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and blinked a lot, coming back to the present.

“She has a tender heart and it takes very little to vex her. I saw how fond she was of you, so I wanted to rest aside her fears. If I told Castell, he might tell her just to give her an answer. But you and your mistress at least deserve to know the truth.”

He pulled a chair from the table next to you and spoke in a low voice.

“You had the symptoms of poisoning from the belladonna plant.”

“No…but…I…I just can’t…I was poisoned,” you said, finally accepting your dreaded suspicion.

“And I also noticed...I had kept some for medical and research reasons, and the vial was gone. So, whoever took it must have targeted you. They wanted to harm you. You had a water jug that was laced with it. Luckily, you only had a little bit. If you drank a larger dose or didn’t take this medicine in time, you would have been dead.”

“Someone stole your belladonna?” you ask.

Your eyebrows furrow and you look directly at him. Your hands fold neatly at your blanket.

“Oh, I hope you forgive me, Miss Y/L/N…I should have watched it more carefully.” He begged, he turned his head down.

“It’s…alright, Dr. Priestly. I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault it was stolen” you say.

You move your hands in front to tell him to calm down and he smiles in response. He’s not entirely unfortunate looking and you feel yourself smile back.

“Have some water, you’ve been without food or drink for over a day” he suggested, getting a tin cup.

You drank it up greedily. Sighing and wiping off your mouth, you look back at him, softened.

“I would prefer to keep this low. Only your mistress and you. News of poisoning would bring fear, someone innocent might go to jail if accused falsely,” he explained.

You at once felt your stomach turn. The bile was coming back up.

“A…a jug, anything, I’m going to…” you mumbled.

He handed you a clay pot and you felt the disgusting feeling of vomit rise out of you and the repulsive smell of it. You put a hand over your mouth defensively as he put away the pot.

“You are just weak, Miss Y/L/N. Just keeping drinking water and taking the medicine. You will be a little weak, but fine,” he assured.

Not long after there was a knock on the front door and Doctor Priestly sprung up and greeted with the largest smile you had seen on him yet.

You saw the pale blue cloak of Jocelyn walk before you and fold open the hood. Her golden curls were tied back with a ribbon just loosely. Your breathing got shallower and your nostrils flared remembering the day on the ship.

Sure, I can’t let my hair down, but you can. Not a lady anymore, eh? You just proved that, you thought angrily.

“Oh, Doctor Priestly, Oh, I am so glad. Poor girl! How is she?” she asked demurely.

“She’s weak, but after one day of rest and taking this medicine, she’ll be bright and bonny as ever. I have to tell you Jocelyn…” giving a glace at you, he led her just outside the door to speak with her explaining why you were sick.

Waiting for a while, you kept squeezing your own hands. You felt your heart beating in your ears. After a few minute, you saw Jocelyn open the door again, continuing the conversation.

“Doctor Priestly, may I nurse her, myself? I wish to make amends- it was my own jug and I lost watch of it!” she offered warmly.

There was a crinkle beneath the doctor’s eyes as she spoke and he leaned a little closer.

“What a tender heart you have, I’ll leave you with her. Bring me back if there is any sign of trouble. Here is the medicine, I’ll go on and make another, farewell!” he wished, handing her the bottle.

With a slight hop in his step, he left.

Jocelyn took a few minutes to be quiet. As she walked up you pulled yourself back, defensively. She held out the medicine poured out a spoonful, offering it to you.

You hesitated, staring. She could have done something with it too. But you accepted it and led the spoon with your hand to your mouth.

 After a few spoonful’s, the concerned look on her face dropped looking down on you. She looked at the window, checking, and then returned. You tried to glare up with what strength you had.

“Jocelyn. Who poisoned me?” you ask flatly. You folded your arms.

 “You know what you did,” she spat out.

“No, I don’t!”

 “You should have drank all of it.”

 “Jocelyn, why? I have done everything for you! I have cleaned your clothes and room, fixed your gowns, made your breakfasts and even emptied your damned chamber pot! I have asked for nothing but my pay. You forced me to agree to do it in front of Lady Yeardley.  And this is how you repay me? You try to kill me?” you questioned angrily.

She was quiet.

“I’ll report you to the Governor. Right. Now.” you threaten. You swing your legs over and get on the floor.

You only took two steps on weak legs when she put a hand before you, and then caught you before you could fell. But as you were crumpled, she led you back to the bed. She bent down to look you in the eye.

“It would be worthless to speak to him. Look at you and look at me. I’ve dined with him countless times. He’s going to be the groomsman at my wedding. Who is he more likely to believe? A lying, thieving, whoring maid or a lady?”

 She got back up but folded her hands in front of you. Her eyes were low, her round, pale face still, and her pink lips tight.

 “Jocelyn…you still haven’t answered my question. Why did you do it?” you interrogated.

“Because you’re destroying me. And you’re destroying this colony.”

“You’re the one who almost killed me! What on earth did I do?”

“Since you’re a fool, let me tell you. You’re a whore,” she accused. Her face was still but her low voice was biting.

“Do you mean…with…with your fiancée?”

There is fire in her eyes.

“Anytime I was with him, I promise you, nothing happened. He never said or did anything to me.  He’s a gentleman; he keeps his distance. He is doesn’t love me, he loves you. Jocelyn be reasonable! Mercy says you’re the great beauty of the colony. How could he show any interest in anyone else with you as his intended!?” you begged.

“Your flattery means nothing to me” she cursed bitterly.

From her cloak, she pulled out your copy of Ovid’s The Metamorphoses.

“If you have not seduced him, explain this!” she accused.

 “He asked and I just let him borro-“

 She slammed the book into your bed and turned to the very end, where there were a few extra blank pages. Or were. Words were scribbled all over them. You jumped and your legs stung from the force of the book’s weight.

 A pink primrose exactly like the ones on your window was pressed into it.

“Read it” Jocelyn demanded.

You felt your dizziness return and your stomach hurt again. You pushed it away. You were shaking your head. This had to be a dream, this had to be a dream.

“And know this, before you claim it false,” she added.

From her stays, she got out a folded page of paper which listed the business of the Governors meeting last week.

Glancing at what was written in the book and the record, it was exactly the same.

You pulled the book close to you and almost felt your hands and arms shake as you tried to keep it up, pulling to your face. You wanted to be sure every word you saw was real.

It read:

“My darling, my little nightingale, Y/N Y/L/N,

With your consent, I must take a moment to confess to you the feelings I have been suppressing for some time. Please do not be afraid of me.

I love you. I adore you with every inch of my soul. I have never known any woman quite like you. I knew you were different from anyone else from that first day of your arrival, though I wasn’t sure how. Then I knew. You were someone I could talk to. The more I looked at you, the more I couldn’t help myself. You are one of the loveliest maidens I have ever seen. When I think of you in that flower field, how ardently I wanted to kiss you that moment, with the sun shining, the flowers around you, and your sweet smile. I’ve never felt such tenderness and wanting inside me before. I admire every bit of you, my dear friend. You are the kindest, sweetest soul I have ever met. And your courage exceeds that of many men I have known. I still remember the day you spoke with Mr. Sharrow on behalf of Miss Kett and I am still in awe such an action even happened.

I make every excuse just to walk by our colonies walls just to hear you, to see you walk by, just to glance at you. The way you shone when I taught you how to write words, shone with pure joy. Your laughter and singing! Your voice haunts me, haunts my dreams, and my day and I hear it at once with both ecstasy and torment, for I know such tender words, laughter, songs and that joy of your hand’s devotion is a gift, a gift that cannot be for me, but the happiest and most fortunate of gentlemen you choose to wed. How I envy him and hate him, whoever he may be here! I am so ashamed to admit it, but it is truth.

I have given Jocelyn a promise. A promise I must keep, as being the purpose of her journey. Yet each time I think of the day we will be joined, inside I mourn so deeply. This is the reason why I delayed the wedding. I made a pitiful, unmanly excuse about business because you were always in my thoughts. I will never have the privilege of your courtship and time. I must be bound until death to another, upon an agreement of payment I have made long ago. Though I must complete my duty in humility and obedience, know that I wish every morning I awake that it was your beautiful face I saw.

Jocelyn does not deserve to have her heart broken and her future destroyed. Can you have it in your heart to pity me? To pity her, most of all. It is Jocelyn I must marry, no matter what I may feel about you How could I be so cruel to such a good, honest woman who came here for this one sole purpose?

I do not know if you even tolerate me. If you despise the air I breathe, then I swear I will never bother you again. But now, I ask you pray for me, pray for us.

But know that though such affections I possess can never be acted on, that if you are ever in dire need of assistance, I will help you. Even if you cannot have my hand, you have the protection of anything I have and my actions. If you are ever in need, or your husband, most fortunate of men, or your children even, I will find a way to help you.

For I and my heart shall always be dedicated to you. I love you so tenderly and know that you will always be my dearest and saddest love.

Written by him, who is your humblest of servants

SC”

A shaky smile appeared on your face, though your stomach kept dropping throughout reading. A small laugh, stifled, came out of you, defiantly. Disorientation washed over you and it was as if your vision blurred for a moment.

“I must confess, I’m almost impressed. There’s a power between our legs, and at least you’ve learned to use it,” Jocelyn said.

Setting the book down, almost not daring to read it again, you stared into the open for a bit, but you heard Jocelyn continuing.

“You cast a spell over him. And it’s began ever since he kept speaking with you. So, tell me, they call you the Songbird of Jamestown, yes?”

Blinking, you looked back at her, voicing a shaky “wh-what?”

She walked over and grabbed your face, pinching at the mouth. Her face got into yours and you could feel the hot breath come out of her.

“Did those musical little lips suck his cock and is that why he does everything you insist?” she hissed.

“H-H-How d-dare you speak such…such lewd things!” you retorted, jerking away, nearly slapping her hand out.

You nursed the spot on your jaw tenderly. You turned away and saw the book. While Jocelyn was distracted you hid it under your blankets.

“Jocelyn, he’s going to marry you, whatever he may think of me. Don’t you see what it’s really saying? He’s letting me go. You’ve won.” You reasoned.

“You may think so. But now he hardly listens to me. He doesn’t do anything I ask him to. No matter what I try. And it’s began since your little romp in the flowers. If you are here, you are a threat to me and my marriage.” She said.

“What are you asking him to do?” you ask.

You noticed how high your shoulders had gotten to your ears and forced them down.

She paused, folding her hands in front of her.

“You don’t understand, Y/N. I’m going to lead him to greatness, for us. For the colony. Wouldn’t you like things to change? Wouldn’t things be better if Samuel was in charge? Not Farlow or Redwick or Massenger?” she interrogated.

“What’s wrong with Yeardley? And how do you plan on getting it, though? And I…I don’t think you understand, people die playing these games. Do you want to die? Do want Samuel to die?” you ask.

“Oh, Samuel.” She prodded. “Not Master Castell anymore? That’s a little more intimate, aren’t we? Do you love him?”

You froze.

“I know you’re a terrible liar. And I know what they do to liars here when they’re caught.” She added.

She kept her close distance but remained standing. Her eyes stared right into you, though your head dipped down low and you buried your face in your hands.

“Do. You. Love. him?”

Tears stained your eyes. That feeling, burning and bubbling in the depths of you was suddenly coming out. No matter how much you tried to deny it or ignore it for the greater good, for even your own safety, it was still singing, screaming in the back. Now it was getting louder, and louder.

“I…I think I do. I…I wish he…if only he was just a farmer, not the recorder, just so I could be with him!” you confessed.

Breathing in deep, you felt a weight had been freed from you. There was a silence, heavy with what she would say next.

“Then understand you are what is holding him back. That’s what love is. It holds us back. I’m going to bring him to greatness. I’m going to make him have things beyond even his own understanding. He could be a farmer. Or he could change everything and bring those men down and set things right here.” She explained, towering over you.

“By controlling him? Making him do things he doesn’t want to? Dangerous things?” you blurted.

“That’s how men work. And this place is ruled by them. We have to control them if we’re going to survive here as women.”

“But a harmless soul as his? Control Farlow, all you would like, Massanger, or Redwick, but…Samuel? He wants nothing of treachery, why make him treacherous?”

“That’s your weakness. You’re still clinging to love, thinking that’s what’s going to save you. I was like you once. I was proven wrong. Love doesn’t save you. It destroys you. And the sooner you let it go, the better you will be. I hope you’ve figured that out. You’re leaving here.” She scolded.

“To England? The company will send me back. They need to pay back the tobacco pounds on all of us.”

She then reached in her pocket and pulled out some letters.

“You know of the communities right outside here? I’ve written to the men of Charles City. Any women who isn’t immediately bound in marriage must go there. And there are at least three men over there are curious about you to be their wife.”

Not too far for the company but far enough you thought.

You barely glanced over it. It listed names, possessions, their house, and what they planted. One name, only one name. One name that would stand out. One name to stamp out Samuel’s. But none could. None of them had the name of the one you knew you wanted.

And who knew who these men actually were like? If you were lucky, they would be loving.

But at worst, you could be bound to another Henry Sharrow. You fought the urge to vomit again.

“Tomorrow, you will gather your things. Leave this town. Pick one. Marry him. And stay there.” Jocelyn demanded.

“I won’t. I won’t do it,” you voiced.

Jocelyn walked up and hissed at you softly.

“If you don’t, you are dead.”

“You couldn’t do that.”

“I almost succeeded. I have resources, don’t think I couldn’t.”

Your breath left you and you released a small cry of fear, your limbs nearly froze.

With all the bitterness and anger you had forced silent inside your soul for weeks, you looked Jocelyn in the eye and spat out “bitch.”

It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t dignified. It was not even mature. But it felt good.

“Never heard that one before,” she remarked sarcastically.

You turned around and, though still shaking, you got up on your feet. Jocelyn didn’t raise an eyebrow.

“Good day, Miss Y/L/N. And a blessing upon your marriage,” she finished with a smile.

You were determined not to be sent off without the last word. Now you had something. It wasn’t safe to say it, but if you were blessed to never see Jocelyn again, you might as well say it when you had the chance.

Tugging nervously on your shift you said “this isn’t the first time you’ve poisoned someone, Jocelyn.”

She froze and glared back at you, she took a few steps, threatening to charge at you like a predator.

“You little, sneaking slut!”

“And how is being a sneaking slut any better than being a liar and a murderer?” you snapped.

Jocelyn froze in her track, but continued her fiery glare into your eyes.

“Tell me, when a man makes a bet that he can take your virginity among his friends, takes it as they watch, and he wins, how much will you believe in love, then? How can you even trust men’s souls, then?” she croaked, now tears were barely going down her cheeks.

 “It’s not men’s souls, Jocelyn. It’s what they’ve done. You’ve been hurt so you shut yourself off to keep yourself safe. And now that you have refused love, you’ve even refused the love that makes you care for others. All you can do is hurt others.”

You swallowed, got up from your bed, stood up quickly while you had the strength, and interrupted before Jocelyn could interject.

 “You cannot love, you can’t love people or least of all yourself. That’s only because you have been betrayed. You’ve been hurt. But you could have used that pain to help others. Have you talked to Alice about what Henry did to her? Or Verity? You could have helped them. But you have let your pain make you harsh to underserving people. Good people. Samuel. Mercy, even, and she’s a child with nothing!”

You took two steps closer to her.

“But…you cannot help, truly, genuinely help. Only reward people you think you trust. That’s because all you know to do is hurt. For that, you will never know peace or contentment, and you have more than my disgust, you have my pity.”

   She marches up to you and grabs you by the hair, growling into your ear “leave by tomorrow, or you’re dead.”

  She then brushed any dirt or wrinkles off her dress, set her hat back up on her head, and walked out.

  Alone, you collapsed on the bed. You were done with being brave. You were done with being strong. You wanted to be weak. You let yourself sob and sob.

You look barely at the letters of these suitors you have never even heard of, asking you for your soul, body, mind, possessions, and even possible children to be owned by them until death take one of you.

“The time’s gonna come fer yer freedom and maidenhead whether ya ready fer it or not!”

Then you look at Samuel’s letter in your book, you press it to your heart, and let your cries continue and continue, gingerly touching the petals of the pink primrose and even noticing the fresh bunch at your window.

So it…it wasn’t James at all! How could I be so stupid, I’m an idiot…

 Could Jocelyn really kill you? How? The possibilities kept running through your head.

You had no idea how much money she brought with her but maybe she could hire someone to do it.

Or she probably already planted one of her possessions in your home. If someone noticed it, they could accuse you of stealing, go to Jocelyn, who’d give her testimony that you stole, give your truth and let it fall on deaf ears and then you would have to make the fatal walk outside the colony walls to the gallows.

She already fooled you into being poisoned. She could find a way to take and poison your food. Had she even poisoned the food you had when you weren’t looking.

And you didn’t know about how your physical strength could hold up.  Jocelyn was slender and knew nothing of tasks requiring physical extremes. But that didn’t mean if she got possession of a gun or knife she wouldn’t be able to attack you.

Being at the wrong place at the wrong time could put you at risk. Perhaps she would drown you in the river if you went to do your laundry.

If she got that book and letter back, she could bring it to the court, make accusations of adultery, and get you hanged.

Finally, after a while, Christopher returned with Mercy trailing behind him.

“Mercy…how kind you are…and Christopher…”

“I asked my Master if I could make this broth for you, and he agreed. He has a kind heart, he does!” she chatted, handing you a cup.

You swallowed it gratefully, smiling at how for once your stomach did not reject it.

“He…yes, he does,” you answered. “Speaking of which…where…where is he?”

“There’s a large trial and many things he must record. He has a busy workday but sends his prayers to you. Now, take twice the dose, Miss. You will be a little weak today, but you should be fine. I insisted the church forgive your absences these next two days so you could recover. You’ll be strong by the day after tomorrow.” Doctor Priestly said.

He brought another batch of the medicine and handed it to you in a small vial with two spoons.

You swallowed the two spoonful’s and kept it down best you could.

“I saw Mistress Woodbyrg come in after a while. Even when she chided me, I thought it a blessing, the bit time I was there.” Mercy reported, folding her hands in front of her.

You only stared onto your blanket, right down.

Oh, dear Mercy, you don’t know the half of it and for your happiness I hope you never do!

“Oh, you are so lucky to already be working for her. There is never a lovelier lady! Although, she’s been quite troubled lately. Oh, she frowned so when I worked for her and it vexed me so much! But I’ve been praying every hour for her, when I could” Mercy chattered, she even folded her hands together and brought it up to her chin dreamily.

You were quiet for a moment. Mercy worshipped the ground Jocelyn walked on. She was someone perhaps the child wanted to be. But… should she have such a rosy view shattered? Jocelyn seemed to give her meaning and joy in her life. There was a fairy tale princess under her roof, no matter what that princess said or did.

“Mercy…tell Master Castell…thank you, for allowing you to make this broth and…Mercy, may I please have a bit of parchment, please? And something to write with? There’s…a quill and ink on the table.”

“How come, Miss?”

“I’ve…uhm…been practicing writing.”

“My, what a good skill! How lucky you are to be learning it, how clever you must be oh…”

There was a weight that you felt dragging you down, and the child took note.

“Why, what is it, Miss Y/L/N?”

“I…I just need to try to write. I can’t be idle even when sick…”

“Why, why yes indeed! As Psalms and Captain Smith do say, one must wake up and be industrious, it’s how we can praise the Lord himself. But…I am so glad you are well.

Doctor Priestly stood by in the corner, smiling at the sweet words said and observing quietly. Mercy handed you the quill and ink and then knelt by your bedside.

“I really am. I never had many friends. Mere few. And a lot of them died. And my master is gentle but…we can’t be friends. He gives me me earnings and that’s that. So…I’m just so thankful,” she said softly.

“I’m thankful to be your friend too, Mercy.”

She looked up at the smiling doctor, who gestured for her to come, and she left accompanied by him.

You stared at the parchment and backed it against your book. Your brain was brimming with words. Words that would have explained everything. Most of all, why. But your hand only knew how to write a few.

You wanted to see him. You wanted to get out of your bed and crawl through the muddy streets to wherever he was and collapse onto him.

But anger overtook you. It was his own letter that probably confirmed Jocelyn’s suspicions and put you in danger in the first place!

You wanted to even yell at him, to take that mud and throw it to smear his lovely face. To take that stick from that day by the river and beat him with it with all of your strength. All for the trouble this lovely letter put you through. If this was a plot and he was working with Jocelyn, then he had betrayed your trust and put you in great danger.

And if it wasn’t. Jocelyn proved it was his handwriting, after all. Or at least, it was not a forgery. He could have lied through this letter from Jocelyn’s or even someone else’s doing to get you out of your discouragement of him being too deeply involved in the intrigue.

But…you brain interrupted as you lifted the quill, hands shaking…what if it was?

If it wasn’t. If he meant every word of that letter, it meant…it meant that he really did see you. You. Humble little you. With ninety women that had just arrived, and he wanted! If nothing stood in his way, the gentlest, sweetest man in all of the colony, if not, even in all of England’s far kingdom or the world perhaps loved you.

But there was one thing in the way. And it was your life.

You wished desperately it was a letter with false intentions instead.

You dipped the quill into the ink as it sat gently on your bed and scribbled out seven words.

“Goodbye. I will miss you- Y/N Y/L/N.”

Not painless. But quick and to the point. It dried in a few minutes, the dark purple ink turning into the color of violets. The scrap was hidden in the book. You put it next to the pansy.

You barely slept that night and spent it packing or pacing.

Doctor Priestly arrived the next day with new medicine. But the doctor noticed the packed bag resting on the table.

“Are you alright, Y/N? You’ve lost so much of your color, even after the medicine” he asked.

“I’m…I’m just sad. I’m leaving. I haven’t been married yet and the company’s insisting I leave to fix that. I have a few marriages offers from Charles City. I have friends here, though. I will miss everyone,” you said.

You handed him the papers and letter from the men and the doctor nodded in understanding.

It wasn’t a lie, but some details perhaps he could not be trusted with yet.

“I’ve heard good things about you, Miss Y/L/N, our dear songbird. We will all miss you too,” he answered, giving you a last spoonful of medicine.

After he left, Mercy returned with one last cup of broth.

“I always insist a cup after will do good!” she chirruped.

“Mercy…I’m going to leave today.”

“Why?”

“To…to get married, please send this to your master.” You said, holding out the scrap.

“Shouldn’t I fetch ‘im, so you can tell him instead?”

“No! I mean…don’t trouble him when he has so much work. I just wanted to say goodbye to him, for…for helping me and Alice. He greeted me and was kind to me.” you explained quickly, though you felt yourself biting your lip.

Mercy nodded and left quietly, looking at the note with big, confused eyes. You saw a shininess that would bring on tears and she even put her hand over her mouth.

“Oh, Mercy!” you exclaimed, a sudden wave hitting you.

You ran up and hugged her.

“Oh…Miss…Miss!” she cried, letting herself sob too.

You bit back your tears and whispered to her.

“Listen to me, never let anyone treat you poorly. Don’t be like me. I’m a coward. Be brave. Fight back with all your strength and…please promise me you’ll do whatever it takes, be happy and safe…” you instructed.

Mercy blinked, in more confusion, and then hugged back.

“I…I will miss” she blubbered. She let go and gave you a sad smile and then left.

Your bags only had what was essential to travel and then some. Your books, your clothes, and your lace gloves, the only luxury the company promised you. And the only luxury it delivered. You even got bits of food, who knew how long the journey would last, the quicker you would leave, the better.

And even if Jocelyn had poisoned them when you weren’t looking, you decided it didn’t matter anyway.

You dressed plainly. Looking at your reflection in the window, you did look like you lost your color. Your cheeks had hollowed some. Your eyes had darkened underneath. It was as if you were now a ghost of whoever you were when you entered this house.

Walking outside, you took the last of the wilted primroses and put it into your apron pocket.

You walked past the people going about. Past the church, past the tavern, past James beating into a new piece of metal with a loud CLANG, and past the smelly dogs and hogs running through the street freely and housewives adorned in aprons all looking for corn in the market that could be bought today, past the muddy areas you had to hop over, past the nice red doors where men in ruffs and fine cloaks discussed power with soft voices, and towards that opening and the ocean of green before it.

As you neared the entrance, you could make out a cart just near where the graves were marked. It almost seemed as if it planted among the crop of little wooden crosses. It was led by it seemed a brown horse and another man, he was tan, short, stout, and had dark hair and a dark beard with grey streaks. He wore a straw hat and seemed to be chewing on something. He stared out into the open of the green field and the trees just beyond. But he was smiling, and his eyes were beaming like stars.

Though Jocelyn covered your leave, he did not seem the type to be a hired assassin. It was the cart. Breathing in deeply, you took a few steps to get on that cart that would take you to your new life to forget all of this.

“Miss Y/L/N…”

Your breath stopped and you paused. Continuing it, you decided you would not speak to him turned away. You turned your head and looked at him. The one voice you did not want to hear at this time. But you knew you had to. You couldn’t just leave him with just a scrap of paper, as much as you had denied it.

Blinking away any more tears that may have popped up, you turned around to face him. At least one final time before your new life awaited.