#the angst and tragedy addressed but is it going to be through a place of newly found joy and support from an unexpected source? hell yea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lewmagoo · 1 year ago

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to my heart, he carries the key | bob floyd

sequel to someone to watch over me (i recommend reading the first part beforehand so this makes more sense)

description: in which a threat is made against the president’s daughter’s life, and agent robert floyd is tasked with carrying out ‘operation hidden angel’

characters: secret service agent bob floyd x f!reader, pete mitchell, beau simpson, dagger squad as their own respective characters

warnings: 18+, mentions of domestic terrorism, military, secret service and us gov’t inaccuracies, smut, unprotected sex, forbidden love, gun violence, attempted kidnapping, hospitals, broken bones, angst, hopeful ending

Things had changed in The White House.

It had been three months since that fateful night during a charity event, where a man in the crowd targeted the First Daughter of the United States. Agents Robert Floyd, Jacob Seresin, and Reuben Fitch intercepted the perpetrator, and he was disarmed before he could harm anyone. He had been taken into custody, and after weeks of extensive questioning and investigation, The Department of Homeland Security had determined that this man was not working alone. He was a member of a homegrown terrorist organization.

The only thing they couldn’t get out of him was the location of the organization. He refused to give them up, but he was adamant that in a few short months, they were going to go through with their next act of violence. And this time, people were going to die.

It was very calculated. Every last detail was planned out. How they would get the attention of the American public. How they would carry out their threat against the US government. And the way that they planned to do that?

Why, kidnapping the president’s daughter, of course.

During the time it took to obtain that information from the perpetrator, there was unrest in The White House. A changing of the guard, so to speak, was taking place. Tragedy had struck in the personal life of Pete Mitchell, head of White House security.

His husband of over thirty years, Tom Kazansky, had passed away after a bout with cancer. Pete took it hard. Hard enough that after the funeral and the burial and everything in between, he decided that it was time to retire from his decade long position as head of security.

It was not a decision that he took lightly. In fact, he’d agonized over it before finally biting the bullet and placing his letter of resignation upon the president’s desk.

“The truth is, I’m getting too old for this,” he told his team of agents, as he addressed them on the day he left. “I know, I know, it’s shocking to most of you,” he teased, as lighthearted chuckles filled the room. “But…it’s time for me to step down. Tom’s death showed me how fragile life is, and how much I should be cherishing it. I have grandchildren on the way, and I plan to be here to watch them grow up.” He glanced at Bradley Bradshaw, and the pair shared a silent understanding. Bradley’s wife was expecting. Pete didn’t want to miss a moment of that little one’s life.

“So, in my stead, Beau Simpson has agreed to take on the position as the new White House Head of Security.”

And thus, new leadership walked onto the stage.

At first, things weren’t that much difference. Your personal security detail, with Bob as the head, remained the same. Everyone missed Agent Mitchell, but life had to go on. And go on, it did.

Bob, for one, wasn’t the biggest fan of change. But change was part of the job, it was part of life, so he couldn’t make a big deal about it. When Simpson began to implement subtle changes into the way things were done, Bob bristled, but he didn’t speak out. He held his tongue, because he had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to rebel against Simpson’s leadership, he’d lose his job faster than he could even blink.

So he simply observed silently and waited to see just how many changes Simpson was going to make.

And then, one day, Bob was called into the president’s office, where he stood before Agent Simpson and POTUS himself. “Do you know why we’ve brought you in, Agent Floyd?” Beau asked.

“No sir,” came Bob’s simple response. He didn’t get the sense that he was losing his job, so he had no idea why he was standing here in the Oval Office.

“I’m sure you recall three months ago, when a threat was made against the president’s daughter.”

“Yes sir, vividly.” He’d never forget that night. Never forget the terror in your voice as you called out for him.

Then, the president interjected. “As Agent Mitchell previously briefed you, the perpetrator was part of a domestic terrorist organization here on our soil. Recently, he confessed to agents that this group will be carrying out an act of violence upon the American people. We aren’t sure where, or when exactly, but what we are sure of, is that they’re going to go after my daughter again.”

Agent Simpson picked up where the man left off. “Listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. What we talk about here is strictly confidential. It is a matter of national security.” Then he leaned closer toward Bob. “I am going to give you a set of coordinates. No one else but you, me, and the president know them. Once I give them to you, I want you to be prepared for my signal. When I deem it necessary, you will go to the Residence, retrieve his daughter, and escort her to this location. You will not bring any other agents with you. Just you, and herself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir. But why am I being given coordinates contrary to the location of the safe house that was already put in place?”

“Because that location has been compromised. You must only escort her to the coordinates I give you. Her life depends on it.”

“And when we get there?”

“You wait for my all clear. It won’t be safe to bring her back home until the threat is neutralized. Can you carry out these orders?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now memorize these coordinates.” Agent Simpson recited the numbers twice. Bob had an excellent memory, and stored away the information easily. Once he confirmed the coordinates by reciting them back to the man, Beau nodded. “From here on out, you will be prepared at all times to carry out Operation Hidden Angel.”

Bob breathed in, then out. Then he nodded. “I will be standing by awaiting further orders.”

The president stood from behind his desk. “I trust you to do whatever it takes to protect my only child, Agent Floyd. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Whatever it takes, sir.”

He was dismissed from the office, and his head was spinning. Suddenly, he was burdened with a deep sense of pressure. The need to do his job well. Not because your father and the entire country was depending on him, but because you were depending on him.

He had taken an oath to serve and protect. And he meant it. Even before he knew he loved you, he had made good on that oath. And now, even more so. You were infinitely precious to him, and he would do whatever it took to ensure your safety.

Even if it meant giving his life to ensure it. He was fully prepared to go to that length if he needed to.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. His mind kept drifting to you. To how much he loved you. How much he missed you. He saw you everyday. He escorted you to wherever you needed to go. But those moments did not allow him to be alone with you in the way that you both wanted. There were always prying eyes. Other members of your security detail. Cameras. Nosey reporters. Your relationship had remained secret all this time, and you couldn’t risk exposing it.

So he would continue pining for you, desiring you, hoping for a private moment to at least hold you in his arms. Little did he know he was about to get that opportunity, just not in the way that he was expecting.

The orders came one Friday afternoon. The work day was coming to a close. At that moment, you were in your quarters getting ready. That evening, you had a dinner engagement with a friend from college. Bob had only just finished briefing the rest of your detail on what the itinerary was for the night. Everyone was prepped and on the same page.

And then, Agent Simpson’s voice spoke into his earpiece.

“Agent Floyd, it’s time to enact Operation Hidden Angel.”

He tensed, his heart seizing in his chest as a shock of dread shuddered down his spine. This was it. His worst fear was coming true. Your life had been directly threatened, and it was time to take you to the designated safe house deep in the Virginia mountains.

And when Bob received that command, he had no choice but to act on it. He touched his fingers to his earpiece and responded. “Copy that. Operation Hidden Angel commencing.”

And then he was off, his shoes tapping rhythmically against the polished wooden floors as he rushed down each hallway and corridor. Adrenaline drove him forward, and he soon came to the entrance to the residence. Breathing in deeply to steady himself, he knocked twice before he opened the doors.

He knew where you were. He didn’t have to search. You were in your bedroom, readying yourself for the night ahead. For propriety’s sake, he knocked softly. If he hadn’t been afraid that someone might see him, he would’ve just burst into the room.

He still had to keep up the appearance that you were not romantically involved.

On the other side of the door, you were just setting out the outfit you would wear that night. You were entirely oblivious to the looming danger, eager for an eveningof catching up with an old friend. “Come in!” You called out as you debated which accessories to add to your outfit.

You were surprised to see Bob in your doorway. You smiled at the unexpected visit, but your smile soon faded when you saw the urgent look on his face. “You need to grab your emergency bag and come with me. Now.”

Your stomach dropped. “Bobby, what—”

“Just come. It’s not safe for you to be here right now.”

Deciding it best not to ask any further questions in the moment, you rushed to your closet, trembling hands yanking out the bag of packed necessities you kept for emergencies such as this. Then you shoved your feet into your shoes and rushed after him.

“What’s happening?” You asked as you followed Bob out of your room and down the corridor that led out of the residence.

“Can’t tell you the details. Just need to get you somewhere safe.”

“But-”

He turned, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you trust me?” He asked, blazing blue eyes locked with yours.

“With my life,” you replied without hesitation.

“Then stick with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

So you stopped asking questions. You followed Bob through the back hallways of the White House, allowing him to lead you, trusting in his guidance. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would protect you. He always had. When there was a threat against your safety, he was the first to run toward the danger.

But now, you were both running from it. You knew it had to be serious if you were being removed from The White House. Someone had likely made a significant threat, and Agent Simpson had advised you be removed from the premises until the threat was neutralized.

But would the danger ever be gone? Even if this particular instance was taken care of, others would come up in the future. You would never be safe, because that was just your life as the president’s one and only child.

You did, however, feel safe with the man in front of you. His large, warm hand engulfed your own as he led you down beneath the building. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure your protection. Not only because it was his duty, but because he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you. He loved you too much.

And that was the sticky part of the situation. No one knew about your secret love for one another. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Someone did know. Bradley Bradshaw, Bob’s secondhand man on your security detail, had silently put two and two together. He’d never outright told either of you that he knew, but there seemed to be a silent understanding between him and Bob. A way of communicating that had come with years of working alongside each other in the same military branch. Neither one of them had to say a word, but they knew what the other was thinking.

Bradley had kept your secret all this time. You were often surprised that no one had found out, and both you and Bob lived in fear that one day, your father would find out. And if that were to happen, you would lose Bob. He would be dismissed from his duties and you would likely never see him again. The thought broke your heart.

But for the time being, you were able to slip under the radar. Now, especially, because it was just the two of you. And for a moment, you wondered why the rest of your detail wasn’t with you. “Bob, where’s the rest of the team?” You asked as he pulled you to a stop outside a sleek black sedan. He grabbed your bag and threw it in the backseat before motioning for you to climb in alongside it.

“I’ll explain later.” He ushered you into your seat before he scurried to the driver’s side and slipped into the seat. The engine roared to life seconds later, and he glanced back at you. “Buckle up.”

You did.

Then he was taking off, headed out of the parking garage. As he hit the gas, he spoke into his earpiece. “Angel is flying.”

“Bob, why is it just the two of us?” You reiterated your question from a few moments earlier.

He glanced at you through the rearview, debating just how much he should tell you. “The more people that know where we’re going, the more danger it puts you in. Only your dad and Agent Simpson know where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just…just don’t ask questions, okay, honey? The less you know, the safer you are.”

You heeded his words and settled back into your seat, your heart racing against your ribcage. This was more serious than you realized, wasn’t it? And as you thought about it, the more fearful you became. Your life was in danger, and it was an odd feeling.

Who were you, that someone wanted to kill you? Your father’s decisions were not a reflection of your own morals or beliefs. You had no control over the way he chose to run the country. But there were times when his decisions put a target on his family’s back. Yours especially, because as his child, you were his biggest weakness. Remove you from the equation, and one would have the President of the United States in the palm of their hand, willing to do whatever they asked just to get you back.

This was why proactive measures were being taken. You couldn’t be used as a bargaining chip if you were in hiding. But oh, how you hated it. This was your father’s second term. You had been living in the White House for much too long, and you were tired of it. Tired of the world’s eyes being on you at all times. Tired of the politics and the responsibility. You had never asked for this. This was your father’s endeavor, you were just along for the ride.

But it had resulted in you being placed into the back of a bulletproof car and driven off to some top-secret location just to keep you safe. And from the back of that seat, your eyes observed the singular agent in charge of maintaining that safety. He wasn’t looking at you through the rearview, his eyes were on the road where they belonged. But you could see the conflict in those beautiful blues. You could see the fear.

Whatever this threat was had scared him. And that was saying something, because Bob Floyd didn’t scare easily. But when it came to protecting you, he did get scared. Terrified, even. He just didn’t let you see it. He wanted you to trust him, to feel secure. And you did. In fact, no one else made you feel as secure as he did. Yes, the rest of your detail did a wonderful job. You knew you could trust them with your life.

But because you loved Bob so much, you sought him out for shelter and protection. He was the first you turned to when you were frightened or felt unsafe. And he loved being that for you. Loved that you looked to him for those things.

However, he sometimes thought about the day he might fail you. Would his feelings for you hinder his ability to protect you effectively? Would he be blinded by love? It hadn’t happened yet, but he knew if he was even a smidge off his game, Agent Simpson would be able to sniff it out. And he would not let Bob off the hook for it, either. He’d instruct him to end his relationship with you immediately. And there would be no second chance. Beau would tell the president, and Bob’s position would be terminated.

But it had not gotten to that point, and you prayed it never would. You much preferred sharing this intimate little secret. It did make maintaining your relationship a little difficult, because there were times when you wished you had the guts to tell your father, to tell the world. But the thought of the repercussions that would follow always made you decide against it.

You wanted to relish in this secret for a little longer. If the time ever did come to reveal your relationship, you would know. Until then, you remained under the radar, stealing private moments when you could, and otherwise keeping your distance when it was appropriate.

But now you were entirely alone. No prying eyes. No risk of being caught. You were alone, because Bob was the only one your father trusted to watch over you. Because some unhinged madman had made a threat against your life and Bob would sooner die than let any harm come to you.

“You’re taking me to the safe house, aren’t you?” You spoke up. You had no idea where the house was located, but you had heard of presidents in the past utilizing safe houses. If you were being physically removed from The White House and taken elsewhere, a safe house was the only logical destination you could think of.

Bob caught your eye through the rearview mirror. His expression was bleak, and he said nothing, but it confirmed what you were asking.

The drive to the safe house was two hours. You left behind the bustling area of Washington, D.C. and headed into the mountains of Virginia. And as you went, the sun began to sink lower in the sky, allowing eventide to grace the land.

You and Bob hardly spoke, which was uncommon. But you could tell he was harrowed by this situation, and in turn, you were just as scared. It rendered you both silent for the rest of the ride. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the landscape go by, wondering how long you would have to stay here. A night? A week? A month? How serious was this threat made against you? How immediate was the danger?

All these questions swirled in your mind as Bob drove up a winding, dirt drive. It seemed to go on forever, and the farther he went, the darker it got. But he kept going, until finally, he was pulling up outside a small cabin.

You stared in confusion. Surely this couldn’t be it, right? When thinking of a safe house, you imagined concrete walls and impenetrable security systems. This was just a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Bob was confused as well. An odd feeling churned to life in his gut. Something didn’t feel quite right about this, but these were the coordinates he was given. He had not made a mistake in his navigation. You were where you were supposed to be.

“Are you sure this is the place?” You asked as he pulled the car behind the house, intending to keep it hidden from view so as not to raise any suspicions if anyone were to happen upon the place.

“These are the coordinates I was given. I followed orders,” Bob replied, a little sharply, but his annoyance wasn’t directed at you. It was at whoever had designated this as a safe house. Surely the US government could afford something more than this, right?

“I just…was expecting something more grand. A fortress or something,” came your explanation.

Bob softened. “Honestly, me too. I didn’t know what to expect. They gave me the coordinates when I first took charge of your detail. I always assumed the safe house was a bunker.”

Both of you were wrong. Instead, it was a quaint cabin that looked like any normal cabin in the forest might look. However, when you got up to the porch, you found a keypad on the door. It had to be unlocked by a code.

Bob spoke into his mic. “Angel has landed safely.”

Seconds later, Agent Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear. “Copy that,” he said. And then, “zero one zero two nine three.”

Bob typed the numbers into the keypad, and the sound of a lock turning reached his ears. Seconds later, the door was unlocked. He opened the door and took a look inside, scoping out the place.

It looked like a typical hunting cabin, except more well furnished. a seating area off to the left, complete with a bearskin rug. A small kitchen off to the right. An old oak dining table in the middle of the main room.

“Let me see,” you spoke up from behind him.

He stepped forward into the house and allowed you to follow suit. As soon as you were both safely inside, he shut the door, manually locking it. He was surprised at the addition of windows to the cabin. As you wandered around and explored the place, he parted the blackout curtain that hung upon one of the front windows, tapping the glass with his fingertips. It was bulletproof.

He eyed the architecture of the house, assessing what it was made out of. It he had to guess, there was also bulletproof material within the wall panels. Although the cabin looked normal, it was anything but. It was designed to blend in, to not raise suspicion.

And then his eyes traveled to the bearskin rug, and something told him to check it out. As you were rifling around in the kitchen, he stepped over to the seating area and kicked at the rug with his foot. It seemed to be fastened to the floor. So he knelt down and pulled at each edge until one gave way, lifting up to reveal a hiding space beneath the floor.

He grabbed his small utility flashlight he kept on his belt and shined the light inside. This was the bunker he’d assumed he was taking you to. It was very clearly designed to withstand any sort of disaster. I hoped he wouldn’t have to utilize it.

“What’s that?” You came up behind him, peering over his shoulder.

“Bunker.” He slammed the door shut. With the rug overtop of it, it didn’t look out of place at all. Bob turned to you, his expression serious. “If anything happens, we go down there.”

You held his gaze, your own fearful. “Bobby…how bad is it?” You wanted to know the severity of the threat. You wanted to know if you’d be forced to hide in that bunker.

Bob stepped closer to you, allowing himself the physical connection he’d deprived you both of in his haste to get you here safely. His hand came up to cup your cheek. “Bad enough that your dad was spooked. Bad enough that Simpson thought we should bring you to the safe house.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, lifting your hand to rest it gently overtop of his own. “I’m tired of this,” you whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back. He wanted to assure you that he’d protect you. That you were safe with him. But the words felt so insignificant. Yes, he would protect you, but that didn’t change the fact that a threat had still been made to your life. You, the most precious soul he’d ever known. You, kind and giving and compassionate. You, the one who loved him. How could anyone target you?

You leaned in close, and his mind ceased its wandering. Your free hand was placed gently against his chest, over his heart. And then you spoke. “Do you think that maybe…we could pretend, just for a little bit, that life is normal? That we’re just two people living in their little cabin in the woods, who aren’t actually in danger of a terrorist trying to take their lives?”

Bob’s mouth curled into a halfhearted smile. “Yeah…yeah, we can do that, little love. Whatever you want.”

Little love. The endearing nickname always made your heart warm in your chest. You nestled yourself against him, lifting your head and seeking out his kiss. He gladly returned the affection, mouth fitting against yours like it was always meant to, lips meeting in a tender kiss.

For a fleeting moment, everything felt alright. There was no looming danger. No president’s daughter and secret service agent. It was just two people, very much in love, sharing an impassioned kiss in their living room.

And then you parted, and as Bob rested his forehead against yours, you said, “You hungry? I found a box of MREs stored away in the kitchen.”

He smiled, humming softly in amusement. “Mm, my favorite,” he teasingly replied.

Your hands now rested on his chest. “I’ll get them ready.”

You shared one more kiss before you slipped away to saunter over to the kitchen. As you did so, Bob grabbed your duffel bag and carried it to what he assumed was a bedroom. When he opened the door, his assumption was confirmed.

A double sized bed was positioned in the middle of the sparsely furnished room. There was a nightstand on one side of the bed and a dresser along the opposite wall, facing the bed. An empty closet was across the room.

Bob set your bag down on the bed, and he assumed the two of you would be sharing this bed. His heart yearned for it. It had been a while since the two of you had shared a bed and spent the night snuggled up close. He missed it so.

Although the situation that had brought you here was less than ideal, at least you would be able to spend time with each other, without having to sneak around.

With a soft sigh, Bob stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut before he quickly made his way back outside, with intentions of doing a perimeter sweep to make sure the area was secure. Once he was satisfied, he made his way back to the house, stopping only to grab his own overnight bag that had been stashed in the trunk of the sedan.

Moments later, he was inside with you again, the door locked securely behind him.

In the meantime, you were at work in the kitchen, reading the directions on your MRE packet. When he entered the room, you looked up, and then motioned to the bin of pre-packaged food kits you had found.

“Take your pick. There’s macaroni in tomato sauce, chili, spaghetti, and some bean and cheese thing.”

He chose the macaroni in tomato sauce, assuming it would be the safest option. Together, you prepared your respective meals, and you couldn’t help but find it a little humorous that your first time cooking together consisted of making military grade survival meals.

“I haven’t eaten one of these in years,” Bob mused, as he activated the heating element. A memory flashed in his mind. A not so happy one. “Last time I had one was when my plane went down during a mission. Natasha was flying with me then. We were stuck in the woods for days.”

You frowned softly at his admission. “How did you make it back?”

“Some nice farmer saw us along the road and we were able to hitch a ride with him into the nearest town. We radioed for help.”

“Why didn’t search and rescue come for you?”

“Partly because we went down in enemy territory. And because our plane literally exploded into a million pieces. We were presumed dead.”

Your previously chipper mood was dampened a bit as you imagined him and Natasha, yet another trusted agent in your security detail, lost and potentially injured in unfamiliar territory. “Did you get hurt when the plane went down?” You asked.

He nodded. “Got some nasty cuts. Some burns, too. You know the scar on my side?”

You hummed in realization. You did know it. You’d run your fingers over the six inch long scar many times while laying in bed with him.

“That was shrapnel from the blow. Cut me pretty good. Nat stitched it up for me, actually. Kind of embarrassed to admit I passed out during it.”

You reached out, touching his arm gently. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. I can’t even imagine, Bobby. That must’ve been awful.”

He nodded. “But we got through it. Nat’s one determined gal. She told me she was gonna get me home safe. And she did. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Your hand moved from his arm, resting against his back, thumb stroking circles along his spine. Your touch grounded him. “Remind me to thank her.”

He smiled softly as he finished preparing his food. He was beyond grateful that the Fates had decided to spare him. Had they not, he never would have met you, the best thing to ever happen to him.

Joining the Secret Service had never been part of Bob’s plan. He’d never even considered it. But Agent Mitchell had recommended him to the president, and after Bob had fulfilled his commitment of time to the Navy, he’d moved over to The White House, where he became part of security.

In fact, the entirety of your personal security detail had been recommended to your father by Pete Mitchell. With you making more public appearances and doing charity work, it put you on the radar. Your father wanted the best security detail possible for you, and because he trusted Pete’s judgment, he brought them in to begin the interview process. In the end, all of them were hired.

But only one was the head of your detail. Only Bob was entrusted with every minute detail of your safety. Not because the others couldn’t be trusted, or because they were incapable. Far from it. It was his sharpness and his ability to assess threats quickly. It was his respectfulness and penchant for following the rules (or so everyone thought). Out of the group of agents assigned to you, Bob stood out above the rest.

In the words of your father, Seresin was too cocky, Bradshaw too aloof, and Trace too emotional. You strongly disagreed with his words. You didn’t like the assessments he’d made of each agent. You thought he was being unfair and harsh. Especially with Natasha. Calling her too emotional was crossing over into sexist territory, you felt. If anything, Bradley was the emotional one. But you didn’t argue with your dad. Whatever POTUS says, goes.

None of the supposed “downfalls” your father saw in each agent affected their ability to protect you. All of them put their lives on the line every single day to ensure your safety.

But in the end, they hadn’t been put solely in charge of your security team. Bob had. And now here you stood, in safe house in the middle of the Virginia wilderness, eating survival food and pretending everything was fine. Just you and him.

Strangely enough, you were grateful. Grateful that he was the one you were with. And maybe it was for selfish reasons, but you didn’t care. You just hated that your only opportunity to be alone with him as of late was because of the imminent danger posed to your life.

But you would cherish the time you were allotted.

That night, in the quietness of that little cabin in the woods, the two of you sat at the oak dining table adjacent to the kitchen, with your feet resting in Bob’s lap. You drank the electrolyte drink mixes that were provided in your MREs, pretending they were some sort of fancy alcoholic cocktail, if only for your sanity’s sake.

For the rest of the evening, you didn’t acknowledge the circumstances that had brought you here. Instead, you talked of anything and everything. It wasn’t often that you had a chance to have such meaningful conversations with one another. Your time together was usually short. Secret meetings under the cover of darkness. Stolen moments of passion in hotel rooms. Intimate embraces where no prying eyes could see.

But flashes of reality still shocked you like a splash of cold water to the face. Such as the fact that Bob’s gun was still strapped to his hip. Or the fact that he went around the house making sure all the blackout curtains were drawn, and double checking the lock system on the door.

You tried to ignore it. Focused on cleaning up your haphazard dinner instead. But there was still a feeling of unease in your gut. Bob seemed to notice your anxiety, ever observant, and he approached you as you wiped down the table with a dish cloth you’d found in one of the drawers. His arms encircled your waist, and you sighed, leaning back against him, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“Hey,” he whispered, nuzzling his face against the back of your neck. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You turned around in his hold, placing your hands upon his chest. “I know. I just…I’m trying to pretend everything is fine but it’s hard when there’s a literal bunker beneath us, and you’re walking around with your gun on your hip, and checking the state of the art locking system on the door over there.”

Bob glanced down at the weapon in its holster. “Here,” he said. He stepped back, removing his belt, and taking the holster along with it. He took the gun and carried it into the bedroom, where he placed it on the singular nightstand beside the bed. Then he rejoined you in the main room.

“Is that better?” He asked.

“A little,” you replied with a nod, welcoming him into your arms again.

He dipped his head low, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “I love you, sweet girl.”

Your chest warmed. “I love you too.”

A large hand lifted up, fingers stroking your cheek. “You want to play pretend? We’ll play pretend.” His arm then came down to wrap around your waist, palm pressed into the small of your back. “This is our homestead, right? And you…you are my pretty little wife.” His free hand tapped your nose with his fingers.

“Oh? I like the sound of that,” came your soft reply.

His arm tightened around you. “Mhm. And I just came in from a long day of workin’ the land. Looks like we’re gonna have a good harvest, too. Won’t go hungry this winter.”

Your mouth curved into a fond smile. His accent was coming through. Picked up from summers spent on his granddaddy’s ranch. “Take such good care of me,” you said. “My strong, handsome man.”

He kissed you again, this time more languidly. “Always gonna take care of my wife.”

That promise translated outside of this silly little roleplay, too. You knew he’d always look out for you. “What would I do without my Bobby?” You asked.

He gently bumped noses with you, enjoying the closeness. It made you a little dizzy. You hadn’t been in his big, strong arms like this in a while. You’d missed it more than you realized. The close proximity of your bodies had you growing breathless, and your fingers grasped at the fabric of his button down.

“I…can we…” You couldn’t get the words out. But he knew what you wanted.

“You need me, honey?”

You nodded, caught off guard when tears welled in your eyes. “Please,” you whimpered pitifully. It hit you hard, like a blow to the chest. You hadn’t expected the feeling to be so intense, but now you were leaning into him for support, afraid your knees would give way if you tried to stand on your own.

“I’ve got you. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay?”

With his arm secured around you, he led you to the room. There, he guided you to sit on the bed before he turned on the little beside lamp on the nightstand. It didn’t give off much light, but it did cast a soft, warm glow over the bed.

And then he was in front of you again, but this time, he was kneeling, placing his hands on your knees as he looked up at you. “If you want to stop at any time, you tell me, alright?”

You nodded.

“Words, lovey.”

“Yes sir.”

He wanted to be a little more careful with you in this moment. Not that he wasn’t careful with you all the time, but he had a feeling you needed a little more tenderness than usual. Having your life threatened was a harrowing experience. He wanted to give you the intimacy and closeness you needed. He wanted to be a comfort to you.

As he rose to his feet, a big, gentle hand cupped your cheek. You lifted your head, gazing up at him. His thumb lovingly stroked your bottom lip, and you instinctively opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the digit.

He watched in awe as your eyes began to grow glassy, and your gaze softened. All it took was his thumb in your mouth to turn you pliant. He smiled fondly, his eyes twinkling.

And what beautiful eyes they were. You gazed up into them, so clear and blue, but somehow dark in the lowlight, as if the bright blue had turned brown. You could feel the tension leaving your body as you suckled on his thumb. The taste of his skin was familiar and soothing.

“Poor thing. Just needed to shut your brain off for a bit, huh?” He murmured.

“Mhm,” you hummed around his thumb.

“I’ve got you. Don’t have to do any thinking with me. I’ll do it all for you.”

You liked the sound of that. You could let go of the stressors. Your circumstances. Your position as daughter of the President of the United States. Your political commitments. All of it could be forgotten, if only for a little while.

So you gave yourself to him. To your Bobby. You let him take care of you, because he knew what was best at that moment in time.

“C’mere,” he said. He took a seat on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard. As you scrambled over to him, he caught you, pulling you into his lap so that you were straddling him. His hands rested at your hips. Your own fell to his broad shoulders. The muscles rippled beneath your touch.

With your body slotted against his like this, you felt so warm and secure. Like you were meant to fit together. In the warm glow of the lamp, and in the softness of the bed, it all felt so domestic. As if you truly were husband and wife, living in your little cabin in the woods.

And then your mind began to wander, and you considered what it might be like if he truly was your husband. If you were allowed to live out your relationship without fear of being found out.

You wanted that, you realized. You wanted it so badly. But you couldn’t have it. Not yet. So instead, you played pretend. You dove forward, connecting your lips with his, kissing him deeply, pouring all the passion you had into it. And he kissed you back with just as much fervor.

Your hands moved from his shoulders to rest upon the sides of his neck. Your fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of his neck, nails ever so lightly scraping at the skin, making him shiver against you and moan into your mouth.

You rotated your hips downward in the process, and he gasped, his grip tightening on your waist. So you moved your hips again. And again. Soon, you were rutting against him, searching out that delicious friction. The seam of your shorts caught against you in just the right place, and the stimulation had his cock hardening beneath you.

He let his head thunk back against the headboard, biting his lip and closing his eyes. “Oh, just like that, honey,” he encouraged, breathless.

“Feels so good,” you whined.

“I know. Been too long, hasn’t it?” he cooed, bringing you closer so your forehead was pressed to his.

“H-how long?” you wondered, shivering as he lifted his hips to meet your own.

He remembered. Of course he did. “Last month. When you visited that one university.”

Oh, yes. Now you remembered. You’d really gone an entire month without touching him? No wonder you ached so terribly inside. You needed him.

“Bobby,” you whimpered then.

“I know, baby. I know.”

He was kissing you again, except this time, he rotated you, gently easing you onto the bed so he could hover over you. Then he began the reverent undressing of your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving a kiss against your clavicle as he easily rid you of your undergarments. Then came your shorts and panties, tossed aside carelessly.

This left you entirely bare to him, and oh, how naked you felt. But he distracted you from any trepidation you felt. He took your hands in his own, lifting them to his shirt, prompting you to unbutton it. Those big hands hovered over yours as you did, there to help if you were trembling too much to do it.

In no time, the shirt was unbuttoned, and he tossed it to the floor before he made quick work of removing his white undershirt. Immediately, your hands splayed across his chest. Well-defined because he worked his ass off staying fit. His job was not for the faint of heart or body. He had to stay on top of his game.

“If ya can stop ogling my chest for a minute, I’ll get my pants off,” he teased.

You looked up at him before turning your head away shyly. He couldn’t help but hum in gentle amusement. You were just the most precious thing.

Quickly, he shoved his pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them asunder, leaving you both naked as the day you were born. As soon as his body was slotted against yours, you sighed in deep relief. Finally.

His mouth was on yours again, and his arms were at either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He overwhelmed your every sense, and it was glorious. In such close proximity, you could smell his cologne, and that natural, heady scent that could only be described as him.

“Pretty girl,” he whispered in awe, his mouth trailing down your jaw, across your neck, over your collarbone. Reverence. Worship.

As he kissed your heated skin, he moved to slip his hand between your thighs. Deft fingers tenderly parted your delicate folds, prodding at your entrance. First one finger, slid in deep. Then two. You whined into his mouth as he crooked those fingers upward, intent on locating that spongey little spot that made you shiver.

It didn’t take him long. He knew your body so well. Knew exactly what to do to have you purring for him. You were so responsive to his touch as it was.

“Gotta open you up for me, lovey,” he soothed. “Been a while since you took all of me.”

Those fingers pumped in and out of you, and his thumb came up to swirl around your clit as he did so. You were oversensitive. Not only had you not been touched by him in over a month, but you hadn’t touched yourself, either. You’d hardly had any downtime, and when you did, you spent it resting. Now, you were so pent up that Bob’s gentle stimulation of your neglected pussy was already beginning to overwhelm you.

In the meantime, he continued to trail searing kisses across your skin. Over the softness of your breasts. Teeth gently tugging at your pebbled nipples. Tongue soothing the sting.

In the meantime, you grew wetter around his fingers, your body opening up to him, welcoming him in. And then he added a third finger, and you squealed, jolting against him. You felt his mouth curl into a smile against you.

Then he lifted his head to gaze down at the way your cunt stretched around those fingers. “Oh, look at this sweet little pussy. My fingers barely fit. I don’t know if it’ll be able to take my cock.”

He was teasing you. But in your hazy state, you took him seriously. “No! No, I can take it! Please, I need it!” You gasped.

This prompted him to place his thumb in your mouth again. “Shh, I know. I’m gonna give it to you, I promise.” A gentle kiss to your lips before he leaned back. He removed his fingers from you, and you watched as he used the slick of your arousal as lubricant for his cock, smearing it over the velvety skin. You whimpered at the sight.

You so desperately needed that cock inside you. Thick and heavy, with a blushed tip that was dripping with his own desire. You found yourself reaching for it, wrapping your fingers around him, longing to feel the heaviness in your hand.

He gasped softly as your grip tightened and your thumb brushed over that pretty pink head, gathering the wetness that had gathered at the slit. You found yourself salivating, suddenly wishing he was in your mouth, warm on your tongue. But at the same time, you wanted to be filled by him so badly. It made you ache.

Gently, he lifted your hand away, replacing it with his own. He slid the underside of his cock through your slick, and you both moaned lowly when the plush head caught at your clit. Again, he thrust his hips forward, teasing you. When he pulled back, he positioned himself at your entrance, slipping in only ever so slightly, enough to pull a desirous whine from you before he pulled back.

“D-don’t tease,” you squeaked out.

“I know. Just tryin’ to savor it. Might not get to do this again for a while.”

You pulled him down, kissing him deeply. “Don’t think about that right now. Just fuck me, Bobby. Please.”

“Uh-huh.” With his mouth open against your own, he finally inched his hips forward, moving so his arms were at either side of your head again, and his chest was pressed to yours. Forward, forward, forward, until…

“Oh!”

He was fully sheathed inside you, every last inch. It was the thickness that took your breath away. He felt so big, yet at the same time, it felt as if he was made to fit inside you in this way. You would never tire of the feeling of his body connected to yours.

Bob couldn’t help but glance down, marveling at the way you stretched around him. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the feeling of the snug warmth. He had missed it so much. Missed you so much. “I love you,” he said with conviction. It warmed you to your core.

“Love you too,” you sighed out blissfully, eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and your arms around those broad shoulders of his.

His hand caressed your face as he began to move, nudging his hips into yours. He kept things slow to begin with, intending to build up to a glorious crescendo. All the while, he held you close, resting his weight upon your body, grounding you, surrounding you. He cherished it all. The feeling of your warmth, the beating of your heart. A reminder that you were safe, that you were alive, that you were here, with him.

His mouth found its way to yours again, trailing down further to lave his tongue against your pulse point. “You are everything to me,” he breathed against your feverish skin. You were his life, his love, his angel.

You couldn’t speak, for you were too overwhelmed. Your heart sang, and the true reason for being here in thise safe house seemed to fade into the background as white noise. Your Bobby was on the forefront, infiltrating every one of your senses, wrapping you up in his love and adoration. You never wanted it to end.

As he began to quicken his pace, you held onto him tightly, every inch of your bodies touching, warm and familiar, safe and secure. You let yourself be vulnerable, let him chip away at the armor you always protected herself with. Oh, how good it felt to let him be your protector. He encased you in his warmth, and that warmth began to radiate throughout your body, thrumming deep within your belly. He kissed yu repeatedly, lips ever brushing against yours, swallowing your precious whimpers and moans, holding onto those sounds, locking them away in his memory.

In the back of his mind, he partly wondered if this would be the last time you were able to make love to each other. What if he slipped up and was dismissed from his duties, effectively barring him from ever being with you again? He hated that his mind went to such a morbid place, but it was hard to ignore.

But then you were drawing him in again with those soft sounds, sighing out his name, and your sweet pussy was fluttering around him, and he was brought back to the present moment. How could he let himself be anywhere else but here, with you in his arms? How could he let himself be distracted when the love of his life sighed and shivered in pleasure beneath him? Because of him?

“Feel so good,” you squeaked. Your eyes were closed, your brow furrowed in utter bliss. You looked rather adorable this way. He was so in love.

You were so wet, and he realized that you were quickly growing wetter by the minute. He could feel you dripping down against his heavy balls, and onto the bed covers below, and it only urged him to change his pace. You tightened your legs around his waist, inviting him deeper inside. As he thrust particularly deeply into you, you cried out softly. He’d bumped into that wonderful spot within you, sending you tightening around him, arousal slicking down the base of his cock.

“Oh, right there!” You exclaimed, fingernails pressing crescent shapes into the skin of his back. He ducked a hand between you then, stimulating your sensitive little clit in such a way that your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open. The way you clenched around him again had him growling lowly, the heat of impending release already beginning to warm in his pelvis. How was he already so close? And then he remembered how long it had been since he’d had you like this, and it made sense.

He applied more pressure with his fingers, driving his hips forward with more force. He was hit with a sudden wave of desperation, wanting, needing you to come before he did. He’d stave off his own pleasure for as long as possible if it meant making you feel good. Beneath him, you were on fire, arousal rushing through your very being like raw electricity, consuming every part of you in its wake. And you let yourself be swallowed up in the feeling, suddenly overcome with intense emotion as tears began sliding down your cheeks.

Bob cradled you against his chest, though he didn’t slow down. You needed him to keep going, and he wasn’t going to stop until you fell apart. And it was so close you could taste it, building and building and building. A vibration that began in your core, a peak that you were hurtling towards but couldn’t quite reach yet. It was a height that only your lover could bring you to.

Sweet, tender love making turned into something so much more primal. His chest heaved against yours, and he growled deeply, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kissed you. Warmth blossomed between you both, growing into a wild flame. Your bodies fell into a desperate push and pull, faster and harder and deeper, chasing the pleasure high that you knew was inevitable.

He could feel you tighten around him like a vice, and he knew you were close. He let his forehead rest against yours, though he never stopped his movements. “You’re close, I can feel it,” he spoke in a broken whisper.

“I-I am,” you whimpered pathetically, clinging to him tightly.

“Then come for me, my love. Just let go.”

He continued to work you over, carrying you toward that edge. You trembled fiercely, breathing labored, growing even more so. Pleasure began to fizz through you like a firework brought to life, or a pack of Pop Rocks sprinkled on the tongue. Starting at your core and bubbling all the way to your fingers and toes.

Your body went taut against his as the first waves of it began to hit you. Almost there, almost there, almost there. And then, without warning, it hit you. Washing over you like an enormous wave, intense as could be. Seconds later, you came with a wail, convulsing beneath him as the fire of your orgasm ravaged you, surging through the entirety of your being. You cried out his name, and he was there, holding you in his arms as he watched you come apart, losing yourself because of him.

And as you came down, you sobbed. You buried your face against his chest, crying openly, still wrapped tightly around him. And he let you cry, keeping you close. But he also needed to find his own release, you realized. Even in your state of emotion, she pulled back a little, looking into his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were blown, but there was still a tenderness in his gaze. He wouldn’t pressure you for more if you weren’t ready to move on yet.

“P-please, Bobby. Wan’ you to come in me.”

How could he ever say no when you asked so sweetly?

Satisfied with your plea, he began moving again, finding the rhythm that he needed to bring himself to his end. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up, lovey?” He breathlessly spoke.

Glassy eyed, you nodded, bottom lip quivering. “Need it so bad,” you begged.

His face contorted into a look of beautiful euphoria. His jaw went slack, his eyes fell shut, and he let his head fall to the crook of your neck as the climax began to overwhelm him entirely. It washed over him with great force, rendering him absolutely boneless as he keened, your name falling from his lips in a soft whimper. Beneath him, you relished in the feeling of his essence seeping into you, even as tears continued to stain your cheeks.

His hips stuttered a few more times against yours as he made sure to fill you with everything he had to give. And as he came down, trying to catch his breath, you made no move to part from one another.

There you lay, holding each other, basking in the afterglow as the weight of his body settled atop yours. When your tears ceased, Bob very carefully slid out of you, soothing your mewl of protest with an open-mouthed kiss. As he moved to rest upon his back, he tucked you into his side, and you rested your head on his chest, right over his still racing heart.

Gentle fingers traced circles along your arm. You hadn’t realized that you’d zoned out a little, still drunk off pleasure, until his touch brought it back down to earth.

You placed your hand against his chest, eyeing the rise and fall of each breath he took. For a while, neither of you said anything. And when the silence finally did break, it was Bob who broke it.

“Need to get you cleaned up, lovey. Can’t let you fall asleep like this.”

Despite your murmur of protest, he gathered you into his arms and carried you out of the bedroom and into the bathroom just a few feet away.

You were so sleepy, it seemed that the events of the day were finally catching up with you, paired with the romp in the sheets you’d just gone on with Bob. You were in a haze as he tenderly cleaned you up and urged you to use the restroom.

“I’ve got you,” his low, comforting voice assured you. You could allow yourself to remain in that hazy state, because you knew he would take care of you. He always did.

He led you back to the bedroom, where he helped you change into the pajamas you had brought. Once you were taken care of, he tucked you into bed and kissed you on the forehead before he proceeded to ready himself for bed. A shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Easy, in case he needed to jump out of bed and tend to a threat in the middle of the night.

Then he slipped into bed beside you, and you immediately snuggled into him, content to be in his arms, enjoying his warmth. You would cherish every last moment you had with him. Safe and secure, your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart. Oh, how you loved him.

You were lulled into a deep, comforting slumber. In fact, it was the best sleep you’d gotten in weeks. Just his presence alone gave you rest.

But while you slept peacefully, Bob remained awake. He couldn’t sleep, not when he had to watch over you. He was tempted to get up and do a perimeter sweep outside, just to make sure everything was safe. But you were sleeping so peacefully in his arms that he didn’t want to disturb you.

At some point during the night, he did drift off into a light slumber, still partially alert, always ready to address danger, should it come knocking on the door.

And, unfortunately, it did.

At around 0400 hours, Bob was alerted to movement outside. It wasn’t loud. But there was a strange rustling in the woods, and the snapping of twigs. Instantly, his eyes were open, and he held his breath, hoping he’d just dreamt the sounds. But then he heard it again, and his heart seized in his chest.

Without hesitation, he eased you out of his arms, and you remained sleeping while he slipped out of bed, grabbing his gun from the nightstand and rushing to put his earpiece back in his ear so he could communicate with White House security if need be.

There were no windows in the bedroom, so he quickly and quietly scrambled to the front of the house, where he stopped at the window and discreetly lifted the edge of the curtain to peer outside. Sure enough, he saw two figures dressed in black gear approaching from the tree line.

And that’s when he realized one of them was already at the door, working on the security keypad. Bob knew, in that moment, that he should have trusted his gut feeling from the beginning. Where the hell had Agent Simpson sent the two of you? Because there was no way this was a safe house if it was this easy to get into.

But there was no time to debate the security of the house. Danger was right on the doorstep, and his first priority was protecting you. So he sprang into action, rushing back to the bedroom where you slept peacefully.

“Safe house is compromised,” he reported into his mic, just before he leaned down to shake you awake.

“Copy. Get into the bunker. Sending backup now,” Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear.

Bob didn’t reply. He was too focused on waking you. “Hey, hey, need you to wake up for me, honey.” He shook you vigorously until you stirred from your slumber.

You stared up at him in confusion, your eyes bleary. “Bobby? Wha-?”

“No time. Get up, we need to get under the house now. They found us.”

That woke you up. Your eyes widened, and you sat upright, throwing the covers from your body as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. “How?!”

“I don’t know! Just come with me!” He yanked you to your feet, hands tight on your arms, catching you when you stumbled.

Adrenaline coursed through you, wiping away the sleep-induced fog that had been cast over your brain. Bob’s remained closed firmly around your wrist and he pulled you after him out of the bedroom, intending to take you down into the bunker. But in a split second, he stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back with a surprised gasp.

He could only just catch sight of the door coming open. There was no time to make it to the trap door that would lead you to safety beneath the house. Going for it would result in the two of you being spotted and killed instantly. He had a split second to make a decision. This was life or death.

He whirled around, and in the darkness, you could see the wildness in his eyes, and it sent an icy shock of terror through you. Without a word, he clamped his hand over your mouth, silencing you before he pushed you back toward the bedroom.

Your heart pounded against your chest, your entire body trembling with fear as he released you and turned to shut the bedroom door silently. Thank God there was a lock on it, which he promptly turned, careful to do it silently. Then he whirled back around to face you. “Get under the bed. No matter what happens, you do not come out unless I tell you to.” His voice was so low it was barely audible, but you heard every word. And then, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your eyes filled with tears. You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions, sinking to your knees and maneuvering your body underneath the bed. Bob yanked the covers down so they were hanging from the edge of the mattress, effectively obscuring you from view. It was only a temporary solution, but it would do.

Then, his hand closed around the cool metal of his gun, which he pulled from his waistband and positioned himself a few feet away from the door, weapon drawn, hands steady as he flipped the safety off. He could hear Simpson’s voice in his earpiece, asking for confirmation that the two of you had made it down into the bunker. But Bob couldn’t answer. Silence was what was going to keep you alive at the moment.

He placed his finger against the trigger, ready to pull it at any second. Whoever was on the other side of the door was quiet, but he could still hear them. Creeping closer and closer, inch by inch. And then, the doorknob rattled, and Bob felt his breath catch in his throat.

You pressed your own hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. Bob’s eyes never left that door. He counted down in his head. Five. The silence was broken as the person threw their weight against the door. Four. Again, their body thudded against the door. Three. Two steps backward. Two. Bob realized what was about to happen. One. He threw his body to the side just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the house. Wood splintered. Smoke curled through the air.

Bob had moved aside just in time. A second too late and he would be suffering from a gunshot wound. But just as quickly as he moved, his gun was in the air again, held steadily in front of him. As soon as he had the assailant in his sights, he fired.

Beneath the bed, your hands came up to your ears, protecting them from the awful sound. You couldn’t see around the quilt obscuring your vision. You prayed silently that Bob was unharmed. And he was. He’d just put one perpetrator down. You’d heard the thud of the body hitting the floor.

But he had no idea how many more there were.

He would soon find out.

Seconds later, more footsteps. Bob fired. But the second man was expecting it, and kept his body partially hidden by the doorway as he lifted his rifle and aimed it at Bob. The secret service agent ducked quickly, firing his own weapon in retaliation.

He put up a good fight. Really, he did. Bob had always been seen as a pacifist, and by nature, he was. But that didn’t mean he shied away from a fight. And when he did have to utilize physical force, there was a calculated tenacity with which he fought. He was a worthy opponent.

He disarmed the second man quickly. Grazed his cheek with a bullet and used that split-second distraction to dive for the gun that belonged to the dead man on the floor. But then, a voice stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Bob looked up to find three men pointing rifles at his head. He was cornered.

“Drop the fuckin’ weapon.”

He did. He was severely outnumbered. If he tried anything, he’d be shot dead on the spot. That would leave you entirely vulnerable and alone.

The one in the middle stepped forward. He was tall. Dark hair. Beard. couldn’t have been much older than Bob himself. Dark eyes stared murderously at the agent kneeling on the ground. He never lowered his rifle.

“We’re just here for the girl. Tell us where she is.”

“She’s not here,” Bob lied through his teeth.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. We staked you out. We know you brought her here. Now where is she, huh?” Then, he called out into the room in a singsong voice that made your skin crawl, “come out, come out wherever you are!”

“She’s not going to come out, because she’s not here!”

The stranger rolled his eyes. “Alright, then you won’t mind if I fire a couple of precautionary shots, right? Just to make doubly sure?” He aimed his gun at the bed you were currently stowed beneath.

Bob’s stomach dropped. “Hey, there’s no reason to waste ammunition on–”

“Ah! So she is here!”

And just like that, it all fell apart.

One of the assailants forced Bob into a prone position on the floor, his gun pressed to the back of his head. He reached down and ripped Bob’s earpiece out of his ear, tossing it to the hardwood floor and stomping on it, effectively cutting off any and all communication with The White House. And then, Bob watched helplessly as you were dragged from beneath the bed, kicking and screaming.

And all he could think, was that he’d failed you.

“Bobby!” You wailed.

“Hey! What is it that you want, huh?! Money?! We’ll give it to you, I can make a call to Washington, get it wired to–”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” the man above him snarled, smacking him square in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. Bob’s vision went white as searing pain radiated through his skull.

“It’s not about money,” said the one who had wrestled you from beneath the bed. “It’s about sending a message to her daddy.”

You whimpered in fright as he grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks hard. His expression was full of hatred. It chilled you to your very core. “We’ll make him wish he’d never taken office.”

“Let her go!” Bob cried desperately from the floor, though he was in no position to be making demands.

“No, I don’t think we will.” The man began to haul you out of the room, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams. He glanced at the one standing over Bob. “Make sure he can’t follow us.”

As you were dragged into the hall, you heard the sound of a single shot ring out, and you sobbed behind the hand pressed to your mouth. No!

But Bob wasn’t dead. He was very much alive, his teeth clenched so hard he was sure he would break them, letting out a muffled, tormented scream behind them. White hot pain traveled up his thigh, and with it, a violent sense of nausea overwhelmed him. His assailant had shot him in the leg.

And then he was left alone in that bedroom, helpless to do anything as you were carried away, putting up a fight despite being overpowered. Crying out in absolute agony, Bob fought to drag himself upright, though his head spun and his leg throbbed wickedly. He had to stop them. Had to get to you.

It took every ounce of strength in his being to pull himself upright, but by that time, it was too late. They had taken you outside. He’d never reach you in time. After everything he had done to keep you safe, he had lost you in the end. He would never forgive himself as long as he lived.

But then, hope.

All of the sudden, the sound of a helicopter approaching could be heart, and not long after, blinding white light shone through the front door. Moments later, a magnified voice called out, “Homeland Security! We have you surrounded!”

What happened next was a blur. There was shouting. So much shouting. Outside, you were blinded by the lights, reaching your hands up to shield your eyes. The sounds around you were deafening. Someone fired a shot. Then another. Hands grabbed at you. You had no idea who they belonged to. But they pulled you away from the men who had taken you, guiding you to the sidelines, away from the danger.

But you didn’t want to go to the sidelines. You wanted to run back to your Bobby. “Let go! I need to see if Bobby’s alright!”

“Miss, we can send someone to check on him, right now I need you to—”

“No! They shot him! I have to know that he’s okay!”

You argued back and forth for a moment before you got the drop on the agent trying to restrain you. You threw your weight downwards and she released you out of surprise. You didn’t feel bad when you elbowed your way past her. You probably should have, because after all, she was just trying to do her job. But nothing else mattered to you in that moment than knowing Bob’s fate. If he was dying, you needed to be by his side to say goodbye. You weren’t about to miss your last chance to be with him.

So you made a dash for the house, ducking back inside, frantic.

“Bobby!” You cried out, scrambling toward the bedroom. Sickening dread coursed through you. What were you about to walk in on? Would you find the love of your life dead on the ground?

But then, you heard it. “I-in here!”

As soon as you burst into the room, you saw him. He’d tried to stand, but had crumpled to the ground in severe pain, and was now leaning back against the side of the bed, injured leg stretched out in front of him.

“Oh dear God.” You rushed to his aid, dropping to your knees beside him. “I’m here! I’m right here!”

His pant leg was soaked with crimson, and he’d placed his hand over the wound, in effort to slow the bleeding. “I-I’m okay,” he assured you, gazing into your frightened face. “Can you get my belt for me? It’s on the floor on the other side of the bed.” It sounded as if it took great labor for him to get the words out.

You didn’t hesitate. You jumped up and ran around to the other side of the bed, grabbing his belt. As soon as you handed it to him, he got to work tightening it around his thigh as a makeshift tourniquet.

Voices could be heard out in the main room of the cabin. You knew that you would soon be separated. It sent a terrible wave of dread through you, and you reached for Bob.

“Bobby,” you tearfully spoke.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured you, his tourniquet finished. His clean hand came up to cup your cheek. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ll see you again real soon.”

“But I don’t—”

“Honey, listen to me. Need you to be my brave girl, okay? I can’t go with you. They’re gonna take me to the hospital. And after that there’s a whole protocol I have to go through. But those agents out there, they’ll get you to safety. I promise you.”

Weeping, you wrapped your arms around his neck once more before you pulled back, just as none other than Agent Simpson walked into the room, his gun drawn.

Bob protectively placed an arm in front of you. “It’s all clear!” He called out. The assailant on the floor a few feet away from you both had long since been dead and did not pose a threat. Simpson still turned him over with his foot just to make absolutely certain that he was dead.

Beau approached you, kneeling so that he was eye level with you. His expression was neutral, but there was sympathy in his eyes. “I need you to come with me. I’ll see to it that you get back home safely. The threat to your life has been neutralized.”

“Agent Simpson, he’s been shot,” you whimpered, motioning to Bob.

“I see it. I’ve got a medic chopper on the way. We’ll transport him to the hospital. Right now, you’ve got two parents who are worried sick about you. Let’s get you back to them.”

“But—”

“Go with him,” Bob gently coaxed. “There’s nothing else you can do for me here. I’ll be fine.”

You gazed into his face, tears blurring your vision. “O-okay,” you whispered.

You wanted so badly to kiss him goodbye. But even now, you were hyper aware of Simpson’s presence and you knew you couldn’t openly show romantic affection to Bob in front of him.

So you allowed Agent Simpson to escort you from the room. You cast one more glance over your shoulder at your injured lover, before you finally left him behind. It felt like your heart was being torn in two. You longed to stay by his side, to board that medical helicopter with him and wait at the hospital while they tended to his injury.

But you supposed you did have one thing to be grateful for. At least he wasn’t dead.

As you were led outside, the early morning light was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It illuminated the carnage that had taken place. You gasped as you realized that the three remaining men who had tried to take you were dead. But there were others. Others you hadn’t seen. They were in custody, ready to be taken in for questioning. In one night, Homeland Security had succeeded in taking down a homegrown terrorist organization.

But that begged the question: why on earth had they been after you? It didn’t matter, because no one would answer your question, anyway.

You were led to a waiting car, where you realized Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace were waiting for you. After what you had been through, you were relieved to see them.

“Hey kid,” Bradley greeted you.

“I sure am glad to see you,” you breathed.

“We’re glad to see you, too,” Natasha replied.

Bradley opened the door, and Nat slid into the seat first before you took your place in the middle, while he brought up the rear and closed the door behind him.

Javy Machado, who was driving, glanced back at you. “Good to see you safe and sound,” he said with a small smile.

You didn’t feel safe and sound. You felt harrowed and anxious.

The entire drive to The White House, you didn’t say a word. You stared out the window and fought to hold back your tears. What had gone wrong? How had those men found you? It seemed too easy. As if you and Bob had been nothing more than sitting ducks.

You were fortunate that all he had sustained was a shot to the leg. And you were even more fortunate that you had not been physically harmed. You were more emotionally scarred than anything. You weren’t sure how long it would take you to recover, but you knew you needed time. And most of all, you needed Bob.

But that was out of the question.

Instead, you had to hold your head high as you climbed out of the car once you had arrived at The White House. Waiting for you were Jake, Reuben, and Mickey. They reported your safe arrival through their mics, and then carefully led you into the building.

“Glad you’re home safe,” Jake softly told you.

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t muster one. You were already steeling yourself for being reunited with your parents. You knew your mother would be teetering toward hysterics, and your father would likely be stoic, as he often was. You loved them, but you were overwhelmed.

Your mind was elsewhere, longing for your Bobby.

Meanwhile, he was just arriving at the hospital, where a team of medical personnel had already been warned of his arrival. He was a little delirious from the blood loss and the pain, but he could hear the terms they were throwing back and forth.

They were going to operate immediately.

“Agent Floyd?” A woman’s voice filled his ears. She was strawberry blonde, with kind blue eyes that reminded him of his mother’s. “I’m Doctor Vitarella. We’re gonna get this bullet outta you as fast as we can, alright?”

He mumbled something in reply, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Then an oxygen mask was placed over his face, and he found himself slipping into a dark and dreamless slumber. The first thing he noticed when he woke a few hours later was the cast.

As consciousness washed over him, he gazed down at it, stretching from his foot to the top of his thigh. Still groggy, he glanced around the room, and saw a nurse walking into the room with a clipboard in hand. She looked up and realized that he was awake.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Floyd,” she said with a smile. “I’ll go get the doctor. She’ll want to talk to you.”

She scurried away before he could say anything. About five minutes later, the woman he vaguely remembered as Doctor Vitarella walked into the room. “You, sir, gave me a run for my money in the operating room,” she said.

Bob looked at her confusedly, still not fully out of his anesthesia-induced haze.

“When the bullet entered your leg, it fractured your femur. I inserted a rod into your leg to provide solid support to the bone. But you should know that the second it came in contact with the bone, the bullet broke into a bunch of tiny little pieces. My team and I did the best that we could, but I must inform you that there are still leftover fragments in your leg. I could not get those out without causing more damage.”

As he mulled over her words, Bob only had one question. “Will I be able to use my leg again?”

“With proper physical therapy, yes. But you’ll likely live with lasting pain. I wish I had a better prognosis for you, but what matters is that we stopped the bleeding and set the bone.”

He nodded solemnly. There were still bullet fragments in his body. A constant reminder of what he had been through. He felt as if he hadn’t let it fully sink in yet. Everything had been such a blur. Being carried on a stretcher out of the safe house because he couldn’t walk. Being placed into a helicopter and then rushed into the hospital.

And now here he was, on his back in a hospital bed, his leg aching something fierce. No, not aching. Throbbing. As the fog began to clear from his brain, the pain set in, and he groaned softly. His head was pounding. His leg hurt enough to prompt him to clench his teeth. “Could I get some, uh, pain meds?” He asked.

“I’ll have the nurse bring you some.”

A while later, he had been given his medicine, but it just barely took the edge off the pain. There was no distraction from it. He didn’t want to watch whatever mindless show that was playing on the television. He didn’t have his phone to scroll through. He had nothing. The only thing that made it even slightly bearable was the thought of you.

He wondered how you were faring. He wondered if you even knew of his condition. Had anyone updated you? He imagined that you were demanding to know how he was.

And you were. You had informed Agent Simpson yourself that you wanted a report of Bob’s health. You had to know that he was okay. Thankfully, as soon as Beau knew something, he called you right away.

“He’s gonna be okay, kid,” he said, “bullet fractured his femur, and they put him in a cast. But he’s gonna be okay.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thanked Beau for the update, and hung up the phone. Seconds later, you burst into tears. Your Bobby was going to be okay.

But his worries were far from over.

He was given a couple days to rest, but on his third day in the hospital, Agent Simpson walked through the door of his hospital room, and he knew it had begun.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, making courteous small talk.

“Like hell,” Bob muttered in reply.

Beau nodded. “Sorry to hear that.” And then, he brandished a folder from a briefcase. “I hate to jump right into business, but…I have no other choice.” He pulled up a chair and sat at Bob’s bedside. “There are a few things I need to clear up.”

“Go ahead.”

“First and foremost, why did you not utilize the bunker beneath the house? The two of you were sitting ducks where you were.”

Bob stared at his superior. “I tried. But they were in the house before I could get her there. So I hid her under the bed.”

“And why were you not aware of the threat before then? Did you not do a thorough enough perimeter sweep?”

His tone was slightly accusatory. At least, Bob took it as such. His eyes narrowed. “No disrespect, sir, but what the hell kind of safe house was that? They never should have been able to breach it that easily.” He paused for a beat, awaiting an explanation.

“I think you might already know the answer to that, agent.”

“It wasn’t a safe house at all, was it?”

Beau sighed, shaking his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

Now Bob was angry. “Y’know, my gut told me that something wasn’t right, and I just brushed it off. But I should’ve listened. You used her as bait, didn’t you? And I went right along with it like a fool.”

“Floyd, this was a tricky situation we were dealing with here. We’ve been tracking this group for months. Our only chance at luring them out was to use her as a decoy. By doing that, we in turn saved her life.”

“How is that any better?! You can’t just use someone as live bait!”

“I didn’t like doing it either, in fact it was my absolute last resort. But it worked, didn’t it? President’s daughter is safe and sound. Terrorist group has been disbanded. We have the few remaining ones in custody. It’s over. The threat to her life and our government has been neutralized.”

“And what if it didn’t work? What if she’d been killed?”

“But she wasn’t. There’s no use thinking about the what ifs. What’s done is done.”

“Does she know she was used as bait?”

Simpson shook his head, his gaze hard. “No. And it’s going to stay that way.”

Several moments of silence passed. Bob processed what he’d just been told. This entire time, he had tried so hard to keep you safe. Tried so hard to keep the danger away. And yet, the danger had still found you, all because the very administration he worked for had led them right to you.

A sick feeling churned in his gut. He felt dirty. He hadn’t been protecting you at all. He’d been offering you up to the very men who were after you, and he didn’t even know it.

“What did the president think about his daughter being used to lure her potential killers in?” His tone was bitter. He couldn’t help it.

“He was in agreement that it was the most effective way of eliminating the threat.”

“So I was the only one who wasn’t clued in to this plan?”

The agent looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Yes, because just from my own personal assessments and observations of you as an agent, I knew you wouldn’t go along with it otherwise. And she needed to be kept entirely in the dark. It was better that way.”

Bob’s head was spinning. “So really I was just used as a pawn?”

“You have to understand that this was a matter of national security. And sometimes you have to play dirty for the sake of the greater good.” He firmly believed that this had been the most effective course of action.

“I…I’m gonna need a minute to sit with this,” Bob continued.

“You don’t have a minute, Bob. I’m going to need you to fill out a report about what happened. You do not say one word about what I just shared with you. Just report what you saw, how you reacted, and nothing more or less.”

“So you want me to lie.”

“Some things are meant to be confidential. This is one of those things. Just report what you witnessed, agent. I’ll handle the rest.” He placed the folder, marked CONFIDENTIAL, onto Bob’s lap. Then he clicked a pen and set it on top.

Bob stared at it. Could he really do this? His superior expected him to. The president expected him to. But his mind wandered to you, and the senseless trauma you had endured because of it. In his heart, he knew that if Agent Mitchell was still in charge, this situation would have been handled differently. He would have done everything in his power to ensure you were not used as bait.

But Pete Mitchell’s days in The White House were over. Bob had no choice but to follow the new leadership put in place. So he went along with what was being asked of him, even though it went against everything he stood for, everything he believed.

He penned a lie on that report. Described what had happened, as if he had no idea about the plot to use you to lure your attackers straight to you. He dotted every i and crossed every t. And when he was done, he shoved the file back into Beau Simpson’s hands.

“You got what you came for. Now get out.” Bob didn’t care that he was speaking disrespectfully to a superior. It didn’t matter anymore.

Simpson left without a word. And Bob was alone again.

That interaction changed everything for Bob. It made him question his very morals. Could he really allow himself to be part of an administration that purposely put the very members it was supposed to be protecting in harm’s way? This left him with much to consider. He had a decision to make.

He finalized that decision the day you came to visit him.

Escorted by Bradley, Jake, and Natasha, who all respectfully waited outside the room once they brought you to it, you came through the door, so eager to see the man you loved. You shut the door behind you, allowing you both some privacy.

As you took in his form, tears sprang to your eyes. His left leg was in a full cast. There was a bandage around his head from the injury he’d sustained from being hit in the head with a gun. But what mattered was that he was alive, and he was going to be okay.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered as you approached him, unable to keep the tears from sliding down your cheeks.

He mustered a smile. “Hey there, sweet girl.”

You leaned down, oh so carefully wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about. I’m okay.”

You pulled back, looking into his face before you lovingly stroked his cheek. He let his eyes flutter shut, relishing in your touch, so comforting and familiar. It distracted him from his pain and made him feel less alone.

“They told me the bullet fractured your femur?” You finally found your voice a few moments later. As you spoke, you took a seat on the edge of the bed. Bob’s hand lifted to rest in your lap, and you placed your own hands over top of it.

“Yeah. They put a pin in me. Got a bionic leg now,” he teased. But then, he grew serious. “When the bullet hit my bone, it broke into a bunch of little fragments. They took out most of them, but I’ve still got some floating around in there.”

You frowned, wiping at your tear dampened cheeks with the back of your hand. “How does that work? Will they ever be able to get them out?”

“The doc told me she couldn’t. Said it would cause more damage if she tried. So I’ll just have them inside me forever.”

Your heart broke for him. “I’m sorry they did this to you. All because you were trying to protect me.”

“Hey,” he interjected, hand moving to tip your chin up. “Don’t you ever think of blaming yourself. I’d do it again a million times over as long as it meant that you were safe. You’re what matters most to me in this world. I don’t want to live in one without you in it.”

“And I don’t want to live in one without you in it, either,” came your reply.

His fingers wiped away your tears. There was so much he longed to say. He wanted so badly to tell you the truth. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. What good would it do? It would only bring more grief upon your shoulders. He didn’t want to cause you anymore pain than you’d already been through.

But, with his next words, he ended up hurting you anyway.

“I need to tell you something.”

His tone gave you pause. He was serious. “What is it?” You cautiously asked.

“I…I’ve decided to step down from my job.”

You stared at him. “What?”

He sighed softly. “This injury’s going to have me out for months. And honestly, by the time it does heal, I just have this feeling that it won’t ever be the same again. I won’t be as effective at my job as I was before. So I’m making the decision to resign.”

But you were shaking your head, a fresh wave of tears filling your eyes. “Bobby, no. You can’t leave. I need you.”

“Sweetheart, my mind is made up.”

“Why? Because I know this isn’t just because of your leg. What happened? Did my dad threaten you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

He sighed, shaking his head. How could he word it in a way that wouldn’t expose what he’d just sworn to keep secret? “I…I was asked to do something that goes against everything I believe. And I just can’t remain with this administration while knowing I was asked to do it.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What—”

“That’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Then what? You’re just going to leave? What does that mean for us?”

“We’ll figure it out. I know we will.”

You paused for a moment, looking down at your intertwined hands. More tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t want you to leave,” you whimpered. “You’re the one I feel safest with. I-I know everyone else is just as capable of looking after me but I want you, Bobby.”

It broke his heart to do this to you. And it filled him with uncertainty, too. He wasn’t sure what this would mean for your relationship. But he knew he couldn’t keep going on in secret. And he couldn’t continue to serve an administration that could potentially put you in danger again in the name of national security.

“I don’t want to leave, either. But I have to.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. You should be allowed to make this decision without me causing a fuss about it. Do what you feel is best. I’ll support you no matter what.”

He lovingly stroked your cheek. “That means the world to me, honey. I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, after everything you went through. But I just wanted you to know before anyone else. I haven’t even told your dad or Agent Simpson yet.”

“Well, thank you for telling me. But I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself, not seeing you everyday. God, I’m going to miss you so much, Bobby.” Your voice wavered. You were barely holding it together.

“Hey, c’mere.” He pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest, over his heart. “We’re gonna be okay, you and me. We’ll figure it out. Somehow, some way.” He kissed the top of your head.

You hoped he was right.

After that initial visit to the hospital, you tried to visit him as often as possible. Your security team was more than happy to tag along each day, because they loved Bob, too. And you cherished those quiet moments in that hospital room, without the eyes of the world on you.

Outside of that hospital, you had to face the public. Had to deliver statements about what happened that night in the safe house. Had to assure the American people that you were just fine, that the brave United States Secret Service and Homeland Security agents did their jobs well. Because of them, an entire domestic terrorist organization had been quashed. In America’s eyes, it was a great victory.

But you couldn’t help but feel like a spectacle. The girl who’d survived a harrowing attack on her life. You were made to relive that night over and over and over again. And finally, in the end, you’d had enough. In the following weeks, you came to terms with a lot of personal things.

Namely, you came to terms with wanting to separate yourself from your family’s administration. You would never be able to erase the fact that you were the president’s daughter. And your life would never be normal. You would need a security detail for the rest of your life. But you were done living within the confines of The White House.

The only time you had ever been away from it was when you were at college. After graduation, you came back to work as part of your father’s administration. But for your own sanity, you knew you needed to step down and find your own path.

So you told your parents as much. You informed them that your mind was made up, that you were going to buy a home for yourself and live your life separate from them. You no longer wanted a foot in the door of politics. It was time to pursue your true passions.

And that was just what you did.

You bought a house deep in Wyoming, of all places. A nice plot of land, spacious enough for owning horses or cows, and for planting a nice sized garden. It was quiet and secluded and the perfect respite after spending the last six years in The White House.

In the time leading up to your move, Bob was in the throes of physical therapy. His leg was healing well, and he was working hard to regain his strength. During those months, the two of you decided that it would be best to distance yourselves from one another, only because you did not want to raise suspicions about your relationship. You attending each one of his physical therapy sessions came across as suspicious, in your mind.

So you allowed him to focus on getting better, while you focused on starting your new life. You missed him so deeply, but your separation was only temporary. You planned to meet again, as soon as he was ready to travel, and you were situated in your new home. You also wanted the media attention on your safe house to die down.

Eventually, it did, and the world moved on to something else to panic about.

But you? You tuned it all out. You stayed out of the news, you stayed out of politics, and you tried to bring some sense of calm normalcy to your life. You no longer needed a full security detail. It was with a heavy heart that you bid farewell to a few of them, leaving only Natasha, Mickey, and Bradley as your remaining security. They helped ensure that your home was always safe, and that you were protected.

But there was still one part of your life that remained incomplete. A void that could only be filled by your Bobby.

And finally, after several months, the day came that you would be reunited. He was strong enough to travel again. He had officially resigned from his job in The White House. He returned to civilian life, and packed up the minimal amount of belongings he had, placing them in the trunk and backseat of his car.

He drove over fifteen hours just to get to you. And it was worth it to him. After not seeing you for months, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and never let go. So he drove. And he drove. And he drove. Until finally, he was standing at your front door, his hands trembling as Natasha let him in, and informed him that you were out back, in the stable.

So he ran. Ignoring the residual ache in his bad leg, he dashed behind the house, where the stable was, and he kept going into he was standing in the wide doorway. His feet skidded against concrete and hay, and his eyes searched. There you were. Dressed in jeans, riding boots, and a t-shirt. One he recognized as an old shirt of his, which you had snagged from him in the early days of your secret relationship.

You heard him approaching. Heard his feet skid to a halt at the doorway. And your heart quickened in your chest. You turned in what felt like slow motion, your gaze falling upon the man you loved, standing at the entrance of your stable, breathless.

“Bobby,” you whispered.

You weren’t sure who moved first. But in an instant, you were both running toward each other. You met halfway, arms coming out to catch the other, to embrace the other. “You’re here! You’re really here!” Came your cry.

“I’m here.” And then he was kissing you. Arms secure around your body, lips soft and familiar. He kissed you and kissed you and kissed you. And you kissed back. Not even your mingled tears caused you to part. You didn’t want to. It was as if you were afraid this would all be a dream if you pulled away.

When you did part, he was smiling. That sweet smile that made his eyes disappear behind his cheeks. That sweet smile that made your heart sing. “Oh, I missed you!” you sobbed.

“I missed you too, honey. So, so much.”

You embraced again. He spun you around in a circle, and you giggled musically, overjoyed. He was finally here, with you, where he belonged. After months of waiting, months of agony, months of uncertainty, he was in your arms. No longer as the head of your security detail, but as the man you loved.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” came your soft confession.

“Believe it. This couldn’t be more real,” he assured you.

You held his face in your hands. “Oh, my sweet, beautiful man. I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”

“Good, because I’m here to stay.”

You shared several more moments in that stable, holding each other, still in disbelief that it was finally over. The years of secrecy, the sneaking around behind the scenes. You didn’t have to hide anymore. You were allowed to love each other freely and openly.

Together, you walked back to your house that night, arms around each other, swaying as you walked, happy and content and relieved. You enjoyed a wonderful dinner, just the two of you, as the three remaining members of your security team had excused themselves to their own quarters to allow you privacy.

A lot had changed in the time that you’d been apart. You told Bob all you’d been doing, and he informed you what stepping down from his job, and enduring all that physical therapy, had been like.

He was no longer part of the secret service, and he never would be again. The fear of being found out and losing his position was no longer on the table. There were no superiors to appease. No presidents to serve. He was free to be his own man. To live his life. To love who he wanted.

To love you.

Things were not automatically perfect now that he was with you. But they were better. You would have to figure out some things. And eventually, you would have to tell your family that you were in a relationship with him. But for now, you could live in peace, if only for a brief moment in time. You were safe, on your little farm in Wyoming, with the man you loved. It was your own little slice of heaven.

And after all the difficulty you had endured, you were more than content with that. You could figure everything else out later. For now, you would live in that domestic bliss for just a little while longer. You’d earned it, after all.

Finally, it was your turn to live your life the way you wanted to, and not the way others dictated you should.

taglist (a mix of those already on the list/who might be interested):

@bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @delopsia @milesmillergf @ohtobeleah @purelyfiction @honeymurdock @ihavealewproblem @high-speed-r @happyrebelruins @chasing-fics @roostersgirlfrxend @bradshawsbaby @whisperofsong @hangmanapologist @callsign-magnolia @callsignmedusa @withahappyrefrain @up-thereinthesky @peachystenbrough @damrlova @lovinglyeternal @laracrofted @bobfloydsbabe @nobody7102 @agentorange9595

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd

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liennka · 1 year ago

Text

Mizumono

Hannibal Lecter x Will's daughter X Will Graham

Summary: Will was supposed to help Jack with killing Hannibal, but he arrived too late and with him, his daughter, Y/n.... (s2e13)

-> This one is filled with angst, but i realised that's just what i am good at :) I am open to any criticism (be nice pls).

I just wanted to say that I am not the owner of this show, but I did make this story, so don't copy it without my knowledge, thank you.

When Alana called about the warrant, Will didn't panic. He told Y/n to go downstairs, urging her to turn off the lights and grab a jacket. And as the police headlights came through the windows, they ducked and crawled on all fours to the back door, Will grabbing his gun. Outside, hidden in the darkness, they ran across their property, stopping on a road. The rain soaked their clothes, though at least the ground wasn't muddy, otherwise they'd be easy to track. A taxi pulled up and Will gave him an address.

"Hannibal Lecter's house? Why are we going from one danger to another?" Y/n asked, much rather preferring a McDonald's or a cinema.

"Because Jack will be there, and right now nowhere is safe," her father whispered, looking out the window, "and maybe it's the only address I know."

"That's probably it. What are we going to do then? Have a cup of tea with him and chat with Hannibal?" she sarcastically teased.

"I gave him time to leave, nothing should happen".

Y/N wasn't so sure.

----●----●----●----

When they got off, her father couldn't have been more wrong. Alana laid there, glass broken, rain rinsing blood from her hair. She seemed dead, just the twitching from shock making her shoulders move up and down.

"Alana!" Will rushed to her and wrapped her in his coat.

Y/n made note of her surroundings. The front door opened, all sorts of wet footsteps on the carpet, the second floor window busted. And a bloody burgundy dahlia looking at her from a pot near the entrance.

"Betrayal," she hummed, crouching down beside Alana.

Will looked at her as if she was crazy. He had just called the ambulance and left Alana his phone.

"The flowers," Y/n pointed out, "I guess he's inside.”

"Jack's there too," Alana choked out.

Y/N was surprised, she thought Alana's rib cage was too damaged to speak, but Alana proved her wrong. Will nodded and stood up, his gun in both hands. Y/n stayed a little longer, not caring that her hair was now sticking to her ears and causing her to feel cold.

----●----●----●----

As she opened the door to the kitchen, the smell of blood hit her. There were knives, plates and glass everywhere, two pairs of shoes standing in the midst of it all. As she looked up, Hannibal's silhouette greeted her.

"You were supposed to leave!" Will was standing in front of him.

"I couldn't leave without you two," Hannibal said affectionately.

Y/n did not know who 'you two' meant, but had a hunch that it included her. Strangely, Hannibal didn't even spare her a look, placing his palm on Will's cheek as if to caress it. They both had such an intense gaze, the sexual tension almost making Y/n turn around to give them some privacy. The scenery looked like a theater piece, a tragedy at that. They dove into their world, where she didn't exist and where they spoke in a different language, or maybe she just lost her hearing from how loud her heart was beating. Either way, Y/n wanted to separate them, to drag her dad back to their house, back to their dogs.

She did not see the knife coming from her point of view. Her father simply yelped and took a step forward, crashing into Hannibal's arms. This wasn't real, no. Hannibal would never hurt Will, he was like the other half of his soul, she lied to herself. But there was a red stain on his shirt and when Hannibal embraced him, the weapon remained in his hand, as if to mock them. Y/n stood motionless, no sound could break through her frozen vocal chords. She never thought this would happen, her chest tightening and her eyes filling with tears of pure terror.

The impact of Will's body aligned with her first fallen tear. His body fell directly into a pool of Jack's blood, his pants soaking it up. A few droplets of their mixed blood landed on her shoe, ruining her white trainers. Y/n swallowed nauseously, not daring to look into her fathers eyes.

Hannibal leaned forward, his crescent-shaped blade back on the counter.

"I have let you know me, see me," Hannibal paused as Will struggled to breathe, "I gave you a rare gift, but you didn't want it.”

"Didn't I?" Will insisted heartbroken, his eyebrows knitted tightly together. He seemed distressed, but more than anything, he was furious.

Y/n shut herself off, not wanting to remember her father so frail, choosing to merely listen. And when she heard Hannibal mention the shattered teacup again, something in her snapped. She opened her pocket knife behind her back, using it for the first time since she bought it after the encounter with Tobias. Her fight-or-flight instinct flipped a coin and settled on fight. In a blink of an eye, she was standing behind Hannibal, her knife placed just under his jaw.

Y/n had no idea what she was doing. Her mind told her to end it, to be free at last. But her heart knew that was not possible, not in this life. She couldn't stop shaking, so she applied more force, making him bleed a little. Will sucked in his breath, not quite understanding what was going on as this was out of character for her.

"We are not a shattered teacup. You can't glue us back together and pretend like nothing happened," Y/n croaked in his ear, her voice high-pitched.

The blade suddenly twitched as a chuckle erupted from Hannibal’s chest.

"No, you certainly are not just a piece of pottery, but you are indeed fragile."

“You should have left when Will told you to. Instead you slaughtered them all, rightfully or not, whether you believe in God or not. There is no excuse for that,” Y/n hissed, her disappointment in him turning her words bitter.

"I should have seen it coming…you made us so blind," her disappointment in herself turning her words sour.

Alana's happy face when she gave her a handmade sweater, or Jack and Bella's Christmas party, it was all over. Her bright future turned dim.

"I just wanted us to be a family. Why," she sobbed, a big droplet falling on the floor, "why can't I have a genuine family for once?"

----●----●----●----

Taking advantage of her state of mind, Hannibal grabbed her hand, pulling the knife away from his throat and spinning her around. He took her face in his palms, making her look at him. Y/n had teardrops on her chin, red spots on her irritated skin, her lips chapped and her eyelashes littered with fresh tears. He wiped them away so she had a clear view of him. However, he was no better, his normally perfectly sleek bangs were now messy, blood on his collar and some drying under his nose. He was bruised and in pain, yet he still looked like the most charismatic man she had ever seen. A charismatic man that attempted to erase her father's existence.

"You don't get to start over after what you've just done, that's not fair!” she tried to wriggle out of his grip, “You hurt Will and you broke my trust. What do you expect us to do?"

"Nothing, such is life. Don't fight it, let it all go."

Y/n raised her eyebrows in disbelief, a single tear running down her cheek. By now she could care less about having a weapon on her side, she felt she had already lost.

"'And what if I don't want to let it go, to forget or forgive?"

"Then you lose yourself," Hannibal directed his gaze back to Will, "I forgive Will. Will he forgive me?"

"'Don't. No, no, no!" Will uttered for the first time after his collapse.

It broke his heart, but there was nothing to be done, his design was meant to be finished and everything had to go according to plan. He pried her knife from her slack hold, unbeknown to her.

"What are you tal-" Y/n's question couldn't be finished as she was silenced.

Her own knife, now in Hannibal's possession, was plunged blade deep into her side, almost identically to her father's. She yelped as she felt her muscles being torn apart, the stinging as Hannibal yanked it out causing her to choke. Her eyes opened wide as if trying to comprehend what was happening. The searing pain in her torso sent her to the ground, but it was the pain in her heart that made her burst out crying again, only this time it would not stop. Hannibal slowly lowered her down beside Will, splattering the tiles with her blood and tears like the rain would.

She shook, struggling to catch her breath. With one hand she pressed against her wound, with the other she found her father's hand and weakly squeezed it. She felt his cold fingers, the energy draining from his body.

"Dad," Y/n muffled her cries.

Will wanted to help her, to hold her and console her, but he'd been bleeding for so long he couldn't even open his mouth. He had no choice but to watch with half-closed eyes as the entire room bathed in red.

"You can make it all go away. Put your head back, close your eyes," Hannibal reached for Will's shoulder and met his eyes. "Wade into the quiet of the stream".

Y/n blinked at Hannibal for a second, but instead of a man, she saw a red horned monster with black dahlias sprouting from its eye sockets. So this was his true self, she realised.

“We were never meant to work, were we?” she clutched at Hannibal's trousers with her bloodied fingers.

There was a silence for a while, Will's labored breathing slowing and her own sniffles fading to silent tears. Hannibal knelt down and ruffled her wet hair.

And as her father closed his eyes, Hannibal asked her: "Will you forgive me?"

Y/n wanted to say no. She wanted to send him into the pond of burgundy ink as well, but her own mind said otherwise.

"'Maybe, if you promise to make us work."

He smiled and stood up, not looking at her again. As his footsteps faded away, Y/n's warm blood grew chilly and her eyes heavy. With her last strength she kissed her father's knuckles, her last tears streaming down her face.

----●----●----●----

She shed tears for how pitiful her ending was. And as her vision got blurrier, she bid farewell to her life.

#child reader #hannibal nbc #original character #hannibal lecter #teen reader #will graham #angst #hurt/no comfort #tw blo0d #tw blade #female reader #x reader #platonic #hannigram #hannibal x reader #will graham x reader #will graham x hannibal lecter #hannibal

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bysaber · 11 months ago

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Singing in a choral ft. Suguru Geto

Day 08 of 31 Days of Ficmas!

summary — In a world filled with curses and tragedies, Suguru Geto hears the most beautiful voice of his damned life when he least expected to.

word count — 629

content — angst, guilt, no comfort, i’m sorry

notes — ok, i think geto’s guilt pos-hidden inventory arc was never explored and it’s NOT POSSIBLE he didn’t feel guilt, man. he killed his PARENTS and it’s NOT ADDRESSED FURTHER OMG. anyway so that’s my own character’s psychology interpretation!

Suguru Geto didn’t like to walk among humans.

Not only because they disgusted him, but because it would remind him of the times they didn’t.

And that… that was the worst part.

Blending in, seeing all the people he would eventually murder – even though they weren’t monsters.

But he’d rather know, he’d rather know whose life he was taking.

Humans, humans.

Monkeys.

He had a purpose, he’d do everything to achieve it.

He killed his own parents, he gave up on everything to try to save the life of his fellow Jujutsu Sorcerers. His friends, his family.

Even though it was an impossible dream, he tried. He was trying. Day after day after day.

He shouldn’t let guilt take place in his heart.

And yet…

He walked in those streets, hearing conversations and laughter coming from humans that weren’t so bad, after all. He walked and saw that not only hate existed, but happiness and love.

He was a hypocrite. But what could he do? He had to make a choice, and he did.

But nobody seemed to understand how hard of a choice it was.

Suguru Geto was about to leave, sorrow having filled him completely when he heard something that made him suddenly stop.

“May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be bright…”

A voice.

So beautiful and melodic that he felt the need to turn his head to catch a glimpse of its owner.

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know…”

You’re dressed in white, so different from his all-black outfit, and the words you sang were like a punch in his gut.

He suddenly remembered it was December 23rd, and that he would never have Christmases like the ones he used to know from when he was a teenager.

In the middle of the crowd, he succumbed to his guilt.

He felt the tears falling and all the things he would never be able to say stuck in his throat, and still, he still hated all those monkeys for making him go through that.

While hating himself for thinking that while admiring you – it was so paradoxical.

The rest of the coral disappeared behind you, the main voice, and he watched as you sang – and wished for a white Christmas.

His would be red.

When the choral ended and the crowd dissipated, Suguru stood there. He was aware he looked like a lunatic, but still…

“Hey, are you ok?”

It almost scared him.

He looked up to see you, looking at him with a concerned expression, “Sorry… I noticed you seemed upset about something while we were singing. I just wanted to check,” you opened a soft smile and it pained him more.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. The song just made me emotional,” Geto smiled back – the smile he had mastered.

“Oh, ok. Good to know,” still didn’t seem like you believed him. “In any case, I just want to wish you a good night. And a good life. You seem like you deserve it.”

Suguru just looked at you. He couldn’t say anything – even if he tried.

What could he say? Thank you?

“Well… good night, then. Maybe we will also see each other tomorrow!”, you said at last, waving goodbye while distancing yourself.

“Hey!”

He yelled before he could even think about it. You looked back at him, confused.

“Don’t come here tomorrow. Stay out of Shinjuku and Kyoto,” Suguru Geto asked you. “Please.”

You couldn’t muster the reason why, but you just nodded to him before parting ways.

He watched as you left knowing that was the last good thing he would ever do.

Because the next day, December 24th, 2017, was the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

#s23ficmas #wbysaber #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto #geto suguru #geto #x reader #fanfic #angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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tatterings · 1 year ago

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Lamentable is the Autumn Picker Content with Plums - Chapter 7 - "A Tangle of Weeds"

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin

Rating: PG-13

Tags/warnings: Spoilers for early act II, mentions of PTSD/trauma, battle, violence, angst.

Word count: 7.3k

Note: This is the seventh chapter of my first ever fanfiction!

Sorry it took so long to get this chapter made, y'all! I had 5,000 words trying to summarize all of the events in Act II and hated it.

So I had to start over. And here we are, at 7,300 words just for this chapter, lol. Big big thanks to @solmesia for taking the time to read through multiple drafts and do a beta read, and also go back-and-forth with me bouncing ideas. <3

I’ve also posted this on AO3. Fic under the cut!

The shadow-cursed lands truly were a horror to behold; Astarion ranked them with other disturbing sights, such the mindflayer nautiloid, brothels set alight, or even worse, - Wyll insisting they’d help a random stranger with no payment upfront. The other sight that had turned Astarion’s already-cool blood into ice was how quickly Halsin’s mood had shifted as soon as the shadows had thickened around them. As they descended from the hills of the Mountain Pass and into the thick of the shadow-cursed lands, the druid’s jovial smile had faded, his lips taut with focus.

“The shadow curse is just as foul as I remember it,” Halsin had said his voice almost a growl, “And… perhaps even worse.” With height to his advantage, he lifted his torch high above his head; but it hardly shed light beyond ten meters. Once the torchlight faded, their surroundings were as black as pitch poured into the air. Even Shadowheart, devotee of Shar, was unnerved by the desolation.

The walkways were cracked, uneven; the land torn apart by the sheer force of the curse’s spread a century ago. Halsin, usually more than happy to strike up a conversation, seemed lost in his thoughts unless directly addressed.

“So.. this shadow curse is Shar’s doing?” Gale had asked as they walked, keeping their ranks filed tightly. “I knew it was some sort of magic, but different from the Weave of Mystra.”

“Yes, despite the many lives lost trying to stop Ketheric Thorm’s evil from spreading across the land,” Halsin said, his tone serious as he scanned the edge of their visible range for threats. “Ketheric had abandoned Selune after personal tragedies and massed a Sharran army in his grief. Of course, loss is a part of the natural cycle; it should not be interrupted.”

Astarion glanced back at Shadowheart as Halsin spoke; her nose crinkled in a sneer. The vampire rolled his red eyes and walked closer to Karlach, who emitted a decent bit of light by her infernal engine.

“So that’s where the druids came in?” asked Wyll, who kept Scratch on a tight lead. It would not do to let the dog’s skillful nose lead him into the shadows.

“Correct, Wyll; we druids of the Emerald Grove, as well as the Harpers could not let this darkness spread. So, we joined forces to stop his army,” Halsin continued. His strides were long and purposeful. Everyone besides Karlach had to walk at double-speed to keep up. “We were successful in defeating Ketheric and his forces. We interred his body into the Thorm family mausoleum.”

“If you defeated him, then how did the shadow curse come to be?” asked Lae’zel. “It seems your blade must not have struck deep enough, if Ketheric still released the curse.”

“You may be right,” Halsin said. He released a deep sigh that made his large shoulders sag. “Shar is a spiteful goddess; with his last breath, she gave him the power to release the shadow curse. It washed over the land like a flash flood. Anything, and anyone, touched by the darkness warped was into the corrupted beings and places around us.”

Karlach’s body sizzled with rage. “And that bastard’s damage has been here for over a century now, yeah?” she asked. Halsin nodded at her question. “High time you had some help to get some sunshine out here, soldier!” Karlach beamed at the druid, who smiled weakly back at her.

“Unfortunately, that’s not the worst of it,” Halsin said. He lifted his torch closer to a gnarled tree branch above the pathway. As he patted it with his large hand, it seemed to crumble into dust. “The very spirit of this land seems to have disappeared. Thaniel, as I know him… or knew him… for him to have no presence here is grave news.”

The group had been silent in response; the adventurers knew nothing of this Thaniel or nature spirit. Astarion, whose idea of ‘communing with nature’ meant enjoying wine on a veranda, had no words of solace to offer Halsin. Even the vampire, who had no interest in finding out which chirps belonged to which bird, had been unnerved by the complete lack thereof. No birdsong had rung from the twisted treetops. There had been no rustle of squirrels amongst fallen leaves.

Halsin’s additional news dropped a heavier burden on the shoulders of the adventurers. They marched in silence, with the only noise being the jangling of their own packs, the crunch of their footsteps on gravel, the crackle of their lit torches, and the occasional agonized screech of a shade. Their grunts of effort joined the symphony as they climbed a steep hill. Having the high ground was beneficial in any location, but even more so in such a foreboding wilderness. It would serve as a decent enough place to make camp for the evening.

“So you think we might find answers to the tadpole problem at Moonrise Towers, Halsin?” Gale asked, receiving a nod from Halsin. “And you think Thaniel might be there as well? What awaits us there?

Halsin jammed his staff into the coal-colored soil, using it as a post to which he could tie his torch. “I…do not rightly know, if I am honest Gale,” Halsin explained with a shrug, “But.. I think it is as good a place as any to get a start.”

****

Halsin bedded down at the front of the campsite; he wouldn’t run from the curse this time. The opening of his tent faced away from the campfire; he wanted to easily launch from his bedroll at a shadow-cursed creature.

But given how they’d lit up their campsite with cantrips, torches, and lanterns, it was doubtful that one of the twisted beings would try to slip into the light. He sat at the entrance to his tent, his knees pulled to his broad chest, and his arms wrapped around his shins. The druid stared into the distance; but even with elven eyesight, he could not see much beyond the camp’s lit circle. Occasionally the shadows would flare in the distance, blue green magic flickering like the hottest part of the flame.

The shadow curse flickered with power whenever it absorbed the life force of a creature; he recalled seeing the same visual as the curse rolled from Moonrise Towers a century ago, lapping up his friends and allies in bright turquoise flashes.

Something rustled around the edge of the tent, and a shadowy form appeared in Halsin’s peripheral vision. He slammed his hands on the ground in front of him, eyes flashing golden light as he prepared to wildshape on all fours.

“Halsin! It’s just me,” said Astarion, holding two wine glasses in one hand, and a wine bottle in the other. “I’d say I’d enjoy being ravaged, but, well, we’ve had that discussion. And I certainly would not want to be ravaged by those claws.” The vampire wiggled the wine bottle at Halsin’s hands, fingertips glowing with magic.

Halsin released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It was a relief and a joy to have Astarion’s company. “I’m sorry, Astarion,” he said, sitting back on his heels. His brows knit upward and a meek smile pulled at his lips. “I’m…on edge in this place.”

Astarion joined the druid, folding his legs underneath him and sliding to a cross-legged position with catlike grace. “Aren’t we all,” the pale elf said, with a lilt and a small giggle. “So I felt it prudent to raid the stocks. Better than tiefling vinegar wine, I hope?” The vampire poured a conservative serving of wine in one glass, before looking up at Halsin through his long eyelashes. “It’s so quiet here.. I know you said you don’t imbibe because you turn into even more of an oaf, but we could use some singing honestly. Regardless of how bad it is.” The vampire’s smile was gentle. Genuine.

Halsin held a hand over the glass meant for him. “I appreciate the thought, Astarion, truly, but I will have to decline,” the druid could see the disappointment in the vampire’s face, his ruby eyes rounding with concern. “But I would love your company while you enjoy it. Please, go ahead.”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head back. Halsin felt scrutinized.

“It is nothing to do with you, I assure you. I was not being fully truthful with you at the tiefling party,” Halsin explained. He picked up the empty glass with his large hands and twirled the stem in his fingers. A nervous habit. “I do not partake now, because I did so too often, in the past. Specifically, after I lost Thaniel to the shadow curse. Honey mead was my drink of choice.” Halsin looked to Astarion and winked. “As suits a bear. But as for an elf, it left a sickness in me. Once I realized the damage I caused because of its misuse…I decided it was best to forgo it completely.”

Astarion’s expression softened as he nodded, his ivory curls bobbing about his ears. “I see…Well, more for me then,” the pale elf replied, swirling the wine in his glass. He held it to his nose to inhale the aroma, closing his large eyes. “So. This Thaniel. Was he a lover of yours, druid?”

Halsin caught himself from falling backwards out of surprise. “Oh no, quite the opposite,” he said. He shook his head furiously, as if to shake the disturbing thought away. “At my current age, he is like a son, to me. But I have known him since I was a young cub.”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed again, and his bottom lip protruded in a beautiful pink pout. “Like a son? Halsin, if you’ve known him since you were a child, he must be hundreds of years old now. What in the hells do you mean?” He took a sip from his wine, licking his top lip. Halsin caught sight of a sharp fang tip.

The druid studied his hands in thought, before meeting Astarion’s gaze. “Well, I believe Thaniel may be many hundreds, or even thousands, of years older than myself,” he said, with a shrug of his well-muscled shoulders. He noticed Astarion’s eyes darting to them and back to his face with unnatural quickness. “Thaniel is the embodiment of this land. The.. formerly untainted purity of nature is manifest in Thaniel himself. So, as best I can tell, that is why he takes the physical form of a child.”

Astarion studied Halsin’s face over the rim of the wineglass as he took another sip. He pulled the glass away and held it daintily, a slender pinky raised in the air. “A rather apt explanation. As good as any, I suppose. Although nature is hardly innocent,” the pale elf said.

Halsin chuckled and placed a large hand on Astarion’s back. He delighted in the coolness of the vampire’s skin, even through his flowy cream tunic, which was a welcome relief from his intense body heat. “Ah, Astarion, and you say you’re not in tune with nature,” Halsin chuckled again, “While there’s no intention behind her actions, Nature has her own form of fury. You know, storms, earthquakes, and lightning. Think of a child being refused a sweet - their anger manifests in much the same way.”

The vampire nodded, his lips turned downward in thought. Halsin continued. "In earnest, his physical form matters not. But, when I was younger, it was a welcome sight to a loner whose closest friends were animals," Halsin said with another shrug. He leaned back on his hands, his gaze directed at the shadows. "He was... is... my best friend."

Astarion took another sip of wine, swishing it along his palate. “You were bound to be a druid from the start, it seems. But how do you mean, you were a loner? That’s quite a transition to go from that, to being an Arch Druid,” he said, flashing a pointy-toothed grin at Halsin.

The druid shifted the weight of his torso from one hand to the other. He felt especially restless this evening. He took a deep inhale and exhaled slowly.

"I would say that I still prefer solitude, or the company of a select few," Halsin said, smiling with his eyes as he glanced at Astarion; creating a genuine smile had become more challenging. "So when I met Thaniel, it overjoyed me to have a companion with whom I could roam the wilds. We spent many spring days playing in cool creeks and many winter evenings sharing ghost stories around a campfire."

Halsin blinked quickly, willing away the moisture at the corners of his eyes. "But as the seasons passed, and as I grew older and wiser, I realized that Thaniel was not just a boy; he was the spirit of the land. He remained the same while I grew older, and I realized he required protection."

The wine bottle gurgled as Astarion poured himself a small serving into his glass. "And now your path to becoming an Arch Druid becomes clear," he said, raising the glass in a lighthearted toast. Halsin raised the empty glass to meet Astarion’s with a ting.

"You are correct. Thaniel. He… shaped me into the person I am today. And one hundred years ago in this very place..." Halsin's words broke off. He chewed on his bottom lip before he spoke again. "It is my greatest failure, not being able to save him from this curse. One that I cannot abide."

Astarion sat beside the druid, swirling his glass from time to time before taking a sip. After a few minutes, it was empty again. The men sat in silence, facing the broken valley below. Again, the quiet was unnerving, interrupted only by Gale's snoring and the occasional shriek from the shadows. Halsin dug his fingers into the dirt, eager to hear something else, anything.

Then, a gurgle erupted from Astarion's slender stomach. Color rushed to the pale elf’s cheeks, and the tips of his pointed ears turned red. His eyes widened, and his eyebrows raised as he met Halsin’s stare.

The druid couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “Astarion, you could have just said you were hungry,” Halsin said, tilting his head to the side. He then nodded toward the inside of his tent, his braids falling around his ears. The large druid did not bother to stand, but crawled the few feet to lie on his bedroll.

The vampire stared after him, with round eyes and an uncertain expression. “I - well. If you insist. Next time I will,” Astarion said, setting his wineglass aside. He stood slowly, bent over, before ducking inside the tent to kneel beside Halsin’s neck.

Halsin rolled his head to the side.

“Go ahead, Astarion, I am ready,” said the druid with a nod of his chin. He stared at the wall, his jaw set to prepare for the sharp pain. He was glad to offer this to Astarion, who would otherwise surely starve in this cursed land. I wonder how Thaniel fares wherever he is. Is he hungry? Is he safe? Is he… alive? Halsin’s mind drifted out of the tent flap, and into the darkened lands outside.

Astarion’s hands seemed to float in the air above the druid’s body, as though he were a marionette held up by strings. “I- yes. Thank you,” the vampire stammered, before lowering his mouth to Halsin’s neck.

Halsin started at the sensation of cool wetness on his jugular. He forced a smile for Astarion, just in case he looked over, before the druid allowed his thoughts to wander again.

The shadow curse brought an icy coldness, so frigid that temperature ceased to be felt; not unlike the cold-turned-to-numbness that occurred when being bitten by a vampire.

Astarion raised his mouth and bit into Halsin’s neck. The ice now coursed through Halsin’s veins, and he squinted his eyes at the sensation. He felt the numbness radiate from Astarion’s bite and the coolness of the pale elf’s tongue on Halsin’s warm skin. It made the druid shiver, a feeling he hadn't experienced since he first allowed Astarion to feed. He realized the shiver was partly from longing; but of a different form. Halsin longed for the desire he had for Astarion during their past feedings. In this moment, he could feel nothing except a sense of loss.

Astarion cleared his throat and dabbed at the corner of his mouth with his pinky finger. “Er, thank you Halsin. I… appreciate your kindness,” the pale elf said.

Halsin felt the vampire’s cool gaze sweeping across his features. “Of course, Astarion,” he said, giving the smaller elf’s hand a squeeze.

The vampire didn't return the squeeze; he allowed Halsin to hold his hand as his pale head tilted. Halsin met his gaze with another forced smile. His eyelids felt as heavy as his heart in this place. Astarion nodded, his lips pressed together, and lowered his gaze to the ground as he left Halsin’s tent.

Halsin rolled in his bedroll the rest of the night, with his only tent-mate being raw, angry restlessness. It lolled tauntingly about his rumpled bedroll, heavy with desire and the faint aroma of rosemary and bergamot.

*****

The adventurers began their journey in the morning, once again at a loss for the actual time of day amidst the curse's darkness. The disrupted sleep patterns wrecked their energy levels, compounded by the general malaise of walking in such an eerie landscape and the shades lurking beyond the reach of their lights. It left each adventurer frustrated and eager to reach Moonrise Towers, in hopes of finding some answers.

Just a few hours into their tedious hike, commands echoed through the twisted and broken landscape, reaching Astarion and his companions. It sent everyone's heart, except for Astarion's, into a jolting pace. The shouts had been in Common, from humanoids untainted by the curse—a glimmer of hope.

Several in the party nearly dropped their torches in their rush to find the fray, even though seeing just down the pathway was as challenging as peering around a 90-degree corner. After running for several minutes, they stumbled upon the battle.

Astarion had never witnessed such a peculiar gathering of fighters; however, he had read about them. A magnificent and terrifying beast called a drider—a twisted drow-spider hybrid—swung a longsword at the group of humanoids. In his other hand was an intensely bright lantern, which jingled with every swing of his blade. Around his eight legs darted a hyena and several goblins, hollering chants that included the word "Absolute."

“Cultists!” Halsin said, his eye color shifting from honey hazel to molten gold. They glowed with bloodlust, shaking Astarion's nerves when he gazed into them for too long. “Karlach, Lae’zel, with me,” Halsin ordered in a half-growl as his massive back curved upward. “Wyll, Gale, control the bugbear with whatever you have. Shadowheart, I require your shield.” Halsin fell forward, his hands meeting the dirt with such force that dust flew up into the party’s faces. “Astarion, let loose upon them.” In a blaze of gold, Halsin transformed into an enormous cave bear, twice the size of the already sizable wood elf.

Astarion climbed to high ground on a rock outcropping above the slanted pathway, nocking an arrow in his short-bow. What is he planning? Thought the vampire, his lip curled upward. He’s seen us fight; he knows we excel in stealth. What is he doing? Astarion didn't need to breathe, but he did so to maintain a sense of normalcy. In battle, he held his breath to ensure his arrow would find its mark. The pale elf took aim.

Along a ridge opposite him, Shadowheart and Gale climbed, preparing to cast spells. Lae’zel and Karlach each downed an elixir of strength and turned towards the battle. The gigantic cave bear, charging headlong at the half-dozen cultists, nearly knocked them off their feet. Shadowheart dropped her arms in frustration; Halsin was out of range of her spell.

With a tremendous roar, Halsin collided with the drider, knocking it from its spindly legs. The arachnoid creature screeched in anger, and slammed his lantern into the muzzle of the bear, as well as the head of one of its goblin allies. A flurry of arrows erupted from the group of humanoids standing on the roof of a dilapidated building. Astarion loosed his arrow, laced with paralytic poison, and watched as it struck the drider’s sturdy carapace but failed to penetrate.

“Hells below,” the vampire cursed, leaving his elevated position to employ his daggers instead. He stalked the periphery, minding to stay within the safety of light, but kept enough distance from the swinging swords. Does Halsin think he’s the leader since we’re in these lands? Bullheaded oaf! Astarion seethed, sneaking behind a goblin and slitting its throat. He let it fall to the ground with a thud, not even bothering to check its pockets. He maintained visual contact with Halsin, who had galloped off to take another charge at the drider.

The spellcasters climbed from their high ground to be within range, nodding at their new allies as they joined them in the crumbling building. More arrows loosed from their allies’ bows, felling nearly all foes. Lae’zel and Karlach met the goblin and bugbear with their blades, dispatching them quickly.

The cave bear charged the drider, only to crumple at its legs as the drider’s blade fell between the druid’s shoulder blades. Halsin’s agonized roar, as well as the drider’s maniacal cackle, echoed between the cliff sides.

Astarion surged behind the drider, his anguished scream erupting as he leaped onto the drider's thorax and drove both daggers deep into its back. One dagger slid between the ribs, piercing a lung, while the other struck either the spleen or intestine,. He pulled it to the side to open the wound further. That godsdamned reckless fool.

“Halsin, get up godsdamn you!” Astarion shouted, jumping to the ground as the drider fell. He kneeled beside the Arch Druid, who had reverted to his large elven form. The wound between Halsin's shoulder blades oozed acrid pus—poison. The large elf groaned and shifted slightly; he still had life in him.

Astarion's hands shook as he rummaged through his belt for a healing potion, antidote, or anything. He could hear the clang of Shadowheart's armor as she rushed to their aid. He found a basic healing potion, which hardly healed a burn, let alone a festering wound. The vampire tried to roll the large elf to his side, groaning with the effort of Halsin’s weight and his own trembling fingers. He opened the druid’s mouth and carefully dripped the potion onto his tongue.

The vampire's vision blurred, his focus solely on ensuring Halsin's kept breathing. Astarion only noticed Shadowheart's arrival when he saw a greenish glow enveloping the druid. It was Cure Wounds, a spell he recognized from its frequent use on Lae’zel. Shadowheart cast lesser restoration, and the green pus between the druid's shoulders seemed to dry up as his wound knitted closed.

“Thank you,” Halsin wheezed, sitting up slowly. “Once again, I owe my life to you.” He held out his hand to Shadowheart and firmly gripped her delicate fingers. Astarion scowled beside him, arms crossed. The druid turned to face him.

“And thank you for stabilizing me, Astarion”, Halsin said with a deep bow. Halsin’s eyes were ringed by purple; whether from fatigue or bruises, Astarion couldn’t tell.

“Of course, Halsin,” the vampire replied, offering a curt nod. Does he even care that he could have died? That he didn’t wait for us? For me? Astarion forced air from his lungs in exasperation.

The arch druid did not seem to pick up on Astarion’s unusual lack of verbosity. Instead, he wordlessly stormed toward the bugbear, which had grasped at the dirt. Lae’zel must not have dug her sword in deep enough, this time. The vampire trotted after the druid, with a mix of curiosity and dread building in his stomach as Halsin cast shillelagh, his staff radiating with magic.

The Arch Druid glowered over the bugbear. “What are you doing in these lands?” Halsin said, his voice a desperate, angry bark.

“We will meet the Absolute, praise her!” the cultist said, wheezing against his punctured lung. “Praise Ketheric!”

Halsin took a step back at the name. "Ketheric Thorm is dead and buried. His body locked in the mausoleum,” Halsin said, his words dripping with venom, not unlike the wound he from which he had just been healed.

“Not anymore…” wheezed the bugbear. His gleeful cackle sounded more like a rattle, and he coughed blood as he spoke. “He has risen, he is immortal. Praise Ketheri-” The crunch of Halsin’s shillelagh into the cultist’s eye socket cut his words short.

“Ketheric Thorm is dead,” Halsin repeated. He twisted the staff as if it were inside Ketheric, instead of the bugbear.

Astarion was not sure which turned his stomach more; the squelch of the brain matter, or the transformation of Halsin into someone unrecognizable.

******

Their newfound allies from the battle turned out to be the Harpers. How history repeats itself, Halsin had thought with a frown, although let us hope not completely. After the battle, they had parted ways, but with a newfound hope. Within one more day's travel were the Last Light Inn and the rest of the Harper forces.

Despite the good news, the mood of the campsite took on a somber tone. The battle did not go as smoothly as it should have; they had used their valuable potions and energy for healing. To make matters worse, provisions were low, and Gale prepared the most basic of gruel stews. The party broke bread together around the fire.

Gale sat near Astarion, the wizard having noticed the vampire's foul mood and hoping to lift his spirits, even if it meant becoming the butt of a joke. Astarion scowled at the soup boiling over the campfire.

“Well, thank you again for cooking Gale. But I’m thankful for once to not have to eat, either,” said Astarion. His voice and his half-hearted joke fell flat. The vampire leaned on his knees, his brows furrowed as he stared at Halsin. Scratch sat at Shadowheart's side, his head resting on her feet, whimpering every time a shriek echoed from the darkness. Karlach stood and squeaked his ball to raise his spirits before stepping away to play fetch. A small smile crossed Lae’zel’s face at Scratch’s happy bark, and she finished her stew.

Wyll, seated near Gale, spoke first. “So, Halsin. You’re very familiar with the Harpers then?” he asked, gesturing with his spoon.

Halsin nodded and leaned towards the fire. His dinner had been plums he’d stocked away in his pouch. “Indeed. In that battle 100 years ago, they were my closest allies. Jaheira directed their forces in battle; I directed the forces of the Emerald Grove under my predecessor.”

Astarion sat up with his hands on his knees. “Oh did you, Halsin?” he snapped, tilting his head back and glaring at Halsin through half-lidded eyes. “I’m surprised you were content with playing second fiddle, seeing as how you barked orders at us during the battle.”

The druid noticed that Karlach, Gale, and Wyll shot the vampire a harsh look. Halsin flinched at his words. “I…you are right, Astarion,” he said, with a deep sigh sagging his shoulders. “It was not my place to issue orders. I have not seen this place in a century, and the fury took me at the moment.”

Shadowheart shook her head and glanced at the druid, worry on her face if not on her lips. Lae’zel rolled her eyes, a small “tsk’va” escaping her. Astarion crossed his arms, gripping his own skin with his fingertips. The firelight danced in his ruby eyes; it made his anger seem more intense.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me that, Halsin. Your loss of control was quite clear as you charged in alone to get yourself killed,” Astarion said. His fangs were nearly bared under his plump top lip. Gale gripped the vampire's knee in response to his words. Halsin’s sensitive hearing picked up his whisper of “Enough, Astarion”.

Halsin’s chest felt gripped by a tangle of vines at the vampire’s anger. He knew Astarion was not wrong; he knew he had been foolish. He was repeating history in his own actions. The large elf shook his head slowly and placed his elbows on his knees. His braids fell into his face.

“That was foolhardy of me, to not wait. Your words are harsh, but accurate,” Halsin said, nodding slightly. “I truly do not enjoy leading battles. Leading… anything, in fact. It is a terrible burden.”

Wyll tilted his head in Halsin’s direction. “But you were the leader of the Emerald Grove, before handing it off to join us,” he said. The warlock’s gentle face was picture-perfect confusion.

Halsin sat up straighter. “That is correct. But that was not my choice. In the battle for the soul of these lands, I was second in command. After we defeated Ketheric, we thought we had won,” the Arch Druid said. “But not long after we sealed him away in his tomb, the shadow curse took hold. No one had seen the likes of it before. No one knew how to react. Then it claimed all those within its reach. Those who had survived the battles now fell to the shadows. The Archdruid, my predecessor… was seized by the curse. I couldn't save him; there was no time. I had to lead the survivors to safety,” Halsin continued. “That was my first day as Archdruid. An inauspicious beginning.”

The party listened in silence. Astarion’s expression softened slightly. He knew this story already; from reading Halsin’s diary.

Halsin went on, "But imagine if I had been faster, bolder, better. Lives would have been saved. More than I care to count. Including that of Thaniel.”

The party was silent; in surprise, or in respect, Halsin wasn’t sure. But he appreciated the silence all the same; it gave an excuse to end supper and depart. “Excuse me, my friends, but I must prepare for our travels tomorrow. If you need me, I will be in my tent,” said Halsin, before slipping away.

*********

After Halsin had left, the vampire received a proper scolding from Karlach, Gale and Wyll. The trio was insistent on kindness; they were all bleeding hearts. Couldn't Astarion understand Halsin was hurting? They had pointed out that he was clearly grieving, and we all make mistakes. But their opinions were split: Lae’zel agreed with Astarion; there’s no room for feelings when lives were on the line. Halsin made a foolish decision to give orders, and she was bitter about following them instead of trusting her own judgement. Shadowheart’s skin had rubbed raw from her chafing armor when she had run to heal Halsin. She, too, harbored frustration about his rash actions.

Regardless of their support or dissent, Astarion didn’t need their opinions. They didn’t know Halsin as well as he did. He felt an intense closeness with the druid, even though it had not quite been a fortnight since he’d met Halsin. But what delicious days they had been, the best he'd experienced in centuries, all without having to sell his body for the Arch Druid's time or affection. Moments filled with combat and comaraderie. Adrenaline and arousal. Intimacy and intelligent conversation. Until reaching the shadow-cursed lands.

A few yards away from Halsin’s tent, he shuffled his feet in the dirt. His hands twisted the strings on his tunic and his gaze fixed on the tent as he lost himself in thought. Since they arrived here, Astarion hadn't once felt the druid's calloused hand around his waist, nor received a playful nudge from his bear form. It made Astarion’s stomach churn, and his chest throbbed as if a stake had been driven through it. Has he lost interest in me? He wondered, feeling the stake twist in his heart.

Thaniel wasn't a lover, but Halsin appeared consumed by his obsession with the boy. The rotten feeling inside Astarion grew. He despised it; he wanted to support this noble, sweet fool.The vampire crossed his arms, his fingertips and sharp nails lightly digging into his skin. He wished he could cold-shoulder the druid in pettiness. But after the bloodshed of the day, Astarion was starving.

The campfire’s light cast his shadow against Halsin’s tent wall.

“Halsin? May I enter?” he asked, his tone soft and meek, filled with apology.

“Yes, Astarion, please join me,” Halsin replied from inside the tent.

Astarion’s mouth curved upward slightly. The druid didn't seem to hate him. He ducked inside the tent and shared the smile with Halsin, who had a book open in his cross-legged lap.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted company or not,” the vampire said, eyes downcast to the ground. He lowered himself to a sit beside Halsin, his nimble fingers playing with the strings on his tunic.

“Your company is always welcome, Astarion,” Halsin rumbled, looking down at the slender vampire at his side. The druid’s expression was softer than Astarion expected.

“Er…well, thank you, for that,” Astarion replied. “Even when I’m just…hungry?” He winced at his own words. The vampire didn’t come only because he was hungry. But if Halsin wasn’t interested in his companionship or affection, he couldn’t admit that he had tucked tail and come begging for anything at all from the druid.

The large elf closed his book gently. “Oh, of course. I am sorry to not have thought about it earlier,” Halsin said, closing his eyes as well. “I feel well enough to offer my blood; Shadowheart is quite the healer, despite her Sharran loyalties.” The large elf reclined on his bedroll.

“Indeed,” Astarion replied flatly, lowering his torso to Halsin's and placing his mouth on the druid's neck. As he fed, he tried all the same tricks from his first feeding: flitting hands over Halsin's torso, his cool breath on the large elf's hot neck. But Halsin only stared at the tent wall; it was like feeding from a living corpse.

Astarion blinked back the moisture from the corners of his eyes and sat up, wiping blood from the corner of hips lips. Halsin was lost to him. Once was an oddity; twice was a pattern. Again, the druid had shown no arousal, no emotion, no reaction besides a grunt of pain.

“Well, thank you for the last supper, darling,” Astarion said, his voice detached and flat. “I suppose we’re done then.” He shuffled on his knees to sit further away from Halsin, his fingernails picking at the seams on his trousers.

The druid roused slowly, as though it took a moment for Astarion's words to sink in, like rain soaking into parched soil. “Last supper?” Halsin asked, his voice low. He shifted to sit on his knees and rubbed his forehead with his thick fingers. “Done with what? What do you mean?

Astarion glanced over his shoulder at the druid; he didn’t want to face the larger elf completely. “Oh, darling don’t play coy. It sounds like you’ll get answers from your Harper friends tomorrow at Last Light,” he said. “Then you’ll be off on your merry way!” The vampire flipped his slender hands in the air.

The druid met his gaze, his honey-hazel eyes scanning Astarion’s face. The vampire felt as though he were being inspected. “Astarion, what are you talking about?” Halsin asked.

“Please, Halsin, stop with the facade,” Astarion said, waving one hand towards the larger elf. “You know your old friends are here, challenging the Absolutists,” The pale elf’s gaze shifted to his knees; if he looked any longer at Halsin, the mist in his eyes would turn to tears. “You’re obviously closer to the idea of them than to us,” Astarion’s tunic became tight around his shoulders as he rounded them, bending into himself defensively.

He heard the rustle of Halsin’s movement on the bedroll. “Astarion,” the druid said softly, “Have you lost your senses?” He was too gentle. It hurt, this feigned bit of care, and it made the abscess in Astarion’s chest worsen.

“No, I certainly haven’t, but you have!” said the vampire. He could feel the color rising to his cheeks; Halsin’s fresh blood circulated within him. Astarion shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Over this Thaniel boy. Over this curse. You’ve less self-control than a beast!”

Halsin rose to his knees, his large form blocking the candlelight within the tent. He cast a shadow on Astarion. “Do not compare me to a beast, Astarion,” the druid replied, his voice almost a growl. Astarion felt the druid's forceful exhale on his pale skin. Halsin sat back on his haunches. “People see me in battle, or see my size and don’t think I can get hurt.. or have feelings.”

Astarion felt his eyes widen, and the moisture overflowed. Cool tears streamed down his porcelain cheeks. “I.. am sorry, Halsin,” he said so softly it was almost inaudible. “I am aware you can get hurt. Too aware.” The vampire’s voice sharpened, and he met Halsin’s eyes. The druid’s thick brows knit together upon seeing Astarion’s tears. “But today, it appeared as though you had forgotten that. You’re so willing to sacrifice yourself that you don’t see that you don’t have to.”

Halsin seemed to deflate at Astarion’s words like a drinking bladder emptying its contents. “I…must not lose focus until everything is put right. I’ve wasted too much time already - and nature has suffered.” He moved closer to Astarion and placed his broad hand on the vampire’s knee. Astarion chose not to react to his touch; he had to focus on fighting back his tears.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, which startled Halsin. “Oh darling, I didn’t peg you as self-centered, but here you are, making this about yourself,” Astarion said, seething as more tears streamed down his cheeks. He met Halsin’s fragile gaze with ferocity. “Do you think that one person could have stopped the goddess Shar? Really?” He gestured forcefully toward the open flap of the tent while maintaining his accusatory stare at Halsin.

The druid cast his gaze to the shadows outside the tent. His expression shifted several times as they sat in silence. Astarion could only assume the first was offense; but his last expression seemed to be understanding.

Halsin's hand remained on the vampire's knee, gripping snugly, his wide thumb rubbing gentle circles on Astarion's kneecap. “There was no one else to blame,” Halsin said finally, breaking the silence. “And, if I centered my rage at myself, I could not lash out at others in anguish. I could cage the bear and let it wound itself against the bars…”

Astarion's fingers shook as he gently placed his hand on top of Halsin's. “Come now Halsin,” he said, letting go of the pet name, “You’re older even than me. You know as well as I do that the world is cruel more often than not. You helped me understand that being cruel to oneself won't improve matters.” Astarion meant every word; Halsin's kindness and affection had been a soothing balm for his anxieties, keeping him from seeking affection through means he'd rather avoid.

Halsin met Astarion’s gaze and raised his hand to the vampire’s cheek. His large thumb wiped away the cool tears. “You possess more wisdom than you give yourself credit for, Astarion,” he said, tilting his head as he smiled. A deep exhale escaped the druid's lips, and the sigh ruffled Astarion's curls. "I offer you my apologies."

Astarion momentarily forgot himself, savoring the warmth of Halsin's palm as he leaned into it. The touch provided a brief reprieve from the gnawing pain of no longer occupying a special place in the druid's heart. After a moment of allowing himself happiness, the pale elf pulled his face away from Halsin’s gentle hold. “I.. appreciate that darling,” he said, an airy laugh escaping his lips. “Because, foolish as I am, I'm still here with you... despite your loss of interest.” He lifted his wine-red gaze to meet Halsin's, searching for any hint of intent in the subtle expressions that played across the druid's face. What he found was utter confusion.

“Dear heart, what are you talking about,” Halsin asked, his hand falling from Astarion's cheek to his pale, slender neck. His thumb traced the vampire's bite scars with tenderness.

"Oh, please," Astarion began, his hands gesturing at himself with a hint of flippancy. "Just acknowledge that I'm just a pretty distraction to pass the time whilst our ‘fates are aligned’.” Cool tears welled up in his eyes once more, then ran down his cheeks again, like raindrops sliding off a marble sculpture. They sparkled in the gentle candlelight of Halsin's tent.

Halsin's mouth opened, his tongue twitching as he searched for words that eluded him. “Astarion, I am deeply grateful to Silvanus for allowing our paths to cross, but-” The druid’s words were cut short.

“Yes, yes, and 'it was delightful while it lasted’,” Astarion interjected, his head jerking to the side as tears cascaded down his cheeks, dripping onto Halsin's calloused hand. “But tomorrow you’ll find Thaniel, and then you'll whisk him away into the woods, leaving me to..” Astarion choked back a sob, which soon wracked his shoulders. “I'll be abandoned.”

Before Astarion could react further, he found himself pulled tightly against Halsin's broader form. The druid's thick arms enveloped the vampire's torso, his legs parting as he drew Astarion closer. Astarion was almost entirely ensconced in Halsin's embrace. “My dear Astarion,” Halsin began, his voice a deep, gentle rumble emanating from his chest. “You won't be abandoned. I want to be with you. I-"

Astarion attempted to pull his torso away but found it was a futile effort. He shook his head in frustration. “Don’t fill my head with that nonsense, druid,” he said, sniffling to clear his runny nose. “Not when I have nothing to value; only burdens to carry.” Despite the embarrassment of his tears, he looked into Halsin's kind eyes. He needed to know for certain what Halsin wanted.

“Astarion, that is untrue. You spoke such wisdom moments ago: we can rely on each other whenever our burdens are too great,” Halsin said, his voice almost a whisper. “I want to help you with yours…” The druid squeezed his arms around Astarion, coaxing a whimper from the smaller elf. “I care for you,” Halsin continued. He smiled at the pale elf - a genuine one, radiating from his kind eyes.

Halsin hooked his large finger under Astarion’s chin, to bring the vampire’s gaze to his. “Astarion, my heart does not stir lightly, and yet…it soars just to look upon you. I value you beyond measure. Think of the times you have fought beside me in battle, your prowess with arrow and dagger are invaluable; you have saved my hide more than once. And of the many evenings your company brought great comfort to me when we sit together and read. I treasure your astounding intellect, even when your well-thought arguments are against my own! And I can always depend on you to bring laughter to my lips, as sure as the sun will rise each day. Those moments are all so precious, so valuable to me…I want to never be without you.”

Astarion closed his eyes, allowing more tears to fall. The sensation of soft, warm lips on his cheek made his eyes flutter open. Halsin’s lips traveled up from his cheek, to kiss the corners of Astarion’s eyes; to kiss away the vampire’s tears. To kiss away his fears.

“Regardless of any burdens you have, Astarion,” Halsin continued, saying the vampire's name like a song, like a hymn, a prayer of tenderness and care. The druid's lips met Astarion's other cheek, kissing away his salty tears. “And despite the challenges ahead… Astarion, dear heart. My heart.” The druid paused and placed another kiss on the pale elf’s forehead.

Astarion's plush, pale lips parted, but he had no words, no witty response, no wry observation. He simply gazed at Halsin, his eyes shimmering with renewed hope.

A moment passed; thick with tenderness and desire. And when Halsin pressed his mouth to Astarion’s cool lips, only a surprised, pleased whimper escaped the pale elf. Halsin’s kiss was so very soft. Deliciously tender, as he pulled Astarion’s lower lip between his own. Passionate, as he suckled it gently before pulling away. Halsin did not slip a greedy tongue into Astarion’s mouth, like the lustful kisses the vampire had known over the years.

He placed another chaste kiss on Astarion’s now-reddened lips before pulling his own just far enough away to speak. “I am here with you now, Astarion. And I will always return to your side.”

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c0rpseductor · 5 months ago

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tbh i'm thinking again about how i'm gonna approach vauthry in my fic, since i'm going to have to write him very soon.

i'm aleady planning on taking some sizeable liberties since in shadowbringers he's a bit cartoonish, both as a villain and designwise. i don't think it. well. i DO think it's a bad choice in terms of the fact that it's massively fatphobic, but in terms of tone i think a video game can get away with a somewhat absurd and cartoonish hate sink villain a bit more than a novelization, especially when he shows up sparingly. i want to keep a lot of the base tone of shb, but i do plan on morningstar being a little more sober and adult. there's sex in it i don't have to go with the shonen anime stuff if it doesn't work

i can't bring myself to agree with arguments that eulmore was Fine Actually, and in my writing i'm kind of making it worse, so i don't really want to go with a super sympathetic vauthry (although i think there can be, and want there to be, a sort of quiet tragedy to him, given his canon backstory). i Really need vauthry to still be detestable in morningstar because he has to pull double time on hate sink duty so i can pull my dirty little tricks on the reader with emet-selch. emet is getting more positive treatment in morningstar (until he isn't <3) so until such time as he has his little moment vauthry Really has to be terrible.

i've been thinking that rather than his being quite as. i guess juvenile as in canon, throwing tantrums and generally getting the "fat = dumb baby" treatment, i want to work the sort of egotistical aspect of his character from a place of sophisticated condescension (distinct in execution from emet's bitchy rich girl thing). he's supposed to represent the worst of nobility anyway, which is entitlement and a sense of others as being beneath oneself or belonging to an ontologically lesser class. i thought it might be interesting if he has a sort of grudging "respect" for pfeil, but regards him as a rogue asset to be seized moreso than a human being. i think it works very well from the angle of vauthry playing the role of a corrupt king and pfeil in many cases playing the role of a fairytale knight. like yeah of course the bad guy wants lancelot for his own. or whatever idk i dont know as much about arthuriana as i maybe should

i also think there's some running thread between them, like that there's something very similar that they take in different directions - moreso morningstar's as yet immaterial "serious vauthry" than the saturday morning cartoon vauthry of canon, but still, if you just lay out vauthry's story on paper, yknow?

on a meta level vauthry and pfeil are both fat characters from a source narrative that very much condemns and loathes fat bodies, so i think there's a sense of "similar monstrousness" that carries through even in a work intended not to be fatphobic given fic exists inherently in conversation with its source material - some of pfeil's Angst necessarily has to address that he's in a narrative role too small for his body, in a sense. fairytale knights and princes are only ever thin, shonen anime heroes are only ever thin, persephone was thin and remains so in every retelling, basically every one of those hot satan statues, you get the idea. all the motifs i draw on to inform his role-identity carry this expectation of otherworldly bodily perfection and attractiveness. to some extent this is what it means to be commodified in fiction at all. vauthry is still condemned to the same fate as he was before, but pfeil is a fat hero in a retelling of a story where fatness is evil, built on stories of heroes whose beauty is indicative of goodness and whose beauty is considered to lie in their thinness. maybe it's no wonder vauthry is like, "ditch these losers and eat bonbons with me," LMAO. sort of a like...what if solidarity was bad. you know

also, vauthry is Doomed, and pfeil is Fakeout Doomed. vauthry's story couldn't have ended any other way because he was set up to take this exact fall before even being born. even if he had been a good person morally he would have to die because his very existence upholds and hastens the apocalypse. on top of this, the circumstances under which he was raised were...less than ideal, let's say. i still vastly prefer to say that despite everything, INCLUDING the lightwarden shit, vauthry still has agency that he exercises poorly and likely had chances to be a better and kinder person which he rejected, because a narrative in which nothing is anyone's fault and no one has any choice and it all just Happens is boring. (not in the sense of tragedy, where fate and its incursion on autonomy and meaningful choice is a huge element that adds interest, but in the sense of like...if nobody ever decides to do anything and nothing is ever driven by character action it's not a story where the characters participate anymore. what is the point of that.) his ultimate aim was to secure paradise in eulmore, but no wealthy and powerful person's conception of paradise is gonna be equitable or sustainable or anything less than monstrous. also paradise is fake we live in an imperfect world and that's the only thing we get!! deal with it how you like but that's it!! the hero here is a satan allegory so he's gonna tear down your fake ass heaven!! so on and so forth. off topic. point is he's a villain, and by virtue of being a villain in a story with a clearly designated hero, he's doomed as fuck, no matter the circumstances or aims of his villainy, just like emet. sorry man

pfeil is, by contrast, Fakeout Doomed. like vauthry, he didn't really have much of a choice in becoming who he is - heroes don't get to resist the call no matter how hard they fight, and like all WoLs, hydaelyn had her sights on him for since forever because time loop shenanigans and arguably because reincarnation anyway. by virtue of being born, and even before being born, he was already stuck on the path he's on now. it's not kind to him, being on this path, but he can't give up on it because it would bring harm to others and he can't accept that. it's not who he is to shirk social responsibility. if it was, he wouldn't be the hero. but i as the author know that it's not going to kill him, and once he does what he was always meant to do he gets a whole life ahead of him free of my fuckin meddling. there's an end to the story and then pfeil kind of does a vague whatever. not my business. in the end, he escapes.

again, of course neither of them really know this because they don't know they're in a story. only emet kind of has that inkling of meta and it influences how he interacts with pfeil. but i think it's something that pfeil and vauthry might understand about each other sort of subconsciously, or voice it in other terms. vauthry is living a terminal villain's existence, where his choices are die or live and end the world, and pfeil by contrast is a Big Damn Hero, a beacon of hope who barrels toward the impossible light at the end of the tunnel. vauthry wants pfeil on his side because who wouldn't want that? maybe they can escape together. or maybe vauthry's terminal existence will feel that much less empty, with someone who is fated to one day be Real in a way he can never be at his side. heroes always win. (except in tragedies.)

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giftedfangs · 2 years ago

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I think I've also found what my biggest issue I have with my writing and myself in the instance.

An unhealthy addiction to something I thought could help cope with issues I had. But I've found, and realized, that there's a point that all this is doing is less understanding and analyzing my own issues working through them. and more torturing myself.

Angst is nice, but I realized that I'm tired of unhappy stories. I am tired of putting my characters through so much angst and drama because I realized doing so doesn't help. It doesn't release any emotions I have, any frustrations, work through any complex issues as I thought it had and admittedly, it did at the time. But I realize by continuing to do this, not changing and continuing these same torturous plots and ideas. I'm keeping myself stagnant. I'm forcing myself back into these situations. Reliving my own issues over, and over again without truly moving on because I keep fleeing back to them.

I keep torturing my muse as a way to feel I have control over what's going on. I communicate and try to work to a happy ending but I'm back where I started until the next tragedy. It doesn't help I feel there's an unhealthy idea that trauma, angst, and these things are "character development" and personally.

trauma isnt "character development"

Pain and suffering isn't development. Change can happen in positive ways. Change may cause negative outcomes, but negativity doesn't have to be the driver to positivity. We justify damage all the time, we justify it as it changes us, we assume for the better but that's not always the case. We're even cognizant of it but it doesn't stop how we fall into that. That damage gives us the best outcome. That consequence and suffering is what makes us the "best person" when. it isn't.

These extremes grab attention because they are just that, extreme. But we forget the small things. The people and experiences we have with those we love and care for that have changed us. Yet those, like myself, who experienced trauma find it nay impossible to escape because of how much it has molded us. So we continue to throw ourselves into it unhealthily. We, like our characters don't allow ourselves out. A twisted mirror almost, how we gravitate towards pain and suffering we've had but it's not. It's harming someone else. It's intentionally writing these things to take out anger and pain on something that can't retaliate where we have full control.

and i don't want to do that anymore. Angst is fun, sure, but I'm tired of the same tragedies. I want something happy. I will make something happy. Something where I can truly move on and face new challenges, and not put my muse, or my characters, through the same suffering so I can also move on. So I can actually talk about these issues, and put them to rest by actually speaking of them than rping or creating them in a fantasy world.

So my pretend rp world can be fun, so it can be real fantasy and pretend. a fun place to escape to instead of a reminder and continuation of my own pain. and so i can actually address the issues as me and not something fake because my trauma and issues are real and deserve to be treated as such. I deserve for my issues to be more than just a fantasy for angst and "character development"

#Out for a Bite // OOC #Screams from the Abyss // MT

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sheep-from-rad · 2 years ago

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What falling in love is like: ZhongliNote: When’s the last time I’ve updated this series. Oh well, better late than never right?

Warnings: light angst

Masterlist

What falling in love is like: Masterlist

♡'Cause we'll never know when, when we'll run out of time♡

Falling in love with Zhongli is a slow burn. If you would ask him what he values the most in life his answer will probably be ‘companionship’. Zhongli has been alive for 6 millennia and he watched people live and die. He watched people born, walk and die in the earth where Liyue is established, some of which are people who valiantly served him in his cause. From the iron handed warrior who fathered a nation, he stepped down as a humble man tired from wars and just wanting to enjoy life.

Maybe it was friends to lover, a foreigner sightseeing only to get lost and found by a handsome gentleman who volunteered to take you to see the beautiful places. Maybe it was Hu Tao that you are trying to see because a tragedy struck your small town but it was him that you found first. Maybe you were just an innocent bystander getting attacked by hilichurls and him having the one to intervene and save you. Or maybe you were an adepti or a person partly divine, tired of the world and just want to slow down.

He will allow himself some time to get to know you, from what you like and to the things that irks you. From being a companion that you can call when you need help or simply when you want to take a stroll, Zhongli will start craving your presence. Hu Tao finds it funny that his serious expression just breaks whenever you’re around. Sometimes he will just invite you for tea for no reason at all.

It is almost cliche but it’s going to be one of those nights he’s sitting alone drinking tea when his mind crosses through the thoughts of you and realizes that he has fallen hard. Zhongli knows what love is like but after millennia of not feeling it and suddenly getting struck by cupid’s arrows again made him feel like he was a young adepti just learning to pick up his weapon for the first time.

Zhongli is a traditional lover and pda will mostly be engaged by you. In the public, he’ll do nothing but hold your hand but once the door closes, his arms will hold you tight and feel as if it was being welded on you. He’s a man of few words but he makes sure people know that you are his and he is yours. Possessive but lets you breathe. Protective but lets you learn to fend for youself. A classy gentleman with rough edges only vulnerable in your eyes.

It took him courage to show his true to you. Not because of the lack of trust but for fear that if he shows his reality as Morax, you will step away and won’t treat him the same. He fears you’ll treat him as an archon and not as a lover. The first thing you do is to run your fingers in his arms, feeling the marks of 6000 years before giving him a gentle kiss. You told yourself that you’re lucky in this mortal life to be loved by someone divine. In reality, it was him that felt lucky and that you didn’t turn away.

He usually just leaves with little belongings but the moment you return his feelings, he starts carrying a book with him. In that book were letters addressed to you, sketches, and some photographs taken when you’re unaware. The one that he treasures the most is the photograph of you that was taken by the traveller and Paimon in their visit.

In that photo is you in red, a bright smile adorns your lips and flowers forming a crown on your head. In your arms were cor lapis that both of you harvested in the mountain high. He’ll pour the feelings that he can’t say in words to paper together with the memories that he spent with you. From the first kisses to the first fight or simply to the times that he made you smile.

He knows erosion is slowly corrupting his memory and that mortal life is a millisecond to his eternity but he knows that when time comes you part whether it is human life or ill-fate, he’ll keep your memories in his heart. And he knows that when his time comes, you’ll be waiting for him on the other side.

Taglist:

@chihawari @eccedentesiast-sapphic @zurithegalaxywolf

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lacheri · 4 years ago

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when you can’t sleep at night // wake me (sequel)

pairing: captain!Levi x cadet!fem bodied reader

content: angst, canonverse, mentions and talks of death/portrayals of death, depictions of violence, blood, overall dark themes, unestablished relationship, fingering, mutual loss of virginities, overstimulation, takes place sometime before the 57th expedition (didn't follow an exact timeline), there is a lot of talks about dying in this, levi asks a lot of intrusive questions, minors DNI.

summary: levi finds he holds an affection to a certain cadet of his. you find that maybe the comfort of your captain can quiet the thoughts plaguing your mind, even if just for one night.

wc: 10.7k

The clouds were so fluffy, so white and pure as you longingly watched them swirl above you. Your entire body was numb, back flat against the dirt with all your limbs stretched out. Your brain felt fuzzy, and for a fleeting moment you were flying in the clouds. You could feel the water vapor skim past your fingertips, the air whooshing against you as you soared. You looked down at the earth beneath your form, all the trees and even the walls looked so tiny from this height. This peaceful daydream was pulled from you with a start, your chest heaving with coughs.

“I’m so sorry!” you heard a voice call out, your line of vision intruded by the hazy form of a person leering over you. “I didn’t mean to hit you like that!”

“‘S okay,” you choked out, the numbness fading into aches all over your body. “I’ve gotten you good a couple of times too, Eren.”

“You know what, on second thought,” Eren’s lips spread into a smirk as he extended a hand down. “Consider this payback for beating my ass all those times in the Training Corps.”

“Good on you for finally landing a hit,” you chuckled, wincing as he hauled you to your feet. “Only took you three years.”

You rocked on your ankles, steadying yourself quickly before your legs gave out on you. Eren had gotten you good, roundhouse kicking you in your chest to lay you out on your ass. His training sessions had begun to pay off, used to the reverse happening when the two of you sparred. Mikasa would look on intently, a small smile on her lips when you’d punch Eren’s smug face with a sharp hook. You and 104th cadets were a friendly, strong group, bonded over the horrors of the titans, especially after what happened in Trost.

“What are you brats doing out here?”

Your heads whipped in the direction of the strong voice, meeting the steely hard set eyes of Levi, your captain and soon to be squad leader. His arms were crossed, and you gulped upon taking notice of how his biceps strained under the grey linen of his button up. You quickly flickered your focus back to his eyes before he caught you eyeing him up.

“Just sparring,” Eren hadn’t released the grip on your hand, nor had he noticed he was still holding onto your palm as he addressed the superior. “Prepping for the mission tomorrow.”

Levi frowned, “And who told you it was okay to do so when I gave you cadets instruction to clean the headquarters from top to bottom?”

You pulled your hand from Eren’s as you responded, “Sorry, Captain Levi. We’ll get on it right away.”

Levi only let out a displeased ‘tch’ as he turned on his heels, walking away without further commentary. Eren shot you an eye roll, and you held back a snicker as the pair of you followed shortly after the ravenette. Maybe the two of you had snuck away to leave the rest of your comrades to attack the former Survey Corps headquarters with dusters and cleaning rags, not wanting to participate in your weekly assigned duties. Eren had been adamant in the cobwebbed hallway on the second floor that he had to practice his hand to hand combat, just in case your squads ran into some problems on tomorrow’s mission. You had eagerly agreed, wanting to be as far away from the unsettled dust that assaulted your nostrils, itching at your allergies.

As the three of you entered the building, Levi abruptly turned to the two of you trailing behind him, you and Eren jumping in fright, “Eren, go to the dining hall, you’re going to wipe down underneath all the tables. As for you, brat, you get the honor of cleaning my room.”

Eren shot you a sympathetic look discreetly, nodding to your captain as he hightailed it to the hall.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, alone now with the captain. He studied you for a brief moment, gesturing with his head for you to follow him. Your feet moved before your mind could will you, and the soft thuds of your footsteps across the wooden planks of the floor was all that was heard. You snuck glances at the man before you, taking notice that his undercut was slightly grown in, his longer hair uncharacteristically out of place. Levi looked disheveled in a way, his tan leather jacket creased.

You opened your mouth to make a comment, but decided against it in the end. You were going to offer your assistance, to help freshen up his fade and to do his laundry, but figured Levi was a grown man who could take care of himself. You had a soft spot for the man, humanity’s strongest soldier. You knew a title like that came with a weight you could not fathom, especially after the horrors you had seen at Trost when the titans broke through the walls. You could remember everything so clearly, almost as if it was happening right now. You had nearly died that day.

Your older age amongst your fellow cadets was not one of gain you found out. After learning about the tragedy of Wall Maria, the wall closest to your village, it inspired you to join the Survey Corps in order to help the world. Humanity was dying, almost completely obliterated. Distant family members had died in Shiganshina that day, and the reality of the titans weighed heavily on you. How could you sit idly by as the world you knew was being destroyed before your very eyes? What would’ve happened had that attack been on your small village instead of the Shiganshina district? How would you have protected your own?

So with those thoughts in mind, you joined the training corps. Your parents had disagreed with broken hearts, knowing the likely fate of your choices. Your mother had insisted that you were of ripe marrying age, and that they had no other children to carry your family name. They begged and pleaded for you to settle down and find a husband, to help humanity in a different way by bearing children. You knew this was just a fantasy, and you knew it would be entirely possible that if you were to follow their wishes, the family you would create would be devoured and destroyed. This was the only way you could help, no matter your age or being in your reproductive prime. You needed to slaughter the titans, one by one until none remained. You kissed your beloved family goodbye the day you left for training, and you frequently sent them letters to let them know you were well and alive. One day, they all were returned back to you as you sat in the barracks, and one of the captains informed you that your village was destroyed, your parents and friends from home all dead.

You thought of them as you sliced through a five meter titan’s nape in Trost, your first kill. The citizens of the district ran stampeding in retreat, and caught up in the heat of it all, you had failed to account for the seven meter barreling behind you. When it’s burning fingers wrapped around your body, you sobbed, preparing to meet your family in the afterlife, whatever that would look like. You could feel the hot spats of drool hit your cheeks as the titan opened its mouth, bearing teeth and a cruel grin, and then suddenly, you were flying, caught in the arms of a savior. You stared in disbelief at the cut off fingers on the graveled stone of the street, to only be brought out of this state as Mikasa held you close and questioned if you were alright.

After the dust settled and the casualties were counted, you could feel a fire blazing deep within you. You never wanted to be vulnerable like that ever again, you wanted to be strong like Mikasa. Then, you met Captain Levi. You didn’t know much about him, but his reputation spoke volumes. You wanted the strength of the Ackermans whom you so deeply admired. You begged Commander Erwin to be assigned to Levi’s squad, and your wish was granted. You had been in the top rankings of your class, and you had a solo kill under your belt, aside from the near fatal clutch of another titan. Most of all, you had survived, a bigger feat than most of your comrades.

“Oi, you done daydreaming?” Levi’s cool voice brought you out of your train of thoughts as you arrived outside a wooden door, presumably his temporary living space.

“Sorry, just thinking,” you mumbled as he opened the door.

“Didn’t think you were capable of that. All the supplies are in the box on my desk, I want this room spotless, I don’t care how long it takes,” your captain grumbled as he made strides to his desk in the center of the room.

The room was fairly large, a double bed pressed against the left wall and the dark wooden desk was littered in paperwork. Half filled bookshelves lined the right wall, some mismatched couches and chairs filled the empty space. Honestly, the space was nearly perfect, even the bed was made. You knew better than to point this out to your superior though, so you had simply nodded and began to sort through the various cleaning supplies.

The scratch of Levi’s pen filled the hour long silence as you worked, dusting every surface and wiping it down with disinfectant spray and an old rag. After sweeping thoroughly, you flickered your eyes to the single window in the entire room, surprised completely as the sun had nearly set. The two of you were probably going to miss dinner, you realized as Levi poked his head up from the pile of papers he was concentrated on, a clear look of distaste on his features.

“This is what you call clean?” he spat, running a hand through his bangs. “Mop the floors, cadet.”

You sighed, feeling the subtle growl of hunger in the pit of your stomach. The mop laid in the left corner by the bedroom door, where you had found the broom. You swapped the two, picking up a bucket on the floor. You filled the wooden container with disinfectant, not seeing any polish in the box Levi had provided. He only rolled his eyes at seeing this, but said nothing. At least the floor would be clean.

Levi had lit a few lamps around the room to provide lighting as the sun dipped lower in the sky, swallowing the room in darkness. The floor was sparkling as you finished the last spot, a feeling of satisfaction filling your chest.

“Better?” you interrupted his concentration. He gazed around the room silently, face blank.

“Much,” Levi finally spoke. “That’ll be all, cadet.”

You smiled, setting the cleaning supplies back to their original locations, “Do you want me to bring you anything? I’m going down to grab dinner.”

Levi’s eyes widened at the question, not expecting your offer, “Some tea would be fine. Don’t fuck it up either, brat.”

You nodded as he dismissed you, and you treaded down the stairwell from the second floor to the kitchens. Some of the other cadets littered the dining hall as you passed, seeing some of your comrades laughing at a table, but you paid them no mind. In the kitchen there was hardly any leftover food from the dinner, scraps of potatoes sat in a large bowl on one of the counterspaces. You sighed, scarfing down whatever was available while you set a rusted kettle to a flame. The water was boiled within minutes, and you poured it over tea leaves in two teacups. You cleaned up your mess, and made your way back to Levi’s room.

You knocked twice on the door, hearing his grunt to signal you to enter. Levi was still positioned in his chair at his desk, head in his hands as he scanned over his documents. You placed his cup down silently, ready to leave the man to his work.

“Why are you here, cadet?” your captain called out as you went to open the door.

You turned your head to look at him, his eyes never leaving the words of his papers, “What do you mean, captain?”

“The Survey Corps,” he clarified, finally making eye contact. “Why?”

“To save humanity, sir?” you didn’t mean to speak as if you were questioning him, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

He scoffed, setting his paperwork aside, “Humanity, huh? You’re a bit too old to be in the graduating class you’re currently in. Why join now?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m confused,” your body was facing his entirely now. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense,” he more so mumbled to himself. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be pregnant with your first born, with a husband. Instead, you’re here, trying to fight titans.”

“With all due respect, Captain,” your voice was laced with controlled anger. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Aren’t you scared?” Levi continued, ignoring your question. “You could’ve picked the easy way.”

“It would’ve been in vain. My village was wiped out shortly after Wall Maria fell.”

He hummed, his hands coming down to rest on the wooden notches of his desk, papers forgotten, “You were in the top ranks. You could’ve joined the military police.”

“And hear how my comrades died instead of helping them?” you gawked.

“It’s a lot better than watching.”

You shut your mouth then, lips pressing tightly together. You didn’t understand why your captain was questioning you like this.

“I see the way you are with them,” his tone softened, not looking you in the eyes as he spoke. “How you all are.”

“Just because I’m friendly doesn’t mean I’ll forget the purpose of the scouts,” you said defensively, crossing your arms. “I have my own ass to account for.”

Levi pushed off his chair suddenly, scraping the just mopped floor and jolting up to his legs, “You have no idea what it’s like out there. Your friends are going to die, cadet. There’ll be nothing you can do to save them. Are you prepared for that? Collecting their bodies, or whatever’s left of them to take home to their families?”

Your mouth went dry, jaw slacking, “Captain, I know what loss feels like. My family is dead, some of my so called ‘friends’ died in Trost. I know what I signed up for.”

He scoffed, circling around his desk to stand a few feet away from you, “Haven’t you seen enough?”

“Are you trying to get me to quit the Survey Corps?” you asked incredulously.

“Yes. You don’t belong here,” his tone was rough as he spat at you. “Go find a husband. Get the fuck out of the military.”

“I don’t want to,” your anger simmered as you stared down at your boots. “I don’t have a home to go back to. I can’t leave. I know the other cadets aren’t my friends. I’m just trying to make the best out of my life before I die. I know I’m going to die. What’s so wrong about trying to find comfort in others?”

“You are a fool,” he seethed, teeth clenched. “You want to die?”

You shook your head, not bothering to keep the conversation going, “I’m going to bed, Captain. I’ll see you tomorrow for the mission.”

“I didn’t dismiss you, cadet,” Levi towered over you now as your hand wrapped around the doorknob.

You brought your fist up to your chest in a salute as you began to exit, “With absolutely no disrespect, I’m exhausted. Have a good night, Captain.”

You pushed the door shut in front of you as you stood in the hallway. You knew you would be getting an ear full from Levi in the morning, but honestly, the conversation was beginning to stir up feelings you’d rather not address. Intrusive thoughts filled your mind as you made your way to the first floor where your temporary bedroom resided.

You couldn’t answer Levi’s question because in a way, in a very selfish train of thought, you didn’t want to be a part of the titan’s world anymore, whether that meant death or something else. How easy it would be for you to greedily pack your things and leave the military and take refuge in some random village to live out the rest of your days, however long they would be. Or to just simply become fodder for the titans in your quest to rid the world of their reign.

Your uniform was folded on your bedside table, a cotton shirt and shorts on your body as you sat on your bed over the covers. You could hear the soft snores of Christa as she slumbered peacefully in the bed across the room, and you gazed over her body under her covers. You knew the people you trained with, fought with, grew fond of, were not your friends. How could they be? It’d only make things harder in the end. Like Levi had said, you might be the one collecting their deceased bodies after a battle. How could you ever grow close to someone that you knew their days were numbered?

The 104th cadets were your comrades, not your makeshift family. You had to remind yourself of that every time Sasha would ask for your leftovers, batting her big eyes at you. When Eren would spar with you, telling you how strong you were and commending you on how far you had come since the first day of the Training Corps. How Mikasa literally saved your life, and how you had admired her ever since. Armin’s unmatched potential and growth. Jean’s relentless taunting, giving you the nickname of gram because of your age. Connie, well frankly, just being Connie. Reiner and Bertholdt’s strong will and passion. Annie’s unwavering willpower and prowess. All the other cadets who you’d gotten to know so well, you had to constantly imagine their corpses as they smiled at you and tried to get to know you. So, you stayed back, opting to be alone at any opportunity, so their deaths would be easier to swallow when the time came.

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head to try and rid yourself of your thoughts. It was of no use, and with a sigh you pushed yourself out of your bed. You deemed it would be yet again another sleepless night, and you realized sadly you had left your tea cup in Levi’s office completely untouched. You didn’t bother to entertain the thought of going back to retrieve it, instead you slinked through your bedroom door and out of the headquarters.

The night air was chilly, and you felt regret for not grabbing your jacket on your way out. The moon was gone, a completely black night, and you could see the stars crystal clear. The sky was your favorite sight, especially on nights like this.

You found a nice patch of soft grass, and laid on your back to gaze up at the sky. This was always your comfort, even as a child, to go outside and watch the sky, day or night. Your mother would warn you that your eyes would fall out of your head if you stared too long at the sun, at the moon. You didn’t care, because in those moments you felt so free. Free of the walls that caged you inside, of the world around you. You were the clouds, the stars, the wind as it rolled past. Maybe you were never meant to be human, you mused. You were meant to be nature, never to experience the trials and tribulations of sentinel living. You were supposed to be free, all knowing and ignorant at the same time, existing without the weight of consciousness.

“Thought you were going to bed, cadet?”

You were startled by the boom of a familiar voice behind you, collecting yourself and clearing your throat, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Levi’s head bobbed into your field of vision, “Thought too hard today?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling guilty as you caught the action afterwards and hoped your captain wouldn’t find it as a disrespect, “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Why are you out here of all places, without a jacket?” out of the corner of your eye you watched as Levi brought himself down to sit next to you.

“I like watching the sky,” you put simply, trying not to make eye contact. “Makes me feel better.”

“About dying?” he said, and you knew that he wouldn’t let your previous conversation go. You decided to humor him, if only to get these thoughts out of your mind.

“Yes.”

“Like what?” he almost sounded uninterested, but from his line of questioning you knew he was anything but.

“I don’t want to die,” you admitted, digging your fingernails into the grass by your waist. “I don’t want to watch anyone die. I never wanted to join the military. I felt like I had no choice.”

“We always have a choice,” he leaned his back to see whatever had your attention draw above you.

“Either fight the titans or get eaten alive when they attack the walls?” you snorted. “What a hard decision to make.”

“Why’d you join the Survey Corps?” he asked once again.

“I didn’t want my family’s death to be in vain. I had cousins, aunts and uncles in Shiganshina.”

“What about your death?”

“I hope it’ll mean something,” you breathed, feeling your chest get tight. “I hope this all will mean something.”

Levi looked at you then, a glimmer of something you couldn’t identify in his eyes, “You sound like Erwin when you talk like that.”

You made eye contact, a small smile on your lips, “The Commander’s an amazing man. I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Levi scoffed, “Take it as you will.”

“What else could I do? I’m trying so hard to make a difference, to make life easier for others so they don’t have to suffer this fate. Isn’t that why we all joined the Survey Corps?” you continued your train of thought. “Maybe we all have a death wish. Fuck, I know I have one. It all just fucking hurts, Captain. I can’t help but think of others all the time, of all the loss and the grief they've gone through, what I’ve been through. At what will keep happening until all the titans are gone for good.”

“Why the sky?” he changed the subject, seemingly bored of your repetitive narrative.

“Because there’s no titans up there,” you joked without humor. “There’s no walls, no boundaries, no rules. It’s never ending. Where are the stars? How does day and night occur? Where does the moon go when the sun’s out? It amazes me, that’s all. Makes me think of how big the world is, of what’s out there besides this.”

“You think too much for a brainless brat,” Levi grumbled, laying on his back and joining you.

“I know,” you chuckled, turning your body to face him. “Wish I could turn off all my thoughts, it would probably make life a whole lot more livable.”

He hummed, eyes drawn in to your face, “I understand. What you said earlier, too, about finding comfort in others.”

“What do you mean?” you propped your head on your hand and you positioned your elbow to support you.

“I guess I never thought about it before tonight,” he blinked, expression unreadable. “Life as a soldier isn’t a comforting one. I guess that’s what I was trying to tell you about.”

You read between the lines of his words, recognizing it as his form of an apology, “I know. But it’s still the life I chose. At least I’m trying to make a difference, we all are.”

“Y’know, I’ve been paying attention to you for some time now. I didn’t understand when Erwin came to me and told me you had asked to be put on my squad. I took a look in your file, and I saw you after the attack on Trost, and I still didn’t understand,” Levi spoke slowly. “I don’t think I get you at all, even now.”

“I don’t think I understand myself,” you laughed dryly, returning your attention to the sky.

“You should get some sleep, cadet,” he advised softly, pushing himself off the ground. “And for fuck’s sake do it soon, I won’t be taking care of your ass if you get a cold.”

Levi stalked off before you could utter a response. You sighed, and decided his words were wise enough to follow. A few moments after your captain had left you, you followed his pathway back to the entrance of the former headquarters. You entered, making a hasty retreat back to your room where Christa was still knocked out cold.

Under your covers, you replayed your conversations with Levi. You still couldn’t figure out why he had questioned you like he had, why he even cared in the first place. Maybe it was his own gnawing curiosity, trying to understand why some random twenty-something year old girl insisted on being in his squad like you had. Maybe, you thought egotistically, you had your own reputation. You inwardly snorted, probably not.

Images of your captain under the moonlight played beneath your eyelids as you finally managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The mission had gone horribly wrong. At least for you, to be honest you had no idea where the rest of your comrades were as you raced on your horse, desperately searching the sky for flares. You hadn’t seen a single one in a while now, at least ten minutes, and your heart was thudding hard as thoughts that the entire fleet of soldiers you had joined had been decimated. You were completely alone, the walls distant behind you. All you knew is that you couldn’t stop, couldn’t turn around or else you’d really be lost.

The 104th had stayed behind at the former headquarters, this having been a smaller expedition to clear out some titans before the planned 57th expedition in a few weeks. Levi, Oluo, Petra, and Gunther, as well as a few other squads accompanying you, were in a near perfect formation when an abnormal titan had broken through, killing a few unnamed soldiers at your side that you had never met before today.

In the far left distance, you could see a large forest full of trees. Your jaw slacked open, relief running through your veins when you caught sight of some men on horses heading that direction. Green flares shot up high in the sky, and you pulled the reins of your mare to follow. Your plan was brought to a screeching halt though, as you heard the thunderous footsteps shake your horse, and your body. You threw a glance behind your shoulder, a ten meter titan running straight towards you. You reached to your side quickly, shooting a red flare above you to warn any close by comrades.

The titan was gaining speed, about a dozen yards now behind you. You really wanted to avoid confrontation was much as possible, but as those yards closed between you and the titan, you growled and prepared yourself. You gave your horse a soft pat on her neck, and heaved yourself to stand on the saddle. You gaged your surroundings, seeing complete flat plains all around you, not an ideal situation for fighting at all.

Your odm gear shot you straight to the titan’s legs, a plan instilled in your head on the best way to take it down. It was fairly thin and muscular, but you decided it was just a plain titan as it dumbly stared at you with its wicked grin. Your dual blades locked in your hands now, you swung behind the titan and sliced through its ankles. The ten meter fell swiftly, giving you the perfect opportunity to land on its nape and kill it. It stilled completely beneath you after your swift cuts, and you ran as fast as your body willed you to rejoin your mare.

You placed your fingers to your lips, whistling as loud as you could. Your horse, at least 100 feet away, perked its ears and turned at a rapid speed straight back to you. She neighed as she reached your form, and you hauled yourself back on her saddle, kicking your legs for her to break into a full gallop to where the green flares still lingered in the air.

You didn’t bother to signal another flare in the air, seeing no other flares around you. As you neared closer to the forest, you felt incredibly relieved at the sight of your squad, now able to make out their faces. Petra waved her hands high in the air, about 20 feet away now. You saw Oluo, Gunther, and Levi, unharmed, as you got closer, bringing your horse down to a slightly slower gait, seeing no titans around.

“Are you okay?” Petra shouted at you once you reached the group. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay!” you spoke as fast as you could. “The other cadets I was with were killed by an abnormal, I got split up from them.”

“What was that red flare?” Oluo questioned, worry riddled in his eyes.

“It’s fine, I killed it,” you breathed shakily. “Where are the others?”

“Retreating back to the walls,” Levi answered, voice hard and commanding. “We’re out of blades, and there've been too many casualties. The others have the deceased’s bodies.”

You and your squad nodded, and with no further delay, you broke your horses into a full sprint back to the walls. The sun hung low in the sky, sunset merely a few hours away. Now in a formation in the clear open plains, you noticed out of the corner of your eye some movement.

“Abnormal titan to the right!” you screamed, turning your head to watch the titan’s arms flail, running in an irregular pattern.

“Holy fuck,” Gunther’s eyes widened in horror, shooting a black flare into the sky. “That’s got to be a 15 meter!”

“Don’t engage!” Levi barked, eyes trained straight ahead at the walls. “Keep an eye on it!”

“Sir!” the four of you quipped.

It seemed the abnormal titan had other plans as it caught sight of the five of you, its pace changing with intentions.

“It’s heading straight towards us!” Petra called out, flickering her eyes between the running titan and your captain. “Orders, Captain?”

Levi kept silent, much to your horrors. It was only a few yards away now, speed not slowing. Levi’s attention was completely ahead, the walls almost in full view. You were so close, not close enough though and the abnormal titan’s legs moved faster.

“Captain Levi!” Oluo shouted, eyebrows shot into his hairline.

The titan was less than three yards away when Levi finally spoke, “Petra, Oluo, make it fast!”

You shot off your horse before Levi’s lips opened, his commands unheard by you. Your odm ropes attached right into the titan’s ankles, just like how you had done before. There’s a reason they called it an abnormal titan though you discovered as its fingers closed around the wiring of your gear, yanking the ropes out of its skin and hauling your body up.

You squirmed, mashing your buttons desperately to get your hooks out of its fist as you were brought to the titan’s mouth. It was an ugly son of a bitch, teeth on full display in its evil smile. You couldn’t believe how badly you had fucked up again, the titan’s other hand gaining momentum as it lifted to wrap its disgusting meaty fingers around you. You watched as the fingers were sliced off before they could reach you, and suddenly you were free falling as the hand holding your odm ropes fell from its arm. You redirected yourself back to its ankles, back to your original plan of taking out the nerves to allow the titan to fall, your nerves entirely shot, your adrenaline in full control.

Levi had both his swords drawn as he met you at the back of the 15 meter’s legs, “Are you trying to get yourself fucking killed? You should’ve let the others handle it!”

“I thought I had it, Captain!” you curtly shouted, cutting through the tendons and getting sprayed with steaming blood. The titan did not falter though, but thankfully you and Levi had created a useful diversion as Petra, and Oluo took out the titan’s nape. You and your group shot back to your horses as the titan fell from its height, dead on impact.

The opening of the gate of Wall Rose was a fucking blessing, and your squad couldn’t have ran through it any faster. You heard the roaring of the gate as it closed behind you, and you were choking on shallow breaths as you slowed your mare’s gait.

None of you spoke a single word as you returned to the former headquarters, exhausted after the adrenaline of your mission wore off. You returned your horses to the stables, where feed and water awaited them. Your squad practically ran off, and you were confused until you saw the pissed off look of your superior aimed directly at you. Gulping down spit, you turned on your heel, ready to take off.

Levi’s arm shot out around your bicep, harshly tugging you to stop your escape, “Are you a fucking idiot, cadet? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I thought I could take out the titan by its ankles!” you defended quickly, gritting your teeth as his fingers dug into your clothed arm. “It’s how I took out the other titan I killed, Captain!”

“You better learn quickly that all titans are not the same! Or did you not learn that in training?” Levi growled out between clenched teeth.

“I thought I could take it out,” you grumbled, ripping your arm out of his grip.

“You betrayed my orders. You listen to me and my commands, cadet,” he spat out, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes burning holes into yours. “Remember your place.”

You pivoted yourself away from your captain, trotting ahead to head inside the headquarters, voice laced with malice as you grumbled, “I’ll do as I see fit.”

This would be the second time Levi hadn’t dismissed you before leaving him behind, you realized as you arrived at the communal bathroom. You sighed heavily, leaning back against the closed door, completely alone. Thankfully, it was very late in the evening, and if your comrades weren’t in bed already, they would be heading to sleep soon. You were so relieved to get some much needed alone time, especially now that you had such a terrible day.

You changed out of your blood soaked uniform, not bothering to fold it as you laid the clothes on the floor. Stark naked, you began to fill the bathtub basin with running water, a very rare luxury due to the previous care when the headquarters was up and running. With the porcelain half filled, the water steaming, you sunk your aching body into the scalding bath. The water turned a deep pink as you scrubbed your skin with a rag that had been resting over the rim. You untied your hair and dipped your head back, threading your fingers through your knots after generously coating the strands with soap. You drained the dirty water, refilling it back up now that most of the dirt and blood had been washed away. The tub held a pastel pink hue now, but you felt much cleaner and you sunk back in the tub, stretching out as much as you could.

You didn’t dare close your eyes for too long, picturing the events of today. You didn’t try to reflect on the lives that had been lost on today’s mission, the strangers you never had the pleasure, or perhaps displeasure, of getting to know. It made it easier in a sense to forget, to keep pushing forward. Still, the gore and the cruelty of what being a part of the scouts was truly about haunted the corners of your mind as you absentmindedly rubbed soap along your limbs. Maybe you were trying to wash away these memories, too.

Half an hour later, you decided it was time to dry off and get into comfortable clothing as the water cooled and your skin had pruned. You unplugged the drain, standing and reaching for a towel. Wrapping the fabric around your chest, you stepped out of the tub, feet leaving wet prints on the floor as you treaded to your bedroom, soiled clothes in hand.

An oversized white long sleeve hung off your frame, accompanied by your favorite cotton shorts as you sat on your bed, completely alone. Christa had briefly mentioned before your mission this morning that she’d be spending the night with Ymir, to which you were inwardly grateful for the promise of solidarity. As you sat hunched over, you found yourself longing for the comforting presence of someone, anyone, to distract you from the images that plagued your mind, no matter how hard you tried to push them away.

You jerked with a start as you pictured the angry face of your captain, feeling immense guilt pool in your gut. You had never spoken so much with Levi before yesterday, realizing the weight of your words and actions, reckless and undermining his authority. Maybe you owed him an apology, for if nothing else to at least calm your mind enough for sleep.

You didn’t remember the walk when you had arrived outside the captain’s door, or could recall if you had knocked before it swung open, revealing Levi’s surprised expression.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, nervously tugging at your sleeves as you avoided eye contact. “I’ve been disrespectful, Captain, and I’m sorry.”

“Cadet,” his teeth clenched tightly. “Do you understand what time it is?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whimpered, legs ready for a moment's notice of a retreat. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave—“

Levi’s hand shot out to circle your wrist, and you finally looked up into his charcoal eyes, “Don’t, come in.”

You couldn’t protest as you guided you into his room, shutting the door behind you after you passed the entry. Levi was dressed casually, beige cotton shirt hanging off his torso, plain grey pants on his lower half. The bags under his eyes told you he had also not been able to fall asleep. He led you to sit on his neatly made bed, towering over you with his arms tightly crossed.

“I was on my way to check on you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What?”

“You didn’t knock,” Levi clarified, looking anywhere but at you. “I was already at the door. You’d seen a lot today. I don’t need my soldiers having breakdowns after every mission.”

He was worried about you, your breath halted in your throat.

“Oh,” you dumbly said.

“Seems like you did me a favor by coming here,” he mused, sighing as he ran a hand through his bangs. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“Thinking, again, about everything,” you crossed your thighs, body language signally how uncomfortable you were upon talking about these feelings.

“Your brain is going to cause you more grief if you don’t stop,” Levi’s spare hand grasped your chin gently, bringing your head up so you could look him in the eyes. “Why do you insist on being alone with these thoughts?”

“Captain, weren’t you just saying it’s a bad idea to have friends?” you could feel the pounding of your heart in your chest at his gesture, unsure of his intentions.

“Weren't you just talking about finding comfort in others?” Levi leaned down, you felt his breath against your lips as he spoke. “I’ve been paying attention to you for awhile, cadet.”

“You looked in my file, you told me already,” you whispered, unsure that if you spoke at full volume your voice wouldn’t quiver.

“No, I’ve been watching you. You’re not exactly quiet when you sneak out at night, y’know. I’ve seen you,” he hesitated briefly before continuing. “I’ve watched you cry all alone, how you try to distance yourself from the others. I was testing you yesterday, brat. I think I understand now, though.”

Your captain crouched down to meet you at eye level, fingertips never straying from your chin, and you felt your lip quiver as he rasped, “I understand, because I get it. You’ve always felt alone, haven't you?”

You nodded, scared to voice the truth, he continued, “I’m not going to explain myself to you, and if I hear a single word spoken about any of our conversations, I will personally sign your extermination paperwork. You’re different, you’re not like the others. You know what grief is, what pain and loss feels like. Your mission, your goals, it keeps driving you forward. Who couldn’t notice that?”

Levi scoffed, and you managed out a tiny, “Captain Levi.”

“Yes?”

“Why are you telling me this?” you could feel the harsh prick of tears try to escape your eyes, blinking furiously to not allow them to fall.

“Because,” he brushed back your hair behind your ear with his spare hand. “We’re exactly the same, and I can’t allow you to continue living like this, knowing where you’ll end up. Are you a virgin, cadet?”

“Yes,” you stuttered, thoroughly embarrassed.

“I am too,” Levi confessed, his eyes baring his soul. “I’m in my thirties, and I’ve never taken a woman to bed. All because of my mission.”

“My parents raised me to save myself for marriage,” your lips hung open. “But, they’re dead now, and I’ll probably never be married.”

“Cadet?” Levi’s hand came up from your chin to rest his palm against your cheek. “You talk about choices, you told me about how you never followed the path set for you. Why don’t you allow yourself some peace, some comfort? If not for yourself, for others, for your fellow comrades?”

“Are you asking to fuck me, sir?” your body felt heavy, uncomfortably numb but you couldn’t will yourself to move an inch, your mind was frazzled.

“I’m asking for permission to comfort you, both of us. I’m tired of being alone, aren’t you?” his face had fallen completely, and you were in awe of how open and raw Levi was.

You didn’t answer him, instead pushing his hands off of your face to capture his cheeks in your own hands, forcing your lips together. Fuck the world, fuck the titans, fuck every single thing that dared to bother you and your existence. You were tired, tired of denying yourself pleasures and comfort and basic human interaction. Who cared if you all died? Would it be for naught that you had never gotten to know your comrades? What would be the point in dying for your military if you didn’t have a motivation, a passion driving you? You were so fucking lonely, and Levi was too as he crashed his lips against yours, wrapping his long arms around your back to hold you closer.

You felt the older ravenette pull away for a moment, tugging his shirt over his head to reveal his scarred and muscular chest. You ran your fingers over his middle slowly, taking in every dip and every flex of his body. Levi was beautiful, and you felt honored that you were here in this moment, with a man who had heard more of your thoughts and feelings than any person before. He stopped your hands as they came to his pecks, pushing your arms high to remove your own shirt.

Your nipples hardened meeting the cold air, exposed now in the dim candle light. You didn’t dare cover yourself, nor did Levi let you get the chance. His hands were all over your chest within an instant, caressing and groping as his lips met yours once again. You hadn’t bothered to tell Levi that he was your first kiss, the first man to see you naked, the first man who had shown genuine interest in you and your body. Maybe you’d tell him later, but for now, you just wanted to quell the thoughts swarming your mind.

You stood quickly, maneuvering your lips to the side of his exposed neck. Your kisses were sweet, innocent and pure as Levi began to pull your shorts off, your panties accompanying the fabric. You kicked out of them as Levi grabbed the back of your head, groaning as he slammed your mouths together once more in an open kiss.

Your hands were everywhere on his skin, trying desperately to remember every single detail, knowing that this would most likely be a one time thing. You knew the risks of becoming entangled in a romantic relationship in the military, more so the scouts. Levi or you, or anyone, could die at any moment. This only motivated you further in your desire, ripping down his pants, mildly surprised to see your captain not wearing any underpants.

Levi breathily mumbled as he grasped your waist and led you flat on your back atop his bed, “I thought you were dead today.”

“I’m not, and neither are you,” you hushed his spoken thoughts with another passionate kiss. He tasted minty from his tea, smelled of woodsy musk from his obvious earlier shower, his touch so soft as he grazed your body up and down.

You felt his knees between your legs as he loomed over you, pushing apart your thighs at the force. His right hand stroked your cheek as his tongue prodded past your willing lips, swollen from his attention. His left hand ventured south, resting upon the curve of your hip, digging his fingers to feel the supple flesh.

“You’re quite beautiful, y’know,” he mirrored your earlier ministrations, placing sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck. “One of the reasons I was so fascinated by you, I couldn’t understand how you weren’t married.”

“Maybe in another life,” you simply put, attention drawn to how sinful his lips felt against your flushed skin. He sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, and a whimper left your lips at the contact. You could feel your center slicken, cold air consuming all of your exposed skin. Levi’s hand dared closer and closer to your desire, and you made out the distinguished poke of his manhood against your lower stomach.

When his fingertips nudged against your folds, Levi let out a groan of pleasure, “You’re so wet, cadet. I’ve barely touched you.”

“Captain, I need this,” you begged, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him flush against you. “Please, distract me, make me forget.”

Levi felt no need to answer your pleads, instead allowing his fingers to familiarize himself with your most intimate of parts. His eyes stayed trained on yours, taking in every expression you made, one catching his focus immediately as his pointer finger circled the top of your folds. It felt like a button, and you started moaning desperately as he continued his circling.

“Feels good?” your captain asked, insecurity in the back of his mind.

“Yes,” you took your right hand away from Levi’s neck, grabbing his wrist that was in between your legs, dipping his fingers to your dripping entrance. “Need you here.”

He plunged his pointer and middle fingers in, and your velveteen walls clenched around him. You had pleasured yourself many times just like this, but the heightened pleasure of someone else’s knuckles deep inside you was incredible. No one had ever touched you like this before, looked at you so lovingly and so lustfully. His fingers scissored inside you, and you knew your patience would soon snap.

When Levi’s fingers curled upwards, you thought you were going to pass out. Your eyes screwed shut as loud mewls left your lips, Levi’s free hand covering your mouth. Your hips bucked upwards in his touch, hips rolling fast as your clit caught the fat of his palm. You could feel the familiar bubble of your climax, threatening to spill over as you arched your back.

Levi pulled his fingers from your weeping cunt then, so agonizingly slowly, “No, cadet. Not yet.”

You whined, pressure settling down in your abdomen as Levi took his soaking hand to his hard cock. You couldn’t believe that you hadn’t paid attention to his girth before, he was gorgeous. All the hard work and all the violence had sculpted your captain as if he were a statue. His length stood at full attention, pressed against his belly, his balls hanging in the free space between his thick thighs. You moaned at the sight of Levi stroking himself, seeing the glisten of your arousal coat him. He let out a strangled groan, before letting himself go, falling unceremoniously to capture your lips once again.

“You ready?” Levi asked permission, his kiss so sweet and tender, and you realized then the weight of all of this. You were about to lose your virginities to each other, he would forever hold a mark on you.

You smiled, so full of adoration, there wasn’t anyone else you’d rather be with right now as you spoke, “Yes, sir.”

Levi gripped the base of his dick, bumping the engorged head against your sensitive clit and through your folds as he coated himself more in your essence. You both knew this was going to hurt you, and had either of you not been in such a hurry, you’d take the time to mutually pleasure each other until your bodies were truly ready for this intimate act. There were no coherent thoughts in this moment, only pure passion and animalistic desire.

His tip sunk in, and you felt like you were going to be split in half. Your hands shot up to his arms, nails leaving half crescents on his biceps, your ankles hooking together on his ass as you tensed up at the pain.

“Relax,” he kissed your jaw with a groan. “Gonna’ take care of you.”

You nodded, focusing on his words instead of the pain. Your pelvic floor relaxed, and Levi was able to push himself deeper into your cavern.

“There’s no blood?” Levi questioned you curiously as he glanced down to where your bodies met, not moving even a centimeter to allow you to adjust.

The pain was quickly fading as you mumbled, “Probably broke my hymen on a goddamn horse.”

You both let out a breathy laugh, and Levi’s right hand came to stroke your cheek, pushing back your hair out of your face, “I’ll have to kill that horse then.”

You were rattling your brain for a witty response to your captain when Levi shifted, stroking his length backwards as your walls fluttered around him. Your face was no longer scrunched in pain, your eyebrows unfurrowed and your mouth hung open, feeling nothing but pleasure as his left hand shot to your pulsing pussy, thumbing your clit with the lightest of touches.

“Captain,” you stuttered, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Feels good.”

“Yeah,” he pushed his forehead to yours, his own eyes closing as he pushed his cock back into your depths, so slowly.

You placed a gentle kiss to his lips for a brief moment, neck craning off the pillow under your head. You felt a cramp as he kissed you back, so gently and so softly. You moved your mouth to his jaw, peppering kisses along any exposed skin you reach.

His right hand stayed positioned to your face, his grey colored orbs opened, focusing on your face. You looked up then, and felt your heart hammering in your chest. Levi was so handsome, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes softened without the weight of reality crashing down on him.

“I’m glad it’s you,” your arms were still wrapped around his neck as you rubbed soft circles along the ridge of his undercut. His hips held such a passionate, steady rhythm as he continued plunging into you.

Levi didn’t respond, his hand angling your face to his again. Although unspoken, you could see in his face that he appreciated your words, his thrusts faster in pace now. You couldn’t stop the moans from exiting your throat, volume increasing as his thumb worked you with more pressure. He swallowed your noises with his lips, not even kissing, the two of you just breathing into one another’s mouth.

Suddenly the distance wasn’t close enough, Levi’s hand left the curve of your cheek to wrap his arm around the middle of your back, forcing your body completely against his sweating one. His lips began to work against yours, sloppy and messy as you kissed the man back with the same fever.

Levi’s pace was solid, deep and without error. Your hips tried desperately to meet his thrusts, his wrist in between your centers blocking you from doing so. Your captain didn’t even so much as warn you to stop, his thumb rolling faster against your now swollen clit, that same heat in your stomach rebuilding rapidly. The two of you were so lost in each other, your arms leaving his neck to wrap around his shoulders and forcing his head down to your neck where he lapped and peppered kisses to conceal his own moans. You did the same, lips attached to the curve where his muscular shoulder met his neck.

His touch was unrelenting, but you felt the unmistakable shutter as he plunged right to your cervix, goosebumps rising on his skin under your fingertips. You let out a muffled moan, your nails clawing at his back, your legs somehow tighter around his backside.

Levi’s thumb rubbed harder, so much faster now than his thrusts. Your pussy was fluttering rapidly now, clenching and unclenching around his girth, you were so close. You had a feeling your captain was as well, his pace increasing even faster.

“I’m cumming,” you pulled away from his shoulder to warn Levi, sucking the sensitive area of his neck.

Levi moaned in pleasure, bucking his hips hard into you, and this was what sent you over the edge. Levi couldn’t move even if he wanted to as your cunt gripped him so tightly, contracting so hard around his length. You could hear a string of curses and ‘ah’s from his lips as your hips bucked wildly into his hand, rubbing your clit along his stilled thumb. You’d had plenty of self given orgasms before, but feeling completely filled as your walls fluttered around something was a pleasure you knew you’d be seeking again.

Your teeth were sunk into his neck, and Levi was finally able to continue his strokes as your orgasm slowed, your body limping. His thumb started once more, and you were whimpering at the overstimulation, your contractions not even done. He was pounding into you now, growling into your neck, you could feel the sharp clench of his jaw dig into your shoulder. It didn’t take you more than a minute to build up another orgasm, and as the new waves of pleasure slammed into you, Levi was pulling out.

You came around nothing as Levi rutted into your stomach, feeling the smear of hot cum rub against your middles. He was bucking desperately, moaning and whimpering. The sounds he made paired with the nonstop movement of his thumb only heightened your pleasure, your left hand coming to caress the back of his head.

He removed his touch from you, taking his dripping hand to your waist as his thrusts against your stomach slowed. It crawled under your back to meet his other arm, and he placed sensual, slow kisses to your neck. You did the same, thanking him non verbally. His head lifted, eyes half lidded as he placed his lips to yours, locking them in a saccharine embrace. He pulled away after a few moments, sliding off of your sticky body and out of the bed. Your arms fell to your sides, and he slipped his pants on, avoiding the area of his lower stomach where his cum was drying quickly. He rushed to his dresser, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping himself down quickly, returning back to your body to clean your middle as well.

“You’ll probably need to shower,” Levi broke the silence as he pulled the rag away, his empty hand roaming the curve of your side.

“Probably,” you mumbled in bliss, enjoying his light touch. “I’ll get up in just a minute.”

“You could stay,” Levi offered awkwardly, halting his movements.

“It’s okay, I think I want to be alone,” you smiled, your brain foggy. “Also don’t need rumors to start up if anyone sees me leaving your room in the morning.”

Levi only hummed as you pulled your naked body to a full stand, reaching for your discarded clothes. You pulled your long sleeve over your head first, the edges brushing against the tops of your thighs, stepping into your panties and shorts quickly. The silence was almost overwhelming, neither of you sure of what exactly to say.

“Captain Levi,” you finally spoke, ready to depart. “Thank you.”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling your body to his with no real force, kissing you passionately. You kissed him back hungrily, and had you been more experienced, you would’ve felt the flicker of sparks deep within your stomach, a signal of unconscious feelings sprouting within you.

You pulled away from him, a smile playing at your lips as he spoke raspily, “You know where to go if you don’t want to be alone.”

You threaded your fingers through his open palm, bringing his knuckles to your lips as you placed a soft peck to the back of his hand, “I will, Captain. Goodnight.”

The heat of the sun beat harshly on your back, your body in a full ache as you dodged a punch from Eren. You went to lift your leg into a kick, a yelp leaving your lips at the feeling that you were going to rip in half, and quickly shifted your hips to plan a new attack. Thankfully, your fake out worked, seeing Eren prepare himself for your leg, not for your first to go flying into his gut.

With a loud groan of pain, Eren laid flat on his back in the dirt. Your chests heaved, sweat dripping down your skin, and you extended your palm to the younger boy. You had won this spar, and Eren huffed as he smacked his hand away playfully.

“I had you last time! I can’t believe I lost again!” he complained, eyebrows furrowed as he screwed his eyes shut in a fit.

You laughed then, crossing your arms over your chest, “You got lucky, Jaeger.”

Around the two of you, all the cadets were still in their own sparring matches. Even in your weary state, you had been the first match finished, and you feel a swell of pride. You were getting stronger, more fit to survive the harsh reality of this world.

“Cadets,” Captain Levi made himself known then, stepping forward from the row of squad leaders, unbeknownst to you and Eren he had been watching with a trained eye the entire fight.

“Captain!” you saluted, Eren lazily following along silently.

Levi’s eyes lingered over you for a minute, before shifting his attention to Eren before scoffing, “Pathetic, Jaeger. You need to work on your form.”

You tried desperately to hide a smirk, eyes lit up in amusement as Eren frowned deeply, sighing, trying not to lash out on your superior. Levi continued, “Cadet, good job.”

“Thank you, Captain,” you smiled brightly, now trying to conceal the oncoming heat of your blush flaming up your neck, licking the tips of your ears.

“However, never let your guard down after you think you’ve won.”

The sound of your skull cracking into the ground beneath you sent your vision in a dizzy frenzy. Levi hovered over you, and you could make out the lingering feeling of his boot hitting your stomach, causing you to lay flat on your back. The sun was high in the sky today, not a single cloud in view or whisk of wind felt.

“Ow,” you heaved, bringing yourself into a seated position, hunched over. “What was that for?”

“You can’t always predict what a titan’s next move is going to be,” Levi cooly explained, crouching down to meet your eye level. “This is how you fucked up, both times, with an abnormal. You have to pay attention. You can’t let yourself get caught up in a victory. Understood, brat?”

You nodded, feeling your ears grow hot as multiple sets of eyes watched on in curiosity, “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll see you in my office after dinner for your punishment,” his eyes twinkled, a hint of a smirk on the corner of his lips. “Cockiness is not befitting for a brat like you.”

You groaned, biting your tongue to hold back words you knew would come across as disrespectful. You didn’t see what you did to deserve a punishment, but you huffed as Levi strolled away, yelling at Eren about something. Probably about his smirk when he watched you fall on your ass.

Turns out your punishment was anything but, instead a much rougher fucking left your body nearly in shambles. This became a routine, instead of traveling outside to stare at the stars and lose yourself in your thoughts, Levi’s body became your comfort, your relief. He felt the same, pouring his loneliness into your willing body as he claimed you night after night, week after week.

He’d tell you sometimes in the afterglow of your orgasms that this was strengthening the squad, this was for the betterment of the scouts. Because what better way was there to build trust? You’d listen half heartedly, knowing this was all an excuse to rationalize why you continued seeking each other’s comfort.

Levi was soon fiercely protective of you, and you unconsciously him. This was reinforced after the 57th expedition failed horribly, the faces of your deceased squad members haunting your dreams every night. Levi would hold you as you sobbed through the nightmares. It hurt, so fucking much. Levi would whisper to you that you just had to keep moving forward. You would nod your head and listen. Your captain knew best, and you were finding it harder every passing day to pretend that he didn’t.

You didn’t try to make sense of your relationship, just letting it exist. Some days you’d push him away, others you’d pull the ravenette closer to your body. Caught between wanting to leave the man you’d realized you’d fallen in love with, or go into hiding away from the military with Levi and marry the son of a bitch. You liked to think he felt the same, his words few, but his acts spoke volumes of his feelings.

And when you laid limp on the battlefield, titan corpses steaming around you, your breaths shallow as your tired body began to prepare to shut down, you smiled. Everything all at once came flooding to you as you stared up at the sky, completely alone.

You blinked at the clouds, painted so pretty in pinks and oranges at the setting sun. You could hear your name being screamed somewhere in the distance, the voice vaguely familiar. You felt relief wash over you as the large open wound on your stomach gushed an unbelievable amount of blood. Full of shock, your adrenaline keeping your pain at bay, you thought humorously that you had no idea you had that much blood running through your body.

Raven hair and charcoal eyes entered your hazy vision, and you kept that smile on your face. Your fingers reached up, reaching Levi’s soaking cheek, not being able to tell if it was because of blood, or tears. You smoothed your thumb under his eye, and you were being lifted. You couldn’t hear his words, only the dullness of sound as the world continued to slow around you.

You stared at the clouds, completely at peace. You had conquered your biggest fear, growing close to another, just to lose them. Images of Levi flashes before your eyes, his stoic expression, his commanding leadership, his sensual caresses, his passionate kisses as he poured all of his feelings out for you. You loved him, you realized. You were so happy that you got to experience this in this lifetime.

The colors of the sky blurred together, and you could feel the wind whisk around you as Levi shot off on his odm gear. You were finally flying in the clouds.

#tw: blood #tw: death #tw: talk of death #tw: dying #tw: violence #tw: angst #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x y/n #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi fanfiction #levi #levi ackerman #tw: dark themes

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galacticwildfire · 2 years ago

Text

Illicit Affairs | Obi-Wan Kenobi

Thirteen

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Amidala!oc

Rhea Amidala meets Obi-Wan Kenobi when he and his master come to her younger sisters aid and he discovers the queen's sister was once a Jedi, expelled from the order for her unwillingness to forgo love and attachment. The two stranded together on Tatooine find common ground despite their differences, and above all a hope within the other for something greater than themselves.

He hopes for her to rejoin the order, while she hopes for him to leave, and both are left reeling from their illicit affair, until ten years later he is once again called to her sister's service and they are catapulted into each other's lives by a war that will set them on the same path of secrecy and tragedy.

Word count:5.5k

Tags/warnings: a little fluff then a whole lot of angst

We descend into the atmosphere to find a watery planet consumed by storms and immediately something feels off. There's no need to confirm it with him because I know he feels it too.

"There," I say pointing to a settlement and he finds a landing hub whilst I quickly braid my hair, having a feeling this is definitely going to end in a fight.

Upon landing I stand and secure my weapons belt, only to still when I feel his hand on my arm and look up at him in surprise as he wraps his cloak around my shoulders to protect me from the rain and I smile up at him at the gesture.

"Thank you," I say softly and he squeezes my shoulder with an equally soft smile.

"Come on," he says with a hand on my back as we exit my ship and hurry through the rain to get indoors, him catching my arm as I almost slip and we're both laughing as we head in through the doors.

He's soaking wet but he doesn't seem to overly mind considering the thickness of his robes and I wrap his cloak tight around me as we walk through the entrance and we're surprised to find one of their species already waiting for us.

"Master Jedi," she addresses Obi-Wan. "The Prime Minister is expecting you."

"Expecting?" I repeat and Obi-Wan blinks in confusion, almost flattered.

"We're expected?"

"Of course," she says as if it is obvious. "He is anxious to meet you. After all these years we were beginning to think you weren't coming. Now please, this way."

We share a look to make sure we heard that right, and he keeps a hand on my back as she guides us through the building, something about the very design of the place feels uncomfortably clinical and sure enough the white light is blinding as we're brought into a room where a man who must be the Prime Minister waits for us.

"May I present, Lama Su, Prime Minister of Kamino."

We both bow our heads in customary respect, or at least hoping that's the custom.

"And this is Master Jedi..."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he answers and introduces me formally "And Lady Rhea Amidala, General of Naboo."

"I trust you are going to enjoy your stay," the Prime Minister says, inviting us to sit in the pod chairs that are lowered.

I sit with my legs crossed and back straight, having had my lacking regalness of youth quickly beat into me by Count Dooku, while Obi-Wan leans forward with his legs spread, truly commanding attention without even realising it. Even now soaked from the rain, or rather especially so, he truly is a sight. Quickly I pull my eyes from him as the Prime Minister begins speaking.

"And now to business, you will be delighted to hear that we are on schedule." At the next words I go cold. "Two hundred thousand units ready with a million more well on the way."

I gulp feeling a chill wash over me and look to Obi-Wan who struggles to hide his bewilderment. "That's... good news."

"Please tell your Master Sifo Dyas that his order will be met on time."

For me the name is vaguely familiar, but Obi-Wan asks them to repeat it as if he's not hearing them right.

"I'm sorry, master...?"

"Jedi Master Sifo Dyas is still a leading member on the Jedi Council, is he not?"

I know enough to come to the conclusion that he certainly is not.

Obi-Wan glances at me, a brief flash of panic in his eyes before he says "Master Sifo Dyas was killed almost ten years ago."

"Oh," the Prime Minister says, surprised. "I am so sorry to hear that, but I'm sure he would have been proud of the army we've built for him."

The air goes cold and Obi-Wan looks at me as I sit there dumbfounded. This- this isn't the army Dooku's been trying to acquire, he wants battle droids not whatever cloners make.

"Army?" I repeat and try to make it seem like we are aware of it. "I have built an army myself for Naboo, please tell me of the one you have built."

"A clone army," he clarifies and I try to keep my face neutral. "And I must say, one of the finest we've ever created."

"Tell me Prime Minister, when my master first contacted you about the army did he say who it was for?" Obi-Wan asks, likely suspecting what I do, that it's for the Separatists but neither of us could have expected the answer.

"Of course he did," he answers. "This army is for the Republic."

That's when my stomach falls. The Military Creation Act. It's already underway, it has been for years. This attempt might not be Dooku's work after all if the bounty hunter is working with the Kaminoans, it's the Republic. Of course they would try to kill the leader of the opposition when their army has already been created.

I need to tell Padme.

Obi-Wan can sense my alarm and gives me a careful tilt of his head to remind me to keep up with the ruse and I give him a reassuring nod.

"You must be anxious to inspect the units for yourself."

"Yes," I say getting to my feet, knowing this is no longer a simple investigation into a dart, this is potentially the biggest scandal the Republic has ever faced, and my sister is leading its opposition, the very thing that has to be the reason behind the attacks. "That's why we're here, isn't it Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, it is," he says getting to his feet, more bewildered than anything else.

And so he brings us to them.

Side by side we're led through the halls until we're brought into a factory and thankfully until now I've never seen anything like it. Obi-Wan and I's disturbance is equal as we walk past cloned fetuses in capsules.

"Very impressive," he says, hiding his horror perfectly.

"Yes," I agree, not able to do quite as good of a job as him. "I've certainly never come across anything like this."

"I'd hoped you would be pleased," the Prime Minister says. "Clones can think creatively. You will find that they are immensely superior to droids." Immediately I can name about ten violations of intergalactic law just looking at this room but still can't argue with his assessment regarding droids. If only Dooku would have bloody listened to mine. "We take great pride in our combat education and training programs. This group was created about five years ago."

He brings us to see a group of identical children, clones, all working quietly just as any other children would but this... this is science at its most horrific.

"You mentioned growth acceleration," Obi-Wan says doing the talking while I'm too shocked at what I'm seeing and what it means for Padme to have any sort of curiosity.

Despite being a Separatist I was never opposed to the bill, believing a Republic army of volunteer soldiers from willing planets would only be beneficial. It is something I had proposed to Dooku time and time again for the Confederacy.

But not this, never this.

"Oh yes it's essential, otherwise a mature clone would take a lifetime to grow," the Prime Minister says. "Now we can do it in half the time."

"I see," Obi-Wan says as he comes to show us the adult clones dining. They talk and interact like regular men but are being kept here like prisoners and they don't even know it.

"They are totally obedient, taking any order without question," he says and that is what terrifies me the most. An army that cannot resist an order to massacre the innocent. It would make them no better than droids, only more creative in their killing. "We modified their genetic structure to make them less independent than the original host."

"And who was the original host?"

"A bounty hunter called Jango Fett."

That's when I snap out of it. "Bounty hunter?"

"Yes."

"And where is this bounty hunter now?" Obi-Wan asks, him and I needing no discussion as we stand there in unspoken agreement on the plan.

"Oh we keep him here."

"Lovely," I smile, feeling my saber on my hip. "We would be honoured to meet the host of the army."

"That is pleasing to hear," the Prime Minister says. "Apart from his pay which is considerable, Fett demanded only one thing, an unaltered clone of himself."

"A child?" I quickly realise.

"In theory, yes. Curious isn't it?"

"Unaltered?" Obi-Wan inquires.

"Pure genetic replication. No tampering with the structure to make it more docile, and no growth acceleration."

"So a child," I say again, hating the empathy that brings.

I've been prepared to kill the bounty hunter since the moment he escaped on Coruscant, but now things have become complicated. I'm many things, but I have no desire to create an orphan. Once Dooku would have called it a strength by compassion, but now I know he would only call it a weakness.

"General Amidala and I would very much like to meet this Jango Fett," Obi-Wan requests with a cautious hand on my back.

"I would be very happy to arrange it for you."

Whilst that is organised we are taken by the woman who greeted us onto a balcony where for the first time we look below at the clones in their armour.

A true army.

Padme needs to know.

"Magnificent aren't they?"

Horrifying is the word I'd use.

Obi-Wan moves his hand to hold mine as we look down at the horror beneath us, knowing what this means for the Republic, for the Separatists, if both sides are acquiring their own armies.

War.

"May we have a moment?" I ask our guide and she nods before dismissing herself.

Obi-wan looks at me and squeezes my hand as he says "This- this is something else."

"This is war Obi-Wan," I say stiffly. "Padme and I have spent so long trying to prevent it, and here it is."

He nods in quiet agreement and tries to assure me "The Separatists don't have an army, this will ensure they don't go trying to start a war."

I just shake my head knowing just how wrong he is and say quietly "We need to get this information to Padme without it being intercepted, especially now we know the Republic is behind these attempts."

His brows draw together as he asks "How do you know that?"

"She is leading the opposition to this army, it makes no sense for the Separatists to be behind this when the motivation is clear," I tell him. "What better way to get this bill passed than to kill the leader of the opposition and frame the Separatists for it to ensure the senate will vote in favour of the bill to stop them."

I shouldn't be relieved but I am. Dooku isn't behind this, he isn't so far gone he'd order an attempt on my sisters life even if his master wishes it. I knew he wouldn't betray me so cruelly.

Obi-Wan sees the logic behind my reasoning but is still hesitant "You could be right, but still I want to speak to the bounty hunter to find out who exactly is ordering the attacks, if it is within the Republic then we must find out who."

A dark but reasonable thought comes to me and I propose "Who in the Senate would an army benefit the most?"

He lowers his voice as he leans in, finally scandalised "You can't be proposing the Chancellor is behind this? He may be a politician that is not to be trusted but he's the one who requested this investigation."

"Don't underestimate him, Obi-Wan," I warn him. "The guilty man always makes sure he's in control of the verdict, I would know."

"But this isn't a senate led investigation," he argues, as if they're any different. "This is a Jedi led investigation and the Chancellor has no authority over the council."

I shake my head slowly "They're one and the same Obi-Wan, you just don't see it."

His eyes widen but before this can descend into an argument our guide returns and we quickly fall silent as she says "Come, let me take you to Jango Fett."

I walk ahead of Obi-Wan now, confident in my own verdict but to trace this back to Palpatine I need further evidence and if it is... well, I have no hesitation about carrying out my own assassination attempt since I know there'll be no justice with him controlling the senate.

We're brought to the bounty hunter's chambers, but when the door opens it's just a boy who resembles the other clones and suddenly I'm questioning my own morality knowing what I may be about to do.

"Boba, is your father here?"

"Yep," the child answers.

"We would love to meet him," I smile at the child who's none the wiser but I feel Obi-Wan's cautious eye.

"Sure."

He lets us in and calls out to his father, I feel Obi-Wan's hand on my wrist and he gives me a slight shake of his head, a single warning to not resort to violence.

"Jango welcome back," our guide says as we come face to face with the bounty hunter, absolutely identical to the clones. "Was your trip productive?"

"Fairly," he answers, calm until he catches my face but he pretends he doesn't recognise me as Padme's sister. Anyone assigned to kill her would most certainly be taking me into consideration.

"This is Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi and-"

"Rhea Amidala," I say reaching out to shake his hand firmly. "General of Naboo."

"Your clones are very impressive," Obi-Wan says stiffly, struggling to reign in his horror at it all beneath his cheery demeanour. "You must be very proud."

"I'm just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe," Jango replies and a calm anger washes over me.

"Have you made your way to Coruscant?" I ask him, not being subtle.

"Once or twice."

"Recently?" Obi-Wan inquires, despite his refusal to see the Republic's role in this he has no desire to see Padme's attacker walk freely.

He doesn't reveal anything. "Possibly."

"Then you must know Master Sifo Dyas," Obi-Wan says, wanting to get to the bottom of this strange army the Jedi have found themselves complicit in as much as the truth behind the assassination attempt.

Jango speaks to his son in a language I don't understand and I keep my eyes on the kid who leaves to go slide a door closed before we can see what is behind it as his father asks "Master who?"

"Sifo Dyas," Obi-Wan repeats as I keep a calculating eye on the bounty hunter, questioning in this moment if having a child is enough for me to want to spare him. "Is he not the Jedi who hired you for this job?"

He steps closer to Obi-Wan, meaning to intimidate as he says "Never heard of him."

I watch the concern in the child's eyes as Obi-Wan challenges him. "Really?"

But the next words leave me cold to my core. "I was recruited by a man called Tyranus on one of the moons of Bogden."

"Tyranus?" I breathe and Obi-Wan immediately looks at me as he feels the shock that floods me and suddenly my saber is drawn at Jango Fetts neck.

"Rhea," Obi-Wan warns but I have no more patience for word games.

"Was it Tyranus who recruited you to murder my sister?" The bounty hunter is calm as he looks me in the eye but I only feel myself coming unhinged as I demand "Tell me!"

"Yes," he answers and I can't hide the pure pain that shoots through me at those words. "I trust you know him then."

"Consider your assignment finished," I order him, something telling me he knows just who I am to Dooku and I withdraw my saber. Obi-Wan stands there in a state of shock as I tell him "I have all the information we need, we're leaving."

I don't wait for his agreement as I storm out of the room and down the halls back to my ship, unable to bring myself to believe it. That it was Dooku who paid this bounty hunter to murder my sister, after swearing to me he would never harm my family, that he would kill those who tried. I knew it, despite my denial I knew it the moment I stepped into that room on Serenno.

I believed in him, I believed in his cause, I believed in his faith in me.

That is all gone now.

"Rhea!" Obi-Wan calls out after me but I don't stop, I can't.

This man may have been hired to kill Padme, but why is still a mystery. I don't believe it is simply because I could have revealed the truth about Dooku's plans to her, no, this was planned before that. Someone else was ordering Dooku to get rid of her, whether it was his master or a member of the Confederacy, he still organised it. But we need to know why.

Obi-Wan doesn't manage to catch up to me until I find myself marching out into the rain and he grabs my wrist, voice firm "What do you know?"

I struggle to form words, tears blending in with the rain as I finally force myself to believe it, that the greatest betrayal came from my own master.

"Rhea?" he breathes, looking upon me now in concern as he feels the pain, the shame.

"I know who Tyranus is," I tell him, voice shaking. "But we need to find out where the bounty hunter is going."

He knows we don't have time for questions and we look to the other landing dock to see a ship preparing to leave and quickly we scuttle for cover, trying to stay hidden as we sneak around but the kid spots us.

"Dad look!"

"Boba get on board!" Jango Fett yells, now wearing Mandalorian armour.

Obi-Wan and I look at each other with wide eyes, suddenly realising this is not going to end well.

He immediately brings out his saber to deflect the blaster shots while I grab out my blaster, firing at the bounty hunter from a distance only to find his armour reflects the blasts.

Turns out it's true what they say about beskar.

"Shit," I curse, igniting my saber as he uses his jet pack to evade us and I jump using the force to try and tackle him out of the sky but I'm thrown into the side of the ship and tumble to the slick hard ground.

Just as I'm getting to my feet he fires a blast at Obi-Wan which explodes upon contact and he's thrown back. I let out a scream as the kid fires from the ship's guns at him and I look at the bounty hunter, quickly jumping to my feet and this time attacking from behind, my knees colliding with his back to bring him to the ground, turning to melee fighting to subdue him with my arm around his throat, he rolls us over, a violent struggle on the ground until Obi-Wan pulls him off me, punching him hard and I kick his legs out from under him. But as Obi-Wan goes to reach for his saber Jango uses his jet pack to jump up into the sky and shoots wire around Obi-Wans wrists, tying them together and dragging him across the slippery landing dock, but Obi-Wan uses it to his advantage, banging Jango against the ship until his jet pack is knocked off, exploding.

Jango hits the ground and I move on him, using the wire hanging from his wrist to wrap around his throat, using all my weight to pull him down as he tries to run until he slips and drags us all off the side of the platform, the wire still wrapped around Obi-Wans wrist and me caught in between. My body slams against its slope, quickly letting go of the wire to keep myself from falling but the other two aren't so lucky as they go sliding down off the platform.

I watch in horror as Jango cuts the wire and scream out as Obi-Wan falls, only to use it as a grapple to keep himself from plummeting too far and I turn my attention to the bounty hunter.

"You should have stayed away," he warns me. "Tyranus warned me you could be a problem."

"If you were a smart man you would have killed me first," I say, all qualms about killing him long gone. "You should have known I'd come to finish what you started."

He expects me to draw my saber or to use the force, what he doesn't expect is for me to kick him off the edge of the slop, except I lose my balance as well.

While he plummets fast I'm able to catch myself, grabbing onto one of the edges before slipping down to where Obi-Wan hangs and he grabs my hand, catching me.

"Really? Kicking him was your best idea!"

"You have a better one!"

He swings us onto the ramp below and we run back into the building, getting strange looks as we run through the halls and onto the landing pad only to find his ship leaving, but as it takes off Obi-Wan throws a tracker onto it and we stand there sopping wet and aching in the rain.

"We'll catch up to him," he promises me and arm in arm we stagger back to his ship and once we're inside and safely off that damn planet he looks at me with caution.

I feel his hesitation before asking the dreaded question.

"You said you know who Tyranus is?"

I give a stiff nod and know now is the moment the truth comes out.

"He's Count Dooku," I tell him, fighting tears at the betrayal and when I look at Obi-Wan I see the same sting in his own eyes.

"How do you know this?"

I'm shaking beneath his cloak as I confess "He's my master."

He keeps his face carefully neutral and I know this is nothing he has not expected, he's too smart a man to have not put it together but still I can feel the betrayal as I finally force myself to say it, and yet he still doesn't know the half of it.

"What else?" he asks me stiffly and there's a roughness that's unlike him as he demands "You need to tell me the truth Rhea, all of it."

The tone of his voice, no matter how calm he tries to make it, still makes me defensive.

"That Count Dooku is my master and a Separatist who's ordered my sisters death because of the Confederate secrets I know, what else is there to say?"

I feel the pure fear that's haunted me since long before Dooku and I fell out, that the council would not just fear us but condemn us. That if they knew we had the potential to create a new order they would kill us to stop it, kill us out of fear of a Sith resurgence.

Oh little did I know that it was what he planned all along and the moment I accepted his offer I'd signed my own death certificate.

"Rhea," Obi-Wan swallows, feeling my fear as he asks "Why does he go by the name Tyranus?"

"Because- because he's turned Sith," I whisper and the space between us is colder than anything I've ever felt. "I-" I shake my head, knowing he won't believe me if I say I didn't know from the start there was darkness there. "I lied." I force myself to spit it out. "To you, to the council, to myself."

He shakes his head now in horror, Dooku being my master he could have forgiven, but apprenticing for a Sith...

"Why?" he asks me, his own voice shaking now. "Why would you-"

"Seven years ago Dooku asked me to come to Serenno," I begin numbly. "He knew who I was and what we did."

His voice rises slightly at the thought I'd betray our secrets, his reputation, as he exclaims. "What we did?"

"Not that," I grit out, Dooku read between the lines but I never told him the truth of Obi-Wan and I, that it was ever anything more than an emotional affair. "I meant what we did in killing Maul. He told me surviving and killing a Sith lord was no small feat, he respected me. He wanted to know the truth of his apprentices death and so I told him that and then more."

"More?" he repeats gravely.

"That the council discarded of me for my beliefs regardless of where my heart was, regardless of my willingness to return and he told me he understood."

He shakes his head slowly, seeing the manipulation. "You didn't."

"I trusted him because he was the man who trained Qui-Gon," I stammer and he can't look at me. "I needed guidance, I needed someone to tell me I still had a purpose and he did just that. He trusted Qui-Gon's judgement in me and took me as his apprentice."

"Don't," he says with a harshness that has me clamping my mouth shut. "Don't use my Masters name to excuse turning to Count Dooku and becoming his apprentice. That was all you, Qui-Gon would never have allowed-"

"He was gone," I say with tears in my throat remembering just how far I was willing to go for a purpose. "You were gone. I was lost-"

"And so you joined the lost," he replies, finally looking at me and I wish he didn't. He can't even believe the words leaving his mouth as he says "You're a Sith?"

"No!" I say quickly but he looks at me as if I'm a stranger. "Obi-Wan-"

He steps back, whatever theories he had none could have been as horrible as the truth. "Yet your master is one."

"He is not my master!" I insist, begging him to believe me. "Not anymore. Not after I turned on him when I discovered the truth."

His head falls into his hands as he leans over the co-pilots seat, eyes shut like he's in pain which he's most definitely in as he grits out. "I knew you were lying and I thought I knew why. I knew Dooku had to have trained you and that I could accept but not this. For seven years, seven years, you've been the apprentice of a Sith lord!"

And for the first time I say the words out loud. "Was. I was the apprentice of a Sith lord."

Our eyes meet and I know this is not something he will forgive easily, if ever. "And you would have me believe that you didn't know?"

"I knew he walked a dangerous line," I tell him but it does little to help my case. "And I know at times so did I, but I was blinded by my disillusion with the order, with the Republic-"

"So you're a Separatist now too?" he retorts, seeing how my eyes burn. "By god you are a separatist."

"You know I am!" I yell, my voice trembling with a new sort of rage at having my worst secrets attacked by the man I thought would understand them. "I told you that. You knew from the start I'd been acquainted with the Separatists!"

"Acquainted?" he questions and exclaims "There's a difference between being acquainted and this!"

"Fine," I breathe and reveal "I was a fucking architect of the Confederacy." His jaw goes slack now and that is something he could never have expected. "Is that what you want to hear? That in my anger I wanted to prove myself, that I wanted to be something greater than what I was. That I was Dooku's heir to everything until he told me he wanted to acquire a droid army and make me its grand general."

"You wouldn't-" he rejects, but yet still he somehow believes in this moment I would, and that's what hurts.

"No I wouldn't," I swallow, barely holding back my rage. "I went and told Padme that Dooku was set on war regardless of the military creation acts result. She told me to find out more and so I went back planning to be the perfect spy but just as I arrived I heard him talking to his master, Maul's master, in that very moment I was told about the bomb."

He realises then that this is darker than he could have ever conceived "Maul's master is training Dooku now?"

"Yes and his precious master ordered him to take care of me because I was too great a threat unless I turned to the darkside, and so I turned my blade on him and escaped to get back to Padme before he could kill me." He's silent now and so I taunt. "But you know that, you found the blaster singed cloak I'd thrown off the moment I felt you in that damn elevator."

He gapes at me as he puts the timeline of this together "This- this had all happened in the hours before we saw one another again?"

There is the betrayal, that I didn't immediately run to him to tell him what had happened, that I hid the fact I had just faced down one sith lord despite having killed another together. Betrayal that instead of jumping into action I let my heart get the better of me the moment I laid eyes on him and lied so his first impression of me wouldn't be the one he carries right now.

"Yes," I say and challenge him "Go on, we can fight for hours if you believe that for a moment I would ever knowingly serve a Sith."

"Then why didn't you-"

"Because the moment you stepped into that damn room I'd forgotten everything!" I cry out and watch his face change at those words. "Everything except for you!"

He wants to fight, there's an anger in us both that I know damn well neither have us have felt since we met and he tells me "You are going to be the death of me."

"Perhaps," I say, our illusion of lost love returned to us now shattered. "But unlike you I will never compromise my ideals to blindly serve a corrupt order."

"And yet I was never the one who was blind enough to serve a Sith."

"You're right," I say, not forcing back the tears, the anger. "And he betrayed me after swearing he would never let me suffer the same fate as Qui-Gon." At the mention of his master he is utterly silent. "I tried to kill him when I discovered the truth, so go on and tell me I've gone Sith when all I have ever done is search for somebody to have faith in me."

He shakes his head in utter disbelief. "You know I always had faith in you."

There's that word that stings worse than I'd anticipated it would. "Had."

"Yes, had," he says and it's all I can do not to flinch. "How many days now have we been together without a moment's respite? How many days have you lied to me knowing that the man leading the Separatists, the people who are trying to kill your sister, is a Sith? All to save your pride."

The anger in my heart turns to numbness as I swallow that same pride and tell him "We need to go to Naboo. Padme needs to know what we just saw."

"No."

"No?" I repeat at the audacity. "I swear Obi-Wan if you are going to compromise this mission-"

"I'm not compromising anything!" he harshly berates, whatever calm he clung to disappearing the moment I question his integrity. "That is all you."

"All me?" I laugh dangerously. "Considering you've been my willing accomplice in everything we have done since the moment we met you can put in the co-ordinates and stop acting like my integrity is any less than yours."

He chooses to ignore my own accusations on our conduct and stick to the mission. "We need to be following Fett not wasting time travelling back to the mid rim to see your sister."

"Okay, so your plan is to have us follow Fett so he discovers we put a tracker on his ship?" I question and he presses his lips together, biting back whatever words he has. "No we're going to go to Naboo to let him think he's safe so we can then track him to wherever he's actually going without him trying to throw us off his trail." He might be the Jedi but this is my line of work, not his and I know just how dire this clone army is, that it takes precedence over Fett. "Now we are going to go to Padme to tell her the Republic's illegally built itself an army she's leading the opposition against, no discussion."

He angrily puts the co-ordinates in and not another word is spoken as I leave the cockpit, knowing if either of us say another word to each other we won't be making it to Naboo.

I'd rather him scream at me that I'm a traitor than have to feel the harsh disappointment instead. Perhaps ten years ago he would have yelled and lashed out in anger that would drive my own so we could scream at each other until our throats were raw and our anger was gone, but ten years of training Anakin's left him instead treating me in a way that's a brutal reminder of what he's become.

I was wrong. It's seems that while I've changed little, he's changed more than I could have ever realised until now. No longer is he the sarcastic young man who looked at me like I was the sun, but a master fully devoted to everything I hate.

And I hate him because I love him despite it.

More than that I hate myself for yet again putting myself in this position knowing exactly how it ended before, and still foolishly I have hope this can end in anything other than pure heartbreak again.

That will be my undoing. Hope.

#obi wan kenobi x oc #illicit affairs #wildfirewildflower #obi wan kenobi x amidala!oc #obi wan kenobi x f!oc #obi wan kenobi x original character #obi-wan kenobi x oc #obi-wan kenobi x original character #obi-wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fanfiction

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babblydrabbly · 3 years ago

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There's Something Lonesome About You || Part 2

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Rick Flag x F!Reader 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 3k 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: ANGST. Slow burn. Language. Canon-typical violence. Descriptions of death and injuries. Takes place before Suicide Squad (2016). [ 𝙰/𝙽: Best friends to lovers continues! I apologize for anyone who took 'slow burn' lightly. This is like... decades worth... A bit of emotional whump ahead. Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading! ] 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐: General Part 1 || My Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Part 3 (Coming)

taglist: @knivesareout @lunarxeclipse @melody-death @lorecraft @lacontroller1991 @lunaticsandidiots @heart-0n-fire @deadangeluniverse @vitalanidragonbane @reysorigins @loverhymeswith @fairchildflag

Your paths have long since begun to drift apart. But after an incident that brings the two of you together again, you realize the distance between you and Major Rick Flag has grown into a vast canyon you fear you'll never bridge again.

There are so many things you think you know about life, but as the years pass, you learn more than you ever thought possible. So much of it is good, but so much of it takes all of the courage you can muster, too. You leave your best friend, your mother, and your little brothers; take to the sky and train and fly and help. Your dream had always lived way up high, but it’s the rescuing that falls into your lap after flight school.

Search and Rescue is a rush you can’t describe. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Business is always bad news. When the alarm sounds and someone needs you in a cockpit, it’s only because there’s devastation approaching, and you’re as much of a racer as you are a pilot.

You race towards hurricanes, hurry towards floods. You’ll plunge headfirst into smoke and flame, if that’s what it takes to save people that need saving.

And you’ll comfort them too. When everyone that can possibly be saved is out, you and your fellow rescuer stay, to make sure there’s enough food, medicine, and humanity to go around. It’s not just about handing out blankets. It’s about reuniting kids with their mothers, their fathers— whoever is left. It’s as much about the healing as it is the rescuing.

It’s not easy work. In fact, there are times when you have to rip off your helmet and scream. You’re no meta-human. The Justice League shows up for the real world-ending shit, but who’s there for the tragedies that happen everyday? It’s gotta be you. You and your fellow humans without anything but courage and a little lack of self-preservation. The forest fires can still snuff you out. The ocean has tried to take you plenty of times. And if there’s any truth you’ve learned in the last ten years, it’s that you can’t save everyone.

You tell Rick Flag as much.

You exchange letters. You stand by pay phones and play ‘two-minute update’. You tell Rick about flight school and the thrilling brilliance of lightning striking the air you soar through. Rick tells you about finding his purpose. About really, truly knowing where he’s meant to be now. You’re happy for him. And he ends every letter, every call with how damn proud he is of you.

But life reminds you that time and distance are their own challenge. There’s only so many hours in the day. Rick Flag joins his place in the Special Forces quickly and with distinction, just like you knew he could. But a few years turn to half a decade, and then another half more, and you can’t help but notice the phone calls are less enthused. Can’t help but wonder what’s on Rick’s mind, even when he’s writing them all out for you in ink and pen.

And then one day, you’ve realized the letters had stopped a long time ago.

He’s not gone, just like you’re not. You’re here, living life in the same world as him, aren’t you? Rick Flag’s number still sits in your phone. His address still follows him wherever he’s stationed. But the distance becomes apparent when you ring him on his 29th birthday, two, three times over one week, and no answer comes.

You’ve loved Rick Flag ever since you were a young girl. It was the kind of love that had hit you quickly and suddenly- just like the year you had met him. There wasn’t time for it, you had resigned to yourself. You and Rick were too similar. Too like-minded to change what you wanted the future to bring. Letting him go had been one of the easiest and hardest things you’ve ever had to do. But then again, you were right when you knew he’d always be somewhere in your head and in your heart for years to come.

So when you hear that distance over the line- that quiet, solemn resolve that had grown over the years into something more akin to a brick wall- you ask Rick Flag if he’s okay. And the silence you’re met with tells you everything.

“I’m getting reassigned.” Rick says one day. Ominously, from a number you don’t recognize. And he offers you nothing else.

You try to keep a little cheer in your tone. You don’t know what else to do without him standing in front of you. Without seeing that boy you’d loved with every cell in your body once.

“Hopefully somewhere nice this time, right?” You chuckle.

He hasn’t been telling you where he’s been lately. Hasn’t updated you with a new forwarding address in nearly two years, actually.

Silence. You want to say his name again. Coax him out of that head you know he’s swimming in.

“…I’m gonna be busy the next few months. I’ll call you when it’s all figured out.”

Months. Years.

Your best friend disappears like a flash of lightning. He leaves you with a burning worry, like the telling sign of ozone in the air before a storm, and you wonder how it could have been so easy for him.

—

Advanced Research Group United Support.

When his mentor and Homeland Security approach Rick Flag with the offer, there’s no question about it.

In just ten years, Rick hadn’t just climbed the ranks. He’d slip through the kinds of barriers and clearances an average soldier couldn’t survive and kept going. He’d shown he wasn’t just here for a few tours. He was here to serve. They would throw every impossible mission at him and he would prove he was the man for the job. Every-fucking-time— even if it killed him. He’d never known this kind of fulfillment before. There was nothing like it.

Slipping through barriers, or slipping through the cracks, as he knew you’d say.

Rick made the decision one night while out in a desert, covered in someone else’s blood. His mind had always drifted to you in moments like these. About what you would say, what you would think if you knew. Your voice was the only one in his life that ever gave him doubt about his purpose.

When he was younger, it was a grounding feeling. But now—

Rick makes the decision as the flames rise and he waits until the entire compound is reduced to smoke and ash. Another covert operation under his belt. Another success. That’s what it really was. One success after the other. And Rick Flag would bite a bullet before he let anything come between him and an assignment’s success. That’s what a good soldier does.

There was no more telling you. There’s no way you’d understand. You were the only person in the whole world who understood Rick Flag. So it’s either this life, or you.

Rick knows he can’t have both.

—

It’s 2014. You land shortly after you get word that a large-scale dam has broken, flooding an entire valley of civilians in a Eastern European province. When you get there, you fly over the murky waters and spend two days searching for anyone clinging to rooftops or trees. It’s freezing in your cockpit, and you can’t imagine how cold it is down there in the unending current.

You land and switch off on higher ground as the sun begins to set behind the dark clouds on the horizon, where there are survivors still shivering and huddling for warmth. You should go lie down- go get some rest- but your fellow rescuers understand that sleep wouldn’t come even if you tried. Not when you could be out here with aid.

And you know you won’t be able to sleep when you see them. You stop outside one of the larger medical tents when you see rows and rows of white bags, all line up with respectful care. There’s about thirty of them there outside this particular section of the makeshift camp. You sigh heavily, running a hand through your hair still slick with cold sweat, despite the freezing temperatures. There aren’t any civilians around, and you take a seat on a hardbox of supplies to take a breath. Take a moment. You couldn’t save everyone, but you could take a moment to say sorry.

That’s when you see it from the corner of your eye. On the far end of the rows, a pair of men stand hovering over one of the body bags. You think nothing of it at first, too exhausted to notice at this distance how they aren’t dressed like any of the local authorities or medical personnel. That, paired with the heavy clouds shrouding the moon, keeps you from seeing little else than figures moving over the white mounds on the ground. You watch as they deliberate over something. One of them crouches down and unzips the bag, and with a nod of his head, you’re shaken from your thoughts when you see him heave the body over his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Hey. Hey!” Your call goes ignored as you rise to your feet, helmet still tucked under your arm as you begin crossing the small field of bodies toward the other side. The men hurry past another cluster of tents, soon disappearing, and you break out into a sprint.

It’s short lived when a figure suddenly steps out from behind one of the canvas-white walls and grabs you around the arms, nearly lifting you off the ground at the speed you’re going. You yelp, wriggling, panic setting in. But soon, the tall figure is setting you down again. You spin around.

“Hey- Hey, hey, hey- it’s me.” He tries, quickly letting you go. He looks just as shocked to see you as you do him.

“Rick.” You breathe. Elation washes over you at the odds. Your hand darts out to grab the side of his dirtied face, almost unsure that he’s really there. He’s sporting a fresh cut on his lip. It’s dark out now, but still he’s here. He’s standing right in front of you and you can’t believe it. Your heart races.

Rick’s own surprise seems to fade, however, and soon he’s glancing over his shoulder warily in the direction the two men were headed. You remember what they’ve just stolen.

“Rick, those men– they took one of the victims–”

“I know.” He replies calmly, like he’s a little sorry to say it. You blink, confused.

“You know?”

“Look,” You let Rick take your hand and guide you out of sight, into one of the empty tents. Inside, the place is ransacked. You only catch a glance in the weak orb of LED lantern light, but you can see that any and every case and medical file inside has been torn through. In this light, you also finally see Rick now; He’s wearing a black uniform, gun holsters clearly hugging his hips. He’s also got a strap over one shoulder, and you look around him to see a large rifle at his back. You tear your hands away from him.

“What are you doing here, Rick?”

He holds up his hands to calm you. “The less you know, the safer.”

Rick turns, collecting a hard drive sitting atop a laptop that’s clearly been pried open. Rick slips it into one of the pockets on his vest.

“What is this? What are you doing?”

He scrubs a hand through his hair with a sigh. “You weren’t supposed to see any of this. I didn’t think they’d call in SAR from where you were stayin’.”

He looks around the room systematically like he’s checking off a list- like he’s just about finished. And it doesn’t take you long to put it all together.

You couldn’t help but go looking for Rick when he disappeared on you. How couldn’t you? You sent out feels, spoke to people who had one foot in search and rescue and one foot in government handlings. The truth was simple- as simple as finally getting your hands on one of the only pieces of information your guy in DC could find.

There was nothing in the file. Just line after line of redacted paperwork- years worth of it. Whatever Rick had been doing, it was sealed. It told you everything you needed to know. And now, you were watching him at work with your own eyes.

“Where are they taking that body?” You ask to no avail. “What are you doing with that drive?”

You speak to Rick’s back, and you feel something hot and angry rise. Years worth of angry.

“Rick. Rick, look at me.” You insist. And like a day hasn’t passed since your touch could stop Rick in his tracks, he’s halting and spinning around at you without thinking. You see now how the dark circles in his eyes have deepened. How there’s a tiredness there you know he’s fighting through. But there’s something else. His face has hardened in ways that send a chill down your spine; whether by something terrible or by time, you can see it.

“You can’t keep doing this, Rick. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but whatever that was out there- whatever this is- you can’t tell me that’s what you’ve been doing all this time. When did this start?”

“The less you know, the safer.” He says again brusquely. All this time never seeing you. Never talking to you. This weak mantra was all he had to offer now.

“What are you even talking about!?” You throw your hands up. The fury shakes you without warning. A dam breaking. Did you have to plead? Beg him to tell you what was going on? You’d seen groups like the one outside. They’ve cropped up and lingered around enough tragedies you’ve spent your life trying to fix. Perpetrators and scavengers. Like flies on a corpse. And Rick was one of them.

“Tell me you’re not okay. Tell me someone’s making you do this! Let me help you!”

“This is who I am!” He snarls back, rearing up on you with his full height.

“Why are you lying to me?!” You scream. You shove your helmet at his stomach. Shove him away until he’s stumbling back against the table with a clatter. “You can’t tell me this is who you are! I know who you are, Rick!”

“You don’t know me.” He grits through his teeth. You press your lips together, willing your chin not to tremble like it so suddenly needs to.

“You’re right.” You concede. You hear your voice tumble out brokenly. “I haven’t known you in years. I’ve been waiting for you to find your way back to me all this time. But you’re just a blacked out name in a file now. Doing everyone’s dirty work. And for what? Is there anyone in your life anymore? Are you anything more than— than just this?” You beg to know, gesturing around the empty tent.

He’s never once heard you raise your voice. Not to him. Not like this. Your eyes shine at him, desperate and pained. Rick picks himself up off the table slowly, confusion washing over him as he blinks at your waiting face.

How could you ask him that? How could you say it like this wasn’t everything to him? It wasn’t just this. You had to know. He remembers suddenly— the feeling of being known inside out, once. You were the only person who really did. Why did you say you didn’t know him? If anyone could understand, it was always you. The defensive fury from a moment ago dissipates like a fog suddenly clearing. Something in Rick startles him with the faintest crack.

“When the missions are over, do you even go home, Rick? Do you even have one of those anymore? You go back to some barrack or empty apartment and what do you have left? Nothing. No one. You don’t have anyone, do you?” You want to cry. You are crying. The silence you’re met with is stifling.

“This life is going to kill you.” You suddenly realize with a sob. Not with a bullet or knife. To pretend those weren’t always the risks was too ignorant. You were the one who knew the dangers when you watched a young Rick Flag get shipped off to boot camp all those years ago. To leave you behind and go serve a power you would never understand. What was the point? Where was the glory, hiding in shadows?

No, the real truth hits you so much harder that you have to take a step back, as if the shadow has already fallen over the man in front of you- engulfed him- and you were next.

This life had stripped your best friend bare. Had broken him into pieces and thrown out everything you had loved about Rick Flag and put him back together again in a way so unrecognizable, you had to wonder when this— puppet had replaced him in all the time he was gone. How could you let this happen? How could you let them take him?

Rick watches as something deep and real breaks in you, and recognizes it as your faith in him.

No, a young voice screams inside Rick- the one he silenced a long time ago. Your voice had dislodged it. Breathed life into it again like only you could. And now you are turning away. No, wait.

“Bells, wait—” He utters.

You shake yourself from your revelation and look at him with horror. He couldn’t call you that. Only your Rick could call you that.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You say quietly. “I won’t.”

No, he wants to say. Punch him. Slap him. Shove him down into the valley water outside and hold him under. Just don’t say that, the voice inside Rick begs.

“Maribel.”

“If this is you, Rick, then this-” You gesture at the space between you and him- at the miles and miles between you. “Whatever this is...”

Is. Was. Rick already ended it, didn’t he? With a phone call. He closed the book on you and couldn’t even do it to your face.

You drop your hand and back away from him. Rick watches as you give one glance back over your shoulder- not at his face, not at him- but at the rifle. The edge of the tent closes softly in your wake without another word.

Alone, Rick Flag looks around the tent, at the low light of the lamp now knocked over onto the floor, and notices for the first time just how dark in here it really is.

#rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #rick flag fanfiction #dceu fanfiction #mywords*#rick flag #Im sorry ; ;#angst fic #or am I

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tolkien-feels · 2 years ago

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Ooooh and what are your Amrod's death headcanons??

They fluctuate from day to day tbh?

I do assume crispy Amrod by default (not for angst, but for storytelling reasons - the linguistic evidence in the names, the things it adds to Nerdanel's narrative, the thematic resonance of Feanor's youngest and eldest having their lives claimed by fire, some other details like how it immediately drives the Doom home, or the way I headcanon Amras's subsequent arc, or the reasons I believe Christopher excluded this narrative from the published Silm), but the specifics of the immediate aftermath I'm not married to, actually.

But my tendency is to think that like... this would be a huge tragedy for any family, needless to say - but it's got added complications because it happens to this particular family. The Feanorians seem to be operate on an us-against-the-world mentality. So like - if An Outsider kills one of them, it's easy to know how to react. An accidental death? That's easy, too. Even one of them turning evil and murdering a family member could probably be faced with a decent amount of unity and certainty. But this situation is a mess.

Feanor is clearly to blame, but then, isn't Amrod guilty of betraying them? Or is he just loyal to Nerdanel instead? Are they betraying Nerdanel? Is Nerdanel betraying them? Feanor says she is. But Feanor is crazy now. Is Feanor crazy? If Feanor is crazy, are they crazy? Should they be trying to stop Feanor? Or does he need them now more than ever? Can any of this be discussed without sowing division? They have to show a united front or their followers will abandon them. They can process their pain later. Can they ask this level of restraint from Amras? Feanor got to mourn Finwe. Finwe didn't do anything wrong. Did Amrod? Back to square one.

I'm not saying all these thoughts are all equally valid, but I think they're all possible things to think if you're one of Feanor's children (and that's putting aside what Feanor and Amras might be going through) and I don't think they ever get the time to truly process any of this, because Feanor is giving the marching orders (presumably) and I highly doubt Feanor would have any reaction that isn't to externalize his emotions by doubling down on getting his revenge and his Silmarils. Anything besides that would be too painful for him to face. But I'm not sure all his children would find that the best way to cope, and it's interesting to think about what that might cause in the short and long term.

I can't make up my mind for the exact reaction of each Feanorian (including Celebrimbor!), nor can I decide whether I want them to have open arguments (and how these go) or just to be quietly horrified/angry/guilty/confused/whatever and address it Never. But I do enjoy rotating the options in my head lol

As for Blind Guardian's The Tides of War, which is why you sent me this ask in the first place, I love the idea of Feanor being overwhelmed by Everything and trying to drown every single one of his thoughts and feelings in hatred for Morgoth, and shutting everybody out to become the leader who fearlessly drives everybody forward and allows no doubts. This is definitely not what the song is actually saying but it's like when you listen to a song and nonsensically apply it to your blorbo because of the Vibes, except that this one actually IS about my blorbo, I'm just... interpreting it in a rather uh, creative way.

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 7)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: almost 3k?

warnings: slight breeding kink (but only if you speak romanian aksjghakgjhg), angst, violence (in the form of a fistfight, which the reader isn’t involved in)

Just as you always did, you woke up to sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains, and a cool breeze blowing by. What was peculiar was Sebastian next to you, sleeping peacefully as his chest rose and fell with relaxed breaths. You let yourself watch him for a moment before you decided to try to sneak out for a cup of coffee. Problem was, the bed was sort of creaky and it was very difficult to move without making sound. Your plan was to move as slowly as possible, keeping your weight evenly distributed over the mattress, and it worked rather well— right until the last second, of course, when a loud shift of the boxsprings beneath you made Sebastian stir and blink open his eyes.

You were about to apologize for waking him, but he grinned and slipped his arms around you, bringing you back to where you started and surrounding your body with his warm, muscular form.

“Bună dimineata,” he hummed as he pulled you closer, his voice even deeper and more gravelly than normal.

“Bună dimineata,” you did your best to repeat it back, making him smile even though your pronunciation wasn’t great. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied softly, heavily accented and clearly more a recreation of the sounds you’d made than real English, but still intelligible and so painfully adorable as well. “A fost uimitor aseară.”

“Last night…” you began, but you didn’t even know where to begin. What could you possibly say about that? Would it even matter, if he can’t understand it. “God, you’re fucking amazing,” you blurted out with a soft laugh.

“Sa o facem din nou,” he growled as he pulled you closer and kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth instantly. A more self-conscious you— as in, you yesterday— would’ve worried about morning breath, but you now couldn’t taste anything but him and couldn’t feel anything but his lips on yours and couldn’t do anything but weave your fingers into his hair.

You moaned when his kisses trailed down your neck, and you wanted nothing more than to melt into his body one more time, but you had other things to attend to.

“I need to get up,” you announced as you tried to escape from his grasp, but he held you tighter and brushed his lips over your shoulder.

“Nu, nu, nu te dice,” he cooed, making you laugh and squirm. “Stai in pat, fă dragoste cu mine toata ziuă.”

“I have to get up, I’ll be right back,” you tried to explain but he stayed ever vigilant as he held you tight and licked over the shell of your ear. Finally you managed to get him to stop, as much as you didn’t really want him to, allowing you to slip out from under the covers and find your robe where it had been discarded on the floor.

He watched you as you crossed the room and popped into the bathroom for your bag, pulling your birth control pack out of it and using a handful of tap water to wash down your morning pill. “Ah,” Sebastian seemed to have a realization from the bed, and you giggled.

“Told you it was important,” you grinned.

“Probabil cel mai bine să nu ai un copil cu un străin,” he nodded, “dar nu sunt sigur că m-ar fi deranjat atât de mult dacă te-aș fi însărcinat.”

Following suit, he stretched briefly before getting out of bed and searching for his discarded jeans and boxers. You made no effort to hide your ogling as you watched his cock swing between his legs. Even soft it was thick enough that you couldn’t figure how it ever fit inside you (the delightful soreness between your legs reminded you that it was no easy feat). He took note of your staring and grinned devilishly, leaning against the wall to give you a better look. “Îți place ce vezi?” he purred.

“Should’ve known this would all go straight to your ego,” you chuckled. “I’m gonna go downstairs for some coffee. Do you want some? Cafea?”

“Da,” he nodded, as he slipped his clothes back on, “mulțumesc.” Funny how his idea of getting dressed still left him half-naked.

Foolishly, you expected him to let you pass, since you were both going to benefit from your trip to the kitchen; but of course he had to slip his arms around you from behind and give you just one more embrace, making you sigh and relax your head back against his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head and you hummed happily, letting your eyes open to look up at him before taking a moment to look out the window you happened to be standing right beside.

You were just hoping to appreciate the countryside scenery, meaning that you were rather shocked and confused to see a car pulling up. When it stopped and the driver stepped out, your eyes went wide and your back suddenly straightened itself.

“...Michael?” you gasped. You wrenched yourself out of Sebastian’s grasp and started to run down the stairs. He called after you but you ignored it.

Barreling down the stairs and out the door, you found your husband walking up the driveway.

“Honey,” he frowned when he saw you, “I’ve been trying to find you since you left— what the hell is going on? Why are you wearing a robe?”

“It’s hardly nine in the morning,” you defended before you realized there were much bigger topics at hand: “Michael, what are you doing here?” you asked, after a few seconds of confused stuttering.

“I’m taking you home!” he replied, as if it were obvious.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “don’t play stupid. Do you think I’ve been here against my will, or by accident or something?”

“No, I saw your letter,” he sighed.

“And you saw the part where I said not to look for me, and that all future communication would come through my lawyer?”

“You’re my wife,” he replied coldly, “I think I’m within my rights to talk to you directly.”

“You shouldn’t have come here. I was actually happy before you showed up.”

With perfect timing, Sebastian stepped out the door behind you, looking to you and to Michael, and back. “Ce se întâmplă?” he asked you.

“Who the fuck is this?!” Michael asked accusingly.

“I’m gonna give you a chance to ask me that again, in a way that doesn’t make it seem like you have any place to judge what I might be doing alone with a man,” you hissed. “He’s just the groundskeeper, Mike.”

“Then why is he shirtless?” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know! He… does that a lot!” you exasperatedly shouted back.

“Look, I’m not angry,” Michael sighed. You laughed bitterly.

“Good, cause you have no right to be.”

“But I think it’s fair if I’m worried about you spending months alone with strange men.”

“Oh, strange, is that the problem? Strangeness? Would some more familiarity— perhaps a familial relationship— between you and these men make it easier on you, Mike?”

“Honey, please—”

“Don’t call me that,” you grimaced.

Michael stormed towards you, and you felt Sebastian step closer to you as well, wrapping an arm around you. Having him by your side made this significantly more awkward, but it made you feel safer, too.

“Hey man, get your hands off my wife,” Michael growled, pointing a finger at Seb.

“He doesn’t speak English,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well, I’m not sure you do either— otherwise you would realize that we’re still married, and you need to come home.”

“Just because you won’t sign the papers doesn’t mean we’re still together,” you reminded him sternly as shook your head.

“I’ll end it with your sister, is that what you want?”

You laughed, because you were afraid if you didn’t that you would cry. “Jesus, Michael! Are you hearing yourself? This sounds like a greek tragedy, or fucking EastEnders! Next I’ll be discovering I have an evil twin, and you’ll bang her too!”

He was a lot more offended by that than you expected. “It was never just sex. I love her. But I love you more,” he clarified, suddenly getting serious.

You chuckled weakly, hardly believing what you were hearing. It’s not that he was ever particularly nice, or romantic or anything, but at some point in his life he had been incredibly intelligent… and now he barely made sense at all. “Wow, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

He frowned, clearly losing what little cool he’d had at first. He had always had a bit of a temper. “For better or for worse, we’re still legally married— damn it, we’ve been together for how long now? And you’re ready to throw that all away?”

“No, but you were,” you spat back.

“But I wasn’t, and I’m still not. You’ve gotta hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything—”

“No, you’re not listening to me—” he talked over you, again.

“I don’t owe you any more of my time—”

“Damn it, why won’t you just listen!” he growled, grabbing you by the arm suddenly. Instantly, Sebastian stepped forward and pushed him back.

“Sebastian, it’s okay,” you tried to soothe him.

“Hey, could you maybe tell your boytoy to keep his filthy hands off me?” Michael demanded at the same time.

“Mai bine ai grijă,” Sebastian hissed, also at the same time.

“I literally can’t,” you answered Michael. “I told you he doesn’t speak English.”

“Yeah, well, I think some things transcend language,” Michael bit back. “Tell me something, pal,” he addressed Sebastian, “did you fuck my wife?”

“Sper că nu spui ce cred că ești,” Sebastian shook his head, clearly on the end of his rope.

“Mike, leave him alone,” you demanded, but it came out sounding so much weaker than you meant it to.

“Did you,” Michael pointed to Sebastian, going so far as to poke him in the chest condescendingly, “fuck—” he mimed thrusting his hips, and you grimaced— “my wife?”— finally, he pointed to you.

Sebastian certainly understood that; and, in lieu of an answer, he socked Michael right in the jaw and sent him straight to the ground.

“Oh my god!” you yelped, dashing over to where your husband was crumpled into a ball on the gravel and kneeling beside him.

“What the fuck?!” Michael gurgled, holding his face in shock and pain.

“Are you okay?” you asked anxiously, spinning to look at where Sebastian was standing and looking much too proud of himself, shaking out the hand he’d just hit Michael with. “Sebastian!” you scolded, making him give you a defensive look.

“Ce?” he shrugged flippantly, though he clearly felt a little guilty when it became obvious that you were irritated with him.

And that was how you ended up here, standing in the living room and tapping your foot quickly, staring at the couch where Michael sat with a bag of ice held to his jaw, Sebastian beside him (though as far away as possible) resting with another on his hand.

“You had no business coming here,” you informed your husband coldly.

“You wouldn’t know about this place if it weren’t for me,” he reminded you. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t care,” you corrected.

His silence was stern, and he gave you one of those looks that used to scare you but now just made loathing and pity sink down in your chest. It was ambiguous if he was too angry to reply or if he really had no defense. After all, what reason did you have to believe that he would care about your leaving?

"If you're here to make me rescind the divorce order, it's not going to happen. I'm not leaving with you. I'm not forgiving you. Please just go," you sighed.

"That's not why I came. None of that is why I'm here," he mumbled. "I came here…" he straightened up slightly, raising his voice confidently. "I came here to tell you that I love you. I need you. And I want you back."

Now that he was looking right back at you, suddenly you couldn't take it anymore and turned your gaze away again.

"Whatever you need me to do to fix this, I'll do it. We'll get through this. Isn't that what marriage is? Fighting for each other, struggling together?" He stood up and approached you, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders; you almost flinched when you felt his touch, but resisted the urge, glancing up at his face before looking over at Sebastian whose injured hand was twitching as he looked away with a tight jaw. "Tell me how to make this right, please."

You tried not to look as Sebastian as you processed Michael's request; similarly, it seemed he was trying not to look at you. But even if you ignored this new, peculiar romance in your life, your marriage was still broken beyond repair and you couldn't imagine anything that could change that. "I'm sorry," you finally whispered, watching Michael's face fall, "I don't think there's anything you can do."

He released you from his grip, less angry than you expected; more somber. "I want to stay and work this out," he explained. "Better yet, I want you to come back to London— come back home— so we can be together and discuss everything there. But I'm only going to ask you one more time before I leave: stay with me. You don't need to forgive me, or even love me again, at least not yet… just give me a chance to try to earn everything I took for granted."

You'd imagined this moment so many times: cursing him out, making him grovel, kicking him to the curb. To be completely honest, you'd even imagined potentially taking him back. But now that you were here and it was, somehow, real, your desire for vengeance was fading along with your desire for reconciliation.

"I have something I need to give you," you whispered, walking upstairs and going back into your room, getting on your hands and knees to search the floor. Finally, discarded in a dusty corner with slightly uneven floorboards, you found the ring you'd tossed aside the night before. Fighting back against the tears welling in your eyes, you picked it up and came downstairs, holding it outward for Michael to take.

"I'm not taking that back," he refused, shaking his head. "You keep it for a while longer, until you're sure this is really what you want."

"I'm sure. I'm moving on. Take it back," you demanded. He sighed but reached out and plucked it from between your fingers, pocketing it though still wearing his own golden band. "Besides, my sister might want it."

He scoffed, turning as he began to walk away. "You're cold."

"Frozen solid," you agreed. "Goodbye, Michael… drive safe."

He shook his head and made a sharp exhale as he walked away, nearly slamming the door behind him. You stared off into space as Sebastian silently watched you; you didn’t want him to see you cry, but it was starting to seem unavoidable as your lip quivered and your eyes grew wide with tears.

“Shhh,” he soothed gently, standing up and stepping forward to pull you into his arms. “Nu plânge, e în regulă.”

"God, I'm so stupid," you whispered between sobs muffled against his chest. "I'm so fucking stupid…"

He whispered to you and kissed the top of your head, repeating one thing over and over that you couldn't make out well against the sound of your own crying filling your ears.

But even without knowing what he was saying or what it meant, it made you feel better.

As evening approached, you realized a new predicament had arisen: would Sebastian stay in your room again? Would you go to his? Or would you sleep separately, maybe even drift back to just being essentially housemates after a unique one-night stand?

Your questions were answered suddenly when Sebastian suddenly came to the couch and scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal a little before you relaxed and let him carry you to his room. He all but threw you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Already you felt more comfortable with him than you sometimes felt with people you'd known most of your life; you didn't feel self-conscious when he ran his hands over your body, you didn't try to suppress your moans when he kissed your neck for fear of sounding ridiculous— and maybe that was just because it was such a fantastical situation, so unlike yourself and so far from home, that it was easy to feel like a different person with him.

Or maybe it was that you'd spent so long trying to be somebody that people liked, and now you were being yourself for the first time in decades.

You couldn't really be sure. And since your brain short-circuited every time Sebastian whispered something in your ear that just sounded filthy regardless of what it actually meant, you didn't have the time to think about it.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan fanfic

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hanoella · 3 years ago

Text

A Matter of Time (2/2)

Pairing: Bucky x healer!Reader

Word Count: yikes 7.3k

Warnings: Angst Angst Angst. Mentions of death. Reference to Eternals 👀

A/N: Wow! I'm so happy everyone likes it! I like to get gorgeous with it haha. Hopefully, I'm not overdoing it.

Prompt: Believing they're about to die, Character A confesses their feelings for Character B before they pass out.

Tag list? I guess this is where I would put it? :) - @mischief-siriusly-managed @itsthemaree

@skyewardolicitycloisdelena91

---

You opened your eyes to a black room. No, not a room. There were no walls. You glanced down at your hands. You could still see them, so it wasn’t dark, just… black.

“Well, hello.”

You spun around and saw the source of the voice.

A serene, beautiful woman who had long dark hair and dressed in a green tunic addressed you.

“What has brought you here, young one?”

You took a moment to process your surroundings before you answered.

“I’m not even sure where ‘here’ is. The last I remember is…”

You trailed off, furrowing your brows, and blinking slowly as the memories start to flood back in.

“Ah… Am I dead?”

“Not quite. Though it does look like you are very close.” The woman says, peering to the side.

You followed her gaze and suddenly you were looking upon your own body, wrapped in Bucky’s arms. Startled, you gasp and step back. Looking around, you were back in the mountains by the Quinjet. Nobody seemed to notice you, even though you were right next to… yourself. Bucky was kneeling on the ground, holding your listless body to his chest. You looked away from him to take in your surroundings. Steve was kneeling next to him while the rest of the team was standing. Vision was comforting an anxious Wanda, while Sam and Natasha were getting a stretcher out of the jet. Clint was warming up the engine. Next to him was Tony, who was radioing into the compound’s medical center.

You turned your head back to Steve as he set a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and started speaking.

“Buck. Buck. You have to let her go. We have to get her somewhere where they can help her.”

Bucky only held onto you tighter, tears still dripping onto your face, leaving clear streaks in the blood.

“She’s dead Steve. There’s no pulse. I can’t find a pulse.” His voice hoarse, barely there.

“Friday said there was still brain activity. You know her body’s different, she could still survive. But only if we get her help. Helen’s on her way to meet us at the compound. She’ll be in good hands.” Steve said, gently loosening Bucky’s grip on you. As Nat and Sam came over, he gently lifted you out of Bucky’s arms and set you on the stretcher. They took you back to the jet, Bucky eyes trailing after you, the rest of his body unmoving.

“C’mon Buck. Let’s get going.” Steve said, offering his hand.

Bucky said nothing but accepted his help, hoisting himself up and walking slowly towards the ship with Steve’s arm on his back, guiding his soulless body.

You watched the jet take off before turning back to the woman. She was standing in the same place, watching you curiously.

“What’s happening here?” You asked, shock wearing off and confusion growing ever stronger.

“Well,” She started, clasping her hands together, and pondering the best way to put it.

“I’ve been alive long enough to see many generations of life go by. I have seen the same tragedies, wars, and evils repeat themselves endlessly through history. One thing that never fails to amaze me, though, is the beauty that manages to survive and thrive amongst it.”

Suddenly, you were in a charred landscape. Looking around, you recognized it as one of the first missions you took with Bucky. It was on the coastal countryside of Japan. You were both sent to follow up on a lead for a major weapons dealer. The mission had been simple: find the hideout and report back.

Unfortunately, they must have been tipped off to the fact that you were looking for them and burned their hideout, along with the surrounding plant life. You watched as Bucky and your past-self walked out from behind you. Startled again, you could only watch as the memory played out.

---

“Ah, what a shame. He didn’t have to burn down the trees with him.” You said sorrowfully as you picked up a charred ginkgo branch.

“It looks old. Burned down before we set foot in the country.” Bucky said, assessing the scene.

You stayed silent, putting down the branch and picking up the remnants of a bird’s nest that was underneath. Bucky watched you from several feet back. It took him a while to warm up to people and he had only ever seen you in passing. He knew that your apartment was down the hall from his in the compound but that was it. The only reason you were even on this mission together was that he spoke enough Japanese to get by while you knew the area from visiting previously.

“There’s nothing here. We should go back to the city and check in,” he said, looking around to double check the area before settling his gaze back on you.

You half-heartedly hummed in response, now putting your palm down on the ground. Bucky look at you quizzically as you paused, seemingly focusing on something.

“Some of these tree roots are still alive.” You said, perking up.

You set down the bird’s nest in your other hand before also placing that palm on the ground. Taking a deep breath, you slowly exhaled as a ring of soft light formed around you. You breathed in again, the light becoming brighter. Bucky took a step back and shielded his eyes. You exhaled, sending the ring of white light out from you. It went several meters before dissipating. When Bucky lowered his hand, he saw that several trees that had been scorched were growing back to perfect health. The white bark and bright yellow leaves stood out sharply against the ash and soot. You got up, slightly out of breath, and looked up at the tree in front of you. Slowly, a smile came upon your face. You closed your eyes for moment, taking it in before turning your head towards him.

Just then, the wind picked up and pushed the clouds out from in front of the sun. A ray of light filtered through the trees onto your face and suddenly Bucky was breathless. He watched as your chest rose and fell, the strain outlining your clavicle where a sheen of perspiration had developed. You were still smiling in accomplishment, the irises of your eyes shimmering in the sunlight. Gingko leaves that had been shaken off in the wind floated gently down, some landing on your gleaming hair before sliding off the silky strands.

You watched yourself walk back over to the bird’s nest and bury it in the fresh fallen gingko leaves. After taking a moment to honor the lost life, you stood, brushed the dirt from your knees and continued on. Bucky broke from his trance-like state and cleared his throat before walking in the direction you went in.

---

Seeing something in your peripheral vision, you turned to see the woman crouching to pick up a stray gingko leaf in the ash.

“One thing I’ve noticed amongst the ash,” she said in her light English accent before standing up and twirling the leaf slowly by the stem, “-is you.”

---

Bucky felt as if he was drifting through the actions. The jet was unbearably silent during the never-ending trip back to the compound. At some point Steve had put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder but he didn’t notice until it was gone. Endless possibilities were running through his head and yet he could not focus on a single one. It was agonizing.

When the jet landed, emergency medical staff, as well as Helen, met them on the runway. Helen relayed orders in Korean while her staff whisked her out of Bucky’s sight. He tried to follow after them, but Nat grabbed his arm and slowly shook her head no. When she spoke, her voice sounded more vulnerable than he had expected.

“Let them do their work.”

Bucky swallowed and looked over at Steve. Steve nodded in agreement and Bucky felt his shoulders drop.

“You need some rest, Buck. C’mon.” Steve said, patting him on the back and walking him to his lodging.

When Bucky closed the door behind him, he put his back against it and sank to the floor. He was exhausted. Everything had happened so fast, and he felt it to be overwhelming. He was starting to fixate on the stickiness of the blood and sweat, the exhaustion in his muscles. Taking a deep breath to center himself, he got up and walked to the bathroom, turning on the water to warm it up. He chucked his clothes directly into the washer before stepping under the warm water. He let it wash over him. He closed his eyes and moved so that the stream of water ran over his face.

In the darkness of his own mind, he relived holding you in his arms. Suddenly, the warm water felt like your blood against his skin and he snapped his eyes open, bracing himself with one hand against the wall, the other wiping his face off. He tried to slow down his breathing and counted the breaths, trying not to hyperventilate. Finally, calming down a little, he turned the hot water knob back to its original position, waiting for the water to reach freezing before quickly finishing the shower.

Dressing in a plain tee and sweats, he sat on his bed. No matter how firm the mattress was, he always ended up on the floor. He hadn’t chucked it for two reasons, the first being that he hardly had any possessions. The second reason was that you had come by once with a book you had mentioned.

---

Hearing the soft knock on his door, Bucky was hesitant to answer. The footsteps leading up to the door hadn’t been heavy enough to be Steve. He slowly walked over to the door and cracked the door open. It was you. You met his eyes and then lowered your gaze nervously, adjusting your grip on the book in your hand.

“Bucky? Hey, sorry to drop by unannounced. I just had that second book I was talking about. You finished the first one right?”

“Uh… Yeah I did. Come, on in.” He said, opening the door completely. He palmed through his hair nervously as you walked tentatively in.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. Sorry for the intrusion.” You say, glancing around.

Your eyes brushed over the empty apartment. It was furnished with the standard set that it came with. Aside from a set of keys on the counter and a stray plum on the coffee table, there were no signs of life.

“I don’t think you can have a mess if you don’t have stuff to make a mess with.” You said bemused. Behind you Bucky chuckled nervously.

“Haha… Ah. Yeah.”

There was silence before you turned around.

“I’m sorry. This is weird. I should’ve just waited to give you the book at the next mission or something.” You apologized. Yet, you didn’t move.

Bucky backpedaled.

“Oh no, it’s not that. I’m sorry. I just don’t get a lot of… visitors.” He trailed off.

You met his gaze before your lip twitched upwards. A bubble of laughter escaped your mouth before he started chuckling as well. The tension was broken.

“Well, I’ll just leave this here.” You said, starting to leave the book on the coffee table.

“That’s fine. Uh, did you want the first one back?”

“There’s no rush-”

“I don’t mind. It’s just on my shelf.” He pointed down the hall. “I’ll grab it real quick.”

You watched as he walked down the short hall into his room. Still holding the book, you waited a moment before slowly following walking down the hall as well. When you peered into his room, you saw him standing in front of a bookshelf with several rows filled. You took a step inside.

“Ah, so this is where you keep your stuff. You might live here after all.” You joked.

Bucky chuckled as he moved aside to make room next to him for you in front of the shelf. He was still scanning the shelves for your book. You let your gaze drift across the titles, most of which were classics.

“Making up for lost time?” You asked, glancing up at the side of his face.

“Something like that.” He responded, bending down to check a lower shelf before pulling your book off of it.

He handed it to you, and you exchanged it for the new one.

“So,” you said, leaning against the side of his bed, “How did you like it?”

“I liked it.” He responded.

Bucky looked at you and saw your slight head tilt asking for more details. He cleared his throat and thought for a moment.

“Well… There was this one part that reminded me of the time I went with Steve to…” He started, sitting on the bed next to you. You hopped up next to him.

You listened to him as he retold his experience at the world fair. Going back and forth, your conversation flowed smoothly until it had gotten later than either of you had realized. At some point you had convinced him to read the first chapter of the second book.

“No pressure.” You said, flopping back so you were laying down across the bed, holding up your phone to scroll through the news to pass the time.

Bucky started reading the book, overly conscious of the fact that you were waiting on him. When he sent a quick glance your way though, you were nonchalantly scrolling. Eventually, he got absorbed into the chapter. Quite some time passed before he realized he was just reading the rest of the book. When that happened, he looked over at you.

You had dozed off waiting for him. At some point, you had taken your shoes off and grabbed the blanket he used off of the floor where he normally slept. You were curled up on your side, feet tucked away and mouth slightly open. Bucky stared for a few moments before closing the book and looking at his watch.

12:47 AM.

He blinked in surprise. You guys had talked for a while he guessed. Leaning over, he gently nudged you awake.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I got caught up reading. It’s almost 1 AM.”

You hummed groggily in response, rubbing your eye with one hand while pushing yourself up with the other. You squinted at the light of your phone as you checked it.

“It’s totally fine. I’m sorry I fell asleep. I am such a terrible guest.” You chuckled sleepily, standing up from the bed and picking up your shoes.

“Nah, you weren’t so bad.” Bucky joked.

You just smiled at him.

“Well, thanks for having me. I’ll get out of your hair now.” You said, shoes in hand as you walked started walking towards the door to his room.

He got up and followed you to the door. He held it open for you as you stepped out. Turning around you smiled sleepily at him.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He replied.

He watched as you walked down the hall in your socks. You reached your door and punched in the code to your apartment. Looking down the hall at him, you waved as you opened your door. He waved back and you smiled one more time before you disappeared into your room. Pausing a moment, he looked around to see if anyone saw you leaving his room so late. With nobody around, he was in the clear. He sighed in relief and closed the door, walking back to his room. He noticed the first book that you were supposed to take back sitting on his nightstand. He touched the cover gently, pausing a moment before picking the second book back up, starting right where he left off.

---

Bucky reached over to pull the book you had left off of his shelf. He ran his hands over the indents of the golden lettering in the leather-bound book. Opening it, he looked at the sticky note that you left inside the cover.

Here’s that book I was talking about. First edition. Enjoy! :)

While looking at the crooked smile you had drawn, a knock on his door interrupted his thoughts and he stalled a moment before getting up to answer it. Opening the door, he was met with Steve, freshly showered and holding a bottle of Buck’s favorite whiskey.

“Thought you might want some company.” He said with his classic side grin.

Bucky wordlessly moved from the doorway and let him in. Steve walked past and sat on the couch, setting the whiskey down on the coffee table. Grabbing two glasses from the kitchen, Bucky settled down next to him. Steve poured a healthy portion into one of the glasses, handing one over before sitting back with his own. Swishing the liquid in the glass, Steve breathed in the aroma before sipping on it. Bucky decided on downing the entire drink in one go.

“Woah slow down there, the night is young.” Steve joked.

“C’mon Stevie. You know it doesn’t do a thing.” Bucky said wistfully, examining the empty glass in his hands. “I wish it did.”

Steve scanned his eyes over Bucky’s expression before turning back to his drink. A beat passed as he sipped once more before speaking.

“You care for her.” More of a statement than a question.

Bucky paused before admitting it out loud for the first time.

“… Yeah.”

They sat in silence before Steve sat forward, resting one arm on his knee while using the other to grab the bottle.

“In that case, let’s get you another drink.”

---

The night inched by; The amber liquid slowly drainin from the bottle until the last of it was in their glasses. Wordless, yet comforting. The sky brightened as the first rays of the sun kissed the morning dew, turning the landscape a stunning orange. Steve’s mind wandered as he watched the sky change color. Many a morning, he watched the sun rise on a battlefield as if nothing had disturbed it the day before. It’s what sustained him through sickness, war, and losing Bucky. It sustained him through his sacrifice as he plunged into the sea. It sustained him when he learned that he woke up in a new era, missing his dance with his best girl.

Clearing his throat, he set down his empty glass.

“What’re you going to say when she wakes up?”

“You mean if she wakes up.” Bucky said, his focus still on the drink in his hand.

“You should tell her how you feel. Life is unpredictable, especially in our line of work. I’ve never seen you care so much for anyone, Buck. Not back then, and not since you came back. When she wakes up, and you get this second chance, tell her. She cares about you too. Be with her. Enjoy it. You deserve to be happy.” Steve said, ending his speech quietly as he tried to remember the shade of red Peggy’s lipstick was when he last saw her on that runway.

Bucky glanced at Steve from the side, feeling the regret that had emanated from his voice. He stayed silent a moment longer before nodding his head slightly.

“I will. Thanks Steve.” He replied, laying his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Always. ‘Til the end of the line, pal.”

“The end of the line.” Bucky echoed.

Steve’s phone chirped, breaking the solemnity. He reached into his pocket and checked the message on his home screen.

“Helen has an update. C’mon.” Steve said, as he stood up from the couch.

---

“This has been a particularly unique situation.” Helen stated, swiping her tablet screen to look at more information. Bucky and Steve stood in front of her, outside of the room they were keeping you in.

“We ran many tests, including an EEG, which shows massive amounts of brain activity, much more than normal. We also took some blood and saw that the cells are still… alive. We don’t know how since there is no pulse or heartbeat, but they’re still drawing energy from her. I’m not sure how great of an extent the serum has changed her body, but I think there’s still a chance she’ll wake up. Until then, we have her connected to machines that will continue to monitor her brain activity, as well as alert us when there’s a pulse.”

She then opened the room for them to see you. Bucky walked in slowly, taking in the sight of you. You were lying on the bed in a hospital gown. Attached to your head were the wires sensing your brain activity. The monitor above showed one set of waves that were constantly fluctuating. The other set of waves were flat, showing that the wires on your chest were not sensing anything. It was strange how still you were. No tell-tale rise and fall of your chest, no twitching or turning; Completely still. Bucky walked over to the bedside and touched your arm. He was surprised to feel the heat and softness against his fingertips.

“She’s still warm?” He asked without taking his eyes off of you.

“Yes. We can’t explain it.” Helen replied, hugging the clipboard to her chest as she watched him brush a piece of hair tenderly to the side of your face.

Suddenly, the waves on the screen fluctuated, setting off a light dinging. Bucky turned his head quickly to the screen and then back at Helen, alarm etched into his face. Helen walked over to reset the alarm, taking a moment to analyze the situation.

“It seems as if she’s registering your voice, Sergeant Barnes. Perhaps it would be of benefit if you visited and spoke to her often.” She said tactfully while adjusting one more setting on the screen.

Bucky said nothing in return, letting Helen return to the doorway.

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” She said, letting a moment pass before exiting the room.

Steve let a moment pass, watching Bucky as he pulled up a chair next to the bed.

“I’m gonna go grab you something to eat.” Steve said as he walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind him, leaving Bucky alone with you.

He sat in silence for a few moments before gently placing his hand atop yours, willing you to move, even just a centimeter, so he knew you were there.

Your body stayed as it was. Devoid of life.

---

“I don’t understand.” You replied to her, confused.

“It is rare enough to find someone with a pure, good heart. Add to that fact, the power that has been bestowed upon you. You have the capability to change to world. To heal it.” The mysterious woman said.

“There is a group of us, a few with similar attributes. We walk amongst the people, generation after generation. We guide humanity forward while protecting it from disasters greater than you could ever imagine. I believe that you could aid us in that work. I just hadn’t expected for us to meet so soon.”

She walked over to you and handed you the leaf she was holding, now turned to metal. You turned it over in your hand, feeling the energy coming off of it.

“I’m… extremely flattered. But there are plenty of other extremely good-hearted people out there. Steve, for example. Why me?”

“Ah, yes. Your friend Steve.” She said thoughtfully, now walking to the middle of the ashen clearing.

“Steve has a good heart. A very honorable man. But he lacks the discernment and the wisdom necessary to use these powers. He sees the world as black and white, when really things are endlessly grey. He lacks… perspective. To be in this role, you must understand that sometimes, you need to let things happen, even the bad ones, to protect the world at a larger scale. You, however, already have some of the power that comes with this role, and have used it in a worthy manner. I’ve seen some of the choices you’ve had to make. I’ve seen how you handle incredibly difficult decisions. Your mind is quick, your wit impressive, your heart pure. But perhaps most importantly of all, you possess the wisdom to use those attributes to help further humanity.”

“I see… but I don’t have all the powers that you seem to have.” You say hesitantly.

“It does not matter. I can bestow upon you the power, and I can show you how to turn this,” she says, gesturing to the few trees that you had revived.

“-into this.”

She raises her hands slowly, golden sigils forming around her arms. A blast of light and pressure made you step back and shield your eyes. The initial pulse over, you look around as the wind blew in a circle, lifting up the fallen gingko leaves into a storm. All of the charred remains of the land started slowly coming back to life. It grew back lush and healthy, returning the area to its natural glory. She waved her hand, causing a part of the ground next to a large boulder to collapse. She gently placed her hand on the rock, emitting more gold sigils before pulling away. As she moved back, water started flowing from where she had touched the rock, filling the ground, and creating a pond at its base.

You look around with wide eyes as you heard sounds of wildlife filling the area. You heard birds fly overhead as you watched a fawn come out from the bushes to take a drink from the pond. As you walked slowly closer, the woman gently placed her hand on the fawn’s back to keep it from getting spooked. Carefully reaching your hand out in offering, the fawn sniffed your hand before allowing you to softly scratch behind its ears. Looking down at the pond, several brightly colored fish swam amongst the lilies.

“You could help me do this and more.” She said, fondly petting the fawn. With her other hand, she manipulated the wind so that it fashioned your hair into a loose bun. She stepped closer to you, taking the metal leaf from your hand, and securing your hair with it. Slowly, you felt new power travel through your veins. You turned to look at her, slowly clenching your hands. As you opened them, water flowed from your palm, slipping through your fingers before falling onto the newly invigorated earth. A golden sigil was etched into your palm, glowing brightly. As you willed the water to stop, it trickled to a stop as the sigil disappeared. It was breathtaking. Eyes filled with wonderment, you looked up at her and met her eye.

“Teach me.”

The woman grinned before turning and walking away. You were about to start following her when you thought you felt something brush across your cheek. A familiar feeling. A whisper you could barely make out echoed through your head.

… still warm…

“Come.” She called behind her.

You snapped out of your daze and started walking again.

---

It’s been a little over a month since you had passed out in Bucky’s arms. At first, he refused to leave your side, even to sleep. Steve had convinced them to bring a cot into the room so Bucky could stop sleeping slumped over the bed in the chair. But after 2 weeks, Steve insisted that he go back to his room to sleep. Take some time for himself. They would let him know if anything happened.

Since then, Bucky had taken some time to reflect. He didn’t want to accept the worst possible outcome, but it seemed to be the only outcome. After the sun had set on the day that marked a month, he laid on his bed and sobbed, first angrily, then despairingly. You weren’t coming back to him.

The next day, he woke up numb. It ended up being the first day he didn’t visit you.

---

“Wow that’s amazing!” You shouted over the wind. You were currently with the woman atop a mountain. She had redirected an avalanche so that it missed the town at its base, and youhad helped.

She smiled. She had shown you several areas that she had helped before. First was a desert oasis that she kept from disappearing, and after that was a jungle in which you stopped a wildfire from killing off the last of an endangered monkey species. She turned and you followed her gaze. Suddenly, you were back at the pond you had started at.

“That was incredible. Thank you.” You said, breathless.

“I would be honored to help you with this work. How do I wake up and find you?”

“You don’t.” She said, her expression falling a bit.

You waited for her to explain.

“I wanted to show you everything you could accomplish before you made your decision. But unfortunately, to sustain this amount of power, you must take on a new form.”

You tilted your head slowly in confusion before you spoke.

“So, I’d have to leave my body for a new one?” You asked slowly.

“Essentially, yes. You would die, so to speak.” The woman said quietly before turning.

As you turned to follow her, you found yourself staring at your body hooked up to multiple machines. The woman walked around to the other side of the bed your body was on. Looking down affectionately at your sleeping form, she spoke:

“Your brain would stop emitting thought, and this form of yours would grow cold and die. But from it, your new form would be born. Ethereal, perfect, immortal.”

You swallowed thickly as you continued to stare at the monitor showing the last signs of life in your body,

“Okay, but would I be able to come back here in this new form?”

She paused thoughtfully.

“Theoretically, you’d have the capability to. But we could not allow it. To be able to walk amongst mortals in history, you must disappear from it first. When all of the lives you’ve touched have passed on, on then is when you may reappear alongside us. Until that time, you train with us in the shadows.”

“Oh.” You said, feeling impossibly small. “That’s… not unreasonable.”

“I wish not to lie to you. Normally, when we find someone we think worthy of this job, someone we want to walk alongside us in our journey, we meet their soul at death. And technically you have died. But a foreign power still lingers inside you. You may return to your old life if you wish. But the offer only stands once.”

“I see.” You said softly.

“I wish it were easier.” She said comfortingly.

“Me too. There were somethings here that I wanted to see through first.”

She gave you a knowing, sad smile.

“I suppose the biggest trial to gain this power is the sacrifice of leaving what you love behind. Yours is just beyond that door.” She said, nodding towards the door to the room.

“What?”

---

Six weeks since you had been gone. Two since he last saw you.

Not that Bucky was trying to keep track. He sat alone on his couch, staring at a blank tv. Nothing was playing. Not that it mattered. A knock on the door came through.

“Hey, Bucky, it’s me, Sam.” He half shouted through the door.

Bucky ignored him.

“I know you’re in there. You haven’t left.”

He groaned internally before responding to him from the couch.

“Did Steve send you? Go away.”

“I will not go away, now open this door.” Sam responded, jiggling the handle.

“No.” Bucky said, making no attempt to move.

“Fine then. But you made me do this.”

Bucky snapped his head towards the door as he heard Sam punch some numbers into the pin pad. It chirped before unlocking, Sam coming through the door.

“Hey, what’s your problem, man? Bucky said, coming face to face with Sam.

“Wasn’t a hard guess. Old people use the same password for everything. Shouldn’t have made it the same as your name on the Pacman machine leaderboard downstairs. You’ve been bumped down to second place by the way, curtesy of moi.” He said with flourish.

“What do you want, Sam?” Bucky asked annoyedly, sitting back down on the couch.

“You know why I’m here man.” He said, shoving his hands into his pockets before continuing:

“You gotta go see her.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s not coming back!” Bucky shouted. He started getting up.

“Everyone keeps telling me to go see her, but she’s gone, Sam. Gone. Just ripped from my arms. And she died for me.She wasted her life on me of all things. I’m not gonna go just to stare at her body and replay the worst moments of my life, over and overagain. I can’t do it anymore.”

Bucky blinked and realized there were tears in his eyes. His face was flushed from shouting and his chest was heaving. Sam let a moment pass before he spoke.

“Look, I’m not here to tell you to keep seeing her so that magically she’ll wake up. I’ll level with you, there’s a chance she might not. If you believe she’s not coming back, I’m not judging you on that. I’m here to tell you that if you think that, you need to say goodbye. Get some closure. Scream, cry, whatever. But afterwards, you’ll feel better. I can’t stand watching you suffer like this, man. I’ve seen people at the VA fall apart and stay that way. I just don’t want you to end up like that.”

Bucky stared at him before letting out a noise that got caught in his throat. His legs felt weak, and he found himself sitting on the couch with his face in his hands, crying.

Sam quietly sat next to him and put his arm around him.

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck. It is.”

---

Some time after Sam had left and he had washed his face, Bucky made his way down the hall to your room. It was late and subsequently quiet. Stopping in front of the door to the room your body was lying in, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

---

You blinked as the door opened and Bucky walked through. He looked tired. His eyes were red and puffy: His facial hair was grown out more than normal. He looked… skinnier? Without taking your eyes off of him, you turned to your teacher.

“How long has it been?”

“Time moves much more quickly in the realm we’re in unless you are interacting with the one you came from. It’s been a little over a month in his time.” She answered.

“A month? Really?”

She nodded as you watched Bucky slowly walk over to the chair next to the bed. You sat on the bed with one leg folded under you, the other swinging off the edge of the bed. The woman did the same, though she kept her legs together, putting her hands together in her lap. You watched as Bucky picked up your hand, enclosing it in both of his own as he sat down. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

“You know, people keep telling me to not give up hope. But they don’t realize what it does to me to see you like this.” He started, voice scratchy and soft. It sounded like the whispers you thought you had been hearing around you while traveling with your teacher, only now that you were right by him, you could hear him clearly.

“I come in here, and I talk to you like they tell me to. I read you the books you lent me out loud. I watch the waves on the screen go nuts when I talk, and I feel that your skin is warm when I touch you. But without you replying, without you touching me back, it feels worse than any torture I’ve endured in my life.”

Tears spilled over onto your cheeks as you listened. The ache in your heart growing ever stronger.

“I wish I had gotten a chance to tell you that you made my life worth living. I was just going through the motions. Trying to make amends, trying to make up for everything I’ve done, and maybe then I’d have some peace. But I never expected to be happy. And now you’re gone. And I feel nothing. It’s worse than before I knew what being happy felt like. I’m not ready to go back. I’m not ready to lose you.”

“Please,” he whispered.

“Come back.”

He bowed his head, letting the tears drop onto the floor, clutching your hand so tightly, it surely would’ve hurt if you could feel it.

Tears still streaming, you turned to look at the woman. Time had slowed to a stop, seconds barely going by. She acknowledged you with a slight nod, letting a moment pass before asking:

“Which choice have you made, young one?”

You smiled, wiping the tears from your eyes one side at a time.

“I’m going to make the wrong decision. The selfish decision. I want to stay.” You said, happiness overflowing in your voice as more tears slip down your face.

“There is no wrong decision.” She said, placing your hand on your shoulder. Bowing her head lightly, she looked you in the eyes.

“Are you ready to go back?”

“Yes, thank you, uhm…”

“Sersi,”

“Sersi.” You repeated.

“Thank you for everything. This has been an incredible experience. I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.”

She smiled knowingly.

“When you need me, you’ll know where to find me.” She said, plucking the gingko leave out of your hair. Your hair fell out around your face as a white light grew ever brighter, soon blinding your vision.

---

Bucky raised his head at the sound of a foreign beeping in the room. Locating the source of the sound, he focused in on the red flashing on the screen.

Pulse 72

Pulse 72?

Pulse 72.

Bucky scrambled to press his fingers against your wrist. There it was.

Suddenly, your chest rose. He heard you take in an impossibly deep breath in and back out. He was stunned. While he was staring in disbelief, you turned your head slightly before opening your eyes.

“Bucky?”

He couldn’t do anything but hold you to him.

“Woah there, did you miss me?” You teased.

“Yes. So much.”

You pulled away from him and tilted your head, confused.

“Do I even want to know how long I was out?” You asked, ripping the stickies off of your head.

“Six weeks.”

“Six weeks!?”

“Do you remember anything that happened?” He asked, soaking in your voice.

“The last thing I remember is… the mountains.”

Bucky sat in silence a moment before he grabbed your hand.

“When you were gone, it made my life feel like it was over. I couldn’t stand it. It felt like I had nothing, all over again. You and I have grown really close and I just wanted you to hear all of that now that I have a second chance. I want to be by your side, through thick and thin, if you’ll have me.” He asked, gripping your hand tighter.

You stared into his eyes, the light reflecting the frosty color of his irises brilliantly. You leaned over to kiss him, and he met you halfway. Light and chaste, you pull back and rest your forehead on his.

“Of course I will, Buck. Always.”

---6 Months Later---

You trekked through the tall grass, smelling the coast and nearby sea.

“Just a little farther.” You called back to Bucky.

“I feel like you’ve said that several times now.” He joked, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun and the bite of the wind.

You turned around, stopping in your tracks.

“Haha, very funny. But seriously, I think it’s at top of this cliff,” you said, peering up at the ledge several feet above you.

He caught up to where you were, placing a quick kiss to your nose before bracing his back against the wall and interlocking his hands.

“C’mon, I’ll give you a boost.”

You stepped into his hand and jumped up, using the extra momentum to catch the edge. Pulling yourself up, you turned around, stomach to the ground, extending your hand to him. He grunted as he climbed partway up, grabbing your hand when the soil turned sandy halfway, leaving no holds for him to grab onto.

Pulling him up, you both sit for a moment, catching your breath and taking in the view.

“So,” he started. “Is it anything like you remembered?”

“Yeah. I think. It’s kind of hazy. But I think I dreamed about this place a lot while I was out. I felt like it was an itch that I couldn’t scratch unless I came here to check it out for myself.” You said, resting back onto your hands.

“Well, let’s scratch your itch.”

Bucky got up and dusted his pants off before offering you his hand. You accepted and pulled yourself up, steadying yourself before walking through the trees into the coming clearing.

When you reached it, it felt eerily familiar. The arrangement of the trees, the water running into the pond, even the arrangement of the moss. It was like peering at your dream through a pair of glasses; It was much clearer now.

“Wow. This place has really recovered since the last time we’ve been here,” Bucky said as he watched the gingko leaves fall around him.

You walked over to the pond and crouched, washing the fish swim between the lilies. You had a nagging feeling that something else was missing from the scene. You eyed a glint in the water while responding back to him.

“Yeah, it has. I think this is how it looked in my dream.”

Bucky walked over to you, and you looked up at him lovingly. Standing up, you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry I dragged you to the other side of the globe just to come here.”

“Hey hey hey, it’s alright,” he said, putting his hands on your waist. “Who says we won’t be touring other parts of Japan while we’re here? Besides, this is where we had our first mission. It’s like coming back to a first date spot.” He said with a grin.

You couldn’t help but smile.

“I love you.”

He blinked, before smiling wider.

“I love you too.” He replied, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close to him, kissing you deeply.

---

From further up in the air, Sersi watched from the concealed airship, a man walking up to join her at the window.

“Still think she made the right decision?” He said, holding his hands behind his back.

“Come now, Ikaris. If I had had you before this life, would you be happy at the thought of me giving you up?”

“Of course not. But you didn’t have me before, you have me now.”

“Yes, yes.” She said, smiling as she brushed him off.

“Besides,” she continued. “I don’t think I could’ve offered her anything else. Once I saw how she looked at him, I knew it was only a matter of time.”

Smiling wistfully, she flicked her finger, sending a breeze through the landing where you were.

---

The ginkgo leaves fluttered onto your faces, making you both laugh as you separated to brush them off.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his hand and leading the way. “Let’s go see the coast.”

He smiled, looking at you with adoration, and followed you out from the clearing to wherever you would walk from then on. A ray of light shined through the trees onto the pond, the glint of the golden ginkgo leaf sparkling out from under the rocks at the bottom.

#kas9kwc #Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine

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