#tried to fix it but ao3 might not show the chapter name. ao3 why you like this

[spyrkle4]

Chapter 5 of Karmi's Camden Adventure, Ferry Dogs, is out!

Read it on AO3:

[vettelsvee]

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 5: I'LL NEVER LEAVE... NEVER MIND [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist | wattpad f1 masterlist | ao3 | ask anything or let's talk!

ferrari sebastian vettel x ex gf!female reader

word count: 4437

summary: after not seeing each other in almost five years, seb and y/n finally meet with just one purpose for her: telling seb they have a 4 year old daughter. will y/n be able to tell him?

warnings: mentions of sex. i think nothing else but i literally cried while writing this. i recommend that you listen to loml by taylor swift while reading this hehe

taglist: [ @saltycomicsanimalssalad @hc-dutch @mycenterfold @simplyamberj @spitesfvl-blog @jaydaaasworld @lottalove4evelyn @zoeyjadetice2010 @jehun @ferralari @cosmoscoffeee @mcmuppet @myescapefromthislife @sleutherclaw @youre-on-your-ownkid ]

a/n: i'm finally back! sorry you had to wait this long to get a new chapter but writers block had me going like crazy, as well as my mental health in general. i had something else planned for today BUT be aware of what I'm posting tomorrow since you might like it! christmas is coming soon and i have a surprise ready for you. let me remind you that feedback and reposts are truly appreciated. and also comment me your thoughts and theories on the story pls! missed you so much guys, thank you for everything, love you all <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

May 15th Heppenheim, Germany

“Y/N, remember that you need to be careful with what you say to Seb. I know you want to tell him about Emily, but also consider whether today is the right time. Imagine if…”

You stop listening to Hanna the moment her lips utter your daughter’s name. Instead, your mind started creating a thousand different scenarios about what could happen when you saw your ex-boyfriend today. Your gaze remained fixed on the mirror in your room.

You only returned home five days ago, but it felt like an eternity.

You knew perfectly well why, or rather, you knew perfectly well who was to blame for your distorted sense of time: Sebastian Vettel, of course.

The trip to London felt like a fresh start. While the main reason to go was your meeting with Capital Records to discuss what your near future might hold, you considered it as an opportunity to rethink what you wanted to do with your life from now on. 

You had just turned 30, and the only thing you longed for was to start this new decade with a clean slate in every possible way. That, of course, included facing your past mistakes and recognizing your faults, one of which you might be about to commit today.

Hanna acted as some sort of mediator between you and Seb because, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to send him even the simplest of messages. The driver seemed to understand, as he told Hanna not to worry, that he understood, and that all you needed to do was show up without standing him up. 

Despite having agreed to meet at your house, you decided to dress up a little to present yourself in the best way possible. After spending far more time than you’d like to admit choosing what to wear, you settled on a light blue knee-length dress and white Converse sneakers, with a bracelet your daughter made (or better said your mother made, just Emily took credit for).

"Y/N, are you even listening to me?"

The reflection of your best friend in the mirror startled you. You turned towards her, trying to maintain the calm you’ve lacked since returning from London. Exactly five days that have felt like five years.

Like the five years since you last saw Seb.

"Hey, cat got your tongue or what?" insisted the blonde. "Seriously, Y/N, I want you to be speechless, but preferably when you and Seb take the conversation from the couch to the bed and he makes you scream his name again just like he used to do when..."

"Hanna, for God's sake, shut up! Seb and I are only going to talk about..."

"I know, I know, I was just trying to make you laugh. You know I like to..." 

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

If you were restless before, pacing back and forth in your room, checking that there was no trace of Emily in the house for Seb to find, now you were frozen like a statue.

You looked at Hanna, and she looked back at you. You shrugged, but Hanna just put her exaggeratedly unfriendly faces.

"Hanna, no..."

"It's Seb, Y/N! It's just Seb, for heaven's sake," she interrupted, and you cut her off just as fast.

"It's the Seb I haven't seen in five years!" you stammered, feeling the anxiety taking over. "Seriously, Hanna, this was a very, very bad idea. I don’t even know why I asked you to tell him to come and..."

"Because he's the father of your daughter, and your only goal is to tell him!" she yelled, trying not to raise her voice too much but failing miserably. You hoped to God Vettel didn’t hear that.

"Hanna..."

"Since I know you're not going to open the door, I'll do it myself. Stay here or come down, do whatever you want, but I'll tell Seb to come find you because clearly, you can't handle welcoming your guest," she declared.

Without saying anything else, she strided out of your room. You could only follow her, practically tripping down the stairs, legs trembling like a teenager on her first date. Your pulse was pounding in your temples, while your mind kept screaming at your body to calm down.

As soon as you stepped onto the ground floor, you saw Hanna opening the door. Her cheerful voice broke the silence, asking Seb how he was and, to your surprise, inviting him in.

You inched closer, not quite enough for them to notice you. Then you stopped, inspecting Seb from head to toe, as if you didn't already know every inch of his body by heart. Even though you were used to seeing him on TV and social media daily, it felt like you haven’t seen him in all this time you’ve been out of touch. He was wearing a slightly worn-out white t-shirt and jeans. His hair was perfectly trimmed, though a bit longer on top, and his beard, probably several days old, was what caught your attention the most, looking just the way you liked it.

But what really captivated you was the bouquet of yellow tulips he was holding, just like he used to bring you for dates or whenever it was a special day for either of you back when you were dating.

You swallowed hard, guilt washing over you as you thought, for a fleeting moment, about him handing you a flower bouquet before you told him you were having his baby.

"Hi..."

You thought your whisper was too soft to be heard, but it was quite the opposite.

Both Seb and Hanna turned to look at each other, then focused on you, still standing in the entryway. Your best friend tensed up slightly, but you tried to reassure her with a slight movement of your hands. The expression on your ex-boyfriend’s face seemed to light up at your small intervention, even if it was minimal.

“Well, Seb, I'll leave you with Y/N. I have a few errands to run…” Your friend tried to excuse herself, though both of you knew it wasn’t true. “See you later for a drink guys!

She winked and quickly slipped out, shutting the door behind her before either of you could even say goodbye.

Now, it was just the two of you, alone.

Seb looked at you again, and you couldn’t help it but get lost in the blue of his eyes. The situation felt strange. You used to cherish every moment of being alone together, but now you didn’t even know how to say a simple "hello." 

You once trusted him completely, and now you were unsure whether to offer him a drink or tell him that you have a four-year-old daughter.

“Hi, sunshine,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Hi, Seb.”

He took a step towards you, slowly moving closer. You noticed how his gaze shifted from the flowers to your eyes, as if he was searching for some kind of answer from you. His eyes reflected a mixture of nervousness and tenderness, stirring a whirlwind of emotions inside you. 

He didn’t have to say it, you could see it in his eyes. He was afraid of how you’d react to this gesture, this little detail that used to drive you crazy, but now… you didn’t know how to feel about it.

You, on the other hand, were utterly stunned. 

How, after all this time and how cold you ended things, could he still do this? How could he still remember?

“These... are for you,” he finally said, his voice low and shaky. He handed you the bouquet, his hands trembling.

You met his gaze, and the way he looked at you was filled with fear, insecurity, and maybe, just maybe, a bit of tenderness. He didn’t need to say it out loud because you knew him too well. He was afraid of how you’d react to this gesture.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, taking your time to smell the flowers.

You couldn’t hold it in. Tears began to blur your vision, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

He noticed. Even though you didn’t want to, even though you didn’t feel capable of getting close enough to give him a kiss on the cheek or maybe even a hug, Seb did it anyway.

“It's okay, Y/N,” he whispered. “It’s okay...”

But it wasn’t okay… it was far from okay.

Sebastian Vettel was here, once again, standing in front of you, and possibly back in your life. The boy you once considered your best friend, the best friend you fell in love with, the driver you always supported, and most importantly, the father of your child, was back in your life in such an unexpected way that it still felt surreal.

“I don’t know...” you tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. “It feels surreal that after everything, after such an empty goodbye, here we are, together again,” you confessed. “It’s weird seeing you in front of me in the flesh and not as pixels on a screen.”

“Y/N…”

“I’ve missed you, Seb. So much.”

You knew your honesty didn’t catch him by surprise, because he felt the same way. That’s what hurt the most.

“I missed you too, Y/N. I really did...” he said after a moment, wrapping his arms around you, and you pressed your face against his chest.

“Seb…”

“Don’t overthink it, really,” he interrupted gently. “I’m not here to talk about the past or blame anyone,” he paused, letting out a breath before continuing. “I just want us to go back to who we were before we were together. But, if I’m being honest, we’ve been in love with each other for so long that I can’t remember a time when you weren’t my everything.”

Your lips trembled. The weight of his words was too much for you to handle, at least today, in a first encounter where you haven’t even spent ten minutes together.

You felt awful. You felt shattered inside knowing that if you were in this situation, it was because of you.

“Well, Y/N, tell me…”

“No, no,” you quickly interrupted, grabbing his arm and guiding him to sit on the couch. Immediately after, you rushed to the kitchen to grab the drinks and snacks you spent all morning preparing. “You tell me first. Even though I’ve seen you on TV, I know you’re very private about your life, you know... You never share anything with the media, and well, you don’t even have social media so… How are you?”

He let out a short laugh as he picked up a bottle of water and a cheese-and-salmon toast.

“Well, to be honest, I’m doing much better than when you left me,” he revealed. It didn’t surprise you. After all, it was what you expected him to say. “You must have had your reasons for breaking up with me, and after all these years, I’m not going to ask why you did it. But I won’t lie to you… you left me shattered, Y/N.”

“Seb, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” he cut in softly, making a gentle gesture with his hand to calm you down. “Like I said, I’m not looking for an explanation or an apology. I just want you to know how I felt. Mentally… damn, Y/N, you broke me, and I completely lost myself, but at the same time, that’s what gave me the strength to win the championship in 2013,” he looked away from your eyes, shifting his gaze to the wall. Nervously, he started playing with his fingers. “All I could think about was you and that, maybe, there was a chance you were watching...”

“Of course I was, Seb,” you said softly, trying to hold back the tears and keep your composure. “No matter what happened, I never stopped watching or supporting you. I’ve always been, and will always be, your number one fan.”

He nodded, a bittersweet expression crossing his face.

“That year, everything I did was with the thought in mind that you were watching and, somehow, it helped me move forward. But… 2014 was when everything fell apart,” he admitted. “Red Bull wasn’t the same anymore, or at least, I didn’t feel the same way. I wasn’t winning, Daniel was beating me… I felt like I had lost everything, including you and, with time, I started to feel like I had no reason to stay with the team or maybe even in Formula 1. Until Ferrari offered me the contract.”

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Unlike any regular sports fan, you found out through Heike when you were out for a walk with Emily.

“When I was given the chance to sign with Ferrari in 2015... Y/N, really, that’s when I realized it wasn’t the end. That’s what I needed to move forward. I think I mentioned it to you on WhatsApp, but I don’t know if you remember…”

You swallowed hard. Of course, you remembered. He told you just before the news became public, before his mum told you, but you didn’t know how to answer him or if you really should do it. The demons in your head made you think it was a joke, even just an excuse to get closer to you. And you also felt that if he did sign with Ferrari, it would open a door you had closed because you weren’t ready to face the truth.

Just like you were doing now.

“I remember, yes,” you murmured, unable to look him in the eyes.

“When I didn’t get a reply from you I decided not to push it. That’s when I realized you didn’t want anything to do with me. Yet I kept sending you stuff as you might know…”

“That’s not it…” You could barely speak. You were as broken as he was. “I read the message, Seb, but… I burst into tears and didn’t have the strength to reply. I didn’t want to give you false hope when I wasn’t ready to… I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already had,” you confessed. “I knew that if I spoke to you again, I’d hurt you again. And I’d hurt myself too. I couldn’t do that to you, Seb.”

He nodded, looking for some kind of affirmation in your gaze.

“At first, I felt really out of place on the team, you know? And I felt that way for a long time,” he revealed. “It was completely out of my comfort zone, and I felt like I’d never fit in. But little by little, Kimi, Maurizio, and the team made me feel like family. It’s strange to think about it now, but I can’t imagine being with any team other than Ferrari.” You agreed with him, from what you had seen on TV, it was clear he felt that way. “Fighting for the world title with them this year and having a real shot at beating Mercedes… I never thought I’d get to this point.”

You looked at him with a mix of admiration and nostalgia. This was the Seb you knew, the Seb with ambition, who always desired more and more. The Seb who never gave up.

The Seb who didn’t break down, even when he had every reason to.

“I’m so proud of you, Seb. I’ve always been, and I always will be. Don’t forget that.”

“Of course, Y/N,” he looked uncomfortable. Quite a bit, actually. “Well… enough about me. You know I don’t like talking about myself… What about you? What have you been up to all this time? My mom told me a bit, and I’ve seen you a few times, but…”

More than not knowing what to say, you sensed he didn’t want to intrude too much into your life.

You swallowed, trying not to get more nervous than you already were, because now, you supposed, was the moment to tell him about Emily.

“Well, not much has changed, really,” you started, unsure of what to say. “I’ve been in Heppenheim the whole time, except for a couple of trips to Berlin, but nothing unusual,” you tried to smile, but your mind kept circling around the fact that you had to tell him you had a daughter. “I’ve been working at the bar and writing music. To be honest, since we broke up I’ve had a lot more inspiration.”

And since I gave birth to Emily, you thought.

Seb didn’t say anything. You figured he understood. After all, he had thrown himself into his career to cope, while you had poured your emotions into writing songs about the story you shared to cope with grief.

“Now things have changed a bit,” you continued, trying to sound more upbeat to push away the painful memories. “Ever since Red went viral… I swear, I uploaded it without expecting anything, but the reaction…”

“The song is amazing, Y/N. Of course it went viral.”

“I’ve been offered a record deal,” you blurted out. “A few years ago, I met Niall Horan at the bar. You know, the guy who was on that band, One Direction…” Seb nodded, his eyes wide, encouraging you to continue. “He told me he was traveling to find some inspiration for his solo career, and I guess Heppenheim seemed like a good place for him to visit.”

“Wait, wait… a record deal?”

“Apparently, Niall told his label that I was the voice behind Red, and, well… Capital Records offered me a contract,” you explained. “They called me to have a meeting in London, which is why we couldn’t meet up last time…”

His face was calm, unreadable, though his mouth had curved into a big smile. He didn’t seem surprised, and you knew there was a strong chance Hanna had told him everything.

If that was true…

“I hope you accepted, Y/N.”

“Well… actually, I didn’t. I turned it down.”

His smile faded for a moment, and his expression became completely serious.

“You turned it down? Why? Sunshine, this is an opportunity…”

“Yes, I know it’s an amazing opportunity, but I can’t accept it. Not right now.”

You figured this was the moment you should tell him the real reason behind rejecting such a big deal, which included a tour if you sold a certain amount of CDs.

Sebastian kept staring at you, which only made you more nervous. You tried to gather your thoughts, searching for the right way to tell him you had a four-year-old daughter, but you couldn’t find the moment.

You couldn’t just drop it on him now, after all, this was your first real conversation in almost five years.

“Y/N, darling…”

“I can’t take the risk when the only thing I’ve managed is to get one song out of all the ones I sent to the label to go viral,” you half-lied. It was true that you didn’t want to talk about it yet, but you were also insecure about your music. “As much as I’d love to have an album, to fill stadiums and have people singing along to my songs, I can’t take that risk.”

“But, Y/N…”

“I’m not sure all the songs on the album would be successful, Seb.”

“Y/N, you have no idea what you’re going to regret if you let this go....”

“No, Seb, I know exactly what I’m doing, really,” you shook your head, firm in your decision. “This is the best thing for me.” 

And for Emily too, though you didn’t say that out loud.

Seb remained silent for longer than you would have liked, as if trying to process what you’d just told him. Then, he stood up, crouching down to your level, and taking your hands in his, he said:

“Alright. If you think your songs aren’t good enough, sing one of them to me.”

“What?” you asked, confused.

“If you turned down the record deal because you think your songs aren’t good enough for the world to hear, sing one of them to me.”

His tone, though calm, was direct and insistent.

“Seb… I can’t. I’m too embarrassed,” you laughed nervously.

“Come on, Y/N,” he said, gently rubbing your hands with his thumbs, just like he always did when your anxiety was at its worst. “It’s just me. I’m still the same after all these years.”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let it go until you gave in. It was Seb, and he always got what he wanted from you, even when you didn’t want to. In the end, you gave in, carefully standing up from the couch and heading towards the piano at the back of the room, gesturing for him to follow you.

You carefully slided the bench back, lifting the lid as you sat down. You positioned your hands, starting to play the first few chords to warm up, ensuring your memory flawlessly recalled the piece.

“This is song number 5, like your driver number... It's called loml.”

You continued playing, finally giving way to the song.

Who's gonna stop us from waltzing   Back into rekindled flames?   If we know the steps anyway   We embroidered the memories   Of the time I was away   Stitching, ‘We were just kids, babe.’   I said, ‘I don't mind, it takes time.’   I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed   I felt aglow like this   Never before and never since.

Your voice shook as you began to sing, but you kept going, holding on to what your ex-boyfriend had told you about how he knew it was about him. As you settled into the song, you started feeling more comfortable, just like you did when you used to sing for Seb. Though you couldn’t look at him because you were absorbed in the key, your fingers delicately moving over it, you could feel his eyes on you.

You shit-talked me under the table   Talking rings and talking cradles   I wish I could un-recall   How we almost had it all   Dancing phantoms on the terrace   Are they second-hand embarrassed   That I can't get out of bed?   Cause something counterfeit's dead.

Tears started falling from your eyes as you approached the final part of the song. Memories of your shared history flashed through your mind like a movie. Your vision was completely blurred, and you felt a tightness in your chest that was overwhelming, making it hard to breathe, almost impossible to keep singing. Somehow, though, you fought to hold it together, just as you did the day you said goodbye to the man now sitting beside you.

Oh, what a valiant roar   What a bland goodbye   The coward claimed he was a lion   I'm combing through the braids of lies   ‘I’ll never leave’... ‘Never mind.’   Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire   Your arson matches your somber eyes   And I'll still see it until I die   You're the loss of my life.

Silence filled the room as you played the final notes. With your hands still resting on the keyboard, you looked at Seb. Once again, you didn’t know what to say to him, and you knew he didn't either. He was motionless, running a hand through his hair, probably trying to process what he just heard.

Y/Ni, this song... it’s about us, isn’t it?”

“It might be,” you admited, unable to lie to him, at least not about this.

He sighed. You could tell he was affected; you knew it the moment his tears began to form, just as yours continued to flow.

“You should rethink the contract,” he said firmly. “This song deserves to be heard by more than just me, your parents, and Hanna.”

“I can’t, Seb. I just can’t…”

“Can I sit next to you?”

You looked up and saw him gesturing to the bench. Confused, not sure what to do or say, you shifted a little, making space, and he sat beside you. Seb didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you, offering a comfort that felt wonderful but also caused you to crumble a bit more inside. 

You surprised yourself by resting your head on his shoulder.

“Why are you so determined to convince yourself you don’t deserve this opportunity?” His tone was soft, just like the way he stroked your hair. “Do you really think you're not good enough to be a successful singer?”

“It’s not about being good enough, it’s that I’m not,” you whisper,ed your throat tightening. “I’m not a good person, Seb, and it’s only a matter of time before I screw up again and hurt someone, just like I hurt you.”

“Does this… have something to do with the second date in your YouTube channel username?”

You stood your head up, staring at him in confusion while trying not to panic.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your username,” he repeated, moving closer. “I figured out that the numbers represent two dates. I know for sure that one of them is June 15, 2006, the day we started dating, but the other one… I don’t know what January 12, 2014 means for you because we weren’t talking by then, but it must be important. And based on what you just said…”

Your eyes widened in shock. You were paralyzed, not knowing how to react. 

How could he have noticed something so… insignificant? How had he connected the dots and figured out the dates you had in mind when you created that account?

You thought this would be the perfect moment to tell him that the second date marks the birth of your daughter, the daughter you had together; that on that day, while you were in labor, he was at the hospital waiting for some exams results and he was talking to your dad, who couldn’t contain his excitement about his granddaughter’s arrival and had to keep it a secret from him.

But you couldn’t. Not yet. You need to regain his trust first. You and Seb needed to rebuild the kind of relationship you had before you became the love of each other’s lives.

“Seb…” you trailed off, unable to continue. “I swear, on everything that matters to you, I’ll tell you, but right now… I just can’t.”

He looked at you for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. You knew him better than you knew yourself, and you knew he was persistent, that he needed an answer, but you also knew he was respectful and wouldn't push you.

“That’s okay,” he said finally, a bit resigned. “I understand, it’s fine. I’m not asking you to tell me now if you’re not ready, but I want you to know that when you are, I’ll be here to listen.”

You looked at him, grateful, and nodded without saying anything else. 

You both sat at the piano bench for a while, in silence, listening only to the sound of your breathing and the melody of the song replaying in your mind, as intrusive thoughts overwhelmed you.

“If I waited almost 19 years of my life to be your boyfriend, I can wait a little longer, it doesn’t matter the time you need, for you to tell me,” Seb finally spoke, and his words broke you a little more than you already were. “Let’s be friends again, what do you think?” he offered, giving you a small smile. “Let’s take things slowly, like maybe we should have done when we first started dating. You know…”

“Slowly, no problem,” you repeated, smiling back at him.

You felt a weight lift from your shoulders at his words. Maybe you were not at the peak of your relationship, and maybe you’d never got back there, but at least you were working together to turn your story into something new.

“You know what, Y/N? I’ve always felt like our story wasn’t over. I don’t just mean that romantically, but in a broader sense,” he said quickly. “We have a whole lot of history, and now is when we’re going to start writing our second book.”

“I know, Seb. I’ve been thinking the same thing ever since I said goodbye to you,” you confess. “That day, goodbyes were bittersweet, but I knew it wasn’t the end and that I’d see you again.”

Before the year ends. I’m telling Seb Emily is her daughter before December 31st.

[m-jelly]

Ulterior Motive - Chapter 1

Levi x reader Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, mafia, Gangs, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Gangsters, Yakuza, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, True Love, First Love, Yandere aspects, Protective Levi Ackerman, Possessive Levi Ackerman, Tattooed Levi Ackerman, Blood and Violence, Eventual Smut, Childhood Friends

The story: Levi longed for you for years, his obsession and love growing deeper and stronger. After finally reuniting, he proposes a job to you that would mean he could keep you close. Be his fiancee at meet-ups and occasions to protect him from mob leader's single ladies. It seems like a simple enough job to do, but everyone seems to have an ulterior motive from the other gang leaders to new friends you've made. Even Levi has one. Without you knowing, Levi's love for you is obsessive and possessive and borders on yandere-like. However, your growing love for him is beginning to get just as possessive as his. What Levi doesn't realise is you might have an ulterior motive too when your feelings develop strongly, being his fiancee is something you both want as real. You both just have to remember, you're not alone with ulterior motives and things get dangerous.

This chapter: Reuniting and Protective Levi.

Ao3

Part 2

Levi

That sweet voice that called out to him always plagued his mind.

Levi

It’d been years since he last saw the beautiful owner of that voice.

Levi

He longed to see the sweet woman again. He grew up in a small town and befriended the cutest girl close to his age. The two grew up together and when they became teenagers, the obsessive love grew strong within Levi. It was clear that the feelings were mutual, but not as obsessive.

Levi!

The day he left broke his heart and no matter how hard he tried to move on, no one could compare to his first love. Levi knew deep down in his heart his first love was his soulmate. He cursed the day he left, but there was no choice in it. His father’s family needed his father, so they returned to the city to fix everything and now business was booming but the family name people loved and feared had changed to Ackerman.

As Levi walked through the city his mind was fixed on the beautiful voice calling his name. The slight squeeze of his finely pressed suit brought him no comfort. In fact, he felt incredibly irritable today. He tugged the coat resting on his shoulders which looked a bit like a cape. Everything felt like it was prickling him.

His gloved fist clenched tightly as he softly said your name out loud. It was like he was trying to will you into existence. For years he had tried this but it never worked. He wanted you as his, he wanted to marry you, he wanted to spoil you, he wanted to keep you all to himself and he wanted to most beautiful children with you.

“Cheating asshole!”

Levi felt lightning strike him when he heard your voice, but it was mature. He turned his head to see you in an adorable outfit with tears in your eyes as you shouted at a man who had a woman at his side. The difference between you and this woman he was with was clear, she was your typical high-maintenance woman with work done to her. The cheating man in question looked the type to fuck around with his cheap show-off outfit.

Your boyfriend smirked at you but you could see in his eyes he was panicking and embarrassed. “Look, doll.”

You poked his chest with your finger. “Don’t you doll me! If you didn’t want me you should have broken up with me!”

He let go of the woman he was in. “I do want you. You look after me, feed me, care for me and you’re an incredible fuck. Why would I wanna give that u-.”

You slapped him hard across the face. “I am not some woman who mothers you during the day and then sleeps with you at night. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you and you can have this…this…”

The woman pouted. “This what!? Looking at you now, I fully understand all the things he told me.”

“You knew he was taken?”

She flicked her hair. “Yep.”

Rage rose inside you as you fought everything inside you not to do worse than you already had. So, you fought dirty. “You have a small weird dick, you last only two minutes and I didn’t cum once!”

Your boyfriend went bright red. “You! You bitch!”

“I hope your dick rots and drops off! I’m done. I’m throwing your shit out.”

He hurried after you. “Come back!”

The woman on the side chased him. “Baby! Don’t go.”

He snarled at her. “Fuck off. You’re just a cock warmer, this is my doll here. She’s better than you!” He grabbed your upper arm and yanked you closer. “You’re not leaving me! No one leaves me.”

You yanked your arm, but he wouldn’t let you go. “Get off me!” An image flashed in your mind, an old dear friend who you had loved. Levi. You wished he was here because he always fought bullies for you, but you were on your own and had been for many years. “Get off!”

He squeezed tighter. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

You winced in pain. “Stop it. We’re over!”

He hit you hard. “Enough!”

You glared at him and felt ready to hit him back, but something shocked you. You watched as a leather-gloved fist connected with your boyfriend’s face. You marvelled as his cheek squished and his head tilted to the side. The force of the hit was so strong, you were sure his jaw disconnected or broke. His head moved first to the left and then his whole body flew with him. The vice grip on your upper arm was gone and you watched in pure delight as your now ex slammed against the floor and rolled a little.

“Tch, asshole!”

You watched in awe as the most handsome man you’d ever seen stormed over to your ex on the floor, grabbed a fist full of his shirt and started shouting and threatening. As soon as everyone saw this handsome man and two people with him, the crowd seemed to go and the police who turned up to save you decided to leave. It was becoming clear to you that the man who saved you was incredibly powerful in this city. You were lucky.

Levi turned to his men. “Get him and that woman off my streets.” He stood up and yanked his gloves off. “Tch, filthy.”

Your eyes widened as you took him all in, some tattoos on his neck peeked through above his shirt collar. His stunning undercut raven hair was messy and no longer tamed back. “Um.” You gulped hard as his attention moved to you. Your heart skipped a beat at the way he was looking at you, it was intense and loving. You’d never been looked at like this before, it made you breathless and feel like you were a goddess. “Ah…”

Levi walked closer to you, his smart shoes tapping against the stone floor causing a shiver to go up your spine. He was sure of it, you were his first love from his childhood. You were so damn beautiful and it made his heart sing with joy. “Are you okay?”

You flinched at his deep voice, it caused something deep within you to move and melt. You gasped and rummaged in your bag. “I-I have h-hand wipes f-for your gloves.” You ripped out a few and smiled. “Are you okay to hand me your gloves? I can clean them up for you.”

He felt his heart burst, you looked so adorable to him. “Bunny.”

Your eyes widened. “Bunny?”

He cleared his throat as his cheeks got pink. “Thank you.” He offered the gloves to you and watched you clean them. “You’re good at that.”

You hummed a laugh. “I guess…” You looked up into his dazzling steel blue eyes. “Thank you for saving me.”

He reached over and caressed your cheek. “I should have done better. You got hurt.”

Your cheeks burned as your heart raced, his touch was incredible to you. “I-I’ll be okay.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder. “Come with me. Let me fix you up.”

There was just something about him, like there was a magnet that pulled you close. “S-Sure.”

He put his arm around you with his hand on your waist. “Stay close for your safety.”

You nodded. “Mm.”

As the two of you walked together you noticed people were staring at you in awe. A few people whispered asking each other if you were the Mrs of the man next to you. The man next to you was a bit of a celebrity to those around him, so he was powerful, influential and he’d saved you. It didn’t fully register in your mind what was going on until a bit of pain came from your lip.

You winced. “Ow.”

Levi pulled back from you. “Sorry, I just need to clean the cut on your lip. Bear with me, okay?”

You nodded as you gripped the skirt part of your dress. “Mm.”

You glanced around the room, it was clean and incredibly spacious. It looked like it was rarely lived in and was closer to a penthouse someone did up to sell instead of live in. When you looked back at the man before you it flustered you. He was no longer wearing his coat and blazer. His sleeves were rolled up to show tattoos all over his arms. The waistcoat was tight on him so you could see he was slim, lean and muscular. The shoulder strap holsters had a spot for two guns and a knife, but all were removed meaning he’d taken them off for you. Your eyes fixed on his neck, he’s taken his tie off and buttoned down his shirt so muscles and tattoos were peeking through.

Levi pulled back and sighed. “There, all done.”

“I appreciate it.”

He released a long sigh. “You haven’t changed much. Always getting into trouble and me having to save you.”

You frowned a moment as you tried to figure out what he meant. “Always…”

He said your name making your heart burst. “Have you forgotten my name? You used to shout it so much as a kid.”

Your eyes lit up in pure delight causing Levi to blush hard, you were so beautiful to him. “Levi!”

Levi felt his world become whole again. Hearing you call his name made everything better, his life and world were brighter. “I haven’t heard you call my name in so long.”

You giggled. “I guess I used to shout it a lot, huh?” You grinned at him. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too. Are you new to the city?”

You nodded. “Yeah, recently moved for my jackass ex.” You slouched on the sofa. “Guess that’s over with now. Oh well.”

Levi rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you have a job?”

You hummed. “I do.”

“What do you do?”

You smiled at him. “I’m a hostess! I start tonight. I’m rather excited.”

Levi clenched his fist as he felt irritated again. He owned host and hostess bars because people paid big money just to sit and talk with someone pretty. Levi owned countless things in the city from bars, clubs and restaurants to shops and hotels. Knowing that you were in a host club upset him because he wanted your attention on him and only him.

Levi sat back and narrowed his eyes at you. “Which one?”

You frowned in thought. “Uh, it’s called fox tails?”

Levi’s brow rose, that was one of his so it meant he could keep an eye on you. “Interesting. I own it.”

You gasped. “Oh, that’s exciting. It’s like we were meant to meet again.” You hummed a laugh. “Well, I better get ready for work.”

Levi followed you to his door. “Wait.” You turned to him and felt your heart skip a beat, he was so close and he smelt amazing. “Come here.” He pulled you closer and caressed your cheek. “I have a proposition for you. A job.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I’m listening.”

He eyed your lips for a moment. “I need you to be my fiancée.”

You gasped and felt a rush go through you. “Wh-what? W-We ju-just reunited!”

He wanted you to be his, fully his because he longed for you all these years, however having you as his fake fiancée would help him out. Levi was greatly sought after and many gang leaders were offering women in their families as brides for Levi. It was all stupid and he felt like some sort of King back in the old days, it made him sick to his stomach.

Levi caressed your cheek. “I get countless offers of marriage and there are only so many times I can say no and I’m already taken before people start asking questions.”

You felt stupid assuming Levi wanted you. You laughed and ruffled your hair. “Riiight, right, I get it. You want me to play the role of your fiancée to help you out.”

He nodded. “I would appreciate it. I’ll pay you a lot of money for your assistance and I will buy you clothes and gifts for the role.”

“Why me? Is it because we’re old friends?”

“Partly that.” He pinched your cheek. “Think about it.”

You gulped hard. “Ah, fuck it. I’ll do it.”

Levi’s eyes widened. “Really? I was expecting you to think it over.”

You shrugged. “It’ll mean we get to spend a lot of time together! How could I not say yes to spending all my time with my best friend again.” You opened the door before smiling at Levi. “I really missed you.”

“Me too.”

As soon as you left his penthouse he clutched his chest and felt like he was melting. A smile spread across his lips, it was a mixture of pure delight and a slightly crazy one. Levi had been obsessed with you for so long and now you were all his again. He adored you so much and he was going to do his best to keep you this time and never lose you again. He cleared his throat and composed himself for a moment. He had to start preparing for you to be his fake fiancée and then his real one.

Being a hostess wasn’t too bad, most people were rather nice to you and just wanted to talk or they were lonely. The only thing you hated was when some rich man wouldn’t stop talking about his money, the things he did and how he would like to fuck you. It was pretty disgusting at first, but sadly you got used to it. What made you happy was all the hosts and hostesses used fake names, wigs and makeup. Security was incredible too, it was so good that whenever there were tiny signs of trouble they would swoop in. Sometimes they’d appear and you hadn’t even noticed the danger.

Today you were fully booked again and you missed Levi. It’d been two weeks since your chat about being his fake fiancée, so you assumed he was setting things up and had business to take care of. You couldn’t believe that he’d just walked back into your life and now you didn’t want him to leave. Part of you felt a bit like a selfish brat because you wanted him now and you wanted him to never walk away. These feelings weren’t like you, but there was just something about Levi.

A host jumped next to you when you slapped your cheeks with both your hands and squished your face. You growled and squeezed harder as you tried to snap yourself out of your thoughts. You let out a long sigh as reality sunk in. Levi was always a friend and even when you were old enough as teens, there was no romance as far as you could remember. You spent a lot of time together, but that was it. There were no lingering touches or attempts to make things more. So, you set your mind right, Levi had no feelings for you, you were just friends and it was nothing more. You did well as a hostess, but there was no way Levi would want a woman like you. You believed he deserved so much better.

“Peach.”

You looked over at your handsome host friend, Knight. You whined a bit and flopped on the break room table. “Mm.”

He chuckled as he watched you. “Throwing a tantrum, hm?”

Knight also known as Lucas in private was a near and dear friend to you. He was incredibly tall, very broad and big with thick arms, legs and neck. His jawline was chiselled and made him look charming. His brows were slightly thick and blonde, his eyes almost golden in colour that just sparkled. His hair was just beautiful messy blonde locks that never had a normal parting because he was often ruffling it and moving how it lay. His neck was covered in tattoos that fitted him perfectly, you were sure he had some dealings with Levi’s gang. He always had a toothpick or lollipop stick hanging out his mouth during work hours to stop himself from having a smoke because your manager hated cigarettes.

You pouted a bit at Lucas. “Bite me.”

“Oh, we are spicy today. I never knew peaches could be like that.” He laughed as you slid down the chair with a groan. “Talk to me.”

“Am I doomed to die alone?”

He sat on the table next to you. “Nah.”

You looked up at him. “Really?”

He smirked. “Yeah, because I’m never leaving you alone. I love annoying the shit out of you.”

You groaned loudly. “I hate you.” You frowned as he started pressing your nose over and over. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing if I could turn off your sass.” He pulled away and laughed when you tried to bite his finger. “Come on, Peach, cheer up.”

You adjusted your pink wig and sighed. “I just suck at keeping a boyfriend.”

“Maybe you’re dating the wrong men.”

You faked a gasp. “My goodness! My problems are fixed!”

He hummed a laugh. “You’re so much fun.”

“Next you’ll suggest to date you!”

He shrugged. “It’d be a good suggestion.”

“My foot up your ass would be a good suggestion.”

Heavy thuds of smart shoes got closer to Lucas. “Lucas Lionheart.”

Lucas tensed up. “The devil, he’s behind me, right?”

You leaned and saw your wonderful manager behind Lucas. Masashi Shinohara was incredible in all aspects. He was impressively smart and knew how humans worked and business, so when it came to running places he was amazing. He was a bit shorter than the very tall Lucas, but he had this strong aura about him. He had very broad shoulders, but he had a very slim waist. He was covered in muscles and tattoos, but all his were hidden under his suits. Down from the left side of his forehead was a very long scar that went over his left eye, cheek and then reached his bottom lip. Sat nicely on his slender nose were clubmaster reading glasses. His eyes were beautiful almond ones and his brown eyes were very warm. His hair was always tamed into a typical 1950s businessman style, but what made his hair unique was a section of it at the front was white. The white part was only a few locks.

The white wasn’t from age, it happened naturally. Shino wasn’t that old, he was only in his early 30s and Lucas was in his late 20s. The two of them were close friends, but Lucas was a bit of a loose canon and wild so Shino had to rein him in. You adored Shino, he was a gentle sophisticated gentleman and he cared for you deeply. These two men saw you as a younger sister they had to care for.

Lucas turned slowly and grinned. “Sup!”

Shino sighed. “You should be working not winding up Peach. You’ve had too many breaks today.”

Lucas smirked. “Sure thing…Ma…sa…”

Shino glared at him. Masashi Shinohara was a wonderful man, but you never called him by his first name Masashi because he hated it. Everyone called him Shio as per his request, but Lucas often liked to wind him up. “Watch yourself.”

You walked over to Shino. “Shio?”

His rage washed away when he looked down at your adorable doe-eyed look. “Yes?”

You smiled at him. “Ignore him, he’s winding you up on purpose. He was trying to cheer me up.”

Shino caressed your cheek with his big hand covered in scars. “Why are you sad?”

“I’m a bit doom and gloom about relationships.”

He smiled softly at you. “Well, no man deserves you, princess. You’re too good for them, especially Lucas.”

Lucas huffed. “Gee, thanks.”

Shino gently cupped your face. “You deserve endless good things. Do you want to take more time off?”

Lucas walked over to you. “You should consider it.”

You shook your head. “No, no. I’ll go back out there. I need the money.” You released a long sigh. “I’ll go. I’m sure I’ll have a few customers.”

Lucas put his arm around you. “Come on, let’s go together. Knight and Peach together!”

Shino smiled. “Have a good night. If you need a break, please let me know.”

You waved to him. “Promise.”

Shino waved goodbye to you with a sweet smile on his face. As soon as you were gone his smile went and he pulled his phone out to see texts from his boss, Levi. Shino and Lucas had been tasked with looking after you by Levi. At first, the babysitting job idea wasn’t nice but as soon as the two men met you they adored you and hoped you would become their boss’s wife. Mrs Ackerman was a great title for you.

Shino texted Levi about how you were down in the dumps today and you had a lot of customers. He smiled when Levi sent him a message back to prepare for his arrival. Shino was sure that your mood would lighten up at seeing Levi. He placed his phone in his pocket and began preparations for the boss. Everything had to look good and be clean.

You smiled at your customer as your arms pressed your breasts together a bit more. “You’re so funny, master.”

The older man smirked at you as he pushed back his hair, he was old enough to be your grandfather but he didn’t care. He desired to have you. For a long time, he’d been eyeing you up and dreamed of running you in a hotel room, but he knew he had to win you over first. He admired your plump breasts and curvy figure. He used to like very small and thin women like they were very young. However, there was something ever so alluring about your curvy plump frame and sweet wide eyes.

As you leaned over to get another drink for him he thought about how much money he’d spent here because of you. He reached over and grabbed your ass making you freeze up and look scared at him. He smirked at you and began speaking, his breath reeking of cigars and alcohol. “Do you know how much money I’ve spent here? I’ve spent on you? All the drinks, food and gifts? I’ve topped you a lot.”

You whimpered. “Please remove your hand. You cannot touch us.”

He gripped harder. “You owe me.” He grabbed your face with his other hand. “Now you will come with me to a hotel room and open your legs for me, or I will take you by force.”

“Tch, oi.”

The two of you saw Levi standing on the other side of the low round table. The tables were low so all staff and customers could keep an eye on them and nothing unsightly was being done under any cover. So, things like this were easily seen. Levi was enraged by the sight before him. The fear in your eyes and the predatory look in the old man’s eyes made him furious. How dare this man touch his woman?

Levi tried to control his anger. “Let. Her. Go.”

The man smirked. “You think I’m afraid of you!? I know people! I know the guy that owns this place! I know Levi Ackerman! He’ll let me fuck this tease of a woman.”

It was impossible to track Levi’s movements fully, but they were fast and impressive. First, his foot was on the table causing glasses to smash and the glass top to crack. Second, his gloved fist wrapped around the older man’s tie. Before you knew it, the man was yanked down hard against the table causing it to crack more and the glass to cut the old man’s cheek. Levi wrapped the tie around his fist and pulled hard choking the man.

Levi tilted his head at the man. “Levi Ackerman, huh? Funny.” He spat his words at the man. “I have never met you in my fucking life. Now, if I, the real Levi Ackerman, tell you to do something you do it.”

Shino pulled you into his arms. “Best if you look away, okay?”

You nodded but you didn’t do as you were told. You snuck a look over at Levi to see him breaking the man’s arm and then his hand. “Oh.”

Shino pulled you again. “I told you it’s best you look away.”

You looked up at Shino. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to fear Mr Ackerman.”

You whined a little bit. “I don’t fear him.”

Shino studied your face and saw you were showing signs of attraction and arousal, it seemed you were perfect for Levi. “You’re rather brave.” He ushered you to his office and gave you a cup of tea. “I’m sorry a customer grabbed you and spoke disgustingly about you. You deserve better.”

You gazed into your tea as you hummed in thought. “I’m kind of tired.”

“You can use my sofa as a bed. I think Mr Ackerman wants to talk to you after he has finished.” He grabbed his coat and walked over to you. “Lie down then.” He smiled as you did and covered you with his coat. “I’ll be right here so you’re safe.”

“Thank you.”

Shino typed away on his computer as he completed some work. He sipped his tea and glanced over at you when you made a little noise. He watched you for a bit thinking you were having a possible nightmare, but you didn’t stir again. He smiled and then looked at his office door as he adjusted his glasses. “Mr Ackerman.”

Levi closed the door behind him. “Sorry, I had to clean up, I didn’t want his filth on me.”

“Understandable, I’m the same. I have to clean after taking care of things.” He rose to his feet. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

Levi stared at you as you slept. “Tea.” He walked closer to you and felt his heart swell. “She’s so beautiful.” He sat on the floor by your head and moved your hair away. “Poor thing.”

Shino placed Levi’s drink down. “She’s incredible here. She’s a top hostess and a lot of workers like her.” He bowed. “I will give you both space.”

“Thank you.” Levi played with your hair. He lifted a few stands and kissed them. “I should have done better.”

You opened your eyes and gazed at Levi. Your heart raced when you saw him kissing your wig hair. “Mm.”

Levi locked eyes with you. “The pink suits you.”

You sat up on the sofa as you felt so flustered at your face being close to Levi’s. “Thanks.” You pulled your wig off. “So uh…”

“You saw, didn’t you?”

You whined. “I did and Shino told me not to. I’m not scared of you if that’s what you’re worried about. When we were kids and teens you did things like that.” You sighed. “I…I just…I want to do something for you as a thank you.” You smiled at him. “I just don’t know what. Thank you, Levi. Really, thank you. You saved me again.”

He placed his hands on either side of your hips and leaned up. “You’re welcome, but there is no need to thank me. I’ll do anything for you.” He hummed a laugh. “It’s your fault for being so sweet and cute.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “A-Ah…w-well…you’re so nice.”

“I don’t want you working here for a few weeks.”

The colour drained from your face. “What? But I need this job and the money.”

He cupped your face in his gloved hands and hushed you. “I need you for those weeks, that’s why and I can’t imagine it’ll be nice working here after what you went through.”

You relaxed. “Oh, you’re right. So, you need me? Is that for the fiancée thing?”

He nodded. “Yes. I have a few meetings and get-togethers. So, will you help?”

“Of course.”

He kissed your forehead. “Thank you. I will send you some outfits and come to collect you each day.” He rose to his feet and handed you a card. “My private number. Please text me so I have yours.”

You gasped then hurriedly texted Levi from your phone. “There.”

He stared at his phone and smiled a little it was impossible to hide his happiness. Levi was one step closer to having you as his. He was giddy with excitement, but he didn’t want that dark side of him to show. “Thank you. I’ll message you tomorrow morning, okay?”

You squeezed your phone. “Yes.”

“Will you let me escort you home?”

You rose to your feet and nodded. “Sure.”

You took Shino’s coat off you and made your way to the changing room. You changed quickly before joining Levi. It felt weird to be sat in the back of the car with him as someone drove you both. It felt like you were being pulled into a dangerous world that was also exciting, like you were just on the cusp of it and it was up to you if you wanted to fully be in it.

Levi walked you to your apartment building and paused outside. “Get some rest and if you need anything, call me. You’ve been through a lot.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you. You know, I was hoping I’d see you and I was going to shout at you for leaving me alone again, but then you saved me.”

He smirked. “So, you’re not mad?”

You pouted hard. “I am, I’m just saving that for tomorrow when we meet up. So, be prepared for a grumpy fiancée, okay?”

He chuckled. “I look forward to it.”

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 3: Awkward Fumblings

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 2

September 1985

Julie sits on one of the picnic benches in the community area of the trailer park. She has one of her many notebooks open to a page she’s been working on for weeks. It’s a pencil drawing of the short story she wrote a few weeks ago. An empty field with serene trees and clear skies. The perfect background for the forefront of her story, if she could just figure out how to draw it. 

One of the trailer doors slams and a girl around her age goes around her trailer, heading to the gate with a small food tray. Her name is Max, Julie thinks. She and her mom moved into the trailer down the street from her a month or two ago. 

She shuts her notebook, the ideas of how to depict the scene she was drawing not coming to her anyway. It’s weird how the scenes created in her mind can get twisted when she tries drawing them on paper. 

When Max is walking back to her trailer, now with an empty tray of food, Julie walks up to her. 

“Hey,” she says, interrupting Max’s movement. “I’m Julie, I live two trailers down from you.”

“Cool,” Max replies with a cold glare. “I’m Max.”

“Were you feeding your dog?” Julie was never good at making friends, she doesn’t even know why she’s talking to Max at all. But she knows everyone else in the trailer park and they’re either too old to be friends with or too young. There’s just something about Max that she thinks might click. 

Max rolls her eyes slightly. Julie can’t tell if she’s annoyed with her or something else. “Yeah, he’s out back behind that fence.”

“Oh, I’ve seen him a few times. Wondered when he showed up.” They stand there awkwardly for a moment, Julie slightly swaying with the book held in front of her. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Max says with an attitude that means she probably didn’t mean it. 

Julie gives her a tight-lipped smile before walking back to her trailer. 

She doesn’t talk to Max for a few more weeks. She sees her a lot, just from sitting out on park benches and sometimes at school. But she doesn’t go up to talk to her again, Max clearly didn’t like it the first time. Doesn’t blame her. She caught her at a bad time, probably, and that made her not want to talk to Julie again. It just happens sometimes, most of the time. 

The trailer door slams shut again after a screaming match Julie could hear between Max and her mom. Mainly Max screaming, but about what Julie doesn’t know. After living in a trailer park for so long, she got used to shutting out the noise of the other trailers. They all have the thinnest walls known to man and sound travels fast, but it’s better for everyone if they learn to tune it out. 

It’s bad enough living in a small town where everyone seems to know everything, they don’t need to be hearing what’s going on inside everyone else’s homes. 

Julie expects Max to go behind her trailer to where her dog sits behind the gate. That’s where she normally goes after slamming the door shut. But instead, the table creaks as Max sits across from her on the other bench. 

“What are you doing,” she asks bluntly. 

“Drawing a scene from one of my stories. I can’t seem to get the tone right.” Julie erases the people she had drawn in the foreground, they weren’t right. 

Max nods, looking unsure of why she’s even here. After their last interaction, Julie can’t help but ask the same question. “What is the tone supposed to be?”

“Tense. The story is about a family that seems normal to the reader, but there’s something off that they just can’t place. Until it ends and you find out that the dad was never actually addressed properly because he was a ghost the whole time.”

“Spoilers much,” Max jokes. It’s surprising, but not unwelcome. “That’s a cool concept though.”

“Thanks,” Julie puts her pencil down, deciding to try and figure out how to fix it later. 

“Did you hear anything before, when I was yelling at my mom?” Max blurts out, eyes darting away when asking the question. 

Julie shakes her head. “I try not to listen to what happens in other people’s trailers. You end up hearing things you regret. Like, a lot of sex.”

That makes Max snort. “I get what you mean.” There’s a comfortable silence that falls over them this time, like they bridged a gap that Julie hasn’t ever really before. “Could you show me your drawing, maybe I can help you figure out what to do.”

“Sure,” Julie shrugs. 

. . . 

“What the hell are you doing here, dingus,” Robin scolds him as he walks through the door of Family Video, head throbbing. “You said you had a migraine, get out of here.”

Steve winces when he fully opens his eyes to the bad fluorescents. “I called out last week for an obvious fake sickness, Keith won’t let me do it again, even if it’s real.”

“You look like you can barely stand, Steve. Go home. Actually, no, I’m calling Eddie to come pick you up.”

He waves her off. “No, no. It’s fine. I just need to drink some water and take more painkillers. I’m at the end of my last dose. And I drove over here just fine.”

Robin glares at him, her jaw clenched. “Fine. But if I see you pushing yourself too far across the limit, I am calling Eddie and helping him push you into his car to take you home.”

“I’ll be fine, Rob, promise.” He unscrews the cap of his water bottle and swallows two more pills. 

“And I’m turning off some of the lights, I don’t care.” Robin walks to the light switches by the break room and flips the switch where every other light turns off. Steve hates to admit it, but it did give him a little bit of relief. 

Compared to his other migraines, today’s ranks at about a three. He was able to get out of bed and stand, so that automatically puts it underneath an eighth. And when he takes his pain meds on time and makes sure to stay hydrated, he can make it through one six-hour shift. He probably would have called out if it was any longer, but he can do it today. 

And luckily for him, Thursdays tend to be slow so he’s able to lean on the counter for the majority of his shift while rewinding tapes. A tedious job that Keith would yell at him for not also doing returns while they were rewinding, but he left an hour ago so Steve could do what he wanted. Within reason. 

Halfway through his shift, there is a slight crowd of people as the school day ends always bringing in a few kids on their way home from school. The excess noise from the groups of teens makes Steve’s head throb more, or at least makes him notice it more. He takes a few deep breaths in between customers, trying to keep a less pissed-off face on. It might not work but he tries. 

As the crowd weans down, someone comes up to the counter, dropping a tape on it getting Steve’s attention. 

“Hey, Steve,” a familiar voice he can’t place says. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you look like shit.”

When he lifts his head, he sees Julie, staring at him with more concern than she probably wants to. They haven’t talked since last week when she showed up at his house. Not like he didn’t want to. But he didn’t have a number or an address to go to and waiting to see if he could catch her after school sounded creepy. So, he was waiting for her to come to him, but she didn’t, not yet. Maybe now he could say something, apologize for not trying to get her to stay more. 

“Hey,” he says, perking up a bit. “How are you?”

She shrugs. “As good as I can be. Uh, this might be insanely overdue. I was finally going through some of my old stuff and guess I never returned it.” She slides the tape across the counter. 

Steve picks it up, scans it, and immediately gets rid of the late fees. “You’re good.”

“What,” Julie looks at him confused. “I know I’ve had that tape for at least three weeks, there should be late fees.”

“For most people yeah, but the joys of knowing someone who is willing to cheat the system is no late fees.”

“And risk his job just to let the kids walk over him,” Robin interrupts, coming behind the counter. “Not you, the other kids,” she turns to Steve. “Go take your break, I got it.”

“There still a rush, Rob-.”

“And I can see you struggling from across the store. Go. Take. Your. Break. You absolute dingus.”

Julie looks at them confused. “I know I said you look like shit but are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he brushes off. 

“No, he’s not. He should be home but he’s an idiot who decided it was a good idea to come to work with a migraine.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he goes to grab his lunch from the break room. “I’m going to eat in my car, be back in fifteen.”

“Hey,” Julie calls out to him when he leaves the building. “I don’t mean to take up your break, but I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean for last week to go like that. It wasn’t fair for me to lash out like that.”

“It’s ok. I’m sorry you couldn’t stay longer.” He sits on the hood of his car, motioning for her to sit next to him.

She does. “Me too. I really hate it at that house.”

“You know you’re not like banned from coming over. I mean you don’t if you don’t want to. But as long as you don’t stay the night and don’t break curfew, Hop said it was ok for you to come over.”

She takes a moment to think about it. “I think I would like that.”

“I would too. I always wanted a sibling,” he adds on, trying to show her that he cares. 

“I did too,” Julie smiles. “I’ll let you get back to your break, hope your head feels better.”

“Thanks. See you around.”

Steve eats his sandwich from his car, taking a moment to lie in the back seat, throwing an arm over his eyes to try and give them a break from the light. When he gets back into the store, it’s a bit better, but still there. It’s one of the many life adjustments he’s had to go through after four years of going through the same thing over and over again, but he’s slowly getting used to it. 

“I saw you talking to Julie on your break, you two good?”

“I think so, she said that she might come over sometimes.”

Robin smiles. “That’s good. She seemed like a good kid. We talked a little bit when you were having your absurdly long talk with Eddie and even though she was kind of reserved, I could tell. Like she just gave me that impression, both in the night before and in that morning. What’s wrong you’re giving me that look when you feel stupid asking a question.”

“I haven’t made a friend under normal circumstances in years, Rob. How do I even go about this?” Steve asks, suddenly hit with the realization that he knows so little about her.

“I don’t know, things. I mean I know you said you didn’t get to talk that much when she was there the last time, so maybe just use what you learned last time and go from there. Also, if you think these are normal circumstances then I hate to break it to you, but it is not. Bond over your shitty father. Get the awkward getting-to-know phase out of the way. Something”

Steve shrugs. “Maybe.”

. . . 

Julie knocks on the door of the Harrington house for the second time in her life, but this time she is supposed to. At least she hopes. All her life she’s felt that wherever her father fucked off, she would never be accepted. Especially when she learned the circumstances of how she came to be, there would be no chance. She half expected that when her case workers finally located her father, he would give up the rights so fast and stick her in the system for two more years until she ages out.

Which in the grand scheme of things, wouldn’t be the worst since she can leave in a few years. But she would do anything to get out of that house and can’t imagine that the next one would be any better.

But there was a small glimpse of hope that she couldn’t help but start to believe in. Steve genuinely seemed interested in knowing her, interested in trying to have some sort of relationship. And he wanted to try too.

It wasn’t surprising really, he was the only family she had that actually seemed interested at all. Someone she didn’t even know about until a month ago, and never met until the previous week. But in the short amount of time that they actually talked, she just had a feeling that this might work out.

“Give him some credit,” Chief Hopper said to her before dropping her off at the foster home. “There was nothing he could do to stop me from bringing you back. I’m not going to tell you what to do with your life because God knows that teenagers never listen to me, but just give it some thought.”

As Steve opens the door and invites her back into his house, she can’t help but think that what he told her was right. She wasn’t mad at Steve, and she should give them both a real chance to do something before jumping to conclusions. Both of them deserved that.

“So,” Steve starts, leading her to the living room. “This is going to sound really stupid.”

“Why do I not like the sound of that?”

He snorts. “I don’t really either, but it’s all I got. We don’t know that much about each other, so I figured we could speed run some of those really stupid icebreakers just to get it out there.”

“To get the awkward stuff out of the way and start to find things in common. I get it.”

“Yep, exactly,” he nods. “So, things about me. I just turned twenty back in August. I’m not in college and don’t plan to be. I work at the video store, as you saw. My favorite color is green, I told you some of my hobbies. And that’s all I got right now.”

“Very interesting information,” She says sarcastically. “My turn, I guess. I’m sixteen, my birthday is in January if you didn’t catch that already. Uhm. I don’t have a job, but I wouldn’t mind getting an after-school one soon to start saving up early. I would like to go to college sometime, but I’m not sure if that would be entirely in the cards right now. My favorite color is blue. And like I said, my hobbies are writing and drawing, but I also like to read a good bit too.”

“What do you want to major in, if you did go to college? Do you know yet?”

“Writing, I think. I’ve been doing it for a while now and I really like it, and English is my favorite subject so I definitely want to do something with literature.”

“That’s really cool. I wasn’t the greatest in school, I tried to pay attention but a lot of the subjects just were hard for me. But I always did the best in history for some reason. Or gym if we’re counting that as a real subject.”

Julie laughs. “Wow, you really were a jock.”

“I like sports and for a time, it was the only thing I thought I was good at.”

“And now? What else are you good at?”

Steve sinks back into the couch, taking a second to think. “I like to think I’m a good cook. I’ve been alone really since high school, so I learned how to cook. Probably not the best in the world, but I like doing it, and it’s fun.”

“What do you mean by really alone?” She asks. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I was just curious.”

He laughs, like what he just said wasn’t incredibly sad. “I forget that not everyone knows. My dad always went on a lot of business trips, but for the first few years since I was born, my mom stayed home. Then she found out about his cheating, and went with him. After that there were nannies, none stayed for more than a few years, my mom always found something about them that pissed her off. When I started high school, she stopped hiring them. Both of them agreed that I was old enough to be home alone.”

Not like she’s too shocked, but to hear that her suspicions were right about Steve’s parents never being home hurts. She can’t imagine what it was like living in a home where the two people who are supposed to take care of you are never there.

“When did your mom find out about the cheating?” She’s hit with the sudden thought that it might have been around the time she was born, and she couldn’t help but ask.

“I was four, maybe five.” It takes him a second, but his eyes widen, and he sits forward, mouth agape. “Holy shit.”

“That’s probably not a coincidence, is it?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “It would be insane if it was. I thought she wouldn’t have known, that he kept it from her too. She must have found out somehow.”

Guilt hits her. He lived an empty life because of her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. It’s his fault, always was. He cheated on my mom constantly. On the rare chance that they were home, the screaming matches were intense. She knew of them, of course she knew about you.”

“I’m still sorry. You didn’t deserve to be left alone because your dad is a piece of shit.”

He huffs. “I’m sorry too.”

“How did you meet Robin? I never got to ask the other day.” She changes the subject to something different, hoping that it will bring them out of the weird mood that they landed in. 

“We worked at the same summer job. Scoops Ahoy, the ice cream place that was in the mall before it burned down. The one with the really terrible sailor outfits.”

Julie winces. “I remember those. They were pretty bad. And Eddie, when did you become friends.”

“Spring break, during all of the craziness that happened.”

She nods her head, letting him ask a question about her before they just start talking. It’s weird but nice at the same time. They strangely get along well and the conversations, while slowing at some points, keep picking back up. It’s feels natural, like it’s not forced. 

But then five o’clock hits and she has to head back to the foster home. He offers to drive her, and she accepts, loading her bike into the back of the car. The car ride isn’t awkward, even if they don’t talk the whole time. It’s comfortable, it’s safe. 

In the short amount of time that she’s known Steve, she can tell that he’s safe to be around. It’s just the feeling she gets from him. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t surprising, but it’s not unwelcome. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Steve says, rustling in his trunk when he helps get out her bike. “I wanted to give you this,”

She takes the box. “A walkie-talkie?”

“Yeah. I use them to talk to the kids I look after and their range is like unbelievably far. So I figured you could use it to talk to me, if you wanted. Or to shoot a warning that you’re coming over. Just something.”

It’s weird, but she accepts it. “Ok, thanks.”

“Yeah no problem,” he shrugs. “I’ll see you around.”

. . . 

When Steve doesn't know how to feel about something, he tends to just not feel anything about it. Like this whole situation about his father, he doesn’t know how to feel about it. 

His father is a cheater and has been for pretty much Steve’s entire existence. There was no secret about that. He’s made his own opinions about that a long time ago, and just shuffled it all to the part of his mind that he doesn’t like to think about too much. Because it hurts too much to think about it all, so he’d rather not. 

But the truth about it was that Steve was used to how his dad was. He was used to the way he treated Steve. How there were barely any phone calls unless he did something that would affect his dad’s image. No birthday or holiday calls, barely even making an appearance during Christmas or Thanksgiving anymore. Just an empty house that was never really lived in enough to even have memories created, let alone any semblance of a life. 

It was just Steve, and he was fine with that. As long as he was the only person that got hurt. 

Even that logic was flawed as his mom has been hurt for years. But that was different, she was an adult. And even though Steve knows that there would be no way that his mom could leave without her reputation being ruined, she still has some responsibility for how he was treated. He never blamed her, but she wasn’t without blame. 

So Steve didn’t care that he was hurt, as long as he was the only child of Richard Harrington that was. And for the majority of his life, that was true. Except it wasn’t. 

And Steve had no idea how to feel about that. 

When Steve wakes up the day after Julie came over again, it’s like all of the hurt that he has tried so hard not to feel has come back to the surface. All of the hurt that he’s become numb to has festered enough to make his skin crawl again. The hurt that would make him want to act out and seek attention from people who never really cared about him, but he wanted them to. 

He stares at his ceiling, thinking about all of the times that he’s woken up just like this. Empty house, bare walls, not a soul other than himself to talk to. More mornings than anyone should have been able to experience. Where it happens enough that the numbers get so large there’s no point in counting them anymore. 

Steve knows that there are people out there that care about him. Knows that there are people that love him. His friends and the family he’s made through the past experiences of his life loved him and he loved them. But the fact that he had to make a family outside of his own just to be loved the way he wanted hurt. 

Parents are supposed to love their kids. At least that’s what it feels like. From what Steve’s observed through his friends and even in his job, families are supposed to love each other. Fathers are supposed to be there to play catch in the yard, moms are supposed to be there to provide a hug that cures all tears. They are supposed to be home, not shove their kids off on someone else. 

It took a long time for Steve to realize that his family was broken and he couldn’t fix it. That one more party wouldn’t get his dad to notice him, for his mom to come home. Making the team got him a phone call because it looked good on them, not because they were proud of him. Getting rejected from college hurt their image, so they cared. Their son refusing to get a job other than part-time at a video store hurt their image, so they cared. There was a scar on his neck that looked suspicious enough that it made people talk, even if it wasn’t true, but it hurt their image, so they cared. 

Not one time did they ever come to visit him during his many hospital stays. Not once did they even send a card. The birthday gifts stopped after the Beemer, and even then it was rare. They didn’t care about him, just what he could do for them. 

Steve was just so tired of acting how people who didn’t even really care about him wanted him to. So he wasn’t going to anymore. 

He gets up and ready, heading straight to his car without a second thought. Driving with a half-baked plan that is made out of a sense of rebellion and just generally wanting something. Steve wants something with someone for the first time in a long time, and he’s tired of holding himself back from it. Even if his dad would hate it, he’s stopped caring that he would. 

“Steve,” Eddie asks confused when he opens the door. “Everything ok?”

Steve nods, letting himself in. “Yep, everything’s fine. Great even.”

“You sure?” Eddie looks at him with a concerned face. “You seem really jittery.”

He is feeling a bit shaky but that’s not going to stop him. “I’m done doing things just because I think it will get my dad’s approval.”

“I thought you already were, but continue. This is good.”

“So I’m going to things that I want, even if I know my dad will hate it. I’m not going to hold myself back anymore.”

“Good, you shouldn’t.”

Steve walks up to him. “I’m going to do what I want, because I want it without thinking of what could happen if he finds out. He acts without thinking of me, why should I act with him in mind.”

“I really like where this is going, Steve, but you are still scaring me a little.”

He lightly grabs the sides of Eddie’s face, a shocked noise slipping out when he does so. “I’m going to do what I want to.”

Before Eddie gets the chance to say anything else, Steve kisses him. Harder than he should of but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted this for far longer than he’s realized and isn’t going to let that voice in the back of his head tell him that it’s wrong anymore. He already canceled their previous plans because of that, he isn’t going to do that again. 

After the shock, Eddie kisses him back, leaning into Steve’s touch and wrapping his arms around him, pulling Steve in closer. 

. . . 

Julie’s least favorite class is probably gym class. A bunch of kids wearing the same clothes, all of which have shorts that are way too short, playing some dumb sport that her teacher deemed important for them to learn. The only good part about the class is that it’s not co-ed, she can’t imagine the comments that would be made about her if the guys were in the class. 

But she has to do it, so she goes out to the gym, the cold air hitting her as she exits the locker room, clutching her middle and just begging it’s something easy today. She notices a girl in a wheelchair by the bleachers, another girl with short hair sitting next to her animately talking about something. It’s Max, Julie realizes. She hasn’t seen her in school since last year, or at all really. 

Not that they were ever really friends. They talked a few times, but never enough to form something real. And after a while, Max came outside in general less and less, always looking like something else was taking over her mind. Julie wanted to reach out and ask if she was ok, but never felt like it was her place to do so. 

And then something big over spring break happened that no one had a good explanation for, and Julie didn’t see Max again for a long time. 

“Do they really make you come to gym class if you can’t participate?” Julie asks, walking over to Max and her friend. 

Max’s eyes are slightly clouded over and she looks at Julie like she can tell that she’s there, but can’t see it. “Yeah, it’s pretty stupid.” Her friend leans over to tell Max who it is, a face of recognition forming. “Julie this is my friend Jane, she just moved back to Hawkins from California.”

“Nice to meet you. Odd to hear someone moving here instead of away.”

“We are happier here,” Jane supplies, speaking with certainty in her voice. 

“I thought you moved too. I haven’t heard anyone drive to your trailer in a few weeks. Thought you might have gotten out of that shit-hole.”

Julie clams up, debating whether or not to tell her. But she’d rather not get emotional in the middle of gym class. “I moved to a place on Cherry Street, that’s probably why.” 

Their conversation is cut short when the teacher calls everyone to the center of the gym to go over the rules. Her mind is everywhere but the gym. Racing thoughts of what could have happened to Max to cause her to be in a wheelchair and possibly blinded, from what she could tell. Only landing at the same spot all of her thoughts seem to end up for the last few weeks. 

She thought that maybe there would be a time when she could think of her mom without almost breaking down, but she couldn’t. It seems that every time someone mentions anything about her, all she can think about is the fact that she’s dead. That Julie is left alone without her mom, forever. 

All she wants is to remember her mom without crying for once. Think of the happy memories with that sadness old people seem to get when talking about their friends. A form of silent sadness that doesn’t cause her to want to rip her heart out. She seems to continuously wake up with sore, red eyes and a pain she has no way of stopping. 

. . . 

July 1986

A few different cars pull up in front of the Mayfield’s trailer, a bunch of kids around her age pouring out and going up the door. All of them cheering when it opens. She recognizes a few of them from her classes. They must have been Max’s friends. 

She hasn’t seen Max since spring break. The only answer that her mom could ever get from asking neighbors was that she was severely injured from the earthquakes and was hospitalized. For months, apparently. 

Max came home last week in a wheelchair. Some people had come over to help build a ramp to the trailer a few days before and showed up again when Max came home. She wanted to go over and say that she was happy to see her back, but it felt wrong for some reason. 

Julie doesn’t know a lot about earthquakes, but she knows that they don’t happen in the middle of America, let alone Indiana. And they don’t happen in the way that it happened here. The cracks in the ground weren’t on any fault lines, or near them at all. And for all of them to start from one location and hit city hall, wasn’t normal. 

Nothing that happened over spring break was normal. She had seen the same bunch of kids running around the trailer park a few days before the quake. And the string of murders that Eddie Munson was wrongfully accused of happened days before the quake. 

None of it made any sense, and Julie had no way of knowing what really happened. Some said this town was possessed by the devil, but that was evangelical Christian panic shit that claimed a board game was demonic. There was something wrong with Hawkins, and Julie wanted to know. But sometimes questions never get answered, and she had to accept that. 

Part 4

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17 @i-amthepizzaman

[friendlytikek]

Our Flag Breaks Bad, Part Eight

Read here or from the beginning here.

Summary:

A brilliant high school chemistry teacher with a terminal illness.

An ex smuggler desperate to keep his boyfriend around longer.

A criminal seizing the opportunity to reconnect with his best friend the only way he knows how.

A scam artist down on his luck who gets more than he bargained for.

Stede gets lung cancer. A few months shy of his forty-eighth birthday, he’s told he may not live to even make it to his fiftieth. What happens next is a natural response to this.

Chapter Preview:

Trouble comes in many forms.

But mostly when you least expect it.

Izzy shows up at The Swede’s, the bar they used to frequent a lot ten years ago. Only then it had a different name. Drinks were still good though. And even though the bar has changed, Izzy’s familiarity with it hasn’t. All the regulars are on first-name basis with him.

It’s Ed who looks a little out of place, sitting in one spot in the corner.

“So there’s news,” Ed begins. He’s already started without him, looks like.

Izzy nods and sits down. He waves at the bartender and gets a nod in return. “Not the kind of news where I’ll have to dispose of a body, I hope,” he tries to joke, but Ed is frowning. Not unlike him, but ever since the Bonnet business started, he’s been sullen. He doesn’t want to openly stare, opts for just studying Ed out of the corner of his eye as the bartender brings over his usual.

Ed has no such subtlety, eyes fixed on Izzy. “S’not work. Not exactly.” He takes a deep breath, clearly bracing himself, and Izzy has his suspicions before he even continues with, “Cancer’s spread. There’s this drug that… look, I don’t fucking know, but it’ll give him a chance. More time. We’re looking at surgery in the next couple of weeks.”

To Ed’s credit, he delivers it with a surprising lack of emotion. Stating facts. Getting right to the point. So Izzy takes his time to process and has a sip of his beer, admiring the decorative bottles on the opposite side of the bar, dozens upon dozens of them.

“Gonna need to do an impressive amount of cooking then,” Izzy finally says. “Might need a bigger boat.” He can’t help the way his mind lingers on more time, but he doesn’t bother echoing it back to Ed. “Yeah? That’s what this boils down to, right? Need more money.”

Ed’s jaw remains tense. But then he nods. “That’s right. That’s why we’re talking. We need to cook a lot more. Stede wants money for his kids, and we’re looking at houses.” His grip on his glass tightens. “Gonna need Roach more too.”

Something about that doesn’t quite add up in Izzy’s head, but he isn’t stupid enough to ask, What, Bonnet doesn’t want to die in a shitty trailer? Instead, he side-eyes Ed again and has another sip of beer.

“Yeah, Roach won’t be a problem. Boys will do their part.” Izzy pauses, trying to find a delicate way of phrasing his next question. He settles on, “Is there any particular… deadline? When do we need all this money by?”

Despite Izzy’s attempt at being tactful, Ed freezes, then his scowl increases tenfold. “Surgery, two weeks. Other shit? Two, three years? Do you need an exact time of death?”

...read more on AO3

[djarinsbeskar]

PREQUEL ARC: PART 2 - THE HOUK

A/N: Part 2 is here! First and foremost, can I just say thank you so much for the reception Part 1 received and to those who (gasps!) actually want me to tag them for updates??? I don’t know how to react??? I’m so touched??????? It’s so motivating and has reminded me why I love sharing my scribbles!

There’s a greater focus on world/character building in this chapter so if it feels a bit rambling or description heavy, I do apologise! Like I said, I’m trying to build some context to the reader-insert before we get to the smut, and I hope that I’ve kept her general enough that she doesn’t cross the line too much into OC territory and becomes unrelatable. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! My style of writing leaves much to be desired so I would love to know if something doesn’t make sense so I can improve and fix it. But enough of that, on with the show!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language and slight injury detail.

Plot: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

8 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran.

The second time you met him, he had dislocated his shoulder after a nasty clash with a Houk.

Your dealing with the Mandalorian on Klatooine had moved to the back of your mind and you rarely, if ever, thought about it. It was merely another encounter with a rough character that needed some medical attention. You wouldn’t have been able to hazard a guess at how many similar characters you saw in a week while you worked at the clinic. Even more so when you’d left Klatooine after becoming disillusioned that the New Republic were actually trying to make a difference.

You had heard stories from the Core and Mid Rim planets. Stories of the investment and progress being made to rebuild after the tyranny of the Empire, of the billions of credits being poured into the development of new ship building centers on Corellia and large, extravagant residencies for government members on Coruscant. Things, you were sure, that were not actually urgent necessities as they were desires. Especially given that the funds you received from that same government to sustain the clinic thinned before drying up completely a few months after your encounter with the Mandalorian.

…Hemorrhaging more credits than is justified for the benefits we’re seeing in return.

The busybody politician with a colorful title and even more colorful robes waxed poetically, hiding the sentiment of disinterest in ways only a politician could. Half-heartedly trying to distract you by his explanations with empty praise and gratitude for your service during the Rebellion and your humanitarian work now, a true embodiment of what the New Republic stands for. He crowed like the colorful bird he looked like, dressed as he was with fine feathers lining the lapels of his robes.

You bristle at the memory of the hologram’s eyes flickering to look at anything besides you, running down the time you had spent weeks trying to get.

That was when the memory of the Mandalorian surfaced, surprisingly. How the day after you treated him you arrived at the medical center and saw  a familiar pouch of credits sitting innocently behind the check-in desk. When you enquired with the receptionist, she told you it was sitting there once she opened up earlier that morning. The only note left being on one of the datapads behind the desk, the scrawling font reading; to help with your work. You had let out a chuckle to yourself as you checked your schedule, wondering if the brutish male you had treated last night really was as cold as he portrayed himself to be.

The memory had incited a righteous anger that a bounty hunter was more willing to support a voluntary clinic than the government that set it up in the first place was.

I thought the Empire were the ones who put a credit limit on what a life is worth. You had hissed in return, interrupting what you were sure was a well-rehearsed and well used speech, before hanging up. You pressed the heel of your hands into your eyes, taking a shuddering breath as you tried not to be nihilistic in thinking that you had spent nearly half your life thinking you could make a difference, when, you were just serving the Empire in different clothing.

It wasn’t a fair comparison; you knew the New Republic was neither as cruel nor as tyrannical and oppressive as it’s predecessor, but you had been made so dreadfully aware that in places like the Outer Rim, people would always be overlooked by those in power because they simply didn’t offer enough to be worth looking at.

The realization was a raw wound to your soul. You had lost brothers and friends to the fight for liberation, but it didn’t seem as though the grass was much greener on the other side. Maybe elsewhere in the galaxy it was, but where you were needed most, the grass was dehydrated and dying under the relentless sun.

With the clinic penniless, your meagre pension from the Rebellion was not nearly enough to keep it functioning. Add to that the reluctance of the other medics to run the clinic alongside you out of their own pocket and the intergalactic beacon for medical aid that alerted anyone in the parsec of where to go being disengaged, traffic stopped. The native Klatooinians preferred their own healers and very rarely, if ever, sought out medics from the New Republic.

For the first time in your life, your path wasn’t clear. If you even had a path anymore.

That was how you found yourself on Dandoran, flying off a week after the last of the medics left Derelkann to the first planet that was habitable to humans. But by the Maker, it was even rougher than Klatooine. The temperate climate and lush greenery were more comfortable for you, but the city you found yourself in, Mynock, was to say the least, undesirable. Having once been Hutt Space, there were still several illegal operations active that kept the city going and you learned early on what areas to avoid and to always carry a blaster with you. But at least where there was activity, there was work for you.

***

You met Biran Sonter the very day you arrived, asking directions to the nearest medical facility, hoping they could use another medic. He was an elderly Mirialan male with a wealth of history behind him, his facial tattoos creased with deep wrinkles and a kindly smile that reminded you of your grandfather.

You were flabbergasted to learn that during the time of the Galactic Republic, he acted as the royal physician to the palace on Naboo.

As you choked on the tea he had kindly made for you at that revelation, you couldn’t ask him quickly enough how he ended up here? On an Outer Rim backwater skughole of a planet and his tale had been sobering. When the Republic first fell, anyone who did not immediately surrender to the rising Empire was terminated. Biran had, at the time, only heard word of the death of the beloved former Queen Amidala and blamed the Empire vehemently. Escaping on one of the last shuttles from the Mid Rim planet before legions of clones descended, he arrived on Dandoran where no one, not even the Hutts cared enough to notice him. All they knew, was that he was an excellent doctor who charged little for his services and kept to himself. That was good enough for them. While he treated a vast number of criminals ranging from thieves to bounty hunters, he was not wholly merciful. He somehow managed to avoid or talk his way out of treating anyone in the organized crime syndicates or known traffickers and killers. It may have gone against a physician’s code to do ones best to save every life, but he like many, made their own code in the Outer Rim.

You fell into a fast and easy friendship with the Mirialan after that, your similar histories of working in the medical field despite being decades apart giving you plenty to talk about. The practice Biran ran in Mynock was always busy and he was only too grateful when you offered to take the weight off his old shoulders and gradually, his clients began to expect to see you most of the day and Biran for a few hours in the early morning. You were never short on work between cantina brawls, accidents and the downright attacks that took place in Mynock and the next eighteen standard months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, Klatooine a distant memory, as was the Mandalorian you met there.

The night you saw him again, was no different to any other you spent enjoying a quiet drink before heading back to turn in for the night.

You had been in the process of leaving the cantina, recognizing that the later it grew, the rowdier and aggressive the clientele became. You could handle yourself as well as anyone who made their home in Hutt Space, but you knew better than to be blatantly reckless when you were on your own. It wasn’t like you had the squadron you stayed with throughout the Rebellion for backup as you once did, and your closest ally would probably break in half if you pushed him too hard. So no, you were not staying late with Mynocks newest resident of a Houk warlord and the company he seemed to attract.

The Houk in question was a cruel and belligerent brute, a former local warlord by the name of Gappo Teff. His reputation for inflicting punishment disproportionate to any slight committed against him or the Empire was one of the many echoes of the former imperial rule that was still being felt in the galaxy nearly three years after its collapse.

The stories of the chokehold he held over Sullust would make even a hardened soldier’s stomach churn. How he managed to escape the liberation of the planet without being dragged to the noxious surface of Sullust to suffer for the pain he had caused so many, was a mystery. But there he was, sitting like a king in the cantina you found yourself in, bellowing laughter ricocheting obnoxiously throughout the space, not a care in the world that he was a wanted felon.  

It might have been to do with the fact that he was at least seven and a half foot tall, with a mass that could easily fit three of you side by side across him and still not be seen. It might have been to do with the cold, milky blue of his small eyes, sunk into a skull so large it could probably shatter ribs and rupture organs if one were to be headbutted with it. The last thing anyone wanted was those eyes focusing on them. It could have been the heavy artillery modified blaster he kept laying on his lap; the weapon more of a cannon for those of a more regular stature. Whatever the reason, very few bounty hunters and even fewer New Republic guards came to collect him. He was probably one of the most easily found quarries on all Guild registers and New Republic wanted lists and yet, he languished in Mynock as if the Empire had never fallen and his reign was still assured.

Making your way to the entrance, you came up short as someone walked in, your nose coming abruptly close to a reddish-brown durasteel chest-plate. Taking a step back, your eyes did a double take at the familiar unpainted beskar helmet. Subconsciously, you had stepped to the side, the Mandalorian continuing to walk without a word as if you hadn’t nearly walked into him. Mandalorians were a rare sight these days, so you could be forgiven for staring. Though, you were most likely staring for entirely different reasons compared to everyone else in the cantina.

The armor was the same, if not a bit more worn, as was the dark boiled woolen cape and pulse rifle strapped to his back. But it was the gait; how could someone walk both gracefully and arrogantly, almost cocky in his self-assurance that he was in control wherever he went. It explained why he was so determined not to let his injury be known by his walk the last time you saw him. Because you had seen him before, there was no doubt in your mind that this was the same irritable reek of a Mandalorian you met in Derelkann years ago.

He stood in the middle of the cantina, assessing the place as his helmet scanned the area. If you didn’t know any better, you say he was…

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You muttered to yourself when the helmet stopped on Teff. When you said bounty hunters didn’t bother to come after him, you should have been more specific. Smart bounty hunters didn’t bother hunting Gappo Teff, which explained why the one you knew of was right there looking for him.

A choice lay before you. Leave now and lock your doors until morning… or wait. For what, you couldn’t be sure. But if the Mandalorian wasn’t killed tonight by Teff, he was going to wish he was with the injuries he would probably sustain.

You let your head fall back on your shoulders as you exhaled. Why were you so soft for lost causes and wayward souls?

The Houks bodyguards left much to be desired, crumbling to the ground before they had even drawn their blasters, smoke rising from the blaster wounds inflicted effortlessly by Din.

The bodyguards weren’t what worried Din. Their boss hardly needed protecting, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The groan and screech of the metal table being shoved away by Teff as he stood to his full height made Din grit his teeth, arms open as he boomed, “Ah Mando, I was wondering when you’d try your luck at me. Your reputation is becoming rather infamous throughout the parsec.”

A guttural, wet laugh left the purple skinned quarry as Din remained silent and kept his blaster aimed. Damn, but the piece of bantha crap was big. He quickly scanned his peripheral, but it seemed the residents of Mynock had more self-interest than to trade blaster fire over one warlord, the barkeep casually making his was into the backroom of the bar to keep out of harms way.

“Why don’t you hang up that Guild work and let me make you a better offer.” Teff boomed, taking a swing of his drink, streams of the yellow fluid running down the sides of him mouth as those frosty eyes stayed trained on the bounty hunter.

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; negotiations by the quarry were his least favorite reaction to being caught but he knew better than to think he had captured the colossal male yet. Until Teff was either dead or frozen in carbonite, he was a danger. Luckily, the orders were to bring him in dead or alive. Seems the New Republic were fed up with him still breathing. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

“No?” the Houk pushed when Din didn’t respond, “Too bad, you’d have made an excellent addition to my collection.” And with more speed than Din had anticipated from the large male, he charged.

You had the good sense to leave the cantina as soon as the first blaster shot was fired, pulling the hood of your dusty grey jacket over your head while you made your way back to the practice to gather a few things. Things that would be completely obsolete if he died but you wouldn’t think that far. You were a realist, not a pessimist. The Houk might have had the advantage of height and sheer strength, but the Mandalorian was quicker, possibly smarter, and decked with enough firepower to make a starfighter pilot drool.

So, you put the odds about sixty forty in favor of the Mandalorian. Not that you would ever tell him that.

Teff roared in anger as Din rolled out of the way again, shooting his grappling hook to latch onto the Houks shoulder and yanked hard enough to throw the male off balance. Despite his large size however, Teff was able to slide his foot back to catch himself, putting him in direct line with Din.

He was on his feet in no time as the Houk charged at him, lowering his head so that on contact, Din’s left shoulder was thrown back into the wall of the cantina. His breath left him as the impact winded him, a dull but growing pain throbbing from his shoulder before Teff’s vile breath permeated even his helmet and a large hand wrapped around Din’s throat. He could feel his feet leave the floor and the weight of his body pulling downward made the pressure on his windpipe all the heavier.

“Oh well, at least you tried.” Teff gloated, his head leaning closer as if to peer into the visor and that distraction was all Din needed to lift his hand and engage his flamethrower, engulfing the Houk in flames. Din gasped in a breath when he was dropped, the squeals of pain coming from Teff disconcerting as he staggered around the cantina, desperately looking for something to extinguish the inferno his clothing and more vulnerable tissue had become.

Din waited a few more measured breaths before lifting the blaster and shooting the quarry in the vulnerable side of the neck, satisfied with the resounding bang the body made as it fell to the ground, flames still burning bright until he picked up the half-drunk tankard on Teffs table to douse the fire lest he be completely unrecognizable upon delivery.

Din looked around, the cantina was empty; the silence suddenly deafening as he looked back down at the body.

Now, how to get him back to the Razor Crest.

Din sighed.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

You held up your hands unsurprised when the Mandalorian spun on the ramp of his ship, blaster raised and aimed right at you. He tilted his head slightly, taking you in and you tried not to fidget under the gaze you could feel raking over you despite not being able to see his eyes. What you could see though, was how limp his left arm was hanging to his side.

“The demon medic from Klatooine.” He muttered, finally placing your face and lowering his blaster slowly while you lowered your arms.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You snorted before nodding to his arm, “And you’ll probably be calling me a lot worse when I tell you that that arm needs tending to.”

He shifted slightly, turning his body so you wouldn’t be able to see. You just crossed your arms across your chest and stared at him pointedly. He held your gaze and was still as a statue. You could play the silence game too if that was how he wanted to do this. It was only a matter of time before one of you broke and you weren’t the one with a dislocated shoulder, so you’d say that the odds were in your favor.

It seemed like time dragged on before, without saying anything, the Mandalorian sighed and turned towards the ship.

You bit down on a smile, but you could still feel it creeping upon your lips as you congratulated yourself on winning. Two nil, you tallied in your head, not bad girl.

The ship… well the ship was a fossil and that was being generous. But it was clean and obviously well taken of, if the tidy hull was anything to go by.

Apart from the charred corpse lying in the middle of course, but those were just details. Easily overlooked. The smell however… that was a different story, but you held back any comments. You still couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to drag a fully grown Houk through the town one-handed, but then you knew that the strength and discipline of the Mandalorians was unrivalled. He could have done it through sheer determination and honestly, you were lucky to have found him at all. But people in Mynock liked to talk, so following the rumors' had let you there relatively easy.

A sigh broke your train of thought, “Let’s get this over with.”

The warrior seemed resigned to his fate as he stepped over the corpse and you followed suit, mind instantly running through the correct procedure and treatment.

“We have to get the bone in the upper arm into the correct position before it slips back into joint, otherwise the force will just break your arm.” You explained as you moved to stand in front of the large warrior when he sat back on one of the many crates pushed against the wall of the ship. You could barely hear the short exhales coming from the modulator and you could only guess that he was holding back speaking, whether in pain or frustration that you had strong-armed him into accepting treatment again.

“But hey, look on the bright side.”

His visor tilted slightly to look at you.

“No droids needed.” You shrugged a shoulder and sent him a grin when he said nothing. When he looked away, you focused your attention back on the problem shoulder; it wasn’t immediately clear that it had been dislocated, the pauldron he wore hiding the jutting ball of the joint that was no doubt pressed uncomfortably against his flesh. What you could see was that his left side was hanging just a bit lower than his right, and the inability to move the arm was a dead giveaway.

“Are you just going to stare at it or actually do what you said you would when you barged onto my ship?” The rasp was closer to you as he turned his head, the rumble of his voice decidedly deeper than you remembered last time. Or perhaps it always had been, and you just hadn’t been paying enough attention, more focused on the very real threat of having a dead body on your hands as the poison spread. You rolled your eyes; or it was all the short and biting commands he only seemed to know how to give as opposed to actually speaking that made you forget the voice. The man could be attractive, if he wasn’t so frustrating.

“I can’t see it properly.” You replied, agitated with him again. He got under your skin too easily, and ruined your cool demeanor.

“You dealt with the problem just fine before.” He snapped back, pain making him cranky.

“You didn’t have a bone out of place last time!” You stopped yourself, sucking in a breath before releasing it to prevent yourself from snapping again.

“At least,” you bartered, “let me remove the pauldron. I can feel around the duraweave to get an idea. I won’t see any more of you than I did last time.”

He didn’t say anything again for a time and honestly, he was the slowest person you’d ever met at receiving emergency medical care. Half the men you treated during the Rebellion would yell until you’d taken care of the worst of their injuries before they even considered if it was what they wanted or not.

“Fine.” Was all he responded, making no move to remove the offending piece so you took that as your cue to feel around the curved metal cautiously, feeling where it attached to his duraweave and releasing it into your hands before placing it down on a separate crate.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” A warning growl echoed in the hull, turning you back to your task with a hum.

It seemed the joint had popped forward, no doubt from caving in as Teff collided with Mando’s shoulder. You leaned forward, your fingers feeling around the area as gently as you could while his breathing came out a little shorter. You sent him an apologetic smile.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stay still, okay? Usually I’d have someone to hold—”

“I can keep myself still, just do it.” He snapped finally, turning to look at you before he looked away again. You said nothing more as you took his gloved hand in yours, turning the forearm over and feeling the hand clench in yours when he hissed.

“Shh, nearly there.” You soothed, moving your hand under his elbow to lift it so it was aligned with Mando’s shoulder. You stood, keeping the arm in place and twisting yourself to stand facing his side.

You were definitely out to get him. There was no other explanation for why he only seemed to be seriously injured in your presence. Din tried to tell himself he was being over-dramatic and irrational, that you hadn’t even been on the same planet when he was injured the first time, but then you opened your mouth and he felt justified in his petulant thoughts.

“On three.” He heard you warn and all he could offer was a single nod; the sooner he got this over with the better.

“One…” You jerked the arm forward and slipped the joint back into place quickly with a sickening crack and searing pain took his breath away before it began to ebb immediately.

“DANK…. FERRICK!” Din yelled as his good arm reached across to grip his left, bending forward as he breathed through the flash of pain. You moved out of his way, waiting for him to look back up at you through the helmet, deep pants making his chest heave. You cocked your head to the side when his eyes found yours, a clear question there.

He groaned as he sat back, leaning his head against the hull, “It… doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” He admitted, thinking that the smile you gave him was somewhat worth the knock to his ego at having to admit such a thing in the first place. And like last time, before he could even worry about the concerning direction that thought had led to, you were fluttering about opening crates and bins as if you owned the place.

“What the hell—” he made to stand indignantly.

“Do you have any spare cloth?” You interrupted, “Your arm needs to be bound for a few days. If you have bacta it might reduce the healing time a bit but honestly, I don’t think dislocations can be rushed despite recent studies. Rushing back to heavily lifting or activity for at least six weeks is a sure way to hurt yourself again.”

You were rambling now as you set a pile of disused yet clean cloth you found on your lap, sitting across from him as he just blinked at this enigma of a woman. Giving him orders in his own ship, were you daft?

Your eyes sharpened and shot to his and he was suddenly glad you couldn’t see behind his mask. His eyes had widened guiltily at the thought that you had read his mind.

“You will do what you’re told, understand Mando?” You warned as your fingers tied a loose sling from strips of cloth you’d pulled apart without even having to look at it, deft fingers looping the material and strengthening it with several more layers woven in for good measure.

“If you insist on getting injured so often, you live with the consequences. And the consequences are doing what you’re fucking told and being happy about it, got it? Sulk if you want, so long as you keep the arm bound and don’t take on any jobs for at least two months.”

He opened his mouth a few times at the audacity, did she have a death wish? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him as if he were no more than a child and it made his blood boil. But just as quickly as the anger arose, it simmered as she muttered while watching her fingers tie off the sling,

“You don’t actually seem like a bad guy, and the galaxy can’t afford to lose anymore… not bad guys.” She seemed unsure of giving out even this level of praise but then again, she only had their first encounter to go by.

He grunted; not sure how to respond. And when Din was uncomfortable, he resorted to silence.

You got to your feet once the sling was suitably strong enough to support the weight of his arm without unravelling or breaking and you indicated to him, “May I?”

He jerked his head up in affirmation and you maneuvered the sling to sit correctly under his elbow and forearm, coaxing him to lift it slightly with a tap before you looped the tied end over his helmet, adjusting the length slightly to fit against him.

“You left Klatooine.” the statement rose from the warrior, his tone quieter than you’d heard him all day. Was he... trying to make conversation? Din told himself that it was merely out of curiosity from seeing you by chance on two totally different planets.

Blinking in surprise, you sat back on the crate in front of him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on one of your hands, “New Republic stopped funding the clinic and I realized that they’re all the same when it comes to the Outer Rim.”

He snorted in agreement, honestly, he wasn’t surprised to hear the New Republic had cut their losses on charity. It wasn’t in their nature to funnel money away from the Core planets.

“But it’s not all bad,” you continued, “I work with a doctor here. He’s old now so he should be enjoying his retirement. I’m kept busy and…”

He watched you while he waited for you to finish, surely there was more? But when you just shrugged and sent him a tight smile, he felt an uncomfortable niggle at the back of his neck, a familiarity that made him almost want to smile back even if you couldn’t see it. Almost. But not quite. He was unnerved at the… empathy he had for your situation. He too just… kept busy. It wasn’t towards any end beyond supporting the covert and the foundlings there. But for himself, he just kept working towards some translucent, non-existent goal, one job ended, and another began.

Something in your eyes told him you were doing the exact same thing. It unnerved him to think about.

“Echoy’la…” the word left him without knowing and you blinked,

“Hm?”

He shook his head and stood, grunting a bit at the ache in his shoulder when it jostled a bit, “Nothing. It seems I owe you my thanks again, demon medic.”

“I do have a name you know.” You snorted, letting the previous topic go as it seemed to just make him more awkward and grumpy than he already was. You packed away the medikit and replaced the unused cloth back where you found it.

“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be as fitting.”

“Whatever, sunshine.” You looked over your shoulder at him, the sling looking so out of place as he hooked a thumb in the utility belt he wore. It was amazing that he could still look as intimidating as he did. You gathered your things and started down the ramp leisurely. He followed you silently until he was standing at the entrance to the ship.

“Demon or not… thank you.” He called out as your feet hit the dusty ground of Mynock once again. You looked back over your shoulder and gave a single wave, calling something back to him that did make him smile behind his helmet this time.

As you disappeared into the streets of Mynock, he tested the name you had thrown back to him, rolling the syllables, and testing the vowels as he repeated it to himself.

Pity, he thought. He hated being wrong about anything, but somehow, your name was a much better fit than demon medic.

Not that he would ever admit that to you, of course.

Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel​ @sarahjkl82-blog​

[pengirl91]

Tag to Strike Back

Final chapter snippet from my after the credits series on AO3. 

“You, the greatest superhero there is, them the people of Paris, and me, your faithful partner.”

He said it with such certainty, such hope. Her face flushed further and her heart was beating out of control. Shadow Moth’s bubble blinked out of existence and the crowd quieted. Cat Noir walked over to the edge of the roof and stood tall.

“Let me make this promise to you.” Cat Noir projected to the crowd. “No matter what he tries next, Ladybug and I will do everything in our power to keep you safe.” The crowd erupted into a cheer and he walked back to her, offering his hand. She took it without fully realizing it, mesmerized by his confidence in them. In her. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere less exposed.” He carried her away as he catapulted from one roof to the next until they were on a roof overlooking the Seine. The one he had once prepared a candlelight evening for them. The one so close to her house. “There, we should be left alone here.” He let her go and relaxed by the rail overlooking the river. She joined him, not sure what to say.

“Thank you.”

His gaze stayed fixed on the view as he responded. “I made a promise to you. I intend to keep it this time.”

“That was a big promise you just made to all of Paris.”

He chuckled, his face finally losing its previous seriousness. “You don’t recognize it?” She shook her head. “It’s the one you made after we defeated Stoneheart. I thought it might ease their worries to remember everything you’ve done for them so far.”

She blushed anew. “I’m surprised you remember that so well.”

He looked at her softly, her heart sped up as a result and she desperately wanted it to stop. It had no business doing this. None at all. “I’m unlikely to ever forget that moment.” He didn’t explain why but she knew the reason. He had once told her that was the moment he had fallen in love with her. He shouldn’t still love her. Not after everything. Not after today.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“I didn’t deserve yours. You gave it to me countless times anyway.”

“You never lost 15 miraculous in a day.” Her fists balled up and tears threatened to fall again. How could she have not known it had been Felix? She had known last time. Had it been him the whole time? Even back at the train station?

“Master Fu made an even bigger mistake once. The guardians made a mistake in how they trained future guardians and Su-Han nearly made a mistake when-” Her gasp cut him off.

“Su-Han!” She frantically looked around, expecting him to show up any minute. “He’s going to take my miraculous away from me. Take away the guardianship. I’m going to lose everything I have left.” He knew where she lived, knew where the box was. He had no reason whatsoever to trust her anymore. She couldn’t defend herself like last time. She had been far from an exceptional superhero today.

Cat Noir placed his hands on her shoulders and crouched so he could look into her eyes. It was not dissimilar to how Adrien had helped her through her last panic attack.

“It’s going to be ok. He’d be insane to take your miraculous now. There’s nothing else for us to lose. We know Shadow Moth best, or whatever bad new name he comes up with this time. I won’t let Su-Han take away Paris’ greetest hope. I'll stay with you until he shows up if I have to.”

There went her heart again. She took deep breaths. What would she have done without him? She launched herself into his arms and hugged him desperately, tears falling down her face again. “I’m so sorry for not letting you help me more sooner. For not telling you everything.” She could tell him now. He deserved to know. She should have told him a long time ago.

“Let’s worry about that another day. You can tell me when you’re ready.” He held her closer.

She relaxed at that. She was so tired. So exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. She slumped against him, letting him support her. Why had she been so afraid of this? Of letting him inside her heart.

“Cat Noir-" Her bugphone rang and she jumped away from him in surprise. She blushed and grabbed her yoyo. It was Alya. She was probably worried sick for her.

I'm with Cat Noir, I'll call you back. She texted and then put her yoyo away.

Cat Noir eyed her curiously but didn't ask. This much at least she could share tonight.

"That was my backup. She's worried about me."

"Scarabella?"

She nodded.

"Sounds like she's a good friend then. Do you need to go?"

She shook her head and grabbed his arm instead. Resting her head on his shoulder.

"Not yet."

"That's perfectly fine with me." He rested his own head on hers and they lapsed into silence, both observing the clouds part to reveal the rising moon allowing its light to dance off of the river. And with every passing moment that remained quiet, Ladybug worried a little less. If Su-Han hadn't shown up by now perhaps he wouldn't take away her miraculous. And if they were still here, then Shadow Moth hadn't traveled in time and changed the past right? At least not yet. Besides, that wasn't the plan he had stated. He had taken the box once. She had gotten it back. Cat Noir was right. They would get each miraculous back. One by one.

Until she had all of them.

Peacock and butterfly included.

[sashi-ya]

Ch. 4 ~ NSFW ~ Trafalgar Law x F! Maid! Reader ~ A Dangerous Attraction.

AU : Mafia AU. Mafia boss Law. He IS a murderer.

TW: BLOOD. Mafia & murderers. Graphic depictions of violence. Smut. Explicit. Making love. Vaginal sex. Impregnation. Self harm. Marks, bites. Mental health issues. Trauma. Fluff. Angst.

WC: 4.2K

Chapters: one ; two; three; four; five; final

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33273136

Tag list: @rivvd-art ; @chocokaylarobin ; @fantasyfairysworld ♥

“Law!!”

“Name-ya…”

Inked fingers squeezing around your wrist, your body hanging into the void. You try to climb, but little rocks fall every time you try to use your feet to push yourself up. The desperation and Law is simply not moving, he is just holding you. If he wanted, he could let go of you and you would fall instantly. If he wanted, he could kill you and no one would know. If he wanted…

“Law! Pull me up!” you shout, with tears in your eyes. He is not listening; Law is completely frozen. His eyes opened wide; he doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe. His jaw muscles are clenched. Your arm hurts, the only thing that is keeping you alive is Law grabbing you.

“Law don’t let me fall. Save me…” you beg with tears sprouting from your eyes. “LAW!!!” you shout. The time passes so slowly, so painfully scary.

Suddenly he blinks quickly and pushes you up. Your body falls over his, you are safe now. Law hugs you; he starts crying. Your head rests over his chest, but quickly try to release yourself from his arms. “Let me go!” you shout, in distress.

Law stops hugging you and you stand up, trembling, still crying. You take your hand to your wrist, massaging the fingertips marks he has left over your skin. “I’m… you don’t understand. I didn’t…” he tries to tell you, but he fails as he stutters nervously.

“I wanna go home. My home” you tell him and start walking back through the path. You almost run; you can feel him walking behind you. Law is sobbing, he can’t stop crying. You hear some scratching noises, but you decide not to look back. If you dared to even look at him, you’ll pity him and forgive what just happened.

But something stops you, you hear a loud noise and a whining. A painful whining. You turn around, and there is Law, kneeling on the ground, right arm bleeding from the scratches he has made on himself, swollen eyes from all the crying. He keeps violently scratching his skin, and he can’t stop.

“What the hell?!” you shout and run to him. You crunch next to him and grab his arm, “Stop doing that. You are hurting yourself”. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it…” he says repeatedly. “Stop, please. You are bleeding” you tell him, holding his arm. He puts his forehead over your chest imploring forgiveness. Your shirt gets damp by his tears. A mafia boss crying like this, so weak…

“Why didn’t you pull me up instantly, Law?” you ask all of a sudden. You know that whatever he says won’t stop you from running away from him, but that question escapes your mouth unintentionally. “I… I’m… my dad. My uncle…” he stutters. “What happened?” you ask. “My uncle… killed my dad. Doflamingo pushed him by the same hill. I was in the car looking at everything. My uncle said my dad slipped away because he was clumsy, but he didn’t. He pushed him. And I saw everything. And didn’t say anything, I was afraid. My… dad…I was seven”. And suddenly everything makes sense… he was facing his trauma, but he never let you fall. He saved you… once again.

You hug him so close, poor thing. You caress his black hair, rocking him back and forth. “It’s ok, it’s ok…” you repeat. A few minutes after he stops crying, “I’m sorry” he says, nuzzled on your chest.

“It’s ok, Law…”

But you can’t take this anymore. You are going to end up dying if you stay next to him. You definitely are.

Both walk back to the cabin, you start packing your stuff leaving only the maid costume over the big, still undone, bed. Sitting on the mattress you take out the photo of your family and look at it. In the photo you see your sisters, your mom and you in your father’s arms. It’s your birthday. Behind, a tall man running with a little boy wearing a white hat. You don’t really remember their faces. You only remember that man was your father’s partner. Both policemen. They were fighting against organised crime. After your dad was shot, you never hear anything else from his partner, nor the little kid. But you keep focusing on your family, and those happy times. You were smiling so joyfully, so naive…

You hear the surgeon at the door, and quickly put the photo on your pocket. There is no way you let a mafia boss see the face of your family members. It’s just too risky...

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” asks Law, now with a white bandage around his scratched arm. “I am sure, please take me back to my apartment” you tell him. “(Name)-ya, please, stay at my house. I promise I won’t talk to you” he says, tears building up in his eyes. But you remain strong. “Please…I need time to be on my own” you tell him as if you were begging him to stop insisting. You don’t know how much you are gonna go without succumbing to the dangerous attraction he represents to you.

“At least let me keep you safe, I won’t visit you, I won’t call you. But please, stay in one of my apartments. I beg you” he finally says, approaching you. You back up instantly, somehow him touching you, scares you.

“Fine” you finally accept. He is right, if you dare to come back to that apartment you might be in danger. Law eyes sparkle, he breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, thank you so much” he says, approaching you once again as he was trying to hug you.

“Stop. Don’t touch me” you command. He freezes right away, the smile in his face is gone once again. “I’m sorry, I’ll be in the car waiting for you” he says, crestfallen and walks away. Your heart aches at him leaving the door, but you know too well this is the best decision you could have taken.

Once everything is set, and you are ready, you go downstairs. You give a last peek to the cabin, the place where Law and you let your passions go wild for the first time… a place where he almost chokes you to death… Closing the door behind you, you were sure this was the last time you would ever be in this place.

Opening the door of that amazing black car, you throw your bag on the backseat and sit next to Law. He is wearing black shades, tears falling through his cheeks. He is not speaking; he swallows and hits the gas. You don’t dare to look at him, so your head is turned towards the window. The magnificent forest, nature, a place where you’ve been the happiest… and the sudden memories of you almost losing your life for the second time…

No more than an hour passes, and you are already on the highway. The radio makes the painful silence a little less uncomfortable. A slowed cover of “We Found Love” by Rihanna playing.

“As your shadow crosses mine, what it takes to come alive.

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny. But I've gotta let it go.

We found love in a hopeless place…

Shine a light through an open door. Love and life I will divide.

Turn away 'cause I need you more”

“Tsk…” you express. “Hum?” he asks. “Nothing…”. There was no interaction, nothing. Law’s cheeks damped. Nose red from all the crying.

“(Name)-ya… would you prefer the 6th or the 8th floor?” he asks, sniffling. “Whatever you want, it’s ok for me either way” you tell him, feeling ashamed. You are leaving him, but still living on his property… this shouldn’t happen. “Ok… Then the 8th floor. It has a big terrace” he tells you and touches the screen of the car.

“Bepo, Law here”

“Law, I’m Pen. Tell me”

“Oh, Penguin. Please take all the (Name)-ya’s stuff to Swallow inns, the eighth floor”.

“Yes, boss. Are you ok? You need us to take some of your stuff too?”

“Just hers… oh, don’t forget the Kia”

Law hangs up before his friend could say anything else. His voice clearly shows how much he’s been crying; he knows his friend would ask. You simply ignore everything he says, you don’t really want to hear even though he is speaking via Bluetooth.

After two hours, you arrive at a luxurious apartment complex over the beach. A big sign that says “Swallow Inn” announces that this is the place you are gonna be living from now on. “Damn” you think, how the fuck your life changed so much that you ended up living in such a place…

“(Name)-ya, this is the place where the apartment is located. Our… your parking spot is the number 18” he informs you. “Uhm, ok…” you say, because you don’t even have a bicycle to park in there, but hey, thanks for the information. But, when you arrive at the said parking spot, a little black car is parked there. “Nice, someone parked on your spot” you say, sarcastically.

“It’s yours…” he says. “What? No” you categorically express. “Please, accept it. This place is far from the city, and there are no bus stops nearby. Please” he insists. “Ok…” you accept, even though you are sure you are not gonna use that car.

Law takes your stuff from the backseat and tells you to follow him inside. The place is modern, everything is clean, luxurious, white, pure. “Eighth floor” he says and presses the little 8th button of the elevator and a code. “Remember, you should enter this number so you can enter home, ok?”. You don’t speak, and just nod.

The doors open inside the apartment, again everything is so white and pure. Your stuff is already in place. Big windows show the immense sea ahead. Everything is perfect, so for rich people. “Law, this place is amazing. You sure you want me to live here?” you ask.

Law turns around, takes his sunglasses off. Swollen red eyes, more dark circles than ever. He fixes his grey irises on yours. “I’d rather you live with me. But this is the best second option I have to keep you safe”. You keep looking at him, you can’t take your eyes off him. It hurts so much, even more than the bruises on your wrist, on your neck… your heart shouts “stay with me”; but your head says no… no, or you are gonna end up dying.

“By the way, this is your phone. I recommend you use this one, it’s safer. Not for me, but for you” he says, lending you a mobile phone that’s over the breakfast nook. “Thanks” you nod and your fingers graze when gabbing the phone. How hard is this…

“Well, I know you want me to go, but, if you ever need me… just, call me. Ok?” says Law, taking his hand to your cheek, but quickly stopping himself. “Wait” you say and grab his hand to your face. He gasps but grazes your skin. You close your eyes and let your head rest over his palm for a moment.

“Thank you, Law… Give me some time, please” you whisper. “I’ll be waiting for you…” he says, and a few moments later he is gone. The elevator doors close, and your legs finally turn weak. You fall on your knees. You haven’t cried until now, and now you do. Tears won’t stop falling from your eyes to the marbled floor.

“Law…”

----

After all your tears have dry, you start looking around the apartment. Your bedroom is bigger than your ex-house. The bed looks just as the one Law has in his room. Satin sheets and white fluffy covers.

A wardrobe full of your clothes, old and some new outfits they bought you from the finest brands. And next to your clothes, men's ones. “Are these Law’s?”.

You can’t help but take one of his t shirts. You choose a yellow one, with black sleeves. “It has his smell…” you say, while taking the cloth to your nose. “I don’t think he would mind if I use it…” you say and put the shirt on. It has some kind of a smiley face stamped on it, and you wonder what it means.

The night comes, and your stomach growls. The fridge is full of ingredients, Law’s subordinates are so efficient. You cook a vegetable wok that you devour right away. The place is way too big for you, but it is what it is.

You inspect the new phone he gave you, such modern and pretty. You decide to pass all your photos from your old one to it. Same as the numbers. “I should call mum…” you think, remembering about the money. Where are you going to find any money to send them? “I can’t go back to the old bar; I’ll search for work tomorrow”.

“Hi, mum?”

“Darling!! I’ve been calling you, but you don’t seem to pick up. Is everything alright? Why are you calling from a private number?”

“It’s my new phone, I don’t know how to take it off. I will ask a friend to help me, and I’ll send you my number mum. Don’t worry” you lie. “How are you? How are the girls?

“Fine baby, but are you alright? You sound so sad…”

“I’m fine mum!! I moved! I will send you the address via text, ok? You should come someday! I have a sea view now!!” You act all excited, just for her not to worry, but moms know better…

“If you need mum, come spend some days with us darling. Ok?”

“Yes mum, I’m ok. I’ll be visiting you soon!” You lie once again, choking back tears.

The conversation is soon over, and after hanging up, tears run free. “I hate lying to my mum. Damn it. Damn Law…” you grunt, while searching for the picture of your family on your pocket.

“Where the fuck…?” You say, while searching for it desperately in your jean’s pockets. No sign of the photo, and you start to panic. The last photo you have with your dad, your seventh birthday…

“Don’t tell me I lost it, please!!!” You shout and start to look for it everywhere. Every place, every square. You can’t stop crying. You just can’t… something so precious to you.

“That’s what happens when you hang with the mafia… karma” you tell yourself before falling asleep, crying.

You wake up several times during the night, as nightmares invade your dreams. Law’s scratched arms, his eyes, the feeling of falling into the void. The day the police came to your house to tell your family, someone killed your dad. The way Law choked you… the way his hands were around your neck, the way his hips moved in and out of you, the way his kisses make you feel…

“Stop right there, (Name)” you say to yourself looking at the ceiling. How can you feel horny, huh? Are you crazy? “What’s wrong with me…?”. You know what’s wrong, of course you do. You are in love with Law and can’t deny it anymore. Your body misses him, you miss his scent, you are using his damn shirt to bed. You miss him so much; you are hugging a pillow pretending it is him.

Standing up from bed, you look through the big window of your room. The sea seems calm, sun is peeking from the horizon, still lazily resting until dawn. You sigh and say, “I fucking miss you… why aren’t you here?”.

Ding, Dong…

The sophisticated sound of the doorbell resonates all over the loft. “Fuck” you think, they’ve found you… Am I in danger? Should I call Law? Bepo? You tremble and walk towards the intercom.

Ding, Dong…

“Fuck” … you slowly pick up the phone of the intercom, and the little screen next to it turns on. The image of Law, a distressed Law appears. “What the fuck? I told him to give me some space…” you think, but he signs desperately for you to open.

“Law, what are you doing here?” You ask via the phone.

“Open, please, I have something important to show and tell you, I didn’t want to enter with my code” he says and shows a little square paper. Your most precious treasure, your family photo. You widen your eyes, “enter the code, come on”.

A minute passes and the door of the inside elevator opens. Law is standing right there; he looks like a mess. This must be the third night he hasn’t slept.

“Can I?” He asks for permission to even step into your -his- apartment. “Come in. Do you have my pic?” You ask ignoring the fact of wearing his shirt and only that over your body.

“Yes, but… I need to show you something about it” Law says, while looking at you up and down with a sweet expression. “Let’s sit, this is important” he insists. So, both of you sit on the couch. Law takes your photo out of his jacket pocket and puts it over the coffee table. “This is your photo, right?” He asks. “Yes, thank you!! Where was it?” You tell, but before you could take it, he stops your arm. “Wait… it was over the car seat. But, please, look at this…” he says and puts another photo next to it.

“L-Law…”

“I didn’t know, I promise”

“It can’t be, was your dad…?

“Yes, it was” …

Both of you start crying, recognizing how linked both of you are…

Law takes his finger to your cheek, wiping a single tear. You do the same, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “Don’t…” you tell him, and you two hug. Pressing your bodies, you find the comfort, the warmth of home. That feeling you only experience when you know you are safe…

Your faces so close, your eyes fixed. The sun slowly rising, invading the place with lilac and orangey tones. Law is fighting not to kiss you, and you frankly too.

“Fuck it” you whisper and plant a sweet kiss over his lips. And that’s the spark you two needed to become fire. You set all your zipper free, no more clothes. You sit over his lap, both kissing so passionately, tongues playing with each other’s. Law cries, you cry. But you two smile pressing your foreheads.

You see how the scratches on his arm became scars already. You grab his arm and kiss softly over each wound. “Don’t do this ever again, please. If you have the need, talk to me, tell me, I’ll be there to help you…” you tell him, looking straight into his soul. Poor thing…

“I missed you” he says. “I missed you, too” you tell him. Even if you haven’t seen each other for some hours, your souls missed each other so much. You kiss him so relieved… your head keeps telling you stop, until the arousal drowns every single sign of reason.

Law gabs your thighs and stands up, carrying you to the bed. He softly puts you over the mattress, and he settles over your body. Gently kissing your neck, Law takes his time. His hands grazing your breasts so softly. “I want to make sweet love to you, I want to be gentle, I want it slow” he says, because he doesn’t want to hurt you. You smile and take your hands to his face. “Do it slow and do it faster. Do it gentle, and do it rough…make love to me, Law” you tell him.

His “death” hands travel from your neck to your waist, and even lower. His fingers buried on your hips as his mouth reaches your sex. “Spread, babe” he asks with a soft tone. You do it right away. “Good girl, now put your legs over my shoulders”. And so, you do.

Law’s mouth attacks your core, licking, tasting, devouring your juices. He little by little kneels on the bed, pushing you up. Your legs are still over his shoulders, he has better access to your core as he keeps giving you the best oral sex you ever experienced. You grab the sheets, pull from them, as your climax begins to arrive. Law presses your lower belly, while he sucks your clit. “Come on, come for me” he says, muzzled by your anatomy.

You are about to burst, and Law penetrates you with his middle finger and ring finger. The licking, the pressure, the fingering… you come, squirting, bathing his whole torso with your juices, as they come out with such pressure Law is not able to receive it all with his mouth.

“Such a good girl” he says, letting your legs over the mattress. You are panting, that position somehow made everything better… “L-Law…?” you mumble, still trembling from the orgasm you just had.

“What, baby?” He asks while wiping the rest of your climax off his chin with the back of his hand. “Don’t you ever stop fucking me like this” you tell him, so naturally, so unplanned.

“I won't, I won't ever stop”.

Law lays in bed, next to him, enjoying how you come back to normal, and the blushed on your cheeks that screams how good your orgasm felt. But he wants more, and of course, you too.

“Come here” he says and helps you to turn around. He is spooning you; you feel his hard member over your glutes. Law passes his right arm under your neck, and the left one reaches your left nipple. He pinches it, twists it. Law takes his index to your mouth and makes you suck it. “Wet it real good” he commands. Your teeth graze the E tattooed on his finger while sucking it so sexily.

The same finger, shiny from your saliva, is now tracing circles again over your nipple. You moan, it feels so good. He gropes you with his dick, your back feels the warmth of his inked chest. You push your ass against his member, trapping it in between both cheeks. Law grunts, and moves up and down, frotting his hard shaft over your rear entrance.

Your hand reaches for the surgeon’s hip. You carve your nails on his skin, pulling you even closer to you.

“Fuck me, fuck me now”. “If that’s what you want…” he says, while he bites your neck. The hand that was playing with your nipple now grabs his dick. He aligns it with your entrance, lubricating the tip with your dripping arousal. He slaps the shaft against your labia, forming strings of precum mixed with your juices.

His gland playfully hits your clit, and you squirm with it. But you burn with the need of being penetrated, filled by him. “I want you inside, please” you beg. “You want me inside? How much do you want it?” Law says pressing his mouth against your cheek, his beard grazing your skin. “Fill me up, I want it so bad. Fuck me, now…” you whine.

“Ok, my darling. Just because my shirt suits you so well” he says and kissing the side of your mouth he penetrates you so slow, little by little stretching your walls. The feeling of the tip going in and out, without fully penetrating you deep, sends you to heaven as it grazes your g spot. You can only whine his name, feeling as he gradually goes deeper, in and out.

You can feel Law’s wicked smile over your cheek as he finally penetrates you to the deepest point he can reach. Your walls clench around his member as he speeds up the pace. “Babe, you feel so good, so tight” he moans in your ear. The sound of his voice could kill you if it was meant for it.

You moan soundly, sure the neighbours could hear you, but unable to hold back as Law is now fucking you mercilessly. Soon the climax road is taken, and you are sure getting to it.

“I want to see your face while you come” Law says, and quickly turns you around. Classic missionary position, the most perfect man over you, his whole anatomy, sweating, panting.

Law puts your arms up your head, grabbing your wrists together. His body lean over you while he pounds into you, violent, deliciously thrusts. The way the muscles of his torso tightens when his hips move in and out are art, the finest piece of art you have ever seen.

And inevitably, both of you reach orgasms. This time, Law focused on your face, he didn’t bite his lip, he didn’t choke you, he didn’t lose track of reality. Law this time was being driven by love, by the only need of loving you, of making you happy… of not losing you.

You come, and so does he. Law fills you with his creamy seed. He collapses over you, still with his dick inside you, pushing his milk deep in you. Returning his breathing back to normal, he whispers into your ear “I think I’m still in love with you”.

“Still? What do you mean?” You ask, confused...

CH.5

[shinysobi]

i came in from the outside, burnt out from the joyride

this was born out of a conversation with @akinosakiya, so all credits go to her >.<

chapter i | chapter 2 (coming soon)

Han Joon Hwi and Kang Sol, years after graduation. post-canon fix it, idiots to lovers.

ao3

a/n : i got this idea as i feverishly dm'd my friend about a solhwi prompt,,, i took it too far i think >.<

please tell me if you like it!!

a/n: title taken from Hozier's Almost (sweet music) which i recommend while reading this.

chapter 1: you and i are lovers in the dark

There has got to be another way of doing this. I can’t be doing this all my life.

“You know,” the words from Yeseul makes her look up, “you didn’t have to do this to yourself. You could have not taken the case, eonni. I told you not to take the case.”

Sol doesn’t say anything, just hangs her head in shame. The soju burns as she tips her head back, draining the last dregs of it, “I knew I shouldn’t have asked you for help. You’re being insufferable now that you’re dating Bok-gi.”

Yeseul laughs, reaching for the soda can, “eonni, I think you’re thinking about it too much.”

“I am, aren’t I?” she looks at the other girl, clearly panicked, “does it show? Oh, it shows, doesn’t it? Oh, what am I going to do—”

“Ah, noona, you shouldn’t have taken this case on, then,” Bok-gi says as he enters the room and take in the sight of a dishevelled Sol and a grinning Yeseul, “oh, Yeseul noona, I was looking all over for you!”

Sol scowls, “haven’t the two of you been dating forever? Why do you still have the honorific? And for your information, I took the case before I knew it was going to be him that I would have to go up against.”

Bok-gi looks affronted, and Yeseul comes to her boyfriend’s rescue, “ah, I like it, eonni.”

“Of course, you like it, you’re just as gone for him as he is,” she grumbles, “so, Bok-gi, Yeseul’s been telling you everything now, has she?”

“Ah, eonni, leave him out of it,” Yeseul soothes her, rubbing circles into her back, “do you want me to take the case? Instead of you—”

“The client won’t agree on it,” Sol whines, “and just when I thought I had got rid of him.”

“Rid of who?” so Bok-gi doesn’t know, Sol notes with some amount of pleasure, good. At least Yeseul didn’t tell him about the fact that—

“Oh, eonni might have to work with Joon-hwi oppa,” Yeseul chirps, looking entirely too pleased for Sol’s liking, “she’s the public defender for Joon-hwi oppa’s case.”

“The attempted murder one?” Bok-gi sounds as perplexed as Sol is, “but I thought hyung only dealt with financial cases, what happened? Didn’t you say you had some other prosecutor to deal with, noona?”

Sol groans, “apparently he’s taking criminal cases too, and the first one he chose to take was mine,” she stands up, “can’t I ever get rid of him?”

Yeseul blinks, “why did you have to get rid of him in the first place?”

Sol groans, sitting down on the chair with a thump. This was becoming a frighteningly regular occurrence, groaning at the mere mention of his name, “I told you, you wouldn’t understand.”

“You sound like a sixteen-year-old right now, noona,” Bok-gi giggles, and she scowls at him. How dare they find happiness in my misery. Just because she loved them didn’t mean she would put up with everything that they did.

Liar. You’ll always put up with whatever they do.

Wait, why did that sound like him? Did he finally manage to get inside her head?

No. no, calm down, Kang Sol. Joon-Hwi is not inside your brain. Your brain is filled with statutes of law, precedents, your grocery list, the things you need to buy Byeol for her birthday—

You have too many things on your mind.

Ah, fuck.

She stands up again, taking a look at Bok-gi and Yeseul’s surprised faces, and sits back down, “never mind. It’s just him. how bad could it be? We just lost touch over the years, and I specifically made sure to not keep in touch with him after we graduated—I’m going to die, Yeseul-ah.”

“No, eonni, you won’t,” Yeseul props her up gently, pushing the bowl of bibimbap towards her, “at least eat something before you cry.”

“No, you’re right,” Bok-gi agrees, although Sol knows he’s laughing at her internally, the little shit, “it’s wrong to cry and not eat. I’ll be dehydrated.”

The food tastes bland in her mouth, although she knows she’s made it spicy, but Sol works her way through it with tears in her eyes (she passes it off as due to the spice) and promptly starts sobbing again, lamenting her crappy life.

“Eonni, the trial isn’t until next month, you have enough time to prepare,” Yeseul tries to placate her, but it only increases the volume of her groans.  A whole month spent dreading the presence of Han Joon-Hwi as she prepared for the trial. “You’ll win it, right?”

There. That was what had been bugging her. The fact that he hadn’t lost a single case since he’d become prosecutor. It isn’t like she hadn’t expected this from him, coming first in her class, but—

“Is this even fair?” she wails, “the attempted murder case doesn’t even have to have him as the prosecutor, it is going to be easy for me to win, the client was framed, and there is no evidence—”

“Noona,” Bok-gi peers at her, his eyes going wide, “you’re scared, aren’t you?”

“Ah, it isn’t like that!” she tries to defend herself. But Yeseul just stares, “fine. You caught me. I’m scared of losing to him, he hasn’t even lost a single case since he made prosecutor, he’s on his way to becoming head prosecutor in less than a decade, and I’m—I’m barely surviving as it is, so why did Attorney Geun-Tae give this case to me?”

Both Bok-gi and Yeseul look shocked, and Sol isn’t surprised. They should be. She was the one who cut off contact with Joon-Hwi after graduation, claiming he didn’t need her to weigh him down, and she was the person who did everything without a single glance backwards, so why was she being so defensive? “It’s not like I don’t want to whine all the fucking time, it’s just that—”

“Whoa, noona swears a lot when it comes to Joon-Hwi hyung, who knew.” Bok-gi says, clapping a hand over his mouth, “have you always been this way, or did this just happen after you found out that you were going up against him?”

Sol scowls, “you’ve been trying to act cute, don’t try that with me, Min Bok-gi.”

Yeseul nods at Bok-gi. Sol scowls again. Traitor.

--

The truth is, she should have known this was coming. Their field doesn’t leave much for anonymity, and even if it did, why did she think it would be so easy to avoid Joon-Hwi? The boy—sorry, man, she supposes she should give him at least that much, they were both in their thirties now—the man was everywhere, the newest rising star in the prosecution. Even her boss, the clueless Park Geun-Tae knew about it, and had requested her to work in a case against him. her, the person who barely passed her law school course at Hankuk. Who has a sister far smarter than her, better than her at all aspects, who really isn’t cut out to be in this profession, something which she’s heard all too often from everyone, and all she wants to do is yell I know, I know, she knows it all.

Which is why, when Han Joon-Hwi approached her after the graduation ceremony, a determined look on his face, she dreaded the words that would come out of his mouth, and instead chose to flee. In retrospect, it wasn’t the best decision, but Kang Sol A isn’t known for making the best decisions.

She still lives with her mother and Byeol in that same house, where Joon had once installed a CCTV camera, which Lee Man-Ho had broken with a well-aimed rock, but the camera is still there, and while Byeol is in middle school now, a big girl, who doesn’t like Sol picking her up from school every day and who is already getting into trouble with that big mouth of hers, and certainly doesn’t need protecting, the camera is still there, and every once in a while, she likes to take a look at it, sipping beer after a long day at work. It’s obviously dysfunctional, but she likes to imagine that Joon-Hwi still takes a look at the camera feed, doing whatever “top secret” things he did.

She sighs, opening the door to their home. I have work to do if I need to beat Joon-Hwi.

--

“Why was I assigned to this case?” Joon-Hwi asks, surprise evident on his face, “I usually take financial dispute cases, this is an attempted murder, and the evidence doesn’t even look solid. Why am I being given this?”

He’s speaking to the wall in his office, and his paralegals are out on break, but he feels as though he should at least vent about this to something, if not someone. He’s supposed to be a star prosecutor, someone who hasn’t lost a single case since they stepped foot into the District Prosecutor’s office. And it’s true, he hasn’t lost a single case since he began working here, spurred on by a desire to both step out from under his uncle’s shadow and to prove himself.

The cases he has handled until now, have all been financial, catching the people who use money to get their way in the world, much like Ko Hyeong-Su, people so entitled to the world that they didn’t consider the rest of them as human beings. He liked bring them down to their level. Hell, he loved it.

But his specialty is not criminal law, and that too, a case that would be difficult for him to win, given that there was very little evidence and whatever he had, would never fly in a court of law. He’s kind of pissed at Prosecutor Lee for giving him the case. No, scratch that, he is pissed at Lee for giving him the case.

Defending lawyer—

Defending lawyer, Kang Sol.

Could it be?

He turns to his computer, and contemplates for a second if he should ask the police officer about the defending counsel, but decides against it. I don’t want to seem like a fool. Which—is correct. He is a fool.

So, he calls up the person who had the case before him, Prosecutor Shin, and tries not to hide the excitement in his words when he asks, “did you meet the defence counsel when you arrested the defendant, Prosecutor?”

“She didn’t have one,” the prosecutor replies, voice scratchy, and he wonders of he did the right thing by disturbing someone who was in the hospital, “we’ve indicted her, but the defence counsel was changed at the last moment, something about the public defender dropping the case. Her new counsel is some young lawyer, although she has a lot of experience.”

A lot of experience. “A lot of experience?”

“Yes,” the voice on the other side cracks, and there’s some commotion in the background, “I remember meeting her in the courthouse once. People call her crazy, the lengths she goes to defend her clients are insane. She’s a good egg though, doesn’t take on cases that she doesn’t like.”

“Hmm, thank you, Prosecutor,” he mumbles, hanging up the phone. So that’s what you’ve been doing all this time, Kang Sol. how long has it been, four-five years? And we’ve never met once, impressive.

He’s suddenly very excited for the initial hearing, even if he knows its going to be nearly impossible to win. But at least he can see her for the first time in years, even if its on the opposite side in a court of law. At least he has that.

—

“You’re being stupid,” Jiho says without much in the way of context, but Joon knows what he’s talking about, “you had to take a case just to meet her? A case you are most likely going to lose? What kind of person does that?”

Joon-Hwi rolls his eyes. Jiho was a good man, but sometimes, he really didn’t know the reason behind things. Or to be more specific, why Joon-Hwi did some things. Still, it was understandable as to why he would behave like this. Neither of them has had any connections with each other over the past five years, missing each other by mere moments at times, and yet, he’s still enamoured by her memory, of the way she used to look at her law books and the way she used to stick her highlighters in her hair, her triumphant smile after she answered something correctly; he remembers everything, and he gets nostalgic sometimes, but such is human nature, one supposes.

“It’s been five years, hyung,” Jiho mutters, pushing the bowl of soup towards him, “isn’t it time you gave up on Sol noona?”

He raises an eyebrow, “I didn’t think you addressed anyone as noona.”

Jiho shrugs, “she’s older than me, so it’s only right. And I did work with her on a case about three—two years ago, and she’s really become good. Or is it all the experience that she has had now, working as a partner at Attorney Park Geun-Tae’s firm, which is unheard of, at her age, but she’s far more competent than him—”

He’s talking, but Joon-Hwi doesn’t register anything anymore, “you’ve worked with her? Together?”

“Hmm?” Jiho mumbles, thrown off his track, “yes, I literally just said that I did, what are you thinking about?”

“No. no, back up a little,” he insists, and Jiho’s confused expression clears when he realises what exactly is Joon-Hwi implying.

“Really? You’re jealous over the fact that I worked with Sol noona? That’s how petty you’ve become now, hyung?” Jiho rolls his eyes, and Joon has the incessant need to just—bury his face in his hands, “you could just give her a call, you know.”

He glares. Jiho nods, “guess not,” and resumes eating. He takes another look at the case file, and sets it down, proceeding to shove food into his mouth. The Japanese restaurant has good food, he does agree, but nothing beats eating too-hot ramyeon at three in the morning with your best friend after you’ve finished reviewing three lectures’ worth of notes together. Crap. He still remembers her as his best friend, even though they haven't had any contact over the past years now. Pathetic.

But self-deprecation isn’t his forte, and he shakes his head at Jiho, who’s determinedly eating, “how’s Sol B doing? Isn’t she going to be a judge?”

“She’s still practicing,” Jiho replies, “her mother wants her to be a judge, although I don’t think Sol wants to do it. She’s happy being a legal scholar. Wants to become a professor at Hankuk later on, if the constitutional law position opens up.” His face has a curiously fond look when he’s talking about her, Joon notices, or perhaps it’s a trick of the light, because Jiho straightens up, “who gave you the case, though?”

“My superior sent it to me because the prosecutor in charge had fallen ill, and had to be taken to the hospital,” Joon-Hwi replies, “it isn’t east for me to win this one, even though—”

“Even though you’ve never lost a single case?” Bok-Gi’s voice almost makes the two of them jump, and Jiho sends a well-aimed smack his way, “so you’re taking noona’s case, are you, hyung?”

Jiho snorts, “he’s losing sleep here.”

“When did I say I was losing sleep?” Joon-Hwi begins to say indignantly, but Bok-gi is still grinning as he slides in beside Jiho, “who told you that, Seo Jiho?”

Jiho doesn’t say anything, so Bok-Gi fills in for him, “hyung, you look terrible. Haven’t you been eating properly?”

Joon-Hwi squints at the other boy, how did he know I haven’t been sleeping well? Does it show on my face? Is it that bad?

“It is that bad, hyung,” Jiho pipes up, “you look like death warmed over.”

“It isn’t that bad, honestly,” Bok-gi says, and promptly shuts up under Jiho’s glare, “jeez, all right, all right, he looks bad. Very bad. Bad with a capital B.”

Joon-Hwi groans. He was supposed to have been handling another financial scam by this time, but he’s now talking to two of his classmates, preparing for a case that he was sure of losing, just to see the girl of his dreams.

Pathetic.

--

It had been two weeks since she had found out that Han Joon-Hwi was going to be the prosecutor for her newly-assigned case, and Sol already felt like she was going to drown amidst a sea of precedents, case studies, and more cases that she needed to read just once, in order to keep her client from getting a guilty verdict. She would have to work harder if she needed to beat him, and had even contemplated asking Professor Yang for help, not that the man would do anything to make her life any easier.

Instead, she settles for the next best thing, calls over Sol B and Yeseul for help, and while Sol B grumbles, Yeseul agrees enthusiastically, even offering to bring over Bok-gi for an extra pair of eyes. Not one to be outdone in anything, Sol B offered to bring over Jiho, who grumbled more than Sol B (if that was possible), but agreed to come along nevertheless, and they all sat in her tiny living room, looking as though they had lived there all their lives, and had helped her with the case, although the boys were more interested in devising ways to make Joon-Hwi lose, as Jiho put it, “noona is our best bet, and he owes me food if he loses.” No one could argue with that, honestly.

Except she feels like drowning, and the trial was only two weeks away.

Stupid Joon-Hwi. Why did he have to take my case? Why couldn’t he just remain in civil law? Why did he have to do this? Why, why, why?

She knew that she was being irrational. He didn’t have much control over the cases he was assigned to, and given the fact that the prosecutor in charge had been admitted to the hospital, she doesn’t think he had any sort of control over what cases he would be assigned to. Still.

You’re being irrational now, a voice that sounds surprisingly like Professor Yang’s pipes up in her mind, you’re being distracted right now, Kang Sol. You won’t win if you’re distracted.

Right. She turns back to her papers, trying her best to push the thoughts out of her mind.

I can’t be distracted.

—

He was distracted.

It wasn’t his fault, perhaps, but Joon-Hwi feels guilty nevertheless, especially as he stares at his two paralegals who are stuck alongside him, working into the night.

He’s been staring at the same picture for the past thirty minutes. In his mind, it qualifies as work, but what sort, he isn’t sure. It’s a picture from their graduation day, the seven of them (Seung-Jae hyung was behind the camera) and Professors Kim and Yang, Yangcrates even had a rare smile, something which he hadn’t ever imagined witnessing, at least not sober. Him with his arm around Jiho, who clearly didn’t want to be dragged into a conversation then, his attention focused on someone else. Sol B, staring straight into the camera, grinning ear to ear. Bok-gi and Ye-beom, the latter gesticulating wildly and Bok-gi just laughing at him, Yeseul with her head thrown back in laughter, and Sol—Sol was radiant, (he laughs at that, radiant, the Greek meaning fitting her like a glove, Sol, the Sun) the way she smiled at the camera, her hand held up in a peace sign. It was an imperfect picture, and he has the final, proper version hung on his living room wall, but it’s the warmest picture he has ever been in.

The trial is the next day, and he should be getting some sleep, but he finds himself staying awake even after his two paralegals have gone home, apologising profusely for leaving him alone, and then he takes out his phone, which has been blowing up with messages from Bok-gi and Jiho, asking to come out with them for dinner. He knows it’s a bad idea, that they would try and get him drunk, or worse, that he would voluntarily get drunk, and showing up hungover at the courthouse isn’t a great idea.

Except… he really wants to do so. It’s like he’s back in university again, trying to find ways to rile Kang Sol up, teasing her, to revel in the way she would get angry with him for cutting short her study times, even though she should have been in bed three hours prior. She would always look at him with that strange sort of expression in her eyes, Joon-Hwi remembers, as if she couldn’t decide whether to hit him or to just kiss him and shut him up.

His phone pings, and it’s a text from Jiho, telling him that hyung, do you want to come out for dinner? Sol’s buying.

He really shouldn’t. even if it had taken him a moment to know which Kang Sol Jiho had been talking about and even then, he couldn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat at the mention of her name, he shouldn’t.

Oi, Han Joon-Hwi, aren’t you a little too old and a little too responsible to be drinking before the day of an important trial?

The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like Sol, not Sol B—Sol A, although he doesn’t know how anyone could confuse themselves between the two—they were as different as light and day, and the one on his mind was not the one who was offering to buy him drinks and dinner. He sighs, texting Jiho a quick apology before he heads out of the office. He needs to be alone tonight, trying to get his thoughts in order before he faced Kang Sol in the courthouse the next day.

Even though he’s sure to lose, he just might win.

--

[tamagoincident]

To Lure a Bird

arthur morgan x reader

summary: The Van der Linde Gang plans to rob a train, too bad you hit it first. You, being the reasonable person you are, coerce rough-looking men to run a job with you in exchange for the stolen money, and everyone gets more than they bargained for.

chapter: 1/10

link: AO3

Chapter One - A Mutual Enemy

On the evening you first heard of the Van der Linde Gang’s presence in Valentine, you stood at the bar of Smithfield's Saloon disguised in men’s clothing. Not a typical Friday for you, as you tried not to make it a habit of sticking around places where reckless men became more reckless the further they disappeared into their cups. But years ago you’d helped the bartender, a giant man named Ernest, drum up enough money to pay off his debtors, and he held you in the highest of regards ever since. It was the only place you could drink without being disturbed. Ernest made sure of that.

“What’ll it be, the usual?” he winked at you, his large hands already reaching toward the whiskey.

You smiled and nodded.

“I have information you might want to hear,” he continued, pouring the liquor into a glass and sliding it towards you. You caught it easily.

“Oh?”

“There was a young lady here last night. Overheard her talkin’ to some fancy pants New Yorker who kept braggin’ ‘bout the luxury train he’ll be taking back to the North. She seemed awfully intrigued,” Ernest said. “And get this, it weren’t the only instance I’d seen her, neither. Few days ago she’d been traipsin’ around the outskirts of Valentine with a bunch of scary lookin’ out-of-towners.”

“Figure they’re planning on robbing the train?”

Ernest shrugged. “It’s easy pickin’. You know how naïve high society can be.”

Maybe easy enough for a one-person job, if done quickly and with care. You’d only robbed a train once with two people you used to run with. You didn’t run with them anymore. It hurt you to think of it.

You held up your glass for a refill and leaned forward, brimming with interest. “Tell me more about this train.”

—

The train tracks rattled underneath Arthur’s feet.

“Get movin’,” he said to Sean, pointing towards the trees hidden in the darkness. Arthur climbed atop the wagon they’d rode in on and placed in the middle of the tracks, which bore five hundred gallons of oil. He widened his stance for balance and pulled a bandana over his mouth and nose. “Here she comes.”

Arthur squinted against the blinding brightness of the incoming headlight, cocking his rifle as it approached. The train’s horn bellowed into the night.

It saw him. Good.

It came to a hissing and screeching halt. A uniformed man stormed out from the front cab. “What's goin' on here? What's—aw hell,” the engineer wailed, kicking the dirt underneath his feet. “Not again! Gettin’ real tired of this shit.” Behind him, a shadow of blurred movement. Charles, ready to strike him unconscious.

Arthur jumped off the wagon. “Hold it!” he yelled to Charles, who paused his assault and instead restrained the man with a pistol aimed at his head. “What d’you mean, ‘Not again?’”

“If y’all are trying to rob us, we’ve already been hit,” he wheezed.

“You’re bluffin’.”

“You and your boys are more than welcome to board and check. Reckon it’s a waste of time though.”

Arthur swore. “Let him go, Mr. S.”

Charles let go. The engineer stumbled forward, sputtering and coughing. In between heavy breaths he said, “Happened near the Heartlands. Strange feller in a mask robbed us blind and then pointed a shotgun at me, gruntin’ at me to start the engine or he’ll call for his gang to kill everyone on board.”

“Why in God’s name would he do that?” Arthur said.

“Beats me. But now that I think of it, he was probably expecting y’all. Here, he gave me this—” he moved to reach into his coat pocket, but ceased upon the chorus of rifles cocking. Sean and John had appeared to find what the holdup was.

“Don’t move a goddamn muscle,” Arthur growled. “Mr. S., if you could kindly grab whatever’s in that fool’s pocket.”

Charles complied, plucking out a wad of paper. He handed it to Sean, who read aloud:

Don’t want the loot, only your attention.

Have your lady informant go back to the saloon and talk to the bartender.

He’ll tell you where to find me.

Cause any trouble and you won’t see a cent.

Sean laughed bitterly, waving the note in the air. “Got us good, didn't he?”

“Give me that, you idiot.” Arthur snatched the note and tilted the lettering towards the train's headlight. “Goddamn it—”

A bullet whizzed by Arthur’s head. The engineer dove to the ground for safety.

“Get on your horses!” Arthur yelled to the gang and whistled. Once in the saddle, he spurred the horse on and rode hard into the trees, past the storm of bullets, and evaded capture.

He was the last to arrive back at camp, after making sure he hadn’t been followed. He passed Dutch’s closed tent and found Sean blackout drunk near the fire. John sat close by, clearly on the same trajectory as the Irishman, with the amount of empty beer bottles at his feet. Arthur cleared his throat. “Where’s Charles?”

John glanced up, eyes bleary and lined with red. In the firelight he looked small and exhausted. “Asleep.”

“You should be too.”

“Well, I ain’t,” John mumbled tipping the beer to his lips and draining it. He tossed the bottle aside with a crash.

“Need me to tuck you in Marston? How ‘bout a bedtime story?”

“Real funny, Arthur."

Arthur sat down across from John, allowing the sound of crickets and snuffling horses to fill the silence between them. When he spoke, his tone was softer. “Don’t think I’ve seen you this shaken. Not even when you was freezin’ your ass off after them wolves got to you.”

John’s gaze dropped to his lap. “I’m a bit rattled, s’all. I got a bad feelin’, Arthur.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you think the law showed up a little too fast?”

“Maybe,” Arthur said. “I’m more curious about the son-of-a-bitch who knew we was gonna rob that train.” He turned, pulling the note he’d stashed into his saddlebag and brandishing it.

“See? You’re worried too. S’not just me.”

“I’m not worried,” Arthur cast the notion aside. No use in admitting to being worried unless there was really something to lose sleep over, especially in front of John, who looked like he was fixing for an excuse to leave again. Arthur didn’t want to be the person to give him one. He would gladly take a bullet before he watched Abigail’s face twist back into sorrow and disappointment on account of John flying the coop.

“We gonna be okay, Arthur?” John asks.

“Can’t tell the future anymore than you can, Marston,” Arthur said, crumpling the note in his fist. “What we can do is find the bastard who pulled the wool over our eyes, and deal with the rest as it comes along. I’ll talk to Mary-Beth tomorrow. Ask her to go back up to the saloon.”

John watched as Arthur tossed the paper into the fire, the edges curling into black.

—

You waited across the tracks from the abandoned trading post in Roanoke Ridge, taking shelter behind a sturdy tree (you’d almost hid behind one crawling with poison ivy vines, what a sight that would have been). The instructions you’d given Ernest to pass on had been clear: Whoever is sent must be on time and arrive alone. You checked your pocket watch. Already a half hour late. Out of desperation you remained a few minutes longer. The sun was almost at its peak in the sky, and you were getting hot with your scarf obscuring the lower half of your face. You cursed yourself for wearing such bulky trousers and long sleeves.

In your mind, the heist had been preferable to wasting away in the heat. With a little theater and luck, you managed to rob the train heading north. You still couldn’t believe your good fortune. Keeping your voice low and husky, the passengers and engineer had mistaken you for some hardened outlaw. You’d threatened them with your non-existent gang that was supposedly trailing close behind. In reality, the only thing riding alongside the train was the horse you’d borrowed from Ernest.

You scanned the landscape with binoculars, on the precipice of calling it a day, when you saw a pair of figures ascend the hill behind the dilapidated structure. The taller of the two was wearing a fading grey shirt that you imagined was once white, which stretched across his broad shoulders. He staked a far contrast to the companion at his left, a leaner man with dark hair that extended past a deep scar on his cheek. Both looked tough and mean. Exactly the type of men you’d hoped for.

Though two against one, the odds weren’t good if things went south.

You dropped the binoculars and reached for your rifle. Steadying yourself, you squinted through the scope, drifting down the length of their bodies until their dusty leather boots came into view. You cocked the gun, exhaled, and took the shot, aiming inches away from them.

“Shit!”

“Thought I’d said to come alone,” you called out. “If one of you gentlemen doesn’t get going, the next two bullets will be right in the forehead.”

“Jesus Christ,” the dark-haired man yelped. “Is that a woman shooting at us?”

“Woman or not, doesn’t change the fact she’s got a goddamn rifle!” the other fired back. “Alright, miss, my friend here is gonna get on his horse and leave. Ain’t that right, Marston?”

“Rode all the way out here for nothin’,'' he complained loudly and whistled. When his horse came around, he placed his foot in the stirrups and swung his leg over the saddle. “If you ain’t back by sundown, I’ll come lookin’ for you, Arthur. Hear that, lady?”

Arthur waved a dismissive hand. You waited until the horse disappeared behind the hills before coming out from the brush. At this distance, you could discern more of his features. The first of which you noticed were bright blue eyes that writers and painters alike had mused over for centuries.

He directed them at you. “There,” he said. “Happy?”

You lowered your rifle. “We’re off to a poor start, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t want no trouble. Just didn’t know what we was walkin’ into,” he said, moving closer, hands up slightly as if to not appear threatening. “You were real vague in that note of yours.”

You reaffirmed your grip on your rifle. “That’s close enough,” you said. Any closer and he’d eclipse you, your neck within snapping distance of those strong hands.

“Then, how about you tell me how this is gonna go?”

In the days leading to this moment, you’d thought of the ways you were going to approach this. Never did you imagine getting this far. “Do you have any idea why I may have invited you here?”

“To gloat, perhaps? About beatin’ us to that train?”

An involuntary upward twitch at the corner of your mouth. “Not quite, sir. I value my time and yours, so I’ll keep it short. I need you.”

Arthur pointed to himself. “You... need me?”

“Yes, you.”

He dipped his head, obscuring whatever expression he was making beneath the brim of his hat. Rubbing his neck, Arthur said, “Can’t imagine why you’d need me, lady. Accountin’ for the fact you don’t even know me.”

“I’ll rephrase. It’s not you I need exactly, it’s somebody like you. And your friend, for that matter.” You paused. “I used to have partners, too. One is dead, the other is in need of rescue. She was kidnapped. I want to hire you to help get her back.”

“Why not go to the sheriff? Seems a hell of a lot easier than getting up to all this trouble.”

“The sheriff?” you scoffed. “You really think he’d risk himself and his men to help me save a working girl from outlaws? Most likely he’d look into my background, and then I’d be arrested before I could even blink.”

“So all we gotta do is save your friend from her kidnappers and what, you’ll pay us?”

“You’ll get the money from the train, and I’ll throw in seventy dollars on top of that,” you said.

“What’s the catch?”

“Pardon me?”

“The catch,” Arthur repeated. “Seems too easy.”

“Didn’t say it’d be easy. Are you familiar with the O’Driscoll Boys?”

A spark of recognition. He was, in fact, familiar. “Yeah, I heard of ‘em. Your friend Emma… them boys captured her?”

You nodded. “A former client of hers runs with that gang. He found us in a hotel room, shot Henry, and knocked me out. When I came to, Emma was gone, and I was alone.”

“Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be glad to help,” he said. “You see, there’s someone I’d need to run this by and he’s already got it out for their leader, Colm O’Driscoll. This’d be the perfect excuse for him to do something goddamn stupid.”

“Please. If you’re familiar with them, you can imagine how awful it must be for her. I’ll even give you half the money upfront,” you said, decocking your rifle and slipping it back over your shoulder by its leather strap.

“Can’t promise nothin’, but I’ll talk it over with some people tonight. Meet me at that saloon in two days, same time. If it goes in your favor, I’ll take you to see the man who makes all the decisions.”

“Are you going to make me wait again?” you asked.

“You’re the one asking for favors, miss.”

“I’m offering a job.”

Arthur’s lips set into a hard line. “A job that might get us into a world of trouble, adding fuel to a fire that’s been burnin’ for a long time now. Frankly, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

And because you didn’t want to push your luck, you fell silent. You watched him call for his horse and mount it.

“I’ll be on time,” he mumbled as an afterthought, and rode off in the direction he came.

[alphagirl404]

An Impulse Decision: Chapter 20

It’s been a while folks, but here’s the latest entry of the saga!

AO3

Fanfiction.net

<-Previous Next->

****

Chapter 20: Pride of the Family

Nine-year-old Karane entered a room that will serve as her room for as long as she resides at the Skyloft Knight Academy. It had the necessities such as a bed, cupboard, desk, and a bookshelf

Owlan emerges from behind, bags in hand. "This will be your room."

"It's bigger than my old bedroom," Karane commented as she sat on the bed.

"I know it doesn't look like much but I'm sure you'll add your personal touch here in no time." Owlan sat the bags at the base of the bed. "Is there anything else you need?" Karane shook her head. "I'll leave you to get settled in. If you need anything, don't hesitate to come to me, or Gaepora."

"Okay…"

"I have to go do some work now. I'll to check up on you later."

Owlan exits the room, leaving the young girl alone. The nine-year-old decided to do a little unpacking. The girl pulled out her stuffed cat doll she calls Cheshire. The toy had a stitched mouth and nose. There's a button on its head that represents the eye. It is only half of a pair of eyes for recently the other button representing the other eye had fallen off.

Gazing at the toy made Karane feel sad. Her mother had promised her that she would fix Cheshire's eye. But now she can't do that, or many things, because she and her father were gone. They were no longer part of this world and Karane would never see them again.

Tears trailed down her cheeks as her mind goes back to her parents. She clutches the stuffed cat close to her chest as she let out sobs. It had only been a few days since Arus & Balea were put to rest. The memory of their deaths was still fresh to her. Karane still found it hard to believe that they were dead. She missed them so much…

The sound of the divider shifting to the side came to her ears. An Eight-year-old girl with blonde hair and large blue eyes.

"Who are you?" Karane asks the girl.

"My name is Zelda," she said. "Are you the girl Instructor Owlan brought?"

Karane nods. "My name is Karane. Why are you in my room?"

"I heard you crying. Papa told me that people don't cry unless they're sad. Papa also told me that you're going through a difficult time. Are you crying because of that?"

"...Yeah."

"Can I help you feel better in any way?"

"I don't think you can…My parents... We got caught in a bad storm. We tried to take shelter, but the barn collapsed. They didn't make it…"

Karane kept her gaze away from Zelda. She expected the girl to just leave her be. What she did not expect is Zelda hugging her.

"I know what it's like…I lost my mama a few years ago. I feel sad about it sometimes. Papa doesn't show it but I know he gets sad about her too. It hurts to not have her around, but papa tells me she's still with us in my heart. Your parents will be with you as well."

"But I want them here. I want to hug them. I want to talk to them. I…I just want to see them. But I can't and I have no one."

"That's not true! You have Instructor Owlan."

"We're not related…"

"So? Papa always told me family comes in different forms. Not having the same blood doesn't mean Owlan isn't your family. I can be your family if you want."

"We barely even know each other…"

"Maybe we should fix that then! We're gonna be neighbors so we might as well get to know each other. And I'm not leaving your side until I know a little more about you." Zelda places her hands on her hips, showcasing her determination. Karane could see that this girl seriously wanted to know more about her.

"Okay…What do you want to know about me?"

"Well…Who's that cute toy you have?" Zelda pointed to the stuffed cat still in Karane's hands.

"This is Cheshire." Karane lifted the stuffed toy so Zelda could get a better look. "I've had him for a long time."

"He looks so adorable! I have my doll too. His name is Tingle," Zelda examined the toy with interest. Then something caught her attention. "Why does Cheshire only have one eye?"

"His eye fell off not too long ago. Mom promised that she would fix him…But now…" Karane trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.

Zelda places her hand on Karane's. "Maybe we can fix him together?"

"You can sew?"

"I know a little but it should be enough. I found this shiny blue button a few days ago. I think it would be perfect for him! Does that sound okay?"

"It…it sounds nice."

"Great! Come on! My stuff is in my room." Zelda grabs Karane's arm, practically dragging the redhead to her room. "You know something, Karane? I think you and I are going to get along so well!"

And with that, the seeds had been planted to what would blossom into a sisterhood

****

A tired groan broke through her mouth. Her hand rubs her forehead as she slowly sits up. Some parts of her body felt sore. Needless to say, Karane felt all sorts of tired.

"You're awake at last!" Skipper stood at her side. Karane could see she was in a small room, laying some metal boxes on top of some leftover sails. "How are you doing?"

"Fine, I think." Karane massages her backside. "I feel a little stiff."

"Yes, I apologize for your sleeping arrangements. This ship usually doesn't house humans."

"The ship?"

"Oh right! After you passed from your fight with Tentalus yesterday, we found a Timeshift Stone and used it to restore the ship to normal."

"Yesterday?

"Mhmm! You were out for a while! It's mid-morning now. Guess your takedown on Tentalus took a toll on you, eh?"

The fight. Tentalus. Her friends. The kiss!

"Where are my friends?"

"They're outside. We docked at the port. My guess that is where they are," Skipper told her. "They were pretty worried about you, especially that one called Pipit. He was very attentive over you until your friends convinced him to get some rest himself."

"He was…?"

"Yep! I have to say he seems like a good boyfriend!"

"We're not-" Karane muttered tiredly.

"Now that you're awake, you should probably go see him and the rest of your friends. Come on!"

Skipper glided out of the room. Karane slowly trailed behind the robot to the upper deck of the newly restored ship. A large activated Timeshift Stone stood in the center of the deck, surrounded by several members of Skipper's crew.

"That was inside the skull of Tentalus. Someway, somehow it was activated, bringing that thing to life." Skipper explained to the young woman.

Karane chose not to respond to that. She strolled over to the ship's side where a ramp was for her to walk down. The ship is docked at the same port she and her friends arrived at yesterday. The effects of the TimeShift Stone covered the entirety of the port. The large metal boxes filled with color, the dusty platform was in pristine condition, plants grew all around, and the water below the ship.

On the port, she could see more of the robots hovering around. The familiar barking caught her ear. The band of Lanayru Seals that she had befriended swimming in the water. Little Riju especially seems to be enjoying it. Watching the seals were Link, Fledge, and…Pipit. Karane stood at the bottom of the ramp as her eyes glued onto Pipit. The kiss she gave to him yesterday came into her mind. What will he do, Karane wondered.

Link quickly notices the young woman's presence. He ran over and pulled her into a hug. "Karane! It's good to see you awake!"

"How are you feeling?" Fledge asked her.

"I feel a little tired."

"No kidding. Especially after you help take that monster down," Link states.

Karane let out a quiet hum. A batch of yellow catches her eye. Pipit stood not too far away from where she was. He had a neutral expression.

"Hey Pipit."

"Hi…Karane. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing okay."

"That's good to hear."

"What about you?"

"I think I'm alright." Pipit rubs his neck nervously. "Listen, I-"

"I suppose now that all of you are back together, you'll be heading back to your home then?" Skipper's voice cut through before Pipit could speak.

"We've been away longer than usual. Our friends back home are more than likely worried," Link replied to the robot.

"In that case, you four better get going then. Thank you all for getting my ship back!"

"Sorry that we couldn't stop Tentalus from destroying it."

"Do not fret over that. That Timeshift Stone we found lodged in Tentalus' skull got it back together. That's all that matters. My crew and I wish you all good luck in whomever it is you're looking for. Come visit again. All of you are welcome anytime."

"Thanks. And thank you for your help."

"Take care!"

Skipper waved at the quartet along with his crew. The knight students had only walked a few feet when Karane felt something tug around her leg. Little Riju had her mouth on Karane's pants. The baby Lanayru Seal gently tugged on it, letting out gentle roars, and staring at her with her large eyes. It would seem the seal did not want Karane to leave.

Karane knelt to the baby seal's level. "I have to go home, Riju. I have family waiting for me. And you have a family here as well." She glances over to Urbosa, who stood in front of her pack of seals. Riju lowered her head down. Karane gently pets Riju's head, letting out a smile. "I'll come back. And I promise to bring you blueberries. How does that sound?"

Riju let out a chirpy bark, licking the girl's cheek. Karane let out a giggle. With that taken care of, Riju hopped back over to her mother. The pod of seals lets out a proud roar before they all slid into the water.

"Let's get home, guys," Link advised.

The quartet went to a Loftwing statue, which had been under the large metal boxes. Thankfully Skipper's crew managed to remove them. They all flew back above the vast sky where their Loftwings were waiting. No one said a thing on their flight back to Skyloft.

Throughout the flight, Karane kept on glancing over at Pipit. The yellow-clad senior knight has not looked in her direction. It made her nervous. Was he mad at her for that kiss? Was he disgusted? She did technically kiss him without his consent, after all.

Skyloft came close in their view. The boys flew ahead to the island. Karane, on the other hand, lingered back. A part of her urges that she is not ready to go back yet. Link was quick to notice the redhead falling behind.

"Everything alright, Karane?"

"I'm going to fly around for a while," she replied.

"You want one of us to stay with you? You still look tired," Fledge offered.

"I'll be fine by myself. I'll catch you guys later."

"If you say so…Be careful," Link instructed her.

Karane watches her friend fly back to Skyloft. She then directed Ilia to fly in the opposite direction. Unbeknownst to her, Pipit glances back at her before putting his focus back on the island.

Karane spent the next few minutes with her head in the clouds, metaphorically that is. She contemplated what to do should she encounter Pipit again. Yet, she could not find a definitive answer. Minutes of silence went on until finally, she let out a frustrated shout loud enough to echo around her.

"I am such Dindamn idiot! Why did you have to kiss him, especially right after you brought him back from the brink of DEATH! Pipit probably thinks I'm some sort of freak now! UGH!"

Ilia let out a squawk of concern. The bird looked at her rider with worried eyes.

"Sorry girl." Karane strokes Ilia's feathers. "I'm just having some boy problems." Ilia let out a chirp as if she was agreeing. "How do you and Shiro do it?" Ilia chirped again. "Yeah. I guess Loftwings are better at this than us humans. We're more…complicated."

Karane let out a tired breath. From the corner of her eye, she noticed she was near the green pillar of light, meaning she was somewhere above Faron Woods. Perhaps she could use a change of scenery. After all, she had spent two days in the desert. It would be dumb to go down there alone, but if she can rip Tentalus' arms off, surely she can handle some Bokoblins.

The female senior knight leaped off her to plummet through the clouds below. Minutes later, she landed in Faron Woods. Tiny birds were hopping around, along with several animals, such as deer who ran off when she landed. There was not any sign of any monsters. The sound of a waterfall came across her ears. Following the sound, she found herself standing at the banks of Lake Floria. Karane gazes at her hands. Images of summoning the large water hands to rip apart Tentalus' arms, and controlling the water out of Pipit's body came to her. It made her wonder what else she can do? After making sure there are no monsters around, Karane sets her sword, shield, and pouch on the ground to make her way to the bank of the lake. Sucking in air through her nose, she reaches her arms out. A small portion of water lifted in the air.

Time passed as Karane continued to practice with her water ability. She moved the water around as if she had been doing this her whole life. There was also a lot of thinking she did about what had happened the past two days. Nayru's Trial. Her parents. The ship. Tentalus. The kiss she gave to Pipit…

Honestly, Karane did not know why she kissed him. Maybe it was the lack of energy she had after disarming Tentalus that clouded her judgment, or perhaps she was just so happy to see him alive she didn't care about the consequences. Karane has grown a liking for Pipit in the past year, starting right around his Wing Ceremony. Seeing that it was not a simple crush given that her romantic feelings for him lasted this long, it was clear she loved him in that sense. The main problem is that she did not know how to confess it to him. Up until yesterday, only Zelda knew about this. But now the Remlit is out of the bag, and Karane did not know what to do.

Looking into the sky, Karane could see the sun had gotten lower. She figures she should head back. When she went for her gear, she noticed a small bush that she swore wasn't there. Below the bush has an eerily familiar lump of brown fur.

"Hello there," Karane approached the bush which shrank, revealing a Kikwi.

"Oh, hello again, kweek! I remember you! You're one of those humans that stopped by the other day. I'm Oolo! I didn't see you here."

"It's alright. What are you doing here?"

"I've been hiding, of course. I've been doing it so long my shoulders are starting to stiff."

"You poor thing…" Karane stated even though she noticed the lack of 'shoulders' on said Kikwi but she figure it would be rude to mention that.

"That's right, kwee! Sitting in one place all the time, never knowing when danger is going to come along…kook. You can't know what that's like! Everyone seems happy that peace has returned to the forest…But I don't believe it for a second, koo-kakoo! There's no way I'm going to give up and come out of hiding. Not ever, kee-woop! But sometimes I wonder…Isn't there somewhere peaceful I can live without fear, without having to hide?"

As Oolo shares, the tale of his woes, it brought Karane back to a conversation she had with Owlan not that long ago.

"A species of plant that's a mix of flora & fauna? Unbelievable! I've never heard of anything like that in my life before. Karane, you might as well discover a new type of species altogether!" Owlan exclaimed with excitement. "I love to get my hands on one of these creatures for me to study further."

An idea then came to her. The trial Nayru had given her made Karane realize how lucky she is to have Owlan in her life. He had done so much for her. Perhaps she should show how grateful she is.

"There is such a place like that. And I might know the right person to care for you," Karane told the Kikwi.

"That's fantastic news, koo-karoo!" Oolo exclaimed with joy. "Can you take me there?"

"Of course."

Maybe she was doing this to distract herself from Pipit right now, but family comes first after all.

****

In a secluded part of Skyloft Island is the community gardens. Every plant known to the inhabitants of Skyloft resided here. Butterflies of every known species often gather here, Blessed Butterflies included. It is one of Owlan's favorite places to spend time, aside from the Knight Academy. Whenever he was not busy with academy duties, he would often be in the gardens tending to the plants. One such plant was several flowers called Blue Nightshades. It was a flower Owlan was all too familiar with, due to it being Arus & Balea's favorite. He had them planted after they died a memorial to them. Wherever they are now, Owlan hopes that they're at peace.

"I hope you both are watching over Karane and the others through these times."

Earlier he had seen Link, Pipit, and Fledge at the academy. The Instructor was initially alarmed not seeing Karane, but Link assured him that she was flying around to clear her head. So to pass the time, he tended to the community garden. Feeling that the Nightshades were well taken care of, Owlan picked up the watering can to water the next batch. What he did not expect to see is a small brown creature behind him. It startled the man enough to drop the watering can. The creature let out a frightened squeak, laying flat on its belly while a bush appeared on his back. Owlan stood flabbergasted until a familiar voice snapped him out of it.

"It's alright. He won't hurt you," Karane walked up to the creature who stood right back up after his bush vanished.

"Sorry, he spooked me, kwee." The creature looked onto Owlan. "Hi! I'm Oolo, I am a Kikwi. Karane said you can take care of me and keep me safe, kwee?"

"Y-yes…"

"That's wonderful!" Oolo looked. "This is such a pretty garden, kee-koo. Can I look around?"

Owlan gestures toward the gardens. Oolo walked around, taking in the sights of the plants. The Instructor remains watching in pure awe at this plant…life form…whatever it is.

"Do you like your gift?" Karane spoke to him. "You did say that you would like to have one to study."

Owlan moves his head in Karane's direction. Aside from the bandage on her cheek, he noticed the changes, such as her blue eyes looking brighter, and the symbol of Nayru residing on the right hip area of her uniform.

"Karane…you look-"

"Different," Karane finished for her guardian. "Nayru selected me for her trial. I passed, and she gave me part of her essence."

"Does that mean you have magic, like Pipit?"

She nods. " I can create barriers to protect from ongoing attacks. Even repelling them back." Karane notices the watering can that Owlan dropped along with the spilled water that is still fresh in the ground. "I can also do this."

Karane moved the watering can into the proper position. Then she lifted the spilled water from the ground. Owlan stood in silence as he watched Karane levitate the water. When she was sure she got all of the water, Karane carefully placed it back into the watering can.

"That's truly amazing, Karane!" Owlan exclaimed with pride. "Not only that, you met Nayru herself, right?" Karane nodded again. "Remarkable. What was she like?"

"Gentle. Kind. And gave me a motherly vibe."

Karane crossed her arms as a small smile grew on her face. Owlan immediately knew something was bothering her that she wanted to talk to him about.

"Something on your mind?"

"You can tell?"

"I am your guardian after all. I can tell when something is troubling you. What's on your mind?" Owlan gave a gentle expression.

A tired breath escaped the young woman's mouth. "When mom & dad died, I blamed myself for their deaths. I know you said it wasn't my fault, but a part of me still believed I caused their deaths. I clung to that belief even if it went against all logic. I believed it because…I wanted to believe that their deaths could've been prevented. Nayru…help me realize I was wrong to believe it. She opened my eyes to the truth. There was nothing anyone could have done that day."

Owlan stood in silence, shocked by the confession from the woman. It took him several minutes to comprehend this information before finally speaking. "You still blamed yourself for what happened to Arus & Balea after all these years? Why didn't you tell me this? Did I do something wrong that would make you not come to me about it?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. You've done so much for me. I didn't want to be a burden anymore than I was."

Owlan gently held Karane's shoulders. "Karane, listen to me. You were NEVER a burden to me. I never regretted my choice. I did it not out of obligation to your parents. I did it because I wanted to. And you want to know something?" He moved his hand on Karane's cheek. "It was the best decision I have ever made."

A tear rolled down Karane's cheek. "I'm sorry for not telling you this. I thought this feeling would've gone away by not talking about it, but I now know that it made it worse. Nayru helps me see the truth." Karane pulled away, wiping the tear that had fallen. "She…She even showed me a message that mom & dad wanted to tell me."

"What…what did they say?" Owlan looked with interest.

"They wanted me to not blame myself for their deaths. And that they love and are proud of me…They also wanted me to tell you to thank you for taking care of me."

Owlan did not say anything. He turned his body around, covering his mouth with his hand. Karane could see that he looked like he was about to cry. She knows how much he missed her parents. She gently grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry, Karane. It just-"

"I miss them too," Karane finished for Owlan. Before either of them could say anything, two butterflies flew around them. The pair watch the butterflies flap around before flying out of view.

"You've grown so much these past nine years." Karane looks back at Owlan. "When I brought you here you were quiet, scared, and unsure of your future. You've come so far since. Now I see a bright, brave, and determined young woman who is taking the final steps toward becoming a knight of Skyloft. I know you'll do good things. Your parents would be every bit as proud as I am…

"I couldn't have done it without you. You're more than just my teacher and my guardian. You're my family, Owlan. I would be glad to call you my father if that's alright."

Owlan smiled at her. "And I'm more than happy to call you my daughter."

More tears pour down Karane's eyes. She pulled Owlan into a hug, burying her face into his chest and giving out light sobs. "Thank you. Thank you for everything you've done for me…Dad."

Owlan held onto Karane even closer, whilst also not trying to burst into tears when Karane uttered that word. As they held onto each other, a form of Gratitude Crystals formed not only above Owlan, but Karane as well. They both landed right into Karane's pouch as she held onto her father figure.

"This is such a lovely garden, kwee!" Oolo the Kikwik stumbled back to Owlan & Karane who were still hugging. "Oh? Am I interrupting something?"

"You're not," Karane replied as she pulled away from Owlan. "You said you like the gardens?"

"Oh yes! It's wonderful. Though I couldn't find a good place to sleep."

"Well, um…You stay in my room. I'm certain I can make the proper accommodations for you," Owlan assured the Kikwi. "How about I take you over there now?"

"That would be nice, kee-koo!"

"And once he's settled in, perhaps you and I could get some food. You can share what you've been up to. For instance, what happened to your cheek?" Owlan glanced at the sticky bandage on Karane's cheek.

"It's a crazy story, but I'm sure you'll love to hear it," Karane responded with enthusiasm.

[the-hidden-writer]

And Into The Fire

Chapter 4: A Not-Quite-Plan

Summary:

Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she’s seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it’s up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

A Not-Quite-Plan

An agent came running into the office just as Mark was about to take a sip of his coffee.

“Ma’am! We’ve got into #009181987!”

Agent Ward turned off her tablet and stood up immediately.

“About time!” She snapped. “Come on, Dr Bowman, this is where we need you.”

He barely had time to grab his coffee cup as she practically dragged him toward the door by his hoodie.

Ever since they’d locked onto the missing Pal MAX bots, Agent Jennifer Ward and her team had pretty much taken control of Pal Labs. Or at least the headquarters where Mark worked.

He’d spent the past week or so locked in his office with the scary Agent Ward herself. The tall woman had ordered him to come into work every day despite the complete CIA take-over of his company, just to keep up pretences for the public. And he also needed to be kept under supervision at all times for some reason. He was basically a prisoner.

Oh well. At least he had WiFi.

After pulling him out of his office (freedom at last!) Agent Ward led him down the stairs to the main work area, which was a large room filled with rows of computer desks.

At the very back of the room were two large screens on the wall. These were usually used for advertising and announcements, but recently they’d served another purpose.

Displayed on each screen was a status. Before now, they’d said the same thing. But for the first time in weeks, one was different.

Pal MAX #012041966 Status: UNRESPONSIVE

Pal MAX #009181987 Status: ONLINE

“Online?” Mark wondered aloud. “So you actually got into it, huh.”

Agent Ward scoffed. “Of course we did. Don’t doubt my team, Dr Bowman. Especially Agent Travis here.”

As if on cue, the young agent that had come to tell them the news before came rushing in through the door behind them, and almost glided straight into the wheelie chair next to the computer he’d been working on.

“Actually, we got through a couple of times.” Travis explained, huffing slightly from having to run. “But we got kicked out before we could change anything. This is the first time it looks stable and ready to be edited.”

“Well, these robots are based on AI.” Said Mark. “They’re not as simple to take down as ordinary machines.”

“Trust me, we know.” Agent Ward sneered. “That’s the reason we’re in this mess to begin with.”

She turned to her team, who all had their fingers poised over their keyboards ready to begin typing. “Delete any excess data and then start to rewrite the functional coding.” She ordered.

“Rewrite?” Mark had been under the impression that they would just delete it all to stop the robots for good. That’s what they were trying to do, right? “I thought-”

“Yes, rewrite. Anything more is classified.”

One of the agents raised their hands. “Uh, Ma’am? All the data here looks pretty messed up. Most of its data’s been built onto the errors presumably caused by defects, we have no idea what it actually does. There's words liked 'brother', 'mother'-”

“Do I need to repeat myself, Barker?”

Even though it wasn’t aimed at him, Mark couldn’t help but gulp at the way Ward was glaring at the poor agent.

“No Ma’am,” mumbled Barker, “sorry, Ma’am. We’ll start the rewrite.”

~-.-~

The three of them raced into the room with Monchi following close behind, probably because he was intrigued by all the commotion.

Linda didn’t want to believe it. Her robo-boys being sick was one thing, but fighting each other? That was truly unbelievable. They would never.

But unfortunately, it was just as Aaron said.

Deborahbot was kneeling on the bed with his back to the door, repeatedly hitting Eric’s screen by alternating between using the clenched fist of one hand and the open palm of another. There was a “clunk” sound with each impact, and Deborahbot showed no sign of stopping.

“Deborahbot!” Linda exclaimed incredulously.

The bot’s head turned 180° to face them but he did not cease the attack on his brother.

“Mother! Other Mitchells!”

“What are you doing?!” Demanded Rick, aggressively pointing at the bot in the bed. Aaron gripped onto the back of Linda’s pant leg in fear.

“I am more defective than my brother.” Deborahbot stated matter-of-factly, his calm voice sounding quite scary compared to the current violence he was inflicting. “I thought if he was more defective like me, he would be himself again.”

Rick waved his arms in annoyance. “That’s insane!”

“Deborahbot, stop hitting your brother right now.” Ordered Linda.

“Ok!”

Linda felt a small stab of guilt in her heart. Since they’d joined the family, they’d all tried their hardest not to order the bots to do anything. By phrasing things the wrong way, their programming would make them obey commands mindlessly, whereas the Mitchells just wanted them to be themselves. The longer the pair of them went without being given an order, the more their individual personalities shone through.

Deborahbot released Eric and stepped away. Two seconds later, once the command had been completed, he held out a warning hand to the family.

“Wait, Mitchells, stop!”

Linda was about to open her mouth to ask why, only she first noticed the movement on the bed.

Movement. On the bed.

Under the blanket, Eric looked like he was shivering. Or, more accurately, vibrating. The screen that had been full of color before was now its usual black self, and his red marker face was visible again. The only indication that anything was wrong was that the small LED in the corner of his screen was flashing an array of different colors.

“What’s happening to him?” Aaron asked from behind her, and Linda nodded to encourage Deborahbot to answer.

“I do not know for certain, but I think that the infiltrators have successfully entered my brother’s system.”

“You’re speaking normal again.” Commented Rick, though his cautious gaze was fixed on Eric, as if he would spring up and attack them at any moment.

“That is why I came to that conclusion.” Elaborated Deborahbot. “They have stopped attacking me, so they must be focusing more on him.”

Unlike earlier, Linda drew up the courage to approach Eric in the bed. His shaking was growing ever more violent by the second, and without Deborahbot keeping him down it was only a matter of time before he fell off the bed completely.

She gently placed a hand on his shoulder and made her voice as soft and calming as possible.

“Eric, honey?”

“Dear, be careful.” Rick warned from behind her but she chose not to listen.

“Can you hear me?”

It didn’t seem like he was going to respond. Feeling defeated, Linda was about to turn to ask Deborahbot what to do next when a voice spoke up.

“User recognised: Linda Mitchell.”

Eric’s voice was even more distorted than Deborahbot’s had been to the point where it was nearly unrecognisable.

“Uh, Mom?”

“Linda, get back!”

Linda understood exactly why her family was scared. The bots had never, not once, called her by her actual name. To not hear “Mother!” come out of Eric’s metaphorical mouth alarmed her, but still she couldn’t bring herself to step back.

“Brother?”

In a similar situation, the bots never called one another by their given names. It was always “Brother”. It only made them seem closer to one another in a way that the Mitchells themselves couldn’t be.

“Unknown user. Verify”

Aaron approached them with caution, one hand automatically searching for his mother’s own. She clasped it tightly.

“It’s like he’s gone back into robot-mode.” Said Aaron.

Linda squeezed his hand in agreement. Out of the two, it was Eric that always seemed more closely related to all the other Pal MAX bots for some reason. Still, Eric was their Eric, and not one of the mindless machines that tried to blast all of humanity into space.

Then a high-pitched whine echoed throughout the room without warning, causing the Mitchells (and Deborahbot, who mimicked them a second later) to cover their ears from the terrible noise. Monchi began to bark.

Once it died down, Rick frowned and used two fingers to massage his temple. “What the-”

“B-Brother!”

Rick snapped his mouth shut and all heads in the room turned to Eric, who was now sitting up straight on the bed.

“Brother!” Deborahbot called back in relief.

Eric's head twisted to face the three extremely shocked Mitchells.

“Mitchells!” Eric cried dramatically, his words accompanied by a more familiar glitch. “You are in danger. Pal Labs is taking over our systems, and it’s only a matter of time before-”

“I already told them all that.” Deborahbot interjected.

“Oh.” Eric muttered softly. “Aww.”

It put Linda a little at ease to see her boys’ dynamic return so quickly. That must mean things were getting better, right?

“Brother, what should we do?”

Deborahbot had always been reliant on Eric for decision-making. Linda had no idea how the bots managed to form such a human-like sibling relationship.

“They’ve already gotten to me.” Said Eric, solely addressing Deborahbot now. “It’s safer if you power me off until they stop. If you wait a while and they don’t, then you might have to go to Pal Labs and stop them yourself.”

Linda’s immediate thought was: No. She was not going to turn off her boy.

“How do we know if they’ve stopped?” Asked Rick.

Eric glitched before shrugging. “My brother might be able to tell you, but-”

He was interrupted by the return of the high-pitched whine. This time, Deborahbot did not cover his ears.

A few seconds later, Eric’s voice was distorted again.

“Status: online. Location-”

He did not get to finish his ominous speech as Deborahbot had quickly moved toward him and placed his hand under Eric’s head. After a few short seconds Eric’s screen went completely black with only his marker face remaining as he fell back onto the bed.

“Deborahbot!” Linda exclaimed in outrage. “Tell me you didn’t-”

“He told me a plan.” Deborahbot said nonchalantly. “First I had to power him off, then-”

“Yeah, we heard.” Scoffed Rick. “But that’s not really a proper plan.”

“It’s a start.” Aaron piped up. “I don’t really know what’s going on but I think the bots have it better together than you do.”

Linda bit the inside of her lip. She did not like how Deborahbot switched off his brother without permission. They were technically under 18 and therefore not adults, so Linda felt responsibility for their wellbeing and safety. She tried her best to keep quiet to avoid snapping at him.

“So... what now?” Asked Rick.

Deborahbot took a moment to look at his brother before turning to face the Mitchells again.

“I don’t want to wait.” He said blankly. “So I think that we should go to Pal Labs and tell them to stop now.”

Comments make my day! :)

[malghra]

I’m that bad type - chapter 1

Darklina Week, Day 3, Modern AU 

AO3 link

Title from the Billie Eilish song Bad Guy

Aleksander Morozov is a loner and a workaholic. He knows he's alienating his family by spending all of his waking hours at the office, but one day he's going to fix that.

Everything changes when he comes home one night and finds a young girl on his doorstep.

Alina Starkova is angry at the world, most of all at her mother, but she puts up a brave face. Her anger is just a mask to hide behind, so no one can see how lost she feels all the time.

Aleksander Morozov was a simple man with simple desires, or so he liked to think. All he wanted at seven a.m. was to savour his strong cup of coffee, close his eyes and enjoy the crisp morning air, feel the first warmth of the sun on his face. It wasn't too much to ask to have a moment to himself before the endless rush of the workday pulled him away, was it? But his wife Olga wouldn't let him have it.

Aleksander was an early riser, always had been. He might be a morning person, but he usually tried to avoid any kind of spoken conversation before ten in the morning.

"Mrs. Aleksandrova's house has been sold," Olga informed him for the third time that week. Even if she hadn't told him, Aleksander would know it. He hardly could have missed the constant activity and the coming and going of moving trucks at the house next to theirs.

"Has it?" he asked, trying to keep the sigh of irritation out of his voice. He knew all too well she was just trying to make conversation. They didn't talk enough, not really. He'd never minded silence, but Olga hated it and she always tried to fill it with pointless chatter. He remembered finding that endearing a long time ago. He still did at times, but never this early in the morning.

He let her babble on about their new neighbours, a single mother with a teenage daughter who was only a year older than their own twins. He tuned out most of it while still trying to nod and hum at appropriate times.

He glanced at his watch and rose. "I have to go," he mumbled, pressing a quick peck to his wife's cheek.

His day at the office was much like any other. Reading and answering emails, a mid-morning meeting, lunch with Ivan. Around two, he decided to call Olga.

"Hi, zoloste," he said. "The client has asked for an earlier meeting. I'll need to finish this presentation today. I'm not sure I'll be home tonight."

Hearing her disappointment almost made him feel guilty. Almost. He couldn't spend his evening with a woman who had become a stranger to him. Not tonight. Once negotiations were over and the contracts were finalized, he'd be able to relax. He'd take her out then. Maybe they could take a weekend off, go to the seaside without the kids. Things would get better then. But right now he needed to focus.

There had been no change in the schedule. The meeting had been set for the day after tomorrow for weeks, but Olga didn't know that. Sometimes it proved to be convenient that they hardly talked anymore.

Aleksander had estimated that he could finalize everything that needed to be ready today by eight, so at a quarter past five he left to go to the gym. He filled the rest of his evening with dinner and more work, and he even allowed himself an hour at the piano he kept in his office.

It was close to midnight when he finally left. The drive home passed smoothly and quietly. He had expected the house to be dark, but Olga must have left the porch lights on. He wasn't sure why that annoyed him.

As he walked up to the house, he froze mid-step, staring at the girl sitting on Olga's porch swing. Aleksander had installed that porch swing for her once, with the help of her father.

She was wearing an extremely oversized hoodie and little else, even her feet were bare. She was a pretty little thing with dark hair and dark eyes and a glare on her face, and Aleksander had no idea who she was or what she was doing on his front porch.

He made a show of looking behind him and then left and right before he faced her with an arched eyebrow and a stern gaze.

"Hi," she said flatly, staring him down.

"Hi," he greeted her back. "Last time I checked, this was my house."

"Oh, I'm sure it still is," she replied sarcastically.

He raised both his eyebrows. "Ah, you're sure."

"Positive."

"Then would you care to explain what you're doing here?" he asked, not even trying to hide the irritation in his voice.

She shrugged and reached into the pocket of her hoodie, retrieving a packet of cigarettes.

"I thought kids didn't smoke anymore these days," he muttered.

She huffed. "What makes you such an expert?"

Yeah, touché, he thought. "Mind if I join you?" When he saw her skeptical look, he added, "This is still my house, after all."

"Whatever," she mumbled.

He sat down, making sure to keep enough distance and took the cigarette she offered him. He leaned in so she could light it for him. He reckoned he could quit a fourth time.

"So, who are you and what are you doing here?"

She pulled her feet up on the swing and hugged her knees to her chest with one arm wrapped around them. "Name's Alina Starkova. I'm your new neighbour," she explained.

When she didn't answer the second part of his question, he decided he could try to coax her by telling her his own name, but she interrupted him. "I'm―

"Aleksander Morozov. Yeah, I know. I met your wife earlier. She made a plum cake for us. My favourite." The grin on her face looked genuine, and Aleksander found himself answering it with a smile of his own.

They sat in silence for a while, looking out into the darkness, until Alina cleared her throat. He glanced up at her.

"So, are you going to tell Natalia?"

"Who?" he asked, puzzled by her question.

"My mother." Ah, of course she'd be worried about that.

He planted his elbows on his knees and gave her a long look, studying the sudden uncertainty in her wide eyes and parted lips. "Are you referring to the smoking or to the fact that you're out by yourself this late at night?"

She composed herself and shrugged again. "Either. Both."

He hadn't been planning to. After all, Alina was not his responsibility, and she was not in any danger in here. He knew Olga would, and she'd expect him to do the same. He just wasn't sure he was still interested in trying to be the man she needed him to be. And maybe, just for once, this wasn't about Olga.

"Do you believe I should?" he threw back at Alina.

"Why would you care what I think?" she scoffed.

"I don't know," he told her honestly. "I guess I just do."

She stared at him, until her lip twitched. She looked down and shook her head. She rose to her feet, her hoodie falling to her knees, and she offered him a half-smile.

"Goodnight, Mr. Morozov."

"Aleksander," he heard himself saying. "Please, call me Aleksander."

[smaidjor]

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 1)

Hey guys! Welcome to another angsty fic by yours truly, provider of flower husbands pain.

Some things you should know before you jump into this:

1. This is a companion fic to my fic "i know they're losing". You can understand it without having read the other one, since it's the same story from two different POVs but I think the overall experience is better with both!

2. The overall title of each fic is from the mitski song I bet on losing dogs. Chapter titles are from the Last Goodbye from the Hobbit films.

3. There is a lot of lord of the rings lore in both fics, and I mean a lot. You may be kinda confused if you've never read tolkien's works. It will all be explained eventually, though!

4. With the fact that it's a companion fic and a lot of people came here from Jimmy's POV in mind- this is a lot heavier of a fic. The content warnings are heavier and the angst is more intense. You have been warned.

(Obligatory disclaimer that this is about characters, not ccs, and do not ship real people, as always!)

Chapter Title: to these memories i will hold

Chapter Wordcount: 4000

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, panic attacks, past death, very frank discussion of death. (In general, if suicide or death are triggering topics for you, this is probably not the fic for you. Stay safe and take care of yourself!)

AO3

Actual fic under the cut:

Scott didn’t expect to survive 3rd life. No one did, he thinks, but especially not him. Clever, clever Scott, who knew his fate too well for his own good. He could have chosen his allies carefully, he knows, could have played on their emotions to make them think he was loyal until the moment he turned on them to win. He knew who the strongest factions and warriors were, the most cunning and intelligent participants in this death game they were forced into. Instead, he chose Jimmy. Sweet, dopey Jimmy, who had the personality of a golden retriever and only a handful of braincells at any given time. Jimmy, who was worth more than all the stars in the sky to him. Who made him feel alive . No, Scott didn’t expect to win. Not when it was Jimmy by his side- when it was Jimmy by his side, winning didn’t matter. All that mattered was Jimmy’s blush when Scott pressed a kiss to his cheek, the way his hair looked like gold in the sunlight and his smile lit up Scott’s whole world.

After Jimmy died, Scott stopped wanting to survive 3rd life. What was the point? The stars can shine on without the sun, but all life on Earth would wither and die. The same happened to Scott’s broken, bitter heart, he found. Jimmy was the first person in years to love him truly, wholly, with no strings attached; it was terrifying how quickly Scott fell for the first person to look at him and not expect him to be anything but what he was. Scott’s world, which used to be mountain peaks and endless blue sky, narrowed to warm brown eyes and a grin like sunshine quicker than he could comprehend. Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, it all came back to him. What was Scott without Jimmy? The unwanted twin, the unloved child, the un-elven elf. Because who cared if he was a good shot with a bow or good at organizing teams or building pretty little houses? He would always be second-born, second-best.

It was fitting, really, that when Scott died, he died alone. Some might find it ironic that the man who knew enough people to fill the roster of a championship held by a god every month died without a single person to witness it save his enemies, but in the end, it was always going to be like this, Scott knew. He hadn’t been there to see Jimmy die, he hadn’t been able to hold him in his final moments and soothe the agony of death. Maybe this was his punishment. He wouldn’t be surprised; the gods of this world did not smile on him and never would. Why should they, when he had failed the only person who had ever found him good enough?

When he woke up in Rivendell, he was almost disappointed. Almost. He considered ditching the rest of the elves, up and leaving to somewhere that didn’t make it feel like the noose of immortality was slowly tightening around his neck. If nothing else, Noxite would let him crash at the MCC server for a bit until he found somewhere to go. And yet, in the end, Scott’s stubborn sense of duty won out. The elves needed a ruler. Xornoth had disappeared to god knows where, and though they had been braver, wiser, better in every way, Scott was the one who had stayed. Who was willing to take up the crown that weighed so heavily on its bearers. So Scott, who no one ever expected to rule, took up the burden of leadership.

Now, he tries and fails to get out of bed and wonders what the point of that even was. He’s fading, and worse than that, he’s fading over a human. His ancestors are probably rolling in their graves. Rivendell will be leaderless within a decade, and this time there are no heirs to take control. Not even a ‘spare’ like Scott used to be. What a mess.

There are footsteps on the stairs. They’re unfamiliar, meaning they could be a threat, but he’s too tired to bother sitting up. If he dies, well- it’s inevitable, really, in the same way watching the mortals he loves dies is.

The person comes around the corner, and Scott realizes with no joy that he won’t be dying today after all. Katherine looks both curious and concerned, but her voice tilts towards the latter when she asks “Scott?” and then, more hesitantly  “Lord Smajor?”

He blinks at her, exhausted. “Hi, Katherine.”

“I came to talk to you about some empires stuff, but, I mean, if this is a bad time, I can come back later…?” She sounds so thrown off by his state that Scott almost feels bad.

Whatever it is, it must be important if she’s come all the way here, though, so he gestures her to a chair. “No, no, stay. I can muster the energy for a meeting, just don’t ask me to get up.”

Katherine takes the seat. “I came to talk about the corruption on the server, but- are you okay? Are you sick?”

Nothing about the question is funny in any way, but Scott laughs regardless. “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take my hand.” He offers it out, knowing the unnatural cold is unsettling no matter if you’re elven or not. Katherine does as he asks, the concern on her face only growing as she grips his icy hand.

“Elves don’t get sick like mortals do,” Scott explains. “Nor do we die of old age. But we get...heartsickness, you might call it. We call it fading in our tongue- the cold hands are a symptom of that. Our souls are fragile, and the grief of the mortal plane can be overwhelming. If an elf is too struck by it, they fade away and die.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, a frank reminder of the slow and painful death that awaits him.

Katherine gasps, and Scott knows he’s alarmed her.

He goes on, though. “It usually happens to old elves, world-weary.” Ironic, it’s ironic that he’s saying that as a young elf explaining his own death. “Those who are tired of existence. But any elf who has experienced enough grief is at risk.”

Her face is nothing short of horrified. “You’re- fading? But doesn’t it usually happen to old elves? Wait, are you old?”

“I’m fifty-five.”

“Is that old?”

He has to laugh. “Fifty is the elven equivalent of eighteen for humans, the age of maturity.” Though he feels so much older than that, both in elven terms and in human.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “How can you be so calm if you’re dying?”

“I’m tired, Katherine. The world tore me away from the people I loved, and..I’m tired of fighting it.” He’s so, so exhausted. So sick of having to claw and scrape and struggle for the barest scraps of happiness.

“Is there a way to reverse fading- to fix it?” Katherine sounds so hopeful that the question seems almost naive even though she’s far more capable of a ruler than he is. Naive in the affairs of elves, maybe, much as she’s intelligent in so many other ways.

Scott tries not to flinch at the innocent inquiry, thinking about the deaths from fading that he’s watched. “Technically, yes. If an elf recovers enough emotionally, it’s reversible. But whatever caused them to fade the first time can- and often does- cause it again.” And again, and again, until there’s nothing to be done but let them die , he finishes in his head.

Katherine nods, a look of determination overtaking the hope. “We’ll just have to reverse it, then.”

“That’s sweet, Katherine, but I’m dying.”

“No. You’re not going to die. Now come on, you can show me your empire while I fill you in on what’s happening on the rest of the continent.” She sounds so firm that he doesn’t dare disobey, though his exhaustion makes a fair effort at convincing him to. Will this really fix anything? Unlikely. But it’s worth it to try, if only to humor Katherine. At least this way she’ll have the comfort of having tried to save him when he inevitably fades away into nothing

Scott takes her hand, though it brings him little warmth, cold from her trek here. “Alright.” He swallows the bitter grief in his throat before it can seep into his words. “We can try.”

He leads Katherine around Rivendell, taking some pride in the way she oohs over the decor. If there’s one thing he can do right, it’s building. While some elven rulers might see it as below themselves to help build houses for their citizens, Scott finds building soothing. It’s one of the few skills he picked up during his time away that people really appreciate; no one wants to live in a shitty house.

As they walk, she also tells Scott about the demon, Xornoth. “The demon’s already visited a lot of people, I think. Gem and Shubble for sure, and Fwhip and Sausage. That’s not even mentioning the corruption that’s been spreading.”

If Scott said that the name Xornoth didn’t make him flinch, he would be lying to himself. It’s not your sibling , he tells himself. It’s just a coincidence .

It’s through the virtue of years of lying that his voice comes out steady. “There’s corruption in Rivendell too. Likely Xornoth’s work. And given that Jimmy still has Vilya-” his heart doesn’t ache when he says Jimmy’s name, it doesn’t- “well, I haven’t been able to do much.”

“Vilya?” Katherine asks.

“A ring of power. My inheritance from the Noldor.”

“Why does Jimmy have it?”

He doesn’t answer. He won’t- can’t talk about Jimmy, not without remembering how he looked with an arrow through his throat, bright smile gone and face frozen in fear. How does he explain how much Jimmy meant to him? How much he’s now giving up, knowing he’ll have to lose it one way or another?

Katherine drops the topic, seemingly sensing that she’s stumbled on something sensitive. When she has to go home, she leaves with a friendly goodbye and a promise to visit, and Scott believes neither. Who would put the effort into visiting him? He’s not a good friend, he’s not a good king, and god knows he’s not a good husband. In fact, he’s actively avoiding his husband. He may have kept the pufferfish Jimmy gave him, but that doesn’t mean anything. He can’t fall in love with Jimmy again. Loving Jimmy will kill him. (Scott ignores the small voice at the back of his head that whispers that he’s still in love with Jimmy and it’s already killing him just as he always knew it would.)

To his surprise, Katherine does come back next week, and the week after that. He’s ashamed to admit it, but there’s some part of him that’s pathetically grateful when she shows up at his doorstep. It’s a chance to not be alone . Much as he dreads the day when she finally gives up on him, it’s nice that someone cares enough to try and save him from himself.

The third week, Katherine doesn’t show up. Instead, the footsteps on the stairs are familiar in a way that makes Scott’s heart twist painfully.

He takes a deep breath. “Hello, Jimmy.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Jimmy asks. Scott can tell he’s startled by the way his voice goes up, almost frightened.

Scott steels himself, taking a deep breath before rolling over to face his ex-husband. “Do you think I could ever forget the sound of your footsteps?” He forces himself to not get distracted staring at Jimmy, instead going on before Jimmy can open his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Katherine asked me to visit, I’m not sure why, but...here I am. Say, why is she visiting every week?” Jimmy’s so curious. So naive, as always.

Scott laughs, bitter. “Katherine thinks she can save me.”

“Save you from what?”

Scott hears the concern in Jimmy’s words, and he can’t bring himself to break the news. It’s not as if it matters. It’s not as if Jimmy would care; he came here because of Katherine. Maybe he cared at the start of Empires, but Scott’s been nothing but rude to him since. There’s no reason for him to care. (He cares. Scott’s lying, like always. Jimmy cares and Scott knows it.)

“Save you from what?” Jimmy asks again, more insistently.

He refuses to say it. He needs Jimmy out, out of his room and out of his life before he does something he’ll regret. “You should go.” To prove his point, he tries to stand, finding himself too dizzy to quite pull it off. Jimmy rushes to catch him, and Scott hates himself just a little for how that still gives him a warm feeling.

“Scott, what is going on?”

He brushes Jimmy off, letting go of his arm and hurrying for the stairs. He can’t let Jimmy work his way into his heart again; Scott won’t be strong enough to let him go this time.

“Scott, seriously! Answer me, are you okay? What’s happening?” Jimmy sounds almost angry, but Scott can hear the distress under it and that’s what breaks him.

“I’m fading, alright?” His voice nearly breaks at the concern on Jimmy’s face when he whirls to face him. “I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy sputters, seemingly caught off guard. “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords-” Scott thinks back to third life- “from arrows through the throat, from grief.” The words come out more raw than he intends, leaving him scrambling to recover his composure. He takes a deep breath in and out, forcing his voice to steady again. “Come on. If you’re not going to leave, I might as well show you around.”

“You can’t just drop something like that on a man, you know!” Jimmy calls after him, although Scott can hear his footsteps following as well.

“You did ask, to be fair.” Scott replies. His voice is calm. He’s fine.

“I guess so, but- but still, dude.”

Scott pushes open the side door, holding it for Jimmy. “Here.”

Jimmy nods and slips through the door.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Scott starts towards the bridges, intending to show Jimmy the enchanting tower and then the door. He doesn’t care about how fast he’s walking, Jimmy can keep up. He’s taller than Scott and probably has better balance at the moment too. Scott’s struggling not to fall, honestly, but his pride won’t let him go slower.

Jimmy breaks the awkward silence with the question Scott least wants to hear. “So, uh..are we going to talk about 3rd life?”

“No,” Scott says firmly.

“Why not? We need to talk about it some time-”

“I said no .” He can’t talk about it.

“It’s literally killing you to not talk about it!”

The words strike right at the raw wound of Jimmy’s death, and Scott freezes. Inhales. Exhales. Tries to keep calm.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Scott!” Jimmy cries. He sounds so upset, Scott’s heart aches. “I dare you, tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you never cared about me, tell me you didn’t bother to bury me, tell me it didn’t hurt even a little when I died! Tell me I was just stupid little Jimmy, a toy for an elf who’d live far beyond my lifespan! Tell me whatever, just tell me the truth! ”

Scott takes a deep breath. “Fine. You want to know what happened after you died?” He can’t think straight through the rage clouding his head, the desperate need to prove that Jimmy’s wrong , that Scott loved him so much it’s killing him. “You want to hear about me screaming until my throat went raw? You want to know that I kissed your face and sobbed and begged you to wake up, over and over until I couldn’t speak at all? You want to live with the knowledge that Grian had to physically pull me away from your body? Is that what you want to hear, Jimmy? ” His voice damn near breaks on his husband’s name, and Scott thanks the gods he stopped believing in a long time ago that it doesn’t.

“No,” Jimmy says. His voice is soft, gentle, almost as if Scott is a wounded animal that needs a delicate touch. “That’s not what I want to hear, not at all. I’d rather you be happy than love me.”

The words punch the air from Scott’s lungs, raw and soft and real. Scott is an excellent liar. Jimmy isn’t. Scott knows that Jimmy is telling the truth. What he doesn’t know is how to handle that level of devotion. He wonders again how Jimmy- sweet, genuine Jimmy who wears his heart on his sleeve and is hopelessly devoted to an elf who can’t be fully his- chose Scott of all people. Scott, who’s as bitter as Jimmy is sweet, who’s sarcastic and snarky and hasn’t been good enough for just about anything in his life. He certainly wasn’t good enough to save Jimmy, Scott thinks bitterly.

He shakes off the thought. “I buried you on the hill above our houses. I planted a poppy over your grave.”

“Oh.”

“Grian came over the next day. I didn’t want to see anyone who wasn’t you, but I let him in because I had to. He helped me do the straps on my armor and asked me if he could do anything else to make things easier. I told him to bury me next to you.”

“Did he?”

Scott almost laughs at the innocent question. “How would I know? Grian was honorable enough, though, loyal to his allies. I like to think he did.”

“He was a good guy,” Jimmy agrees. “A little bit bloodthirsty, I guess, but good. I don’t suppose he survived any better than the rest of us, though maybe being bloodthirsty helped.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I- can I ask you why you hate me so much now?” Jimmy’s tone is uncertain, hesitant and it hurts . “I mean, if you mourned me in third life and all.”

Scott looks away from his earnest gaze, but he can’t stop the truth slipping out. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” Jimmy asks, seemingly bewildered. “But you burned the pufferfish-”

“I didn’t. I kept it.” Scott doesn’t want to think about this, wants to say it even less. “I never hated you. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

“I’ve been kind of busy dying,” Scott says wryly, unable to resist a bit of morbid humor at his own expense.

“Scott! That’s not funny!”

“It was a little funny.”

“No!”

Jimmy sounds genuinely distressed, and Scott drops the wry smile. “Jimmy, I’m an elf. I won’t live far beyond you, but only because I’ll fade without you.” It’s a simple statement. The truth, as much as he can give.

“So your solution is to isolate yourself and fade now?” Jimmy’s outrage is justifiable, but Scott just shrugs.

“It does sound stupid when you put it like that, doesn’t it?” It really does. “But I lost you once, and I don’t think I could bear it again.”

A hand lands on Scott’s arm, and he turns, startled. Jimmy doesn’t give him time to react, throwing his arms around Scott and pulling him close. Scott almost lets out a very undignified squeak at the sudden contact, though he slowly relaxes into Jimmy’s hold.

He should pull away. He shouldn’t give Jimmy false hope like this. But Jimmy is so warm , and Scott is so unbearably cold. Every fiber of his being is screaming that this is what’s right; screw Rivendell and obligations and too-heavy crowns, Jimmy is home to him. He’s warm for the first time in months, and the most heartbreaking part is that it can’t last. He can’t do this again.

He pulls away, ignoring the painful hope on Jimmy’s face. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.” For the first time all conversation, his voice well and truly wobbles. “I can’t. Not again.”

“But-”

Scott shakes his head. “Losing you will destroy me. We dared to love, and now all we can do now is lessen the pain when it all comes crashing down.” The words are like glass in his throat, but he forces them out anyways. They have to be said.

Jimmy’s silent, and it hurts more than if Jimmy had yelled at him.

“Goodbye, Jimmy,” Scott manages, turning away before Jimmy can see the way his face twists in pain. He makes his retreat as quickly as possible, stumbling and nearly taking a tumble just before he reaches the door. Unlike before, there’s no helpful ex-husband there to catch him, to make sure he’s alright and ask a million questions until Scott’s forced to admit that he’s not okay and hasn’t been in a long time.

He fumbles with the latch, hands shaking and vision blurring. Finally, it clicks, and Scott stumbles inside and slams the door shut before sliding to the ground. He won’t cry. He won’t . He doesn’t love Jimmy, he can’t love Jimmy anymore. Jimmy was never meant to be his. They might have carved out a few precious moments, stolen them from the universe and giggled like kids with their hands in the cookie jar as they kissed amongst the flowers, but those brief moments were all they were ever going to be allowed. It was always going to end this way, Scott tells himself. There’s no use crying over a mortal who will be dead in the blink of an eye to an elf. What would his parents say? That this was typical of him, probably. Typical Scott, always wanting what he would never be able to have. Typical, predictable Scott, loving a mortal who shouldn’t be worth anything to him.

He’s crying. There are tears spotting his cyan robes, splashing onto the wood floors he worked so hard on. Scott rubs at his eyes furiously, but that only makes it worse, sobs shuddering through him and leaving him hollow and aching. He’s so cold . The ache in his chest has returned tenfold, stealing away his breath, and he curls further into himself, struggling for air.

He’s going to die. He is going to die , alone on the floor of his house because he fell for someone he couldn’t have. For all that he’s spent every minute since Jimmy’s death in 3rd life wishing for some way out of this cruel world, he’s terrified now that it seems inevitable. He’s scared in a way he hasn’t been in forever, breath coming quick and shallow. He's scared, and he is so, so tired of this ache that haunts him, the chill that he can never get rid of.

“Jimmy,” Scott whispers. There’s no way for the human to hear him, but the name brings him some comfort. “ Jimmy .” He wants his husband. He wants someone to hug him. He doesn’t want to fade away freezing and alone, no one there to hold his hand or reassure him that the pain will be over soon. Internally, he begs for someone, anyone who cares to come looking. To find him, even if they’re too late to save him. Someone. Anyone. Please.

No one comes, and Scott lays on his floor until his breathing steadies out again. His head spins when he forces himself to his feet, and he has to lean against the wall for a few moments. There’s no time for dramatics, he tells himself sternly. He has a kingdom to rule. He cannot afford to break over a mortal he never should have fallen for in the first place. He doesn’t love Jimmy anymore, he can’t .

(He’s lying. But Scott has always been an excellent liar, even when it’s to himself.)

[masterjedilenawrites]

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 4 (Cowboy Path)

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. Refer to this Masterlist for previous chapters and alternate paths.

Chapter 4: The Party (Cowboy Path)

Pairing: Eli x reader

Content: Drinking, some angsty pining

Length: 2.4k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

The gala was as elaborate and ostentatious as you would expect of a formal event at the Imperial academy. It was like the whole ballroom shimmered as glasses of drinks were passed around and ornate dresses swished about in dance. You'd certainly never been a part of anything so grand from your home world before.

The sight made you pause as soon as you entered through the doors. It was breathtaking.

You let Thrawn guide you around the ballroom, barely registering his path as you took in all the shiny and expensive details around you. You were especially enchanted by the handful of couples circling around the dance floor, seemingly floating along with the music. You hadn't danced in so long... properly, anyway. Shimmying around your room in your underwear after a shower did not count.

"The music is quite pleasant," said Thrawn from beside you. For a moment, you forgot that part of the plan for the night was to substitute the names of your targets for other subjects, so any potential eavesdroppers would be none the wiser to your true intentions. Anything related to music was supposed to symbolize one half of the plan: Eva and Arden. But because you were so caught up in the spectacle around you, and your inner longing to genuinely engage with it all, you didn't immediately pick up on Thrawn's true meaning.

"It is," you said with just a hint of wistfulness. Your eyes happened to be watching one of the more gracefully dancing couples, the only signal to Thrawn that he needed to help you refocus.

He cleared his throat just loud enough to get your attention and then flicked his eyes toward the entrance of the ballroom meaningfully. You followed his gaze to see Eva and Arden had now arrived. Eli would be keeping an eye on them, while you and Thrawn would track Burdick. Your heart sunk as you were reminded, yet again, that you were not here for a good time. Tonight was about Thrawn's mission.

"Do you think Eli has noticed? The music?" you quickly supplied, hoping Thrawn wouldn't doubt your support.

"Yes, he seems to be enjoying it." Thrawn then looked to a different part of the room, where Eli was standing next to his date. Sadie. She was a tiny thing, with perfect proportions and well-styled hair and wearing a dress that left nothing to the imagination. You suddenly realized who she was, not having connected the dots before. She was in a few of your combat classes and had this weird habit of pumping her fist in victory every time she landed a good hit. You and Eli had made fun of her together. Why was he now going out with her?

"Yeah, he does..." you said absentmindedly as you watched your friend. Eli was making a show of casually looking around while really paying extra attention toward the couple by the entrance. But then Sadie linked her arm in his and looked up at him with a sweet smile, and he returned the gesture with a smile of his own. Your previous feelings of awe and fascination over this event were quickly turning into something much more sour.

"Did you also notice we have an assignment due soon?"

The comment from Thrawn made you blink away from the troubling scene in front of you. The Chiss had not been watching Eli, actually sticking to the plan and scanning the crowd for the other person of interest. Commander Burdick, who would be referred to by discussions of homework, another innocent topic. Thrawn had finally spotted him over by an hors d'oeuvre table.

"Thanks for the reminder," you muttered. A tray of drinks passed by, held aloft by a protocol droid, and you took the opportunity to swipe at one and down its contents in one go. You could see Thrawn eyeing you curiously from your peripheral, but you made it a point to not look back.

"Perhaps we should stand out of the way," said Thrawn, taking hold of your elbow and guiding you through the crowd and over to an area where several tall cocktail tables were set up. You set your empty glass on the surface of one of them and leaned restlessly against it. Your eyes kept wandering toward the commander as he munched furiously on some kind of cubed meat, glowering at all who passed by. Eventually you'd have to help make sure he was glowering at Arden long enough to maybe get some ideas, but right now, with the night only just beginning, there didn't seem to be much need for you to linger.

"This is a fun song. Maybe we could dance for a bit? Pass the time?" you asked, swirling your empty glass around in a bored manner.

Thrawn stared at you for a moment, most likely trying to determine if you were using the special code that you were supposed to or if you were actually talking about music and dancing.

"I think we should discuss the assignment that is due," he said, almost in a reprimanding tone. "It is rather important."

You swiped at another tray of drinks passing by, muttering over the rim of the glass, "Who goes to a party to talk about homework?"

You were being salty; you knew that. This mission was important and you cared about it. You cared about your friends and what this meant for them. But it seemed the more alcohol you took in, the more annoyed you grew toward those friends. Thrawn was such a stick in the mud, and Eli was apparently a big flirt. Was this really the best way to fix their problem? Was it really worth missing out on a fun evening?

Thrawn didn't seem too pleased as you downed your second drink in a matter of minutes. He cleared his throat in that way he did when he was about to lecture you. You cut him off before he got the chance.

"So what was that surprise you were talking about earlier?"

He blinked at you. "I never mentioned a surprise."

"Yeah. You said you didn't disappear, you were working on something, and that I'd see soon enough. Well? What should I be seeing?"

He reached across the table and gingerly took your empty glass from you with a frown. "You hadn't noticed? There is only one assignment."

It was your turn to blink at him. He sighed and jerked his head to where Burdick was still standing.

"I made sure his date would be delayed in arriving," he said very quietly; you almost couldn't hear him above the din of the party. "So he wouldn't be distracted."

You looked over at the Commander, not very subtle in your observation of him, so it was no surprise the man noticed your staring and frowned even more deeply.

The sound of your name caused you to snap back to Thrawn, who was circling the table to lean in closer. He seemed upset; or, as upset as Thrawn could ever seem through his calmness.

"If you have other things you wish to be doing, I would much rather you leave for them, instead of staying and causing problems." His voice was low in your ear. You sighed at his words, feeling bad for how you'd been behaving.

Just a little bit.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite student," came the voice of Commander Burdick. The man had apparently decided to come over after discovering you'd been staring at him, however, he was very clearly addressing Thrawn and not you. "I'm surprised you'd even come to an event like this."

"The Academy has provided a generous occasion tonight," Thrawn slipped out of his scolding of you and into his usual demeanor without missing a beat. "It would have been in bad taste for us to not attend."

Though it had been your staring that'd called him over, it was only when Thrawn referred to you collectively that Burdick finally acknowledged you. He gave a grunt as a sort of laugh.

"What about that scruffy little friend of yours? He doesn't care about taste?"

"Eli's here..." you heard yourself saying. You also felt Thrawn tensing beside you. You tried to give him a reassuring look as you turned to point out your friend behind you, moving about on the dance floor with Sadie. And just beside them was Eva and Arden, as you knew they would be. The two couples seemed to be trying to one-up each other with their dance moves. You quickly turned away so you wouldn't have to register how exciting and intimate it all was.

"So I see," Burdick hummed. You couldn't tell if he still had the same frown from before, or if it was a new one in response to seeing his ex with a student. "You're not a dancer, Thrawn?"

"Only when the mood strikes, sir."

"Well if you don't show your woman a good time, someone else will." Burdick took a step forward and held out a hand toward you. Your eyes grew wide, panicking. That was certainly unexpected.

Thrawn quickly, and smoothly, jumped to your defense.

"Sir, I'm afraid she is not feeling well. I have simply been keeping her company."

Burdick looked between the two of you, and then briefly beyond at the dance floor, before giving an odd smirk and retreating.

"Very well. Enjoy your... company."

The Commander turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. As you watched the back of his head, you couldn't help but wish you hadn't frozen and had accept his offer to dance. It was probably going to be the only offer you got all night.

"What... were... you... thinking..."

You looked over at Thrawn, surprised he was still upset. He was pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes.

"Huh? I made sure he noticed Eva," you defended yourself. "He asked me to dance, probably to make her jealous, but since that's not happening, he'll be able to focus his revenge on Arden now."

"That is quite the assumption, based on absolutely no evidence."

"There is too evidence--"

"And apparently we've abandoned all secrecy and discretion, too. Might as well announce what we're planning to the whole ballroom while we're at it."

Thrawn's piercing eyes looked down on you, looking more like fire than they ever did. You bowed your head for a few seconds, needing to escape the heat and cool down.

"I'm sorry," you said, finally looking back at him. "I didn't mean to... mess up on the homework."

You offered what you hoped was an endearing smile. Thrawn only left you hanging for a second before he relaxed just a little.

"You did not mess up," he stated, returning to his side of the table and finally taking up the drink still left sitting there. "But perhaps you should just observe for the rest of the night."

And observe you did. The rest of the evening seemed to both pass by in a shimmering blur, and crawl forward at an unbearable pace. You observed couples dancing, laughing, even kissing. You observed how the energy of the ballroom shifted from eager liveliness to unhurried intimacy as time drew on. You observed the hors d'oeuvres dwindle and the champagne lose its bubbles and the lights dim ever-so-subtly.

Occasionally you actually observed the "homework," whenever he happened to pop out from the crowd. Thrawn did most of the note-taking, pointing out under muttered breath how the commander was still fixating on his ex, how his frown seemed to change from grumpiness and anger to determination and craftiness. Whatever that meant. You couldn't ever pretend to notice half the signs Thrawn did.

But most importantly, you observed a certain shaggy-haired boy from Wild Space.....

The way he danced, somewhat stiffly, but not as clumsy or awkward as one might expect from someone who couldn't figure out a tie.

The way he seemed to so effortlessly keep an eye on his despised classmate while still paying attention to his date and all her friends.

The way he casually hung out with her friends in between dances, as if he'd always been a part of their group.

The way he held her.

The way he looked at her.

At some point, you'd finished off your fifth glass of champagne, and you were definitely feeling the effects of it. That was what you were feeling, you told yourself. Your stomach was in knots and your brow was feeling warm and your heart was beating in your ears, all because of the alcohol. It didn't have anything to do with your guilt from upsetting Thrawn earlier, or the fact that even though Eli had nodded your way a few times in acknowledgement, he hadn't once come over to make good on his promise to save a dance for you. Nope. It was the alcohol and nothing else.

"Thrawn," you said quietly, breaking the Chiss's concentration on something-or-other across the way. "Do you mind if I call it a night? I'm pretty tired."

His eyes flickered over at the amount of empty glasses you had collected beside you, but he didn't comment on it. Only nodded in understanding and returned back to his mission.

You sighed as you picked your way through the crowd that remained. Quite a few students and teachers had already left for the night, but plenty still remained, and it baffled you just how many were hoping - and fighting - to earn to a place in the Empire.

And then something caught your eye just as you made to push through the doors and out into the night. One last thing to observe.

Eli and Sadie were swaying to the slow song playing, just off the actual dance floor. It was like they were in their own world. Her hands rested against his chest, and his chin laid atop her head, and they turned in slow circles as they rocked back and forth, holding each other close. When Eli's face finally turned toward your view, you swore your insides were threatening to crawl up your throat and spill out all over the shiny floor.

His face was relaxed, content. His lips were turned upward in a pleased sort of smile you'd only seen a few times on him before, usually after he'd told you a nice childhood memory, or after he finished a hearty meal. This wasn't an act; this had nothing to do with the mission or your purpose here at this dance. He was happy, holding her.

Just as his eyes wandered from whatever peaceful place they'd been resting and locked onto yours, you finally pushed through the door and left.

[braiawrites]

Lost & Found - Chapter 4

Summary: A glimpse into Pellia's story. || Inspired by this prompt by @newblood-freya

Words: 2046

Rating: sfw

Warnings: Minor mention of blood.

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FIVE

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

Send me an ask!

***

“Alright, fine. I’ll figure it out myself,” the mortal said, her eyes dark under a scowl.

Pellia watched as she turned, Cardan perched on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She hadn’t necessarily meant to harm him when she’d changed him into a cat, but from the way the girl clearly coddled him, she thought perhaps she’d done him a favour.

Cardan twisted to look back at her in the cramped confines of the cell. He gave her a slow, haughty blink—probably because he couldn’t smirk—before settling himself like a scarf over the human’s shoulders.

Pellia did the only thing one could be expected to do in response to such an insult: she flipped him off, and then, for good measure, stuck her tongue out at him too.

He flicked his tail before turning away, and Pellia threw her arms up with an exclamation of defeat.

“That was so unnecessary,” she called after the retreating form of the cat prince and his human. Neither of them turned back.

With a sigh, Pellia retreated to the palette at the back of her cell and sank onto the bed. She felt the prickle of tears at the corners of her eyes, but she tried to push them down, blink them away, something. She couldn't cry, not here, not now.

If any tears were to be shed, they wouldn’t be hers. She’d vowed that to herself six months ago, when she’d crossed the sea from Delaware to Faerieland. She’d come with steel in her hands and poisons at her belt. With fury in her eyes and vengeance on her heart. She had come with one purpose and one purpose alone: to take back what was hers, what he’d stolen.

And until she recovered what she’d come for, she had vowed that she would not weep.

You will not cry, she reminded herself. You will not cry, you will not cry—

“You will not cry.” The words were carried from her mouth on a trembling breath, a mantra and a promise and a plea, torn from so deep in her heart that Pellia was certain her next breath would be crimson with blood.

Her thoughts fell again to Cardan and the girl, her skin burning bright with shame as she realized she had never actually seen them leave. She hoped they hadn’t heard her.

Oh, yes, she thought bitterly, because that would be all she needed: the cruel prince and his nosy human girlfriend, seeing her at her weakest. The cherry on top of her melting sundae.

She laughed at the thought, and then laughed some more, because there was something churning in her gut and clutching at her heart, and if she didn’t laugh at the pain then she’d cry and she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how bitter she felt or how hot her rage burned, she could not cry until she was free and back home in Delaware, until she was safe and her family was whole again.

~ ~ ~

She’d known a storm was brewing from the first time she'd met him. It had been a Wednesday evening and the wind blowing off the coast was warm with the promise of summer. Pellia had been walking home from school, her slender fingers skillfully weaving a crown of wildflowers. Beside her, her younger sister talked animatedly about her day: the presentation she’d given in science class, the book her English class was starting, who she’d talked with at lunch.

Neither of them noticed the figure following twenty or so paces behind them.

Pellia tucked the last stem into the crown and turned it in her hands, admiring her handiwork as Amber changed topics.

“So, in drama we’re doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and I’m going to audition for Titania. I think I’d make a good Faerie queen, anyway, but I was thinking maybe you could help me act all magical and Fae-like.”

Pellia looked up from where she was fixing a rip in a flower petal. It was a small magic, but Amber’s eyes sparked as she watched the petal knit itself together.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing you do that,” she sighed. “I wish I had magic.”

Pellia’s brow lifted. “Faerie isn’t as innocent as you think it is, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I didn’t say anything about Faerie,” Amber pouted, “just that I wish I had magic. I dunno, I think it would be cool.”

“You have your own kind of magic—the power of being the bane of my existence and also somehow my favourite human.” Pellia’s shoulder bumped Amber’s in a playful jostle.

“You flatter me, oh great pain in my a—”

“Hey! Watch your profanity.”

“My profanity!”

“Mhm.”

“You have the dirtiest mouth I’ve ever heard from anyone. And you’re telling me to watch my language?!”

Pellia let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Nevermind.” She paused, lifting the flower crown in her hands. “For my Queen Titania. I spelled it so it wouldn’t die.”

Amber took the circlet almost reverently holding it up to see each vibrant petal in the sun’s light.

“It’s shiny,” she pointed out. “Is there a glamour on it?”

Pellia gave her sister a lopsided grin. “A little. I tried to tone it down a bit, but—I couldn’t resist. It’ll glamour you, too, when you wear it.”

Her younger sister said nothing for a moment, just staring at the crown—and then a huge grin broke across her face, brighter than a thousand suns.

“I love it, Pell, thank you.”

She lifted the crown to nestle among chestnut locks, letting the leaves weave into her hair. As soon as they touched her head, she seemed to glow more vividly, her eyes sparkling and her skin smoothing and her cheeks blushing a warm pink. She beamed at her older sister, then shoved her off the sidewalk.

Pellia squeaked as she flailed to catch her balance. Her eyes, glamoured brown, met Amber’s mischievous hazel gaze.

“I just made you a flower crown, bro,” Pellia said, her shock mingling with amusement.

“Yeah, and I love it!”

“Well, you’re a little brat, you know that?”

“Love you, too, Pell!” Amber sang, spinning gracefully to continue the last stretch of their walk home.

Pellia shook her head—and that was when she saw him, out of the corner of her eye.

Wearing a long, dark shirt, tied at the waist with a golden sash, woolen leggings despite the tepid weather, and leather slip shoes that clearly had not come from the human world, he was impossible to mistake.

How long had he been following them? Pellia wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

She turned, casually, and started after Amber’s retreating form at a stroll, before breaking into a jog with a call of, “You’re going to pay for that! And for making me run!”

Ahead, Amber cackled. As Pellia caught up to her, she elbowed her sister in the side, grinning.

“Hey, so guess what?”

“What?”

“Well, act natural, and don’t look, but there’s someone trailing us.”

Before Amber could follow the natural inclination to glance over her shoulder, Pellia slung her arm around her little sister’s neck and leaned in.

“I said don’t look. Now pretend I said something funny.”

Amber laughed. It was actually very convincing—she was a good actress.

“You’re kidding,” the younger girl chuckled, bumping her older sister with her elbow.

“I wish I was. But something about him makes me uneasy. And he’s fey, too, which pretty much automatically means bad news.”

“How would you even know that?”

“I saw it!” Pellia said, pulling out her phone. “Like, I turned around and he was just—right there. I swear!”

Opening her camera, Pellia angled her phone to better see their stalker. She made a show of checking her hair, her makeup, eyes glued to the figure in the background. She zoomed in. The hilt of a sword peeked over his shoulder.

Definitely not peaceable, then, she thought. Pellia made her decision:

“We're not going home.” She pulled her sister by the arm, turning a corner away from their house.

“I think you're being a tiny bit paranoid, Pell,” Amber said, attempting to pull away.

“No,” the pixie shook her head. The buildings on this street were tighter, packed together with cramped alleyways between every couple.

They approached an intersection and Pellia pointed to the building across the way. “Go, inside the gas station. I'll come get you in a sec.”

“Fiiine.” The younger girl pouted, but turned away.

“Hurry!” Pellia hissed, and Amber jogged across the empty street.

Rushed footsteps came from around the corner, and Pellia ducked down one of the alleys, dropping her bag and pressing herself against the brick wall.

She listened, trying to quiet her breathing.

The steps ceased abruptly. Pellia reached for the cord around her neck, pulling it from beneath her shirt.

The dagger she unsheathed was small, but definitely better than nothing. She tucked the sheath on its cord back beneath her shirt and adjusted her grip on the hilt. The leather was smooth beneath her fingers, the blade glinting sharply.

The footsteps resumed, cautiously.

Their owner came into view, looking the wrong direction. Pellia slipped from the alley and slid behind him, the edge of her knife held to his neck as pulled him back into the shade between houses. At his struggle, she pressed the blade against his skin.

“I don't know which part of Faerie you're from,” she purred into his ear, “but in the court where I grew up, it was generally considered rude to follow people like that.”

She shoved him face first into the wall, her hand between his shoulder blades. “So? Who are you and what do you want?”

“I was just sent to gather intel, I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. His voice was higher than she’d expected and his throat bobbed under her blade as he spoke.

“I’m so reassured.” The sarcasm dripping from Pellia’s voice was fatal. “Who sent you?”

“I—I can’t say,” he said.

“You might wanna try.” Her blade pressed in.

“Oath!” he squeaked, flinching away from her. “I took an oath, I cannot speak his name!”

Pellia’s brows went up at this. To hold that kind of power over someone…

“Why does he want to know about me?”

“I don’t know,” the fae whimpered. “He doesn’t tell me these things. I only know what I am to do, never the reason.”

She rocked back on her heels, allowing her grip to loosen on his collar. Her mind was racing, trying to fit together the insubstantial pieces of this puzzle. She hadn’t dealt with anyone from Faerie since they’d fled to the mortal world. She didn’t know how she’d been found, let alone why someone would be tracking her in the first place.

“Please don’t kill me.” The words came out as little more than a breath, but they sent a little thrill through Pellia’s stomach all the same.

She laughed. “Kill you? This is a new shirt, I don’t want your blood all over it. Besides, I need you to take a message back for me.”

Her captive nodded, his cheek scraping against the brick.

She leaned in. “Tell your boss that if he wants to know something, he can come talk to me himself. And in the meantime, he can stay out of my business. Oh, and you might also let him know that I hold grudges; the next person he sends to ‘gather intel’ won’t be coming back.”

At the faerie’s promise to leave immediately, Pellia released him. She watched as he headed back toward the coast, flinching at a passing car. What had been the point in sending someone to trail her, especially someone so obviously out of his depth in the human world?

Pellia shook her head. She hoped this would be the end of it, but something deep down told her that it wouldn’t be over so simply.

Two weeks later, she returned home to a dark haired, silver-eyed prince in her living room. Her family was out.

“My greetings, Pellia Nerium,” Balekin Greenbriar said. “Have a seat. I have a proposition to discuss with you.”

***

A/N: This chapter was so much fun to write and I developed Pellia's backstory so much, which I was kind of not expecting. I feel like I'm discovering what happens next along with all of you haha! I do hope you've been enjoying so far! I promise cat!Cardan and Jude will be back next chapter.

Thank you for sticking around every week to read, it honestly makes me so happy to know that there are people who are enjoying my writing. And if you have the time, I would love if you left a comment to let me know what you think! Also, please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Until next week, lovelies!

Tagging: @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @greenbriarxrose @bookavert @queen-of-demons-and-hell @theviolettulip @lysandra-ghost-leopard @playlistmusings @localgoof @garnet-babe @iamaprincessallgirlsare