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piratefishmama · 10 months

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Fake It Till You Make It | Part 8

"Oh Steven..."

The view of Eddie was obstructed pretty quickly when Steve manoeuvred him behind him, turning fully to face his dad using his broader body to shield Eddie from view. “He’s—”

“Panicking. He’s panicking. I have eyes Steven. Lynda get this poor boy a glass of water would you?” A chair creaking from inside the room told them all his mother had gotten up to do as she was asked, and while that might have caused most to relax, Steve still stood his ground. A human blockade. “It’s okay son, you’re going to have to move eventually it might as well be now, he’s safe.”

“Is he?” Eddie rested his forehead against the centre of Steve’s shoulders, right at the base of his neck, just… rested there, Steve wouldn’t let anyone hurt him, it’d be okay.

“Well I’m not about to invite my son to send me to hospital, am I?” A wise choice, it seemed like Steve was fully prepared to do just that if necessary. “This house is safe for you both, and it always will be.” John stepped to the side a little, just enough to be able to see around Steve’s shoulder, although Steve was tempted to move into his way again, he’d put himself in the way of a train if it meant protecting someone else, Eddie was certain of it at that point “Eddie… was it?”

He’d overheard while Steve was talking to him. He knew his name. Eddie looked up, basically peeking over Steve’s shoulder. It was awkward, given they were almost the same height, but… he still felt safer there.

“Oh heavens, John step aside, you’re frightening the poor thing to death” And there was Lynda, nudging John aside with a tall glass of water in hand “Eddie, come on out from behind there,” as if ‘there’ wasn’t her damn close to six foot son “it’s okay” he was a grown man, yet he felt like he was seven all over again, hiding behind a couch away from the police who’d come to get his dad.

He’d only hidden because his dad used to tell him that if he was naughty the police would take him away, and he may have… coincidentally… drawn on his bedroom wall, he’d hidden it pretty well but… there were suddenly police bashing down the door!

Just so happened they were there for his father, who’d been doing much naughtier things.

Steve didn’t move, so that left the choice up to him. A choice he had to make, no matter how scary it was. He was there, there was no getting out of the plan now. They’d seen him, he couldn’t make a run for it… or he could but he’d never able to look Steve or Dustin in the face ever again, which left only one real option.

He took a deep breath, placed a hand on Steve’s bicep, and stepped out from behind him. Steve’s hand was very quick to find his, holding him, grounding him, a tether to keep him stable and god it felt nice to have it there, warm, and secure, fingers perfectly slotted between his own. He could only imagine what a pair they looked though.

The King and the Court Jester.

The Jock and the Freak.

Perfect and Completely Imperfect.

He knew what he looked like, how people looked at him, even in clean clothes, even having brushed his hair, he still looked like he’d just rolled out of bed sometimes, and Steve… god… There weren’t words for how perfect Steve looked.

It seemed effortless but Eddie knew Steve must have put in genuine effort. It was attractive how much effort he must have been putting in.

They all looked that perfect though. He truly looked so very out of place. Lynda in her pristine white shirtdress, a belt around her waist giving it shape and John in his expensive pale blue polo and pressed chinos.

There he was, in a hand-me-down red and black flannel, the only pair of jeans he owned that weren’t ripped at the knee (although they were getting there), hands full of silver rings, an old handed down Casio watch, scuffed Reeboks, and the one band Tee he had that wasn’t dirty.

The pickings had been slim he really should have done some laundry. He should have accepted Steve’s offer to help him clean up. They’d have been still doing it!

“Hi… I’m—I’m Eddie… Eddie Munson.” They didn’t know the family name, and it didn’t surprise him either, Wayne wasn’t raised in Hawkins, he’d just settled there after he learned Eddie would be handed to him. Traded his truck for a trailer in a random pick of a town and swapped his long haul journeys for night shifts at the plant and that was that.

They couldn’t have known his family name.

“Oh my…” it wasn’t a disgusted oh my, although her eyes did widen, he felt… seen as she looked him up and down, seemingly sizing him up, and then… she turned to Steve and all his worries seemed to vanish when she, with genuine mischief in her voice, said “he’s a bit out of your league isn’t he, Steven? I know we encourage you to be ambitious but—”

“W-what?!” And that was Steve, flustered in his response “No, I’m—he’s—”

“Sweetheart” oh she sounded so cheeky “he has tattoos” Eddie quickly glanced down at his bare forearms where he’d rolled his sleeves up earlier, bats on display, his tattoos usually a source of judgement, she wasn’t judging him though. “You’re afraid of needles.”

“I am NOT!”

“That’s not what I remember from your last round of shots.”

“I was five.” At least he was the last time they’d gone with him to get his shots done. "I've had plenty of shots since then."

“These fears don’t just vanish, Steven, how do you expect to hold onto this handsome young man if you can’t even handle a little pri—”

“Lynda please.” John interrupted what would have been a stellar takedown with a comical amount of exasperation, the man pinching the bridge of his nose as if staving off an incoming headache. Eddie, against all odds, was smiling, fighting back genuine giggles, the free hand not wrapped within Steve’s lifted to cover his mouth as if to hold them in.

“What? It’s not like it didn’t work.” She handed John the glass she’d been holding, since Eddie no longer seemed to need the water, then took a step closer to Eddie “Eddie, dear… how about you and Steven come into the living room, and we can get to know you a little, how does that sound?” There was no anger in her tone, no disgust hidden in the layers of it, she just… she smiled at him.

Where were these ‘rich assholes’ people kept claiming the Harringtons to be? Because he didn’t see them. He could understand the hesitation to trust, he was still nervous, the fear still licked at his very soul that maybe, just maybe they were biding their time, waiting for the right moment to strike when he couldn’t get out, but… was there any reason to be distrustful?

Had the Harringtons ever been outspoken against his people? Ever? Save for maybe one or two occasions where Steve had called someone queer as an insult back in high school, before he’d obviously grown.

People just assumed.

Those at the bottom just assumed the worst of all of those at the top. Same as most assumed the worst of him, that he was mean, that he was scary. They were just at opposite ends of the social ladder. There had to be some good among the rich, why not the Harringtons?

Why couldn’t they be good? Why not at least give them the opportunity to be good?

“Y-yeah… yeah, that’d uh—that’d be okay I think.” Steve squeezed his hand so gently, another attempt to ground him, to keep him tethered. To keep him calm, and it worked. It helped. Steve was there, Steve would keep him safe. No matter who came at them, Steve would keep him safe, not a King at all.

A loyal Knight, a Paladin, a Defender. He’d probably be safe walking through the fiery pits of hell itself, as long as Steve was there beside him. “You sure you’re okay, Eddie? We can go back to yours, we can just… try another day.” And Steve checked in with him too as his parents returned to the Living room, Lynda pausing at the door to wait for them while her husband continued on.

Steve’s hand warm around his, looking at him with a level of concern nobody had bothered to bestow upon him before.

Not even Wayne, but Wayne was kinda gruff, he showed his love in other ways. Steve barely knew him… he was just, that kind of person apparently.

“Nah, we’re here now and with you here? My very own big, strong knight in shining armour? I’m pretty sure I could brave anything.”

And that bashful little smile of Steve’s whenever someone praised him?

Beautiful.

Beautiful enough to chase any bad feelings away with their tails between their legs. Beautiful enough to give him the boost he needed to pull Steve along by his hand and into that living room with Lynda, beautiful enough to give him the strength to take on the goddamn world.

Or at least the scariest thing he could think of in it at the time, that being… being himself in front of two complete strangers who could ruin his life with zero repercussions aside from their son being angry at them.

So it was a pretty big deal, that smile of his.

The first thing Eddie registered as he entered the main living room though, was that off to the right, there was a magnificent mahogany table, complete with three chairs on either side and one at each end.

Last time he’d seen it, it’d been covered in pizza boxes and alcohol options, its majesty concealed beneath a layer of filth. “Stevie can I—” couldn’t help himself

“Later” Steve was quicker than him though, Dustin had already brought up the table before, it wasn’t hard to guess where Eddie’s mind would go.

Of course he’d shot Dustin down, but Eddie? Maybe… just maybe he’d let Eddie use it. Only once his parents left again though, something told him they’d draw a line at a Dungeons and Dragons campaign, one of the main highlights of the ongoing Satanic Panic, being held in their dining room, whether they used it or not.

“So!" John began as he found his seat once more, waiting only for Steve and Eddie to sit down on the sofa close by, side by side, hand in hand, looking like the least likeliest pair in existence, to begin. "Eddie, tell us a little about yourself, how’d you both meet?”

Straight into the deep end then. "Well..."

Part 10

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #i have once called this fic my self-indulgent fic #it is for this reason that you get two updates in a row lmao

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thelionheartedo3 · 1 year

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dream sweet of me

summary: Nate Sewell has lived three centuries walking hand in hand with night terrors. The ones he's been facing recently are some of the worst yet.

pairing: Nate Sewell x f!Detective

notes: This takes place during book 3, between the building collapse scene and the game of pool scene!

wc: 2.1k

[read on ao3]

His hands are covered in concrete dust, broken bricks and splintered wood covering the hole that’s sunk into the ground. He digs, and digs, and no matter what, it feels like he’s not getting through.

Ely is down there. She’s down there with the anunnaki and Nate is above ground and not digging hard enough to get to her.

There’s a sound reminiscent of thunder, the same sound that had had him freezing in his tracks when the building fell in the first place.

Wings crash through the blockade, sending a spray of dust and debris raining down on him. The anunnaki has Ely in his arms, her body battered, blood dripping down from her.

She’s conscious. Her eyes wild with fear as she tries to fight. Nate thinks he shouts her name, lunging, and her hand reaches out, fingers brushing his before he gets a grip on her wrist.

Her hand is slick. Blood’s running down her arms in rivulets. Nate can’t smell, can’t think, only knows there’s fear coursing through him at the thought of losing her.

He tries to hang on, but there’s no way to keep steady with the blood, and his fingers slide down.

The fear in her blue eyes is replaced by betrayal, tears running down her cheeks. “Nate—”

He wakes with a gasp, sitting upright, her name on his tongue. His heart races in his chest, pulse thundering, sweat sticking stray curls to his forehead. His fingers are dug so tightly into his duvet it almost rips apart in his hands.

Nate is no stranger to nightmares.

This is not the first time he’s woken from a dream of her. This is not the first time he’s woken from a nightmare, terrors chasing him into wakefulness as his breath tears from his lungs.

He cannot even say this is the first time he’s woken from a nightmare involving her, though. Involving him failing her.

His eyes dart around the room, taking stock. Just visible at the end of his bed, ears poke above the frame of the stuffed rabbit toy Ely had given him at the carnival all those months ago.

He exhales, the breath shuddering from him.

He’s in his room.

He’s in the warehouse.

He is safe. She is safe.

Nate’s next exhale comes out less harsh, but no less shaky.

He tries to tell himself to calm down even as he’s pushing himself from the bed to head to the en suite.

Even with Adam and Morgan out on patrol, Farah is here in the warehouse. If anything had happened, she would’ve woken in an instant to let him and Ely know.

They’re fine. They’re all fine.

His fingers are trembling as his hand curls around the faucet.

The water is cold enough that he flinches as he splashes it over his face. A needed system shock. He can barely call what he does a perfunctory wash, but his heart is still pounding and he knows there’s only one thing that can soothe him.

Nate’s footsteps are silent as he walks through the halls of the warehouse, following the sound of Ely’s heartbeat like it's a siren song, luring him to the depths but instead of dread, all he feels with its steady, guiding rhythm is relief.

He stops just outside her bedroom door, trying to smother down the sound of his own pulse by listening to what he can hear coming from within. Her heart beating, the slow and steady exhales from her breathing, tell him her dreams are clearly more peaceful than his had been.

She deserves it, after everything.

Nate’s eyes close. Burned into the back of his lids is the vivid image of Ely’s face, bruised and bloodied, tears in her eyes as she reached for him, the sound around them only that of giant wings beating in the air.

He tries to shove the image away with little success, squeezing his eyes tighter.

He’s grateful, at least, that he did not wake up shouting. Farah would’ve been banging down his door before he’d have been able to fully process dream from reality.

He just hopes Farah’s rest is as peaceful as Ely’s.

With a soft sigh, Nate leans his forehead against her door, soaking in the almost-quiet of the night as he just listens.

As hard as he tries, though, it’s not enough to rid his mind of the image of Ely being ripped away from him.

He wants to see her. He needs to see her. All of his hypersenses can tell him she’s fine, but without seeing her—

He lifts his hand, not stepping away from where he’s still pressed to the door. One light knock, he tells himself. If it doesn’t wake her—(a good thing, the sensible part of his brain states)—he’ll just head to the kitchen. He’ll make himself a cup of tea and try to think of anything other than Ely being hunted down every second they’re—

It feels like he physically has to stop that train of thought.

His fingers curl against his palm, digging in, and he raps his knuckles on the door. Just the once.

There’s a moment where Ely’s breathing shifts. For a heartbeat, he thinks she’ll resettle, but after another pause, he hears shuffling. There’s the sound of fabric rustling as blankets get pushed aside, a dull clink on the wood of her nightstand—checking the time, he thinks. Far too early, he knows. It doesn’t take long before her footsteps pad towards the door and Nate only steps away from it when the knob starts to turn.

Nate’s seen Ely in her pyjamas before. She’s in an oversized tee tonight, the edges of bandages poking out from under the sleeves, the hem falling down her thighs just barely showcasing the shorts she’s wearing. There’s something about the tint to her cheeks, the heavy set of her eyelids as her slow blinks bring her eyes up to his that makes his chest ache.

She’s breathing. Safe. Alive.

And as exhausted as they are.

Guilt starts to prickle past the relief that courses through him, and he leans forward, hand reaching up to cup her cheek before a furrow can form on her brows.

“Ya rouhi,” he murmurs, his voice still rough from sleep.

Ely leans into his touch, warmth bleeding into him from her cheek, sighing a soft breath. Her eyes flutter close briefly before she blinks up at him.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he says—not knowing if it’s truly a lie now or not—and he moves his hand to trail down her shoulder before he steps close, wrapping her up in his arms. “I just wanted to see you, is all.”

She settles into his embrace easily, arms winding loosely around his waist as she nuzzles against his chest. Just the feeling of her in his arms helps him feel stable again. She’s safe, and warm, and here, with him. Any flurries of anxiety vanish at her touch, any lingering worries are gone in this moment.

Nate doesn’t think he’s ever been able to feel so steady just by one person’s touch.

Three hundred years, and he’s never felt so at home as he does when he’s with her.

Ely hums softly, a questioning noise that rumbles against his chest where she’s buried her face.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” he says—and he means it this time. His heart’s calmed, and he loosens his grasp so she can peer up at him.

She’d be upset with him calling her adorable, he thinks, but that’s the only word that seems fitting. Heavy eyes, pink cheeks, hair sleep-mussed and her clothes rumpled.

He wants to kiss her.

She hums again—for the briefest moment Nate thinks he’s spoken aloud as she presses up onto the tips of her toes to peck a kiss to his cheek.

“I can stay up with you,” she offers, voice gentle, “if you want to talk about it.”

Nate’s shaking his head before she’s finished. “No, no there’s no need. Truly. I’m sorry for waking you in the first place, I just—” needed to know you’re safe. You’re here. Breathing. With me.

That you still love me.

He’s not often tongue-tied. Not often so afraid to voice his words. But in this moment, he swallows them down, leaving the cut in his sentence as sharp and potent as it is.

Ely either doesn’t mind, or doesn’t notice, nodding along as if he had completed his thought. She slips her hand into his, squeezing gently before she steps back, further into the room.

Nate presses a smile onto his lips. “I should let you get back to sleep.”

His fingers start to go slack; Ely’s hold on tight. She tilts her head as she holds his gaze, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her features, but her blue eyes are as clear as crystals.

“Do you want to stay with me, tonight?”

His breath catches in his throat.

Ely clears her own delicately, a dusty pink blush burning across her face as her lashes dip to her cheeks when she looks down. “I just—I know I sleep better snuggled up to something after a nightmare, and I’m pretty sure you’d wrinkle your nose at me if I offered the shark for you to cuddle with.”

A laugh escapes him, ragged and soft. “Yes. Please.”

She smiles, bright and happy, and takes another step back, tugging Nate forward to match her. She leaves him at the door as he shuts it behind them, heading to her bed and tossing the large stuffed shark atop it towards a chair before plopping herself down, patting the sheets.

Nate can’t help but hurry the few steps it takes to cross the room, lips curled up as Ely all but flops back onto the pillows. She tugs the blankets over them, settling at his side, and Nate slides an arm around her waist, kissing the top of her head.

“Goodnight,” she murmurs, nose nestled in the slope of his neck.

He exhales a low breath, rustling strands of red curls. “Goodnight, ya rouhi.”

Nate wakes from a dreamless slumber to a warm weight on his chest. There’s a moment, as he blinks himself awake, where he’s not certain of what roused him.

There are no clocks in Ely’s room, so Nate can only hazard a guess at the time, but dawn light isn’t slipping past her curtains’ edges quite yet.

He brings his eyes back from the window to look down at Ely where she’s half atop him, clinging to his shirt with the hand curled on his chest. She’s sleeping soundly, face relaxed, wisps of curls falling around her face. His arms, still wound around her waist, tighten slightly, holding her closer and closing his eyes once more—

That’s when there’s a soft knock on the door.

It matches what woke him in the first place. Ely sleeps on, but just beyond the door, Nate can hear Adam’s familiar heartbeat.

As carefully and gently as he can, Nate shifts Ely back to the bed. Her hand stays tangled in his shirt, fingers still holding firm. He huffs a soft laugh, gingerly peeling them away, lifting her hand up to press a kiss to her palm before he gets up completely.

Adam looks like he’s just walked in from patrol when Nate swings the door open. He says nothing in greeting, simply raises an eyebrow at him.

“Let me go get dressed,” Nate says, keeping his voice soft. “I’ll be ready in but a moment.”

Adam nods. “We’ll be in the living room.”

He waits until Adam’s halfway down the hall before turning to sweep his eyes over Ely. His fingers tighten on the door as he hesitates, before he turns, stepping back into the room to head towards her desk.

She has a stack of sticky notes, half buried under scraps of fabric and trimmed off ends of embroidery floss. He finds a pen, taking one of the notes to write out where the rest of the team will be, and promising that breakfast will be ready for her when she wakes.

He takes the slip of paper and on his way back to the bed, gathers Ely's abandoned stuffed animal into the crook of his arm. He lays it close to her in the warmth his body left behind. Her fingers brush against it in her sleep, and Nate exhales a gentle laugh as she curls herself around it. He smooths her hair away from her forehead to press a kiss to her skin, leaving the note behind on the pillow he used.

Nate makes it to the door before he turns to look back for a final time at Ely. Safe. Sleeping. Not in the hands of those who are hunting her.

With steps in time with her heartbeat, Nate slips out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #twc book 3 spoilers #nate sewell x detective #I know this isn't the furniture fic BUT I'm still working on that and had part of this written out in a doc from 2019 #so I rewrote it now that I'm a better writer and there's a canonical reason for this to take place lmao #plus Ely has an ikea shark here so I think it's still a win gfjbgfj #rinn writes vampire fic

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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Answered Call

Jason Todd x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, Blood & Violence, Mentions of Death

Author's Note: @bunnvoid didn't as but they're gonna receive because I'm only summoned when I smell angst brewing! Based on this piece that Bunn made and the sequel to this! Enjoy! -Thorne

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The first time he ever held a dead body, he was eight. He felt the warmth leave Martha and Thomas’ bodies, laid there between them, and sobbed for hours until someone finally decided to call GCPD and report the disturbance. The next time he held a body that was so personal to him was the death of his son, and by that time, Jason’s body had already gone cold. He grits his teeth as a tear slides down his cheek from under the mask, refusing to look over at Jason curled up in the passenger seat because if he does, he knows he won’t be able to keep it together long enough to get back to the cave, he’ll break down there. He’s already called ahead, knows Leslie is there, knows Alfred and the others are standing by waiting for their arrival. He just hopes he can make it in time.

Cassandra’s ahead of him on her bike and he knows she’s trying to get them down a street that isn’t crowded, but every one is seemingly packed with people and Bruce can’t help but feel anger well in his chest. His son is dying, and these people won’t move. She screams at the top of her lungs for him, and Bruce has never heard her yell so strongly.

Suddenly, she sticks her arm out and makes a hard left turn, so sharp that her body brushes against the pavement as she does and Bruce only has time to make the turn, then slam on the breaks as he sees Cassandra’s body turned to the side, feet planted firmly on the ground.

He follows her line of sight, and it shouldn’t send shivers up his spine given the fear in his heart, but goosebumps trail up his arms and legs at the sea of flashing blue lights before them. He doesn’t even have time to ask when he sees the green line on the comm click and an all too familiar voice echoes on the line.

All units we’ve got a 10-59 coming down the main street. I want roadblocks on every east and west intersection and street. I repeat, I want 10-93’s on every intersection and street going east and west. Clear the roads. No one goes through except Batman and Black Bat.

Cassandra only revs her bike once, then she’s peeling out in a hail of white smoke as her tires spin and she speeds down the street, Bruce on her tail like a bat out of hell. As they pass, he sees some officers setting up blockades with their cars and barriers, others are moving people left and right, but the majority of them are simply standing in front of their squad cars, right arms cocked up in salutes. Bruce doesn’t have time to admire their dedication because all he can think about is that while the gesture is one of respect, all he sees is the image of a funeral procession.

He shoves that thought as far from his mind as he possibly can, but it decides to stick in the back of it, like a dogeared page. Jason hates it when people dogear books, he thinks. He always says it’s a sin against the very soul of the book.He has to take a deep breath to steady himself away from those thoughts. The last thing he needs is to be blindsided by something he thinks in the past tense.

“Move.” He commands to Cassandra, and she obeys, falling in beside him as he tears down the main street and out onto the highway in the direction of the cave, the purple flames of the afterburner propelling him faster. He watches the navpoint between him and the cave grow smaller and smaller, and it’s only rivaled by the faint and rare beeping of the heart monitor he’s got pinned to Jason’s chest.

Bruce is running out of time.

Jason is running out of time.

The water cascades over the front of the Batmobile as he enters the cave entrance and the titanium doors have already been lifted for their arrival. He keeps going, until he sees the levels of the cave before him. Bruce doesn’t slow, he pushes the Batmobile as hard as she’ll go and jumps her to the second level. The platform shakes from the strain, he sees things fall from shelves, but he doesn’t care because Cassandra appears beside him and she’s already coming to the side of the Batmobile to peel the door up.

Dick and Duke are there, already tugging Jason up and out and Bruce comes up behind them to pick his son up, managing to not jostle him too much as he runs to the operating table Leslie’s already prepared. He sets Jason down and her voice floods his ears.

“Get his suit off.”

Bruce works to undo the clasps and straps on the front of Jason’s suit, and he barely gets them open before she’s sticking heart monitors to him. Leslie turns, fumbling with the monitor and she sees it flicker, signaling Jason’s still with them.

Her eyes go back to Bruce. “List of injuries?”

He lists them with a monotoned fashion. “Shotgun blast to the abdomen, minor wounds to arms and legs, cut to the face—”

A spurt of blackish blood cuts him off and Leslie’s hands are already peeling away the torn skin and her face blanches; Bruce doesn’t need to see, he knows, even as she says, “He’s bleeding internally from his intestines,” her hands shift around, and she lets out a breath of shock. “Jesus, his lung’s been punctured. It’s filled with blood.”

Bruce is there, already grabbing a syringe with a long tube connected. “Which lung?”

“Left.”

He shoves away the fabric from Jason’s side, murmurs an apology, and shoves the needle up and into his lung. The blood immediately starts flowing from the tube and onto the floor, but he pays it no mind. “Suture his lung.” He turns his head. “Cassandra, get the oxygen mask. Put it on him.”

Her hands are swift, and he sees her grab Jason’s shoulder, squeezing tightly, her own agony written across her face. Leslie’s shifting hands make a squelching sound as she moves around Jason’s internal organs but she’s quick and sure once she moves to his abdomen.

“There’s buckshot everywhere,” she explains, “I need someone to help pick it out.”

It’s Dick’s turn to step up as he pulls on the long rubber gloves, holding the tray for her. Some she can pick out with her fingers, others she has to use the long nose tweezers. They get about halfway and Jason’s body suddenly convulses, his heart rate and blood pressure going wild, then he jerks, going still.

Leslie meets Bruce’s eyes for a split second, both of their expressions pure shock and then she’s pulling away, yanking off the chest monitors and grabbing for the paddles. He takes the needle from Jason’s lung, and she places the pads down, one on the middle of his sternum, the other just below it.

“Charging,” she says. “Clear!”

His chest jumps then falls flat back against the bed. Nothing.

“Charging! Clear!”

His chest jumps again, fingers clenching with the shock to his nervous system but there is still no pickup of his heartbeat.

Leslie’s breathing is coming out in pants. She’s scared. They all are. She inhales sharply. “You’re not dying on me, Jason Peter,” she gripes. “Charging!” she rubs the paddles together vigorously, then puts them back. “Clear!”

This time, Jason’s chest jumps and flattens, and they stare for a solid second, Leslie’s going to up the voltage when a beep echoes from the monitor. They look, not believing their eyes nor ears, but sure enough, it’s a steady pulse. Jason wheezes out through bruised and injured lungs, but it’s a breath, nonetheless.

They all breathe a collective sigh of relief, but Leslie doesn’t let up. “Dick, I still need your help with the buckshot.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice hoarse and sticks the bowl back out for her.

Bruce steps back. He lets her work, knowing he can’t do anything more.

He hears the children behind him, Stephanie and Duke are in each other’s arms sniffing slightly, and Tim is pacing back and forth along the walkway. An arm comes around his waist and he spares a glance down. Damian is there, his fingers are tight in Bruce’s utility belt, dark brows pulled together, a deep frown on his face. He lays his arm over Damian’s shoulder, palm flat against the boy’s chest, unspoken words of comfort between them. He feels another weight on his bicep and looks over, this time seeing Cassandra there.

She lays her head against his arm. “Scared,” she whispers and Bruce’s jaw clenches so tightly he swears his teeth are going to crack under the strain.

“Me too,” he manages to reply and Damian’s fingers clench as he turns his face into his father’s side, his small body shaking with every sob. Bruce wants to break down too. He wants to collapse at Jason’s bedside.

Jason don’t leave me again, he thinks, he prays.

“Fight, son,” he begs. “Damnit, fight.”

His children say nothing, but they know the worry built in his bones. Knows what Bruce stands to lose if Jason dies again. He makes a promise then and there, with a quick look back at the old suit still in the case—it seemed to be the brightest thing in the dim cave—he promises, with all the pain he’s feeling, he won’t look away from the outcome.

If Jason dies, he’ll stay beside him.

If Jason dies, he’ll hold his hand.

If Jason dies, he’ll be there to make up for when he wasn’t.

If Jason dies, Bruce will be there with him.

He won’t let his boy die alone again.

***

It takes a long time before Leslie is even close to finished with his surgery, but once she does, Bruce is the first person there, the others following up to Jason’s bed. They’ve dosed him heavily with morphine and other sedatives to keep him stable and Leslie steps back once she knows Jason isn’t going to flatline again. Her eyes find the young boy gripping the blanket tightly, only Dick’s arm across his chest keeping him from crawling up with his brother. She looks up, gazing into the eyes of a man who is starting to look a lot like the eight-year-old boy she once knew.

“I’ve done all I can,” she says, trying to keep the emotions from spilling over; she has to be the doctor right now, not the mother. “But it’s up to Jason now.”

They know what it means. It’s not a promise that he’ll pull through. Jason’s will was probably the strongest of their family, but they knew the young man was tired.

Bruce bends down and caresses his son’s head, pressing his face into Jason’s temple, his lips next to his ear. “I know you’re tired,” he whispers, so quietly it’s as if he wasn’t speaking at all. “If this is all you can do…I understand. If you’re ready…I’ll be right here with you.” His lids snap shut, and he feels the sting, so powerful, like he’d never felt in his life. “But if you’re not ready yet…then you have to fight. We still need you. Your family needs you. I need you.”

He pulls away and gives Jason’s head one final caress before he stands up straight and watches his son’s chest rise and fall evenly. He feels hands at his wrists, undoing the gauntlet but he doesn’t look away to see who it is, he merely lets them take them off.

Damian is perched between him and Dick on one side of the bed, Duke is at the foot, and Stephanie and Cassandra are on the other side. They all stand, watching, waiting, knowing it’ll be hours, maybe even days before Jason finally decides to wake up again, if he does at all.

And so, they wait.

***

“—ar death, who see with blinding sight, blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Dick read the words softly, halfway through the book of poems that he’d found on Jason’s bedside earlier in the night.

He let out a soft breath. “And you, my father, there on the sad height, curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” He looked at the next page.

“Jason likes Keats more than Thomas,” Damian muttered, eyes still shut as he leant against his eldest brother’s chest. “Find When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be,” he said. “He likes that one.”

Dick doesn’t argue, merely going back in the book and finding where it’s located; when he gets it, he breathes deeply and clears his throat. “When I have fears that I may cease to be, before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, before high-pilèd books, in charactery, hold like rich garners the full ripened grain. When I behold—”

He quiets when Damian shifts, pulling the cape tighter around his shoulders for warmth; once he settles, Dick starts again. “When I behold, upon the night’s starred face, huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, and think that I may never live to trace their shadows with the magic hand of chance. And when I feel, fair creature of an hour, that I shall never look upon thee more, never have relish in the faery power of unreflecting love—”

Bruce overtakes him, voice low and full of heart as he finishes, “Then on the shore of the wide world I stand alone, and think till love and fame to nothingness do sink.” He doesn’t open his eyes or pull his hand away from where he’s got it pressed to his cheek. “John Keats was dying of tuberculosis when he wrote that.”

“He nursed his brother while he was dying of it too,” Damian adds, turning his face into Dick’s chest. “I will not nurse Akhi whilst he dies. He will live.”

They fall into a silence; Dick is still looking for another poem and Damian is trying to meditate. It’s a contemplation beyond what they want to think about, of life and death, twenty-five years is too young to die, and they can’t do it again.

Their silence is broken by a rough voice, scratchy from sleep and heavily laced with staved off pain, but it’s clear enough.

“Hey…old man,” Jason murmurs, and he can’t manage to take a look around at everyone, though he knows they’re there; but he can see Bruce. He can see his father.

Bruce grasps the only finger Jason can manage to raise, his body is still too weak to do much other than breathe, and he whispers back with a tearful laugh, “Hey son.”

217 notes · View notes

fantasy2739 · 3 years

Note

Jamie Prompt: something to do with his dad and the team? Like they are all protective of him ?

So a post 2x08 is what I’ve gone for cause that scene hurt me.

Enjoy!

He thinks (he’s an idiot) that after getting thrown out by Coach Beard Jamie won’t see his old man for a while. He thinks he’ll just go away for a bit, lick his wounds and then come back in a bit. Maybe compliment him a little with the worlds shitest, most backhanded compliments. Try and weasel his way back in. He does not think, he never would have even guessed, that he would be stupid enough to turn up to Richmond’s next match. Or at least turn up after the match, because he’s been barred from the grounds. Jamie thanks Miss Welton for that mentally a million times. He’ll ask Keeley later what she likes because all he’d said was ‘I don’t want him here’ and Miss Welton had sorted it like that. Hadn’t asked for any details, although she may have heard about some of it, just said ‘of course’ and moved on. He should definitely send her a gift or something because the idea of playing with his old man in the crowd actually fills him with such dread he almost feels sick.

Instead, the dick is in the car park. On reflection maybe Jamie should have known he would come. Because he’s a dick. And he does whatever a dick would do. Which is stalk Jamie apparently. And Jamie does not want to deal with it. He can’t go through another breakdown in front of the team. And he can’t ask someone else to go deal with him, it’s his old man for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t know why he’s bothering with all this tough man bullshit, like the team would think any less of him.

Deep down he knows it’s because there’s still that fear. Still that haunting, gut-wrenching, all consuming fear that lives in him. The little boy who was terrified of his dads footsteps. Of the insults, fists, and rage. Of the man he’d stood up to occasionally, fleetingly, only to get it back so much worse. Not last time though. Last time he’d stood up and people had stood behind him. Not that it has stopped him being scared shitless. The feeling of horror right after he hit him, watching him start to get back up, and knowing, just knowing, it wasn’t going to end well. He’d half thought Roy was going to hit him too, not consciously. But Jamie, well, he hadn’t exactly been in the best state of mind to not perceive anything as not dangerous.

He knows that if he asked, said anything, his team would be right there. He just doesn’t want to. So he shoves his phone away, hiding the text from his old man and changes. They won this time so he probably won’t get too much stick. And he scored the winning goal. It’ll be fine, he tells himself.

So why does he feel like he’s walking into a lions den.

It goes to shit immediately. He’s barely ten feet out the door when his old man appears.

“There he is.” James says, Jamie hates the way his hands drop limply to his sides and his whole body tenses. He feels his jaw clench and unclench repeatedly. “Nice to see you playing properly eh? Against an amateur team but still. Managed to score eh?” He’s way to close and Jamie can’t look at him. He’s staring out into space like it will keep him safe. Like every word James says to him isn’t reverberating deep in his mind. He’s not quite sure what he’s done wrong when James grabs him by the jaw.

“Look at me.” James snaps at him. He’s shoved hard just as Isaac walks out. Fuck.

“What the fuck you doing bruv?” Isaac asks, physically stepping between Jamie and James. James moves forward but Isaac is a blockade. He shoves James back.

“Can’t talk to me yourself eh Jamie?” James taunts. “Fucking pussy.” Jamie’s hand curls into a fist.

“No.” Jamie grounds out. He rests a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “I got this.” Because he is not having a breakdown in front of his teammates ever again.

“You sure bruv?” Isaac asks, arms crossing. He doesn’t move though. Okay so Jamie is just going to have to tell James to piss off in front of Isaac. He can do that.

He fucking can’t.

He’s breathing a little harder and he still can’t look James in the eyes. He’s starting to sweat a little and his legs feel like jelly. So of course while he’s trying to get his tongue to work and James continues to mock him, more people are coming out. Colin stops pretty much as soon as he’s out the door, causing Dani to bump into him and Bumbercatch to bump into Dani.

“What’s he doing here?” Colin asks, there’s an undercurrent of anger in his voice. Even Dani has lost his perpetual smile. More and more of the team is crowding nearby. Roy comes out after nudging Jan out the way.

“Why the fuck are you.” Roy stops and stares at James Tartt. “The fuck are you doing here? You’re not allowed on the fucking grounds.” Jamie actually feels relief at the sight of Roy. “Newsflash fuckwit, the car park is part of the grounds.” Oh shit, yeah. Yeah it is.

“Am I not allowed to visit my own son anymore?” James asks, all mock pouting. “Why don’t we ask Jamie?” And Jamie freezes because he should say no. He can’t keep letting him in.

“No.” Jamie says quietly. His hand is still on Isaac’s shoulder. James tries to step closer, but there’s Zoreaux, standing right next to Isaac, not letting him anywhere near Jamie.

“Couldn’t hear that.” James says flicking at his ear.

“No.” Jamie repeats louder. He can see Roy nodding in the corner of his eye. He’s not a fan of the way James’ face twists. Or the way his eyes narrow slightly. It’s the small things, the little dangers signs that Jamie has learnt well.

“Well it’s not like I enjoy watching my son play for an amateur club.” James starts and Jamie listens to about half of it before the words slip out of his mouth.

“Just piss off!” He snaps. Instantly he wishes he could shove them back in his mouth because all he’s done is made it worse. Maybe his brain fried. Maybe he was possessed by prick Jamie. Or maybe Roy took over his brain with transparence or something. Either way he knows what’s coming. As soon as he thinks it, that fist is flying towards him and Jamie flinches.

It never makes contact. Roy is hauling him away while Isaac puts his body between Jamie and James again. Shoving the man back before he can do any more damage. Zoreaux and Richárd are snapping in rapid French and Dani is yelling in Spanish. Colin is surging up next to Isaac and telling James to piss off. Bumbercatch looks about ready to launch himself at James and Jan is calling him a terrible excuse for a human. Jamie can understand maybe half the words being spoken but the tone definitely sounds angry. He’s pretty sure that Sam just swore (but it’s Sam so he maybe just called him a piece of shit). Jamie doesn’t get to see exactly what happens because Roy has dragged him inside. Jamie presses himself against the wall and shoves his hands in his pocket because he’s not doing this again. He can still hear them yelling at James outside. He should probably stop them, before they beat him to a pulp or something.

“You alright?” Roy asks. Jamie nods. He breathes a few times and Roy gently pats his shoulder.

“Sorry ‘bout him.” Jamie says because what else is he meant to do.

“Don’t apologise.” Roy says firmly but gently. “He’s a dick. The biggest dick to ever be a dick.” Jamie gives him a half smile. “You don’t have to face him alone.”

“He’s my dad.” Jamie insists. That’s the whole point. It’s his dad. His problem.

“Fuck.” Roy grumbles and Jamie feels like it’s not directed at him. “Jamie, he’s a dick. You shouldn’t have to fucking see him. Get it through that prick head of yours. We’re here to help you.” Jamie opens his mouth to argue, about what he doesn’t know. “We’re here for you.” Jamie’s jaw slams shut and he nods. Roy nods back. And Jamie finally relaxes.

177 notes · View notes

sarcasmandships · 3 years

Text

yellow | paul lahote

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

word count: 3.8k

angst, hurt + minimal comfort

trigger warnings: eating disorder, death, hospital/medical scene, vomit

paul imprinted on y/n nearly a year ago, it wasn’t something he ever wanted. in fact, he tried so hard to fight the imprint at first that he made himself ill.

paul was only just beginning to learn that he couldn’t fight off every problem he encountered. imprinting on y/n had been a harsh awakening for him, and he knew now that he couldn’t punch and kick his way through life.

that didn’t stop him trying though, he stared at the hole he’d just created in the dry wall of his bedroom. he was going to have to buy another poster.

“paul, are you still there?” y/n’s voice was muffled through the phone which lay face down on his bed, “i heard a bang.”

and paul could hear her concern so he snatched the phone and held it up to his ear, “yeah i’m still here don’t worry,” he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“okay...” she said uncertainly, “are you alright?”

he was clenching his fists, his jaw, and every other muscle in his body, “yeah, yeah i’m fine,” he said, trying to maintain a light and airy tone as much as possible but the words just came out flat, “i should be asking if you’re okay.”

y/n took several minutes to answer, “you don’t need to worry about me paul.”

if only she knew that his entire life now revolved around worrying about her. about wanting to protect her, from the leeches, from every creep and asshole in this town, from every bout of stress or sadness.

“i never do anything else,” he tried to say jokingly, but his voice broke mid-way through the sentence and he punched his mattress.

“look paul...” he could hear her frowning through the phone as she sighed, “i gotta go to my appointment now but I’ll see you later for the bonfire, yeah?”

tears were burning in paul’s eyes as he croaked out a response, “yeah, do you need me to pick you up?”

“it’s all good, i’m going to emily’s first to give her a hand with the food so i’ll go down with her.”

“yeah, sounds great,” he said flatly, “i’ll see you there then.”

“bye paul,” she whispered and hung up the phone.

he launched the phone at the wall, and it shattered into chunks of useless plastic. he held his head in his hands and before he knew it, his whole body was racked with dry sobs.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

he grabbed a pair of beat-up trainers from under his bed and pulled them on. he thundered downstairs and out the front door, ignoring the protests of his drunken father.

paul ran.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul,’ y/n would tease him.

maybe not, but he couldn’t do anything else because she wouldn’t fucking let him. y/n had always been stubborn but in the last few months she’d become increasingly closed off and defensive. if paul made the slightest attempt to ‘stick his nose where it didn’t belong’ then she’d shut him out for weeks on end.

being apart from her was agonising.

he used to think sam and jared were exaggerating when they talked about the pain of not seeing their imprints. but now he knew it was all too real and he couldn’t stand it, so paul had learned to bite his tongue so she wouldn’t give him the silent treatment.

that was something that did not come easy to him, but it was easier than not seeing her, not talking to her, not being close to her.

paul knew on some level it was selfish to let y/n play out her fantasises and pretend that everything was fine, he knew it was wrong for indulging her. but whenever he tried to confront her, to help her, then she would shut him out again and he couldn’t bare that.

it was raining heavily now, the hail stones battered off his exposed skin as he dove out of sight behind the tree line.

staying calm was not something paul was good at, he had to spend so much of his energy focusing on blocking out his anger and sadness and pain and anguish just to make sure he didn’t shift at an inappropriate moment.

but right now, he could smash through that blockade and let every emotion flood through his body as his flesh ripped and his bones snapped, and he shed his human form to leave a large, grey wolf in his place.

paul relished in the release, it felt good to finally let go of every negative emotion he was holding onto and embrace the wolf inside of him. he ran through the trees, taking in the smell of the wet earth and the salty sea air.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

y/n told him that once after a particularly explosive fight he’d had with his father. they sat on the beach, and she stroked his hair as he laid with his head on her lap. he told her he was going to leave home, she pointed out he had no money, he told her that he’d live in the streets if he had to.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’ she had said, her fingers entangled in his hair.

but y/n didn’t seem to adopt that mentality when it came to her own problems, and paul’s desire to protect her made her problems, his problems. and now he had an overwhelming number of problems that everyone kept telling him he couldn’t run away from, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

he kicked up soil and dead leaves behind him as he ran through the woods, the hailstones has subsided to a light drizzle which still managed to soak his fur. he paused to shake the water off him when he hear someone else’s voice in his head, someone else had shifted.

“hey paul.”

“hey jake.”

paul tried to shut off his inner monologue so that jacob couldn’t hear what he was thinking, he thought he was doing an alright job until-

“rough day, huh?”

paul growled.

“yeah i guess, y/n’s seeing her therapist right now....”

“is she getting better?”

paul could sense the concern in jacob’s thoughts but this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have right now.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well, what the fuck else was he supposed to do? everyone kept telling him that he couldn’t run away but no one was offering any alternative solutions.

it was always ‘calm down, paul.’

‘you can’t fight your way out of everything, paul.’

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well why the fuck not?

no one seemed to understand that he wasn’t running for his own sake but for everyone else’s. and most importantly, for y/n’s. it was excruciatingly difficult to keep those thoughts to himself and out of jacob’s mind, so he began running through the trees again to provide some kind of distraction.

“yeah, she’s going over to emily’s first to help out so i’m meeting her there.”

“do you think you might finally tell her tonight? it’s been nearly a year and she still has no idea....”

“she can’t handle it; she’s got enough going o,n i can’t burden her with all of this too.”

that was only part of it. paul was worried about how y/n would take the news that he, and all his friends were shapeshifting wolves that existed to protect the town from vampires. and even more concerning, how would she take the news that he had imprinted on her? y/n was too fragile right now, he had to protect her even if that meant keeping the truth from her.

but beyond that, he was worried that she wouldn’t accept him. paul had a crippling fear of rejection at the best of times, but the prospect of his own imprint rejecting him was unimaginable.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

maybe not forever, but for right now he was going to sprint as fast as he could.

***

the blazing bonfire crackled just meters in front of them and yet y/n was still shivering; paul wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close into his chest. she nuzzled into him and paul was filled with a burst of euphoria at their closeness. her eyes were barely open as she leaned into him, he tightened his grip on her frozen frame.

“are you okay?” he mumbled into her hair, it smelled like lavender.

she nodded slowly, “yeah, i’m just tired, today was pretty rough.”

paul frowned. he wished that they weren’t surrounded by so many people, they were sat a little away from the rest of the group, but they didn’t have the privacy he would’ve liked.

“do you want to talk about it?”

y/n sniffled, when paul looked down at her he saw tears slowly running down her cheeks and his heart shattered.

he pulled her in closer and wiped away the tears, “hey, hey what’s wrong?”

y/n just shook her head, “i don’t want to talk about it.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, y/n’ he wanted to say.

“are you sure?” he asked hesitantly, desperately wanting to help but also not wanting her to clam up again.

she looked away from him; the glare from the roaring bonfire reflected in her glassy eyes. paul enveloped one of her cold, bony hand in his and squeezed it gently but her frown persisted. there was a hollowness in his chest as he stared at her miserable expression; paul knew he couldn’t punch away anyone’s problems but as it turns out, holding hands is just as ineffective.

“dr charles wants me to go to inpatient treatment,” she said bluntly, “he says my physical health is deteriorating too much.”

something twisted in his gut.

“but i thought you were…getting better?” he said cautiously.

paul knew that was a lie.

y/n knew that was a lie, but she was so good at pretending otherwise she had everyone convinced that she was getting better. everyone but him, and he didn’t want her to know that she wasn’t fooling him with the ‘i’m eating again, i’m doing great’ routine she had become so well-versed in.

“well, i’m not better,” she snapped, pushing paul off her as she leapt to her feet.

superhuman hearing or otherwise, everyone else around the bonfire heard y/n’s exclamation, and their heads snapped over to stare between her and paul. emily began to stand up but paul waved her off and she sat back down next to sam. he approached y/n slowly, tears continued to stream down her face but when he moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she pushed him away.

he held up his hands, “okay, okay – i won’t touch you, why don’t we go somewhere quiet to talk-”

“no,” she snapped, “i don’t want to talk paul, all i ever do is fucking talk about my feelings and as long as i say the right things then everyone thinks i’m better, but i’m not fucking better, okay?”

“i know,” he roared back, “i know you’re not better, in fact you’re getting worse. i watch you get sicker every single day, i watch you withering away, i watch you dying and there is nothing that i can do because you won’t let me.”

y/n bit her lip and looked away from him.

tears were burning in paul’s eyes, “i can’t make you better, i can’t make you eat, i can’t look after you and it’s killing me.”

“i never asked you to look after me,” she screamed back, tears flowing freely down her face now, “i don’t know why you think it’s your job to keep me alive but it isn’t-”

“yes, it is!”

paul was shaking now, he was trying to hold onto his humanity with every fibre of his being, but the pain and anger was overwhelming. he was reaching his breaking point. he tried to focus on y/n; she was his anchor and usually the thought of her, focusing on the sound of her heartbeat was enough to calm him down. but usually, she wasn’t the focus is his anger, and now when he looked at her all he saw was how frail and weak she looked.

she was dying and she wouldn’t let him help her.

everyone was staring now; paul didn’t want to be on this beach anymore, he couldn’t deal with this right now. it was all too much; his head was spinning and his limbs were trembling.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam leapt to his feet, ready to jump in and tackle paul to the ground as he lurched towards y/n. but instead of shifting and attacking her, he grabbed her hand and led her away from the bonfire and the rest of the pack.

“paul what are you doing?” y/n asked through chattering teeth.

she didn’t try to fight him off but paul knew this was more likely a sign of her lack of energy, and not her willingness to go with him. they were at the edge of the beach now, where the sand bordered with the rough concrete path that led back towards the heart of la push. paul stopped in his tracks and turned to face y/n as he heard her breathing become increasingly shallow.

he studied her intently, emaciated body, pale lips, hollow cheeks. he could hear her heart beating slowly and irregularly inside her chest, he could see her struggling to catch a breath. despite her weakened body she stared back at him, with a clenched jaw and arms crossed across her chest.

“you can’t run away from your problems, y/n,” he finally said.

she snorted, “i’m not you, paul.”

“no, but you’re my impr-” he stopped himself before he revealed too much and ran a hand through his hair, “you’re my best friend y/n i-”

“no, jared is your best friend,” she said pointedly.

“for god’s sake can you stop being difficult for two damn seconds?” he snapped.

she let out a shrill laugh, “right sorry, i forget i’m just an inconvenience to everyone around here, i should just go.”

paul grabbed her hand before she could turn away from him. he towered over her, but when their eyes met it was like nothing else mattered. in every second of his existence, paul was acutely aware that gravity and the laws of nature didn’t bind him to the earth; she did. and when she looked into his eyes like that it only reminded him that she was his everything, before paul knew it, his anger was melting away and there was nothing but pure euphoria flowing through his body.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself. but in that moment, nothing else mattered except for the fact that y/n was standing chest to chest with him, and she was staring into his eyes. nothing else mattered; not her anger towards him, her disease, his feelings of helplessness, his fear of rejection.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“do you believe in soulmates, y/n?” he asked breathily.

“what?” she asked; her breath billowed out of her chapped lips and hung visibly in the cool september air, thick, like cigarette smoke.

he took a deep breath; it was now or never.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“y/n, there’s something i have to tell you-”

she was the first to break eye contact with him, her pupils dilated suddenly, and her eyes fluttered shut. she managed to grip onto his bicep lightly as she collapsed, but her hand turned limp and rolled gently onto the sand as she lay unconscious in his arms.

***

“clear!” carlisle hollered.

paul reluctantly dropped y/n’s hand as carlisle pressed the paddles to her chest and sent two hundred volts of electricity searing through her lifeless body.

he frowned at the consistent flatline on the monitor, “push ten of epi and charge again,” he ordered the nurse, resuming chest compressions as he waited for the next round of medication to be administered.

paul grabbed her hand again while he had the chance, she was already turning cold. the blood had drained from her face, and paul couldn’t focus on her heartbeat to calm him because she no longer had one.

“clear!”

they repeated the routine they had been performing for the last several minutes; paul let go of her hand, carlisle shocked her, the flatline remained.

the nurse shook her head, “asystole,” she said flatly.

“what does that mean?” paul asked frantically, he looked between carlisle and y/n, “why aren’t you helping her?”

carlisle retrieved a neuro torch from the pocket of his lab coat, peeling back y/n’s eyelids he shone the light over each of her eyes, “pupil’s are fixed and dilated,” he said to the nurse.

“why are you stopping? fix her!” paul wailed.

“i’m sorry paul, there’s nothing else we can do for her,” he said softly, “time of death, 19.08.”

the nurse nodded and made a note on y/n’s chart before exiting the trauma room, leaving just paul, sam, and carlisle in the room with y/n’s lifeless body.

paul didn’t cry, or scream, or phase into a giant wolf. he stood by y/n’s bedside, clutching her hand in his and staring straight ahead at the monitor she was attached to. it continued to let out a continuous, monotone beep. sam, who was just waiting for paul to explode, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder; paul didn’t have the energy to push him away.

“bring her back,” he croaked.

carlisle looked between paul and sam, “i am very sorry for your loss, paul, but there is nothing else i can do, she’s gone-”

“well bring her back!” he roared, falling to his knees as he continued to clutch y/n’s hand, “you fix her, you bring her back, you change her i don’t care-”

“you know i can’t do that-”

“yes, you can. you’ve done it before, change her i don’t care if she’s a vampire just bring her back,” he sobbed.

“paul, we can’t violate the treaty,” sam barked.

“i don’t give a fuck about the treaty,” he turned his head to snarl at sam, “bring her back right now doc or i swear to god i will-”

“i am very sorry paul, but even if i wanted to change her i couldn’t, it’s too late. there are some things even venom can’t fix, even if i tried the venom wouldn’t be able to circulate her body without a heartbeat.”

paul rose from his knees and dropped y/n’s hand. he was robotic as he began chest compressions, despite protests from carlisle. sam tried to pull paul’s arms away from y/n, but he shoved him off roughly and continued to rhythmically administer cpr.

“paul, you need to stop,” carlisle said, “she’s gone – that isn’t going to help her.”

he ignored him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’.

he wasn’t running anymore.

for once in his life paul was facing his problem head on.

he wasn’t running anymore.

he was doing what everyone always wanted, and yet sam and carlisle were trying to stop him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam and carlisle winced as there was an audible crack.

“you’re breaking her ribs, paul,” carlisle said, attempting to remove paul’s hands from y/n’s body but he flinched away from the vampire’s icy touch.

carlisle looked at sam pleadingly; sam nodded briefly at him before reaching forward and attempting to drag paul away from y/n’s body. he resisted, struggling against sam’s grip as he maintained the rhythmic compressions. his vision blurred in front of him, refusing to take on the scene before him.

he never got a chance to tell her about the imprint.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

she never regained consciousness after she collapsed.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to say goodbye.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to tell her he loved her.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam was dragging him backwards, away from y/n; his rigid grip kept paul’s arms pinned to his sides and stopped him from reaching out to cling to y/n.

paul couldn’t breathe.

everything was spinning.

the harsh, fluorescent hospital lights burned his watery eyes; he wanted nothing more than to sink down into darkness till he could awake from this nightmare.

y/n couldn’t be dead.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“someone will need to contact her family, they will need to make arrangements,” carlisle commented quietly, “ i will call them myself if you give me the number.”

“this is my fault,” paul choked out.

“what?”

“it’s my fault,” his voice caught in his throat, “i let her slowly kill herself because i didn’t want her shut me out.”

“y/n was sick for a long time paul-” carlisle began.

“and i could’ve fixed her, but i was too selfish to let her go and now she’s gone forever.”

his knuckles turned white as he gripped the metal pole that ran along the side of y/n’s bed, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her body.

sam placed a hand on his shoulder, “there’s nothing you could’ve done paul, you already did everything you could for her - you can’t love someone back together.”

“what if it was emily?” paul snarled, “would you be so calm and condescending if it was your imprint lying dead in front of you?”

paul’s heart pounded in his chest, he was still unable to look at her. he wanted to remember her alive and breathing, not like this.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“if you’ll excuse me, i should get started on some paperwork,” carlisle said quietly.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

“c’mon paul, you should get out of here.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

his eyes flickered up, and the sight of y/n’s corpse sent acidic vomit bubbling up his throat and into his mouth. he turned sharply on his heel and choked out his stomach contents into a bin in the corner.

after he composed himself paul did what he did best.

he ran.

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight wolf pack #sam uley #emily young #paul lahote imagine #angst #hurt and comfort

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

Text

statistically significant | 6 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

Mina, Kaminari, and Bakugou did not waste any time.

No sooner had Bakugou spoken than he had you on your feet, shepherding you to the door. His movements had completely changed--no longer was he loud, aggressive, the most volatile thing in the room. Now, he slipped behind you like a shadow, his body pressed firmly and protectively over you, lithe armor at your back.

Mina and Kaminari moved with you, looking solemn.

“We’re going for the surveillance room,” Bakugou growled, “Need to see what the fuck is happening.”

The hall was barren as you emerged into it, silent and still until another explosion rocked the foundations of the building.

“And fast, we need to get Y/N out,” Mina added.

You didn’t protest. You didn’t know what the hell was going on, but you knew distant explosions couldn’t mean anything good.

The surveillance room made it all too clear exactly what was happening. Tens of people were pouring into the top levels of the building, smashing through windows on the business floors, blowing the sides of the building clean open near marketing. A few men dressed in dark coats appeared to have the gall to waltz straight through the front entrance. Everywhere, Miruko’s civilian employees were fleeing in all directions, uncertain of where to run in the chaos.

Your pulse spiked wildly and you watched as Bakugou’s gaze narrowed to scarlet pinpricks as he seemed to spot something familiar to him.

Kaminari made a choked noise. “Is that--?”

“Sugimoto,” Bakugou growled, tapping the image of a tall man surrounded by some kind of glowing purple forcefield quirk. A crackle of sparks lit off from Bakugou’s palm, hot and sharp, and you jumped in surprise.

“What’s Sugimoto?” you asked, looking up into his face.

His lip curled disdainfully. “He’s head of a crime syndicate. Miruko agency raided them a couple months ago in coordination with the police, took down almost the entire syndicate in one straight shot. Miruko killed both of his brothers during the firefight--I’d bet anything he’s here for revenge.”

You suppressed a shiver. Either the man was incredibly confident in his own ability to take on the number seven hero and her entire agency, or he was fucking insane and desperate for revenge. Either way, you did not want to be caught in the crossfire.

“Raccoon, Pikachu, get up to the business level,” Bakugou commanded, a calloused hand closing around your arm. “I’m gonna get the nerd out first, and then I’ll be back to roast Sugimoto in his fucking skin.”

Kaminari nodded and Mina gave you a smile and a reassuring pet over your hair. “Don’t be too late or we’ll get to have all the fun,” she said to Bakugou, winking.

And then she and Kaminari were gone, disappearing in the direction of the stairwell. Your heart rate stuttered nervously, watching them go. Mina’s confidence was reassuring--she was fucking terrifying when she was in her element, and Kaminari was powerful too. But there had been so many people flowing into the building, like the rising tide of a sudden tsunami. You hoped they would be okay.

“You in there, nerd?” Bakugou’s voice cut through your flurry of doubt.

You looked up at him, steeling your features. He was still streaked with dirt and scratches from the training room. You hoped having trained so much already wasn’t going to disadvantage any of them in their fight. “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”

He considered you, blonde brows turned down. “You’re gonna be fine, nerd. I’ll kill anyone who fucking looks at you.”

A small strangled noise like a laugh escaped your throat. He was so bad at being reassuring, it was almost reassuring in and of itself. He still was going to be entering the fray several hours into using his quirk already, however. You wondered if his self certainty was going to be enough.

“You don’t think I will?” he demanded angrily, looking absolutely incensed. He looked like he might storm out of your office again, like you had just said the word help to him.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” you said. “When you go back in, just--be careful, okay?”

His eyes picked over you curiously. Then a small, mortifying smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. “I fucking knew you had a crush on me, you little freak.”

Your face heated as you gabbled out a protest. “This is so not the time. And I didn’t say that.”

Bakugou rolled a strong shoulder, looking far more relaxed that he had any right to. “Yeah, whatever. You’ll be singing a different tune when this is over.” He watched you for a long moment, his expression looking strangely contemplative.

And then he leaned down and kissed you on the mouth.

Your brain went empty. This could have been just another day at the office for all the thought you were giving the fight upstairs. This could have been any day anywhere, because suddenly you couldn’t remember where you were or what the fuck was going on at all. Bakugou’s mouth was hot and insistent, and he curled a strong arm around your waist to draw you closer, biting down gently on your lip.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt for dear life, knees going strangely weak, as he swore into your mouth and pressed you into him harder.

“Fuck, I’m not finished with you,” he said when he released you, pressing one last hard kiss to your mouth. “You’re gonna stay right the fuck where I put you, got it?”

You nodded dumbly, trying to will your fingers into unclenching from his shirt. “Y--yeah.”

He smirked, looking far too pleased with himself. You felt your eyebrow twitch reflexively, despite everything that had just happened. “Alright, stay close, nerd. I’m gonna get you the fuck out of here.”

You nodded again. He pulled you behind him, letting you fist your hands in his shirt again, and then lead the way down the hall, keeping close to the wall, the line of his body tense and alert. Some of your earlier uneasiness settled back over you, oppressively heavy, weighing down your every step. The training had been truly terrifying but this was much, much worse, the dread and anticipation coiling in your gut until you thought you might be sick.

You made it to the stairwell and flipped up several floors without incident, though you could hear with some clarity the scuffles ongoing on the floors above you. You encountered no one, not even fellow heroes or civilians, until you hit the ground floor.

Bakugou reached behind him, pressing you even closer to his back with a firm hand. “Alright, nerd. Stay close while I move. If I stop, stay still and trust me, alright?”

Your blood pounded in your veins and you took a calming breath. You could hear the sounds of a fight just beyond the door, but there was no other way out of the stairwell. You’d just have to go through the main floor. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Good girl,” he said. And then he kicked open the door.

Your brain short circuited and you had just enough mind to register that he was moving, scrambling to keep up with him as he stalked forward through the doorway. You held on to the back of his shirt, pulse spiking wildly, and not just because of your apprehension.

There was a deafening boom like thunder and the hall in front of you went up in a flash, the walls splintering into pieces. Over one of Bakugou’s broad shoulders, you could see the explosion blowing two men straight through the window at the end of the hall, glass shattering around them.

From down the hall came Miruko’s harsh tone, her breath a little labored. “Katsuki, fucking watch it! That’s my window.”

“Yeah yeah,” Bakugou growled, not sounding the least bit chastened. He pulled you to the side as something cold went sailing past your left shoulder, firing off another blast from his palm to shoot the person right through the hole in the window he’d just made.

The two of you crossed through the halls slowly but surely, Bakugou sending anyone who came across your path straight through the wall. To your surprise, he ducked into rooms as he went, demanding that the agency employees hiding under their desks “stop acting like little piss babies and get a move on.” Soon there was a small squadron of people following after his back, and Bakugou had you out of the building and blinking in the sunshine before any of the villains caught the group escaping.

“Stay with these extras,” Bakugou commanded imperiously, shoving you after the group of employees towards the end of the street where the growing swell of sirens could be heard. “I’ll see you soon, nerd.”

He paused, fingers brushing over your mouth for a moment. And then he was gone, shooting himself straight back into the fray. The sirens at the end of the street got louder, and soon several squad cars were pulling around the corner. You joined the flow of people streaming out of Miruko’s agency towards the police, though you couldn’t rip your eyes from the agency building.

The windows had been blown out tens of floors up, and you could hear the crackle of quirks in use, see the flash and bang of Kaminari’s lightning, the blue glow of an unknown quirk on the fifth floor, a tangle of vines wrestling several men out of a window on the fourteenth floor. Mina appeared at a window briefly, covered in acid hardened to an armor, easily deflecting what might have been a devastating blow and kicking a yakuza straight through the glass.

You bit down on a whooping cheer. Now wasn’t the moment.

You tried to keep sight of what was going on as the police shepherded you behind a makeshift blockade, cordoning off the area and sweeping the nearby buildings to help evacuate. The crowd of people around you chattered and shifted restlessly. The longer the fight dragged out, the more anxious you became, your senses heightened to the point of strain, looking for any sign of Bakugou and the others.

Then, to your horror, detonations went off on several of the floors, blowing out the remaining windows, and the building itself shuddered and groaned. A chorus of screams went up from inside the agency as pieces of the building began to detach themselves, crumbling to the ground. Your heart leapt into your mouth, blood icing over in your veins.

A few terrified looking civilians appeared at the windows on the top floors, clinging to the window frames as the foundation lurched. You went still, hardly breathing. Oh my god, were they going to jump? They were several stories up, odds were low they would survive if they did. But--the building shuddered again--fuck, they weren’t going to make it if they went back inside.

Oh my god you were going to watch people die right in front of you.

No sooner had you had the thought than someone was rocketing straight up at them from the ground. Your heart rate spiked, recognizing that mess of blonde hair--Bakugou. Without ceremony he grabbed two people and leapt back off the side of the building, using his explosions to slow their descent. They’d barely met the ground before he was up again, catching another two around the middle and hurtling straight for the ground once more.

Your fingers twisted in the hem of your shirt, watching him anxiously. There were just a few more, just three more people and he would have everyone. You willed your breathing to slow, eyes glued to the scene before you.

Then there was a purple glow, and Sugimoto appeared behind the civilians.

You stopped breathing.

Sugimoto kicked one of the civilians in the back of the knee, sending him out of window, careening head over heels towards the ground. Bakugou had barely just enough time to react, tackling the man in mid air and hitting the side of the building hard with his shoulder before he was able to correct their trajectory.

The building gave another rattle as he did, a crack splitting straight up the middle, spiderwebbing into a thousand smaller fissures.

A blur of pink appeared at the base of the building, Mina materializing just as Bakugou hit the ground with the civilian. A crowd of heroes dragging injured civilians followed her, several of them immediately grabbing onto the people Bakugou had gotten to the ground and towing them out of arm’s reach.

You looked back up to the top floor where Sugimoto had the last two employees in his grip, the edges of that forcefield rippling and roiling over him. His mouth moved like he was saying something but you were too far to hear it, though you could guess the implication. He had a forcefield quirk in a building he’d engineered to collapse. The heroes could choose to go after him but the building was seconds away from imploding, and there wouldn’t be enough time to grab both him and the civilians. Even if Bakugou went up, he only had enough capacity for two people--he’d have to pick between the civilians if he also wanted to grab Sugimoto. And besides that, he wasn’t indestructible. Bakugou didn’t have a quirk that could shield him the same way Sugimoto did as the building went down.

The idea hit you at the same time it appeared to hit Mina and Bakugou. The people around you began to murmur in alarm as Bakugou sank back on the concrete, laying down flat on his back like he was going to take a nap in the sun. In the midst of a crisis the visual was certainly out of place, and a soft “what the fuck is he doing?” from behind you reaffirmed it.

Quick as a flash, Mina had coated herself in hardened acid, and then she was stretching out over Bakugou’s lean form, her vicious smile visible even from where you stood. Bakugou raised his hands to her stomach and called something to the heroes nearby. They all went stumbling back, tearing away from him as fast as they could.

All was still for a second. And then a blast of heat and fire ripped through the street, a roar like thunder rendering you deaf for a moment. You closed your eyes against the wave of hot wind and dust Bakugou’s explosion kicked up, and when you managed to crack one open, Mina was hurtling through the window like a rocket, hitting the edge of Sugimoto’s shield and driving him straight back into the building.

The civilians dropped from his grip.

Bakugou braced his hands against the ground and let off another massive explosion, propelling him straight upwards. He met the civilians in seconds, managing to grab them and flip around in mid air, aiming another series of blasts at the ground to control their fall.

A shocked cheer went up behind you when they hit the street, and you couldn’t contain your own gleeful noise that escaped you, though you couldn’t tear your eyes from the spot where Mina had disappeared.

Bakugou barely had time to get the civilians clear before the top floor began to crumble as the building shook, plaster dislodging itself from the ceiling and slapping down in loud thuds you could hear even from where you stood. You watched anxiously, waiting for Mina’s reappearance, as the building gave one final shudder and then caved in.

The second it did, a head of wild pink curls appeared and Mina flung herself off the top floor, just as the floor gave out underneath her. Bakugou was already moving, breaking into an all out sprint. He flung his arms out behind him, explosions ripping up the ground underneath him, and he collided with Mina mere feet from the ground, wrapping an arm around her and blasting them both back up just as chunks of the building slammed down where they had been.

The entire building came crumbling down in a shower of grey dust, shaking the street and sending a wave of car alarms sounding. Bakugou and Mina came down in a semi-controlled spiral, managing to hit the street just beyond the police barricade, Bakugou rolling in the same move he’d done with you earlier to disperse some of their momentum.

A wild cheer went up and you shouted too, elation rising in you like a flood, crawling through your limbs like a slow shiver.

Miruko hopped the barrier beside you, rushing over to where Bakugou and Mina lay. They were both panting, covered head to do in grey dust, looking worse for wear but alive.

“Sugimoto?” Miruko demanded.

Bakugou pushed himself up on an elbow, the red of his eyes bright against the dust covering him, like a spot of blood on a tissue. Mina popped up next to him, nosy bloody, but grinning.

“Unconscious,” she announced. “Shoved him out the back of the building before it collapsed. I melted the floor under him and he lost focus for a second. That’s all I needed to hit him and encase him in acid. He should be a little injured from the fall but alive.”

Miruko grinned savagely, leaning down to ruffle both of their hair. “You did good work, brats.”

“Get the fuck offa me, hag,” Bakugou complained. You noticed he made no move to dislodge her hand, though, and you stifled a laugh at how obvious he was. Mina had said he had a thing for girls who fucked with him...

Then Kaminari was bursting past Miruko, throwing himself onto the two of them in a whirlwind of tears and flailing limbs.

“That was the coolest shit I have ever seen!” he declared at a deafening volume. “You launched Mina through a building! It was fucking awesome!”

“I’ll launch you through a building if you don’t get the fuck off me,” Bakugou growled, shoving Kaminari’s weight straight onto Mina. He rolled to his feet before Kaminari could come back for more, cocking his head to look into the crowd like he was looking for something. An EMT to patch him up? An officer to make a report, maybe?

Then his eyes locked onto you, and you realized.

Oh, he was looking for you.

He was on you in seconds. You didn’t have time to even squeak out his name before he was swallowing it up, pulling you close to him. He tasted like ash and dust, frankly kind of gross, but you were so disturbingly relieved that he was okay that you didn’t even care, pressing even harder against him as he kissed you.

And okay. So maybe you did have a thing for him, you thought. Maybe. Just a little.

He was still annoying as hell, but he’d just saved a ton of people. Just now, you hadn’t even seen him engage in combat except to rescue people, he’d saved dozens of people including you and Mina, and he’d pulled off the most awesome assist that you had ever seen, letting Mina take down the big bad instead of haring in after the dude himself.

He could, maybe for now, totally get it.

Bakugou smirked down at you when you finally separated, red eyes and white teeth bright against all the grime on him. He leaned in, placing a hand on your cheek.

And in the haughtiest, most migraine-inducing tone ever, he said: “Now who’s the fucking best?”

You made no effort to conceal your eye roll. Well, you supposed, there was only so much about a person that could change in a month.

Instead of complaining, you let him kiss you again.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou

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rk1kheadcanons · 3 years

Note

i hope all of the admins are doing well :) i'm a sucker for angst (with a happy ending) so my prompt is that, anything that comes to mind feel free to about it! a heated argument, close call with death, a misunderstanding – as long as markus and connor feel all of those angsty emotions and resolve them, that's my jam!

Oh hello! 🥰

Thank you for the well wishes, I myself am doing wonderfully thank you!

Let's go with "close call with death" since I have a little angsty snippet for that one that's been rattling around in my head for a while now:

Markus stared down wide-eyed at where the pale grey of his suit had only eighteen hours ago been soaked in blue. The vibrant colour had since evaporated off, but Connor would still have been able to see it...

The RK900 standing in as Markus' bodyguard in Connor's absence could still see it too if the careful avoidance of her gaze towards Markus was anything to go by. He'd been advised numerous times by words spoken under concerned gazes to go home and change but he couldn't bring himself to leave him alone like this...

Markus' HUD glitched when he let his mind wander back over the past eighteen hours. His vision suddenly filled with the image of liquid blue exploding out of the back of his lovers head as his tactile sensors involuntarily re-registered the hot feel of blood painting his face and running down his neck. Auxiliary security had tried to forcefully drag Markus away from Connor after the bullets had started flying but he had held on tight. Dragging the limp form with them off of the stage and into an armored car.

And the sound. Ra9 he would never forget that sound.

Connors usually sharp tongue reduced to nothing but bursts of static and high-pitched feedback loops. His gaze unfocused as his limbs spasmed weakly and his central processor approached shutdown. Markus had cradled him in his arms as the car sped off, ignoring the heavy flow of thirium soaking into his suit and drenching him. Amongst his pleas to the RK800 to stay with me, don't go, don't leave me please don't leave me, he almost missed the single white hand that Connor was lifting weakly towards his own, blinking dimly with blue light.

He latched onto it with force the second his attention was drawn to it. Opening up an interface disturbingly absent of Connor's usual ferocity. Interfacing with an RK800 was normally like being dropped headfirst into the ocean but now his presence felt like barely a trickle of existence...

He received one automated message from Connors systems before the countdown timer on his HUD reached zero:

UPLOADING MEMORY//:

And that was how Markus found himself deep in a basement level of Cyberlife tower, floor -45; The research and development sector of the RK lines. Somewhere between the grief and the panic and the fear, he had managed to relay the final message of Connors systems to their security team and they had been swiftly transported in a motor blockade towards the android-occupied tower. A team of the few remaining RK800s in existence had quickly snatched Connor from Markus' arms at the entrance and spirited him away to do...well Markus wasn't sure what exactly, he was uncharacteristically absent of questions at that moment.

There had been one on his lips, however, the one that was taking up space in all corners of all his processors;

"Will he still be himself?"

The RK800s had looked to one another with swirling LEDs before fifty-nine responded with the non-answer of

"None of us have ever attempted a transfer as deviants."

He had been brought to a room after that, a large white sterile space that housed a glass-plated black cube in the center which was covered in flickering LED lights; The RK800 main-server. In any other scenario he would have been fascinated to see it, the machine that connected Connor to all RK800s while his body kept him an autonomous individual...but right now his attention was focused tunnel-vision like on the two beds off to the side, one with his Connor laid broken and lifeless and the other with RK800-63, as new and as lifelike as a doll.

He stood between them for a moment, casting his gaze this way and that before slowly settling himself in a chair between the two of them and raising a plasteel white hand towards each figure. He stayed like that as he waited. As the eight hours the 800s said it would take for the transfer to complete turned into eighteen. Hand in hand with a corpse and a shell.

It wasn't until the twentieth hour that the multitude of flickering loading bars on the digital monitor finally circled to blue with an alert chime. After a short moment of deliberation where his head whipped back and forth rapidly, Markus reluctantly let go of Connor-52s -his Connors - hand and brought both over to grasp onto Connor-63s. The tension in the air was thick enough to make the room feel liquid as the seconds ticked by with no sign of stirring from the figure on the table.

When the LED on the android's forehead finally circled blue with a blink Markus' artificial breath hitched and he was dimly aware of the RK900 at the door taking a small step forward in involuntary anticipation. One minute went by, and then another, and then ten more until suddenly the eyes of the prone form snapped open and circled around the room frantically.

Markus' chair fell backward behind him as he jumped to his feet to lean over the RK800 who's eyes were flickering rapidly over the white tiled ceiling with an expression of fear.

"Connor? Can you hear me?"

At the sound of Markus' voice, the RK800's eyes snapped suddenly to his own in sharp focus and the expression of terror on the androids face quickly shifted into flat browed determination. Connor lunged off of the bed in one fluid motion, disconnecting the data cable at the base of his neck with a pop and pushing Markus to the ground.

The RK200 fell backwards hard, cracking his head against the side of the other bed in the process. As Connor landed on top of him, pressing his body into the ground and holding his head down with a firm palm to the side of his face, Markus felt a flash of some emotion that landed between horror and peace at the thought that perhaps Connor had been rebound to his pre-deviant programming during the transfer and was about to follow through with Cyberlifes last order to eradicate the deviant leaders. His fear, however, was cut short by the first words out of the RK800s mouth.

"Active shooter! Why are you just standing there?! Find the source and cover us!"

Markus managed to make eye contact with his stand-in bodyguard from where he lay on the floor and the look in the RK900s eyes said that she too had all at once understood what was happening. He contacted her wirelessly before she had the chance to drag Connor off of him, instructing her to not interfere lest she distress the RK800 even more.

"Connor-"

"Stay down!"

The hand pressing Markus head onto the ground tightened and he made no move to try and dislodge it. Connor continued to bark orders at the android in the doorway while attempting to shield Markus' body from an imaginary shooter.

"Connor-"

"We need to get off the stage, when I give the command stay low and move with me towards the stairs- towards..."

The younger android's voice trailed off as his eyes flicked around the room in search of a staircase that didn't exist. He seemed to be taking in the room like he was seeing it for the first time before his jaw dropped and a choked gasp escaped his lips as his gaze settled wide-eyed on Markus' suit. All at once, the pressure on Markus' face released and Connor's hands flew to the back of his own head and he scrambled backward with panic written clearly across his features.

"Connor, listen to me, you're alright..."

The RK200 spoke softly even as the other android continued to press himself into the corner between the bed and the wall, running his hands through the hair on the back of his head before bringing them in front of his face, looking for blood.

"What-"

Connor cut himself off as his eyes drifted towards the bed adjacent to him and rose upwards to fixate on the lifeless, wire-covered figure that rested upon it.

"No-"

"Connor it's gonna be alright, just look at me-"

Markus followed the RK800 as he jumped to his feet and stumbled towards his own corpse, leaning heavily on the bed rail and staring slack-jawed at the bullet wound that had left a perfectly circular hole where his LED used to be. The older android placed his hands gently over his partner's shoulders, keeping the touch light as Connor flinched at the initial contact before resting them fully upon him with a grounding weight.

"I died..."

He spoke in a monotone while reaching out a hesitant hand to trace over the sharp edge of plastic that the bullet had left in its wake.

"Yes." Markus replied simply, as his hands massaged Connors shoulders "But now you're back."

The RK800 tensed at the words.

"Am I though? Back when- before I broke my programming- when I was transferred it felt like- it was like starting all over again. I didn't feel the same. I wasn't me. I shouldn't be me I'm not-"

He trailed off and focused his gaze on the middle distance. Markus hesitated before answering. Connors worries had been the same ones that he himself had been agonising over during the hours he had sat at his bedside swinging between hope, despair, and numbness. Given Connor's reaction to waking up however Markus had little doubts anymore as to whether or not the android in front of him was his Connor.

"Do you think your first reaction upon waking up would be to try and save me if you had been reset?"

Now it was Connors turn to hesitate and Markus began gently massaging where his hands rested upon his shoulders.

"I don't know, I was programmed for this sort of work so..."

Markus has never heard Connors tone sound so unconvincing and uncertain before.

"Well do you feel like yourself?"

Connor stepped back abruptly from the bed at the question, dislodging Makrus' hands in the process and swinging his own in a wide, frantic arc in front of him.

"I don't know! How am I supposed to know!?"

His breath was hitching faster and faster as he ran the question through his processors.

"Yes." He suddenly stated firmly "Wait, no." He continued with just as much certainty

"I don't know! No I'm not me. I'm 52 im- that" He pointed to the dead android on the table "Is me. My HUD says 63. I'm 63, that is 52, that is not me. But- fuck!!"

Markus raised his hands in a calming gesture and tried to get Connor to slow down but the other android continued ranting, swinging back and forth in his assessment of whether he was or was not the same Connor as before with an increasing level of panic. It wasn't until the RK800 lashed out with a kick at the bed housing his previous body that Markus interjected with more force.

"Connor! listen to me!" He raised his voice while capturing the younger android by the biceps and turning him so they could look eye to eye.

"You said before that when you came back the feelings you had developed in your previous body were erased yeah? Like being a whole new person." Connor's face began to crumple at Markus' words and he had to continue quickly before the RK800 began to spiral even faster down his rabbithole of existential dread. "No no, let me finish. I want you to stop focusing on what it was like before for a moment and tell me what it feels like now."

A beat of silence passed where Connor stared glassy-eyed at a spot just over Markus' shoulder obviously at a loss of how to follow through on examining his feelings in his current state of panic. The elder android decided to continue prompting him.

"Try not to think too much about your feelings towards yourself. What about your feelings towards others. North, Josh, Echo, Hank. Have those changed? Do they seem different? Do you still care for them?"

Connors gaze was still focused into the middle distance past Markus head, coincidentally in the direction of his stand-in bodyguard who awkwardly shifted herself a few feet to the right to avoid his staring. His brow, however, was finally beginning to arch back into its softer default position and away from the worried furrow it had been set in before.

"And...what about me? You still love me right?"

All of a sudden Connor's pensive moment was brought to an end as his focus snapped to Markus with an almost offended expression. His mouth opened a fraction with the characteristic sharp intake of breath that usually indicated that Connor was about to absolutely go off about something and Markus could already feel his own face relax into a small smile at how very Connor the reaction was.

The rant never came however as the android all at once lit up in realization with a small "Oh." Followed by a large "OH!"

Before Markus could get another word in he was all of a sudden met with an armful of RK800 squeezing him around the middle with enough force to cause his chassis to creak and he returned the embrace with just as much strength. Finally, he allowed the emotions from the past day to overflow into a sob hidden somewhere in Connor's hairline and the younger android held him even tighter as the noise reached him.

"Markus I...Markus. Of course I do, of course i still love you. Its me, I'm me. I'm sorry I just panicked. I'm still panicking but I'm me, I promise I'm me. Your're right"

Markus just held the slighter form as he continued to ramble reassurances.

"I thought I lost you. I did lose you" He choked out between shaking gasps.

"But I'm back now. I'm okay, you're okay, we're both okay"

The RK200 was pretty sure they were both crying now as their words of reassurance lapsed into quiet sniffles and the soft sound of hands sweeping over fabric as they brushed across the expanse of each other's clothing as if to confirm that yes, the other was real, and alive and safe.

Neither was sure how long had passed before their silent embrace was interrupted by an awkward cough and the words "I'll inform the other 800's of Connors status, they'll want to run tests" as the RK900 slipped quietly out of the room. Honestly Markus had forgotten she had been there, he sent her a wireless message in thanks and received nothing in return.

When left alone they deepened their embrace, savoring the moment of privacy and peace together before Connor had to undergo whatever barrage of tests the 800s had prepared for him. Their hands connected by their sides, palm to palm with glowing blue lights dancing across their fingertips, basking in each others presence and smoothing over the pain and guilt and confusion and terror of the last twenty-four hours with happiness, relief, devotion, and love.

I am alive.

You are alive.

We are alive.

Come tell us your own ideas! Prompts are always open

#thank you go the angst prompt #gratuitous sprinklings of some of my headcanons here #connork1000 reply #rk1k #dbh #rk1000 #connor whump #poor markus

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alecmagnuslwb · 3 years

Text

Giving Home a Heartbeat - @doubleredweek Day 7

Read on AO3

Jason’s pretty sure that somewhere underneath all these boxes is the house they bought, he’s just not quite sure where.

“Jay Jay, Daddy stopped picking up boxes and sat down, so I’m picking up the slack!” Lian shouts over the distinct scraping sound of cardboard. Jason turns and there she is walking backwards her tiny hands pulling a box along that’s practically the same size as her not even breaking a sweat. Sometimes Jason thinks they really need to ask Jade about any superhuman abilities she might be hiding that could have been passed down.

Jason shakes his head and walks over to her lifting the box and sitting it over with the rest of the living room Jenga stack of cardboard boxes that is their life.

“Good work princess,” Jason says ruffling her hair as she sidles up next to him looking at all the boxes with a much more gleeful look on her face than the one he’s sporting.

“I am not slacking,” Roy shouts with a struggling groan. Jason turns back to the door watching as Roy takes a step through with three heavy boxes precariously stacked on top of one another in his arms blockading Roy’s body almost entirely from view. Jason rushes over to his side taking the highest one revealing Roy’s head his messy hair dripping with sweat and poking out wildly from underneath his backwards cap.

“These are the last ones and I just didn’t want to make numerous trips,” he grunts shifting the boxes in his arms. “Dick and Babs are taking the truck back and sweetly said they will not be coming back to help us unpack.” Jason rolls his eyes eight siblings, one younger than them aunt, two pseudo sisters-in-laws, a literal space traveling brother-in-law, three parental figures and one grandfatherly figure between the two of them and not one of them stuck around long enough to put all these boxes through the front door.

“We don’t know exactly how you want everything set up,” Connor had justified as he and Kyle started floating up into the sky and away as soon as the truck was full as if Jason, Roy and especially Lian wouldn’t happily boss them around with instructions of where to place things.

Stephanie, Tim and Damian even had the audacity to eat half the moving day pizza on their own, pick up one box together and then disappear. Teamwork Steph had called it before high fiving Roy and running after her boyfriend. Chaotic bisexuals Roy had sighed as they sped away on her motorcycle Damian already long gone slipping off like a silent shadow in the mid-day.

At least Roy and Jason hadn’t had to pay for the pizza they got one shared slice of, after twenty minutes of arguing about who should pay Oliver and Bruce had settled on splitting. Though knowing Bruce Jason would bet he added on a bigger tip when Ollie’s back was turned just to spite him.

“Do you think the Aqua Family treat each other this way?” Jason says watching as Lian tosses a small box up on the still covered in plastic couch and starts tearing at the tape.

“I bet they swim across the seven seas and happily move their family’s underwater décor without complaint,” Roy says as he slips behind Jason resting his chin on Jason’s shoulder. Together they survey the room with the knowledge that every other room in the house looks much the same, a labyrinth of boxes. It’s gonna take them weeks to unpack all the stuff from the workshop alone.

“I know we don’t know her as well as my dad and Bruce, but do you think if we put in a call to Zatanna she’d just,” Roy says flicking his hands around Jason’s waist in a pale comparison to the intricate patterns Jason’s seen her do in battle. “Ya know, poof and we’re unpacked.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” Jason sighs. Lian has fully opened the box now pulling out item after item that definitely all belong in the kitchen not on their living room couch.

Roy faux cries burying his face in Jason’s neck sadly. Jason reaches up a hand only slightly condescendingly patting at Roy’s head.

“Alright, we gotta start somewhere. Lian’s room is the priority, you and I have slept on far more uncomfortable things than a plastic wrapped couch,” he says, they’ve already got a start in there anyways thanks to Alfred the only member of their families who’s not an ingrate setting up her pink and green matching bed, bookshelf, desk and wall shelves without even being asked. Jason survey’s the room eyes falling over to the kitchen. “I’d say we shoot for finishing the kitchen tonight too, but we can always just order takeout again.”

“More pizza!” Lian squeals in delight twirling a bundle of measuring cups around and around in one hand.

“No, we’ll get something else,” Roy says and Lian’s face drops just a little. “Something with lots of vegetables, like Thai maybe.” She perks back up at that.

“As long as I don’t have to eat peas,” she grumbles trading the measuring cups out for a ladle she taps delightedly on the boxes flap.

“Fine, no peas,” Jason says slipping away from Roy and grabbing the box Lian has been playing around with as she shouts triumphantly about the lack of peas in her future. He tosses the things she’s taken out of the box back in and slides it onto the kitchen counter to deal with later.

“Go to your room and start unpacking the boxes labeled books first okay,” Roy says lifting her up from the couch her legs sticking to the plastic as he does and settling her feet on the ground. “Put some on the lower shelves, but don’t try to reach the high shelves without Jay or I’s help okay?”

Lian nods furiously skittering off clapping her hands in joy, her light up Scooby Doo shoes going wild with every step.

“Promise, Daddy!” she shouts as she hightails it up the stairs and turns the corner sharply. A light thud earns their attention as soon as she disappears from sight followed by silence.

“Lian?” Jason shouts after her already braced to rush the stairs if she doesn’t respond instantly. Roy does the same.

“I’m okay, I just kicked a box over!” she shouts back and they both breathe a sigh of relief. “And it knocked over two more!” she says with utter delight causing them both to chuckle.

“If we want to get this house done before she’s out of high school, we’re gonna need to send her for an archery range day with grandpa tomorrow,” Roy says walking over to Jason. He hops up onto the kitchen island kicking his feet out back and forth.

“And maybe an ice cream day with aunt Emiko the day after that, just in case,” Jason adds on as he settles himself between Roy’s dangling legs his back to Roy’s front. Roy wraps his arms back around him, placing his chin back where it had been in the living room.

They both gaze out across the rooms, across their home, across what it will be in a few days’ time. Jason never thought he’d call Star City home, hell he never thought he’d get out of the Narrows, but here he is a homeowner with a man he fully intends to keep for the rest of his life and a little girl he considers his daughter.

“It’s gonna look great when it’s all set up,” Roy says nuzzling his face softly to Jason’s temple. “The perfect mix of superhero chic and parents of a five-year-old who only occasionally cleans up after herself.”

“An interior designers dream,” Jason chuckles leaning back further into Roy’s arms.

“Jade’s gonna hate it,” Roy laughs.

“Oh god, I’ll fly Alfred out to help me clean just to be sure it’s spotless when the time comes. When does she get back from South America?”

“The fourteenth, she’s taking Lian for the week, remember?” Roy says pressing a quick kiss to Jason’s jaw. The fourteenth, that’s plenty of time to make it look it’s best to at least cut her sly judgements in half.

They’re quiet for a while comfortably listening to the rustling sound of Lian tearing tape off of boxes above them. She’s probably gonna be wrapped in it by the time they get up here.

“We own a house,” Jason says breaking the comfortable quiet still stunned by the fact they’ve made it here. Six years ago he walked away from Roy, the worst mistake he’s ever made, and somehow impossibly when he came crawling back Roy welcomed him with open arms and now they’re here. It feels almost too good to be true.

Roy nods and Jason can feel his smile against his neck.

“Your stuck with me now Jaybird,” he chuckles and Jason pulls Roy’s arms around him tighter, happily stuck. They bask in each other’s arms a little longer when the sound of tape gets louder and more prominent followed by a giggle and comical ‘oops’ from Lian.

“We better go help her before she mummifies herself in packing tape,” Roy chuckles slipping out from behind Jason and making his way to the stairs taking them two at a time. Jason hangs back for a moment just looking one last time at the space in front of him, looking at their home before following the sounds of tape being unwrapped from clothes and the laughter of the two most important people in his world.

#my fic #jayroy #jayroyweek2021 #jason todd #roy harper #writersmonth2021

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thetaoofzoe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Syverson the Protector Pt III

* Syverson The Protector - Part I (pairing Syverson x YOU)

* Syverson the Protector - Part II (pairing Syverson x YOU)

Summary: You are an embedded journalist and on a mission, everything goes wrong. He promised to protect you but can you save him?

Rating for this part: Budding romance, Fluff, wound related gore/blood (mild), war related violence. Must be read in order, no part can stand alone.

Word count: 3121

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

It was sauna-hot in that cramped filthy cab. Sweat beaded on your cheeks and upper lip and leaked down into the corners of your mouth. You lashed your tongue around your lips and immediately regretted it as the salty liquid tasted foul, like bile and petrol, and swallowing it wasn’t an option you were willing to take. You worked your water-starved tongue around inside your cheeks, only managing to gather a pitiful amount of saliva, which you spat out through the open window. Disgusted, you swiped your mouth, then your face with your sleeve, but no amount of wiping with equally dirty hands or clothes helped.

Suddenly the truck’s front tire crunched into a rocky pit and in an unfocused panic, you whipped the wheel, sending the truck skidding to one side. With teeth clenched, both feet punching down on the brakes and hands death gripping the hot leather, you struggled with the careening truck. Minutes ticked by as you wrestled it under control. Stopping the truck, you sat shaken and gulping for air, as kicked-up sand and dust plumed in through the window.

The potholes. The road was littered with them and no amount of defensive driving and steering wheel calisthenics could stop the pick-up truck from striking a deep hole. However, you knew that if you kept on driving as recklessly as you were, it was going to end badly and you couldn’t afford to wreck the truck.

‘Shit… focus. Keep it together,’ you muttered, panting and wiping your face again.

You laid swollen, blood crusted hands on the wheel, and slid an appraising glance at the man slumped bonelessly against the passenger door. He was a mess, eyes showing their whites, skin grey beneath the grime, and stewed cherry red blood had soaked through the scarf you’d used to help staunch the flow of the pulsing cavernous wound in his gut.

Shouldn’t have moved him, you thought morosely.

Shouldn’t have moved him!

Should have left him where he was!

If you had left him, he might not be unconscious in a truck, piloted by an unstable driver, where he could no longer apply pressure to his own inevitably fatal wound. He was going to bleed out in the cab of that little pickup because he was beyond your ineffectual ability to help him.

You reached out and pushed on the blood sodden scarf, desperate to keep the pressure on his wound, but you couldn’t do that and drive at the same time. Putting the truck in park, you climbed across the bench seat to get closer to where he lay sprawled limply against the door.

His breath was fast and shallow and high in his chest. His eyes flickered slightly, opened, then closed again and you stared down at him, your hope for him waking up, rapidly dissolving. An iron fist squeezed around your heart. He was giving up and you were going to lose him.

You knelt astride his thigh with the heavy wet scarf in your hands and knew you had no other alternative but to wring it out, which you did in the footwell of the passenger seat. You were revolted when the hot smell of it hit your nose so you held your breath, doubled the scarf again, and stuffed it beneath his shirt. You clipped his flack vest closed over it to accomplish the work that his hands should have been doing, though you weren’t sure how much pressure was being applied now. But, however much it was, it was better than nothing.

Trembling, you climbed back behind the wheel and wiped your sweaty face with your sleeve. Dizziness washed over you and your gorge rose threateningly in your throat. You had been so focused on tending to the Captain that you had been ignoring your own injuries.

'Not now,’ you begged, swallowing hard. 'Not now, please, let me get him to safety first.’

You jammed the truck back into gear and pressed down on the pedal. The engine stalled and tears of frustration and helplessness stung your dry eyes.

Please. Please. Just, please help me. Help me!

You jerked the gear shift out and then back into the sticky slot and with the engine screaming in agony and protest, the truck shuddered onward. You looked down at the dusty fuel gauge. The truck was nearly on empty and black thoughts of despair seeped into your consciousness. If you didn’t find any help before the truck died in the vast plains of nowhere, you would have to stay with Syverson and make him as comfortable as you could until he died. And then you’d have to brave the miserable road alone with no food, or water, and only his gun to ensure your survival. At least until the ammo ran out.

The bleak determination of your future instantly unnerved you and you increased the truck’s speed. There was a hill up ahead.

Was the truck was going to make it?

It struggled with the incline but managed to crest the top of the hill, and just as it did, you noticed something in the distance.

Behind a row of concertina wire wrapped wooden sawhorses, big trucks stretched across the road. Uniformed men with guns at the ready came to attention at the sight of your little battered pick-up truck. Highly aware of the weapons being pointed at you now, you slowly, carefully, drove up to the blockade. Nervousness quickened your pulse as a man, with one hand upraised, stepped out. He lazily waved you forward but his actions and body language communicated to you that you should proceed with caution.

You got a look at the man’s sandy brown and black splotched uniform.

Americans!

You stopped the truck and hastily jumped out, hands raised high in the air, yelling, 'Help! Help me, please. I have Captain Syverson with me and he’s wounded! Please help!’

The other men around the blockade suddenly came to attention and began to approach.

'Hold on there!’ shouted the man. 'Stop where you are. You have who now?’

The uniformed man tipped back his helmet a little and slightly lifted the muzzle of his AR-15 in silent warning. You froze to your spot and pointing to the truck you repeated your plea.

'Captain Syverson! We were… s-supply run. I– I’m.. we were… we were…’

You swayed on your feet as the edges of your vision blurred then closed in like an oily black wave. The ground rushed up to meet you when you collapsed and you dimly heard the jumbled voices of the men approaching you. And then, there was nothing.

***

Throbbing bursts of fuzzy-edged splotches pulsed red, yellow and black against the backs of your eyelids.

You could hear the drone of an engine and you opened your eyes.

You were back in that tightly cramped jeep again, listening to your heart thundering in your chest as you stared directly at the man across from you.

Syverson was saying something, shouting it even, but you heard nothing but the drone and the banging of blood gushing in your veins. You held your hands out to him, to grab onto him, but in a blinding flash of light, he was gone and the jeep exploded into bits around you.

You felt yourself burning, flesh searing, and crisping in the fire, and you opened your mouth to scream, only to be finally consumed and reduced to ashes.

Your brain startled awake from the smothering dream but instead of shooting upright to confirm that you were safe, your body only jerked sluggishly, still mired in your medicated pool of awareness.

The bitter scent of disinfectant prickled your nose and you wriggled it in an attempt to scratch the itch. Someone was speaking softly off to your left and you heard the squeak of plastic wheels rolling over a thin plastic floor.

You tried to clear your throat, but nothing but a dry scratching rasp escaped you. You flexed your toes first and then your fingers. They were tightly wrapped, stiff, and a little unresponsive. But they didn’t hurt, so that was either a good thing or a bad thing.

You continued your bodily inspection to make sure that all of your limbs were still intact. Fortunately, they were and you snaked your tongue out to explore your tender chapped lips.

I could really use a lip balm right now, you thought and a giggle that threatened to turn hysterical bubbled up in your throat. You fought it back.

Someone stood over you and a cool rough hand touched your bare arm on that tiny patch of sunburned flesh between where the sleeve of your hospital gown ended and the bandages began.

'You’re awake.’

You turned your head in the direction of the voice. It was a woman and although she sounded tired, her voice was low and gentle.

It took a moment for you to manage to get your tongue and throat to work.

'Oh… everything aches,’ you husked. 'Where am I?’

She recited some complicated name of the military hospital and you just nodded because you caught the word 'hospital’ and that was enough to satisfy you.

'How… how long have I been here?’

'About a week now.’

You finally cracked open your eyes and looked down at one arm and then the other one. They both were swaddled, the bride of Frankenstein-style, and lifting your left arm you felt a sharp tugging pain. Someone had placed an IV drip into the back of your hand and with your eyes, you followed the clear tubing back to the metal IV stand and then looked down at the web of coloured wires that tethered you to the bleating machine by the bed.

Your head started to hurt, so you relaxed again and closed your eyes.

'A week,’ you repeated quietly. 'Ok, that’s good.’

And then you remembered the horror of the desert. You remembered the blood and the pain and the man you’d tried to save.

Your eyes snapped open.

'Captain Syverson. Is he… is he all right?’

'Who?’ she asked, her eyes fixed to the machine.

'Syverson. I came in with him. I came in with an officer, right? Is he ok?’

The nurse picked up a tablet from her cart and typed something on the screen with her fingertip.

'Syverson,’ She said, reading from the screen. 'A Syverson is here, yes. He should still be recovering from surgery.’

'Is there only one here?’ you asked. 'Only one, Syverson?’

'Look like it,’ she answered, assuring you that the Syverson who was recovering from surgery was /your/ Syverson and not some random stranger with the same name.

You nodded and continued to nod as you put your bandaged right hand to your face. You nodded until you started to cry. And then you cried with great gulping sobs, turning your face into the thin pillow to catch your heavy, relieved tears.

'Did you not hear me?’ asked the nurse, sounding worried, misunderstanding the reason behind your tears. 'I said that he was ok. He’s out of surgery.’

'I heard you,’ you blubbered helplessly.

'You’re ok,’ the nurse said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 'He’s ok, you’re safe now.’

Yes, yes you thought. Safe.

You wiped your face with the tissue she gave you and sniffled noisily.

After a long moment, you spoke.

'Can I… can I see him?’

You looked up at her and saw her eyes sweep the length of your body.

'I don’t think you’re going to be in the position to walk for a little while.’

She glanced at the foot of your bed again and in response, you sluggishly wiggled your tender, swollen toes.

But you were insistent. You had been through so much and being able to lay eyes on him would go a long way to comfort you.

'Surely, there’s a wheelchair around here. Someone can …’

'When you’re both strong enough,’ she interrupted.

Another pat on your shoulder and she withdrew.

You stared after her. What could you do but accept it?

You curled down beneath the thin blanket and turned your head to the window across the room. There was another bed over there, but it was empty save for the neatly folded bed linens and pillows at its foot. You stared at the sharp creases in the white sheets and let your mind wander, remembering the first time the captain took your hand in his.

You were exhausted after a long plane trip and an even longer (and more uncomfortable) truck ride to the base camp.

The afternoon was sweltering and the scent of diesel from the still running heavy truck convoy that had transported you and your colleague to the camp lingered thick in the air. One of the soldiers had ushered you and your colleague to the one of the buildings where you were to wait to meet the man in charge. The only thing you really knew about ‘the man in charge’ was his name and rank, nothing else.

However, when you finally saw him, something within you came alive as you hadn’t seen a man of Captain Syverson’s calibre in quite a long time.

He was tall and broad and carried himself with an air of quiet confidence and menace. His thick beard and buzzed head did not diminish the impression of raw power, they only elevated it to the point where your heart picked up speed when he emerged from the shadows inside the building, descended the concrete stairs, and walked towards you.

His hand was hot and he had enough manners not to pulverise your hand in his grip. So many men thoughtlessly tried to exert their dominance over you through a painful, bone grinding handshake that you had taken to yelling out in pain whenever someone tried to rearrange your knuckles. You had been prepared to do it again when you slipped your hand into the captain’s grip. But his gentleness surprised you.

During the time you spent with him, he continued to surprise you with his husky Texan drawl, his extensive knowledge of every board game that had ever been invented, and his penchant for not using cup handles. No matter how hot the cup was, he would always grab it around the body and hold it with his palm as he drank his morning coffee.

Having already earned the respect of his team, he was a man who had nothing to prove. He had your respect as well, and, maybe a little more, for he was also a man who was easy love.

You drifted to sleep again with thoughts of Syverson’s strong arms around you and the sound of his voice whispering in your ear.

'I’ll protect you. I promise.’

Days drifted by and you recovered without incident. You ate and slept and read and mentally mapped out the article you were going to write once you regained the use of your hands. You planned to make a hero out of Syverson because he deserved that much. And you were going to memorialize your colleague for being the best journalist he could be while giving everything he could in the line of duty.

But that day, you were still weak and even sitting and thinking and staring at the window, sapped your energy. So you slipped down in bed and took a late afternoon nap.

When you woke and opened your eyes, what you saw made you gasp and struggle to push yourself upright. Over the bed loomed the happy face of a bear-shaped balloon that held a heart exclaiming, 'Get Well Soon!’

You whipped a look round the room. Every surface, even the previously empty bed across the room was practically covered with stuffed animals, vases of brightly coloured flower bouquets, and other little sundry items that were only found in the corners of hospital gift shoppes.

The sound of the food cart being wheeled into the room caught your attention. The attendee smiled and lifted off a covered tray and set it on the table next to your bed. He turned to leave and your nurse approached your bed.

'Did I.. sleepwalk into another room?’ you asked, feeling a little panicked. 'This ahh, wasn’t here when I went to sleep.’

With your bandaged hand, you made a jerky gesture to the gifts, and your nurse smiled a little like she knew something you didn’t.

'You have an admirer.’

Your eyes rose to her face and she held up a small white envelope that had an obvious bulge in the bottom.

'And this,’ she said handing it to you and when you cupped your swaddled hands, she dropped it into your palms.

You turned it over and the only writing was your name scrawled across the front. The envelope was sealed but with your hands all buttoned up the way they were you held the envelope back up to the nurse.

'Could you umm… please?’

The nurse opened the envelope and wriggled out the small piece of cardstock from inside. She gave it to you.

You read the note aloud, 'I owe you this, at least.’

The note was signed with an unfamiliar name.

'Henry.’

Then as if on cue, the nurse held the upended envelope, and when you lifted your cupped hand, she dumped the contents onto your palm.

It was a small tube of lip balm.

You looked exasperated at both the note and the lip balm and abruptly a memory clanged into place. You remembered the story behind the lip balm but the name, the name perplexed you.

'Henry?’ you asked the nurse and she frowned a little as a curious smile played around her lips.

'Henry,’ she said as if the answer should have obvious to you.

You stared at her, puzzled. When you didn’t say anything, she added, 'Syverson? Isn’t he your–’

'His name is Henry?!’ you exclaimed and put a hand to your forehead. 'Why can’t I… why don’t I remember that?’

'You’re still recovering from your trauma. Your memory will come back soon, don’t worry.’

The nurse wheeled the table that held your dinner within your reach. You put the envelope and the lip balm on the table. You nodded and when she turned to leave you, you picked up the note again.

'Um, Barb?’ you called.

The nurse turned and returned to the bedside.

'Can I send him a note?’

'Sure, that’s ok, I guess.’

You gave her his note and with a sheepish smile, you held up both your bandaged mitten hands.

'Help?’

She chuckled indulgently, took the note, and pulled a pen from her top pocket.

'Thanks,’ you grinned and after a moment of thought dictated, 'Dear Henry. Thank you for the gifts. I… love them. However, you also owe me some mints as well.’

You grinned to yourself.

'Could you um, put a little smiley face as well?’

The nurse nodded and when she was done, she turned the card around so that you could approve her handiwork.

'Mints?’ she asked, tucking the note and the pen back into her pocket.

'He’ll ummm,’ you giggled feeling a rise of happiness in your chest. 'Don’t worry, he’ll understand.’

Continued in Part IV.

Please like/comment/reblog/follow for more and as always, thanks for your support.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #syverson #captain syverson #syverson x you #syverson x reader #august walker #reader insert

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torialeysha · 4 years

Text

Cold feet - Part 16

Bakers redemption

A/N: I’m on a roll guys! Your love, patience and support for this story fuels my fire for writing, a fire I thought I had lost and for that I am eternally grateful. Thank you all <3

Songs: Carry me home - Jorja Smith ft Maverick Sabre

Can’t buy happiness - Tash Sultana

Fortunately the awkwardness of the journey home was lost on you as all you could do was think about Alfie. You questioned the sincerity of his visit and wondered why it had taken him so long to realise you had lied about the ridiculous possibility of him not being the father of your unborn baby? He had asked you for forgiveness. A shot at redemption. Could you give it to him? Could you allow him another chance when he had already let you down not once but twice? Were you foolish enough to give him the opportunity to do it again? Would he do it again? He said that he had seen the error of his ways and that he really did want the baby. Did he mean it? Could you believe him even if he did? He said he could prove it to you and you were curious to see how. Silently you pondered, driving yourself insane with question after question that regrettably you didn’t have the answers to.

After a tedious battle with the London traffic the car finally pulled up outside the opulent townhouse Charles was renting. The atmosphere still frosty and tense as you crossed it’s threshold. You were in the process of removing your coat when one of the butlers collared Charles.

“There’s a Mr Changretta waiting for you in the lounge, sir.” He announced casually as he took your coat. Your hair immediately stood on end.

“Ok. I’ll be right there. Meanwhile, could you please fetch Ms Y/L/N something to eat.” Charles hands his coat to the butler then turns to you. “I won’t be long. Feel free to start without me.” He told you coldly. But you were no longer worried about food and more concerned about the fact that Luca Changretta was in the next room.

Fraught, you staggered to the dining room and began to pace, anxiously wondering what the occupants next door were discussing. You manoeuvred towards the wall that separated the lounge from the dining room and placed your ear against it, hoping that the divide was thin enough to be able to hear their conversation. Their muffled voices vibrated through the wall. You edged closer to the crack of the locked double doors that connected the two rooms and the voices got slightly clearer.

“...And you really trust this broad? You’re sure she isn’t the problem?” It was Luca’s voice.

“Of course I trust her! I wouldn’t have involved her if I didn’t.”

“How much does she know?”

“Hardly anything. She asked me some questions about the club. Why I bought it for her and why I insisted I put it in her name and not mine, but her curiosity is only natural, Luca.”

Your stomach rolled realising they were talking about you.

“What did you tell her?”

“I fed her some bullshit about wanting to give her the world.”

“Nice. So she doesn’t know anything about the money coming in from New York?”

“No, I take care of the books and I keep them locked in my safe.”

“Good.”

There was a brief silence before Luca spoke again.

“Tell me, Cuz, what are your feelings for this broad? You still intend on marrying her when this is all over?”

Cuz? Why would Luca call Charles that?

“Yes. I love her.”

Charles’ confession made you feel sick.

There’s another long pause before Luca speaks again.

“Then you have my blessing. But I’m warning ya, I don’t know if my dear Aunt will be as accepting. You know how she only wants the best for her son.”

Cousin? Aunt? Son? You felt the colour drain from your face as realisation dawned on you.

“Y/N is best for me. Now can we please stop discussing my personal life and get back to business.”

“Of course. I hear what you’re saying about the Jew but we need him alive for now. I think he’ll be able to help us deal with Thomas Shelby.”

“Solomon’s is tight with Shelby. There’s no way he’d sell him out.”

“Oh, he will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse... Don’t look so worried, Chuck, all will be revealed soon. You just carry on doing what you’re doing and remember that we’re doing this per la famiglia. Luca’s foreign tongue made you shudder. “Once Solomon’s, Shelby and Sabini are dealt with. London will be ours for the taking.”

You pulled away from the door just as Charles was asking about Sabini. You had heard enough.

It was worse than you or Tommy had anticipated. Charles and Luca wasn’t just business relations, they were blood relations. His money was their money. Your time and efforts had been in vain. Any hope of sabotaging their connection was gone. Replaced with an overwhelming sense of alarming trepidation. You had to leave. There was no way you could stay now knowing what you know.

The main door of the dining room swung open, startling you.

“I’m terribly sorry miss. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The flustered housemaid apologised as she shuffled in with your supper.

“Please don’t apologise.” You told her shakily.

“You’re white as a sheet! I must’ve given you a proper fright. Poor thing. Sit ya self down and I’ll fetch you something to drink.”

“No, no. I’m fine. It’s just-I’ve received word today that my friend isn’t well and it’s come as quite a shock. I would like to check on her to see if she’s feeling better. Could you let Mr Fenton know that I’m going to visit her and I won’t be back until later.”

“Of course, Miss, but what about your tea?” She signals to the silver tray she’s carrying.

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. I’ll eat it when I return.”

“Ok, Miss. I’ll put it by for later.” She took off with the tray of food and without a second thought you made for the door without even stopping for your coat or purse.

In a daze you wandered down the street, feeling hopelessly lost in a city that had been your home for 20 odd years. You headed north, knowing that regardless of your current uncertainty towards Alfie you would have to warn him and get word to Tommy. Without your purse you had no money to jump on a bus or the underground. Your only option was to trudge the busy late afternoon streets to your destination. It would take roughly an hour to get from Central to Camden, probably the same amount of time it would take Charles to suspect something was amiss. It was a distressing thought that caused you to pick up pace. To make up time you decided to take a shortcut that lead you along the river and down the canals. It was a risky move as the muddy banks of the canals were refuge to some unsavoury characters - mainly drunkards - desperate men that would find easy prey on a young woman trekking the waterways on her own.

The sun was slowly sinking into twilight by the time you had reached Camden lock. Despite your exhaustion you were relieved to have made it in one piece but you shouldn’t have spoke too soon. In the distance you could see a group of what looked like 3 men huddled together along the path which you needed to pass to get across to the bakery. Your blistered feet slowed but it was too late, they had already spotted you. You quickly tried to think of an alternative route. The only other way was to swim across but jumping in and braving the grim green water that was frothing with rubbish and other questionable substances wasn’t tempting to say the least. There was nothing you could do now except carry on walking with your chin held high as if their shady presence didn’t intimidate you. You argued with yourself as you approached that maybe you had jumped to a brash assumption and that they were in fact a harmless trio who would just let you pass without a second glance. As you got closer they rose from their makeshift perches and swayed towards you. It was then you knew that your brash assumption had been correct.

“Evening treacle.” One slurred. “What brings you down ‘ere then?” He smiled, revealing a row of yellow teeth that were gradually rotting a browny black. You ignored him and tried to pass but he obstructed you.

“Let me pass!” You ordered him.

“Now then, that’s not nice. You could at least ask nicely. Say please.” He slurred.

“Please let me pass.” You said through gritted teeth.

The other two came to stand beside him. Panicking, you tried hard to conceal the trembling of your body.

“Beg.” He tells you through a snarl.

“I love it when they beg.” One of the other men chimed in, earning a chortle from his soapy comrades.

You laugh as if joining in with their sadistic merriment. Then quick as a whippet you tried to barge through their burly blockade, effectively knocking one of the men into the drink. The middle one grabbed you. You turned as he did so, kneeing him between the legs. He dropped to the floor and you made to escape but was grabbed again by the last remaining man. His filthy hand covered your mouth, cutting you off mid scream. You thrashed in his arms. Your eyes widening as the man on the floor rose slowly.

“We’ve got a feisty one ‘ere, Del.”

“Let’s see how feisty she is once I’ve finished with ‘er.” The man you knocked to the floor was now fully upright, stalking towards you.

You closed your eyes, helplessly awaiting your fate.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off ‘er!”

Your eyes shot open at the unmistakable voice coming from behind you.

The man turned suddenly with you still in his arms. Your eyes landed on Alfie and Ollie and you wanted to cry out in relief.

“Mr Solomon’s - I was only helping the poor Lass. She was lost, ya see.” He muttered a sheepish reply. His arms loosening around you. You pushed away from him stricken and lurched into Alfie’s arms.

“Are you ok, Yahalom?” He asked, pushing away the hair from your face and checking you over for any sign of injury.

You noded, clinging to him.

“Run!” One of the men shouted and they both fled in opposite directions. The one who had hold of you tried to leg-it past Alfie who with a flick of his cane tripped him before he could get any further. Alfie pushed you to Ollie, and pounced on top of the fallen man. Savagely he landed a shocking set of bone crunching blows upon the sputtering and sobbing man on the floor.

You started to shake uncontrollably. Your chest heaving to draw in breaths.

“Alfie, stop now. You’re scaring ‘er!” Ollie yelled at Alfie who stopped immediately.

“Get ‘er out of ‘ere!” He shouted.

You felt Ollie tug on your arm.

“No-I c-can’t go-I need t-to talk to A-alfie.” You chattered numbly.

“It’s ok, Y/N. Let’s wait for him inside and you can talk to him then, yeah?” Ollie asked you soothingly. You stopped resisting, allowing him to guide you over the bridge of the canal and inside the huge double door entrance of the bakery. He set you down on a crate.

“Are you ok?” Ollie asked. Kneeling in front of you.

You shook your head from side to side, unable to speak through the loud chattering of your teeth.

“We were just leaving. You’re lucky we spotted you, ya know.”

You didn’t answer him. Instead you reached out and gave his hand a grateful squeeze.

Alfie exploded through the doors, making you and Ollie jump. His blood splattered face was a fit of pure rage.

“How many fucking times have I told you not to walk the canals on your own? If me and him would have left ‘ere half hour ago like we were supposed to, what would have happened then, ay?” His eyes flickered as he tortured himself pointlessly with the sickening possibilities.

“Alright, Alfie. Calm down, ay? We left at the right time and luckily Y/N weren’t hurt-“ Ollie started calmly before Alfie interrupted him.

“- You sure they didn’t hurt you?” Alfie asked.

“I’m sure.”

“The fuck was you thinking, Pet?” His stern voice was slightly softer now.

“I-I wasn’t-“

“-Where’s your coat?” He asked suddenly. “Them cunts take it?”

“No, I left it behind-there was n-no time- I had t-to get out of there fast-I left my coat behind along with my p-purse-I’ve had to walk from Central-thats why I t-took the sh-shortcut.” You stuttered senselessly, barely pausing to take a breath. Alfie took off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. You pulled it tightly around yourself. His musky scent clung to the heavy wool material that was still warm with the heat of his body. You inhaled deeply, feeling instantly calmer. “I couldn’t stay there, Alfie. I had to leave, I had to get out of there!”

“Calm down, Yahalom, and tell me exactly what’s happened?” He ordered, his eyes wild.

“It’s Charles. He and Lu-ca Changretta are related. They’re cousins. I-I overheard them talking. They said something about money coming in from New York and taking over London. They’re going to take down everyone in their way - you, Tommy, even Sabini. Everything Tommy said is true and there’s nothing I can do about it. We have to warn Thomas.”

Alfie exchanged a look with Ollie.

“Did he know you were listening in on his conversation?” Ollie asked.

“No. But he’ll know I’m missing by now and maybe he’ll put two and two together. I told the housemaid to tell him I was visiting an ill friend but I’m not sure he’ll believe that.”

“Right then. Well, first things first.” Alfie put his arms around your shoulders and lifted you gently from where you rested. “I need to get you out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stay here and help sort this.” You told him wilfully.

“You’ve done all you can, pet. Let me and Tommy deal with this now.”

“So all of this was for nothing? Me staying with Charles, weeks of misery and sneaking around. That was all for nothing?”

“This isn’t your fight, Y/N. It never was your fight.” Alfie sighed.

“They’re planning on killing you, Alfie - the father of my unborn baby. Tell me how that isn’t my fight?” You sobbed angrily.

He grabbed your shoulders, shaking you lightly.

“Look at me.” He said firmly. Your wide eyes rose to his. “I can handle it, right. What I can’t handle is the worry of anything happening to you. Which is why I’m getting you out of ‘ere, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming. I’m taking you and that unborn baby of mine to safety. You ‘ear me? That’s our priority now, yeah?”

“...Yeah.” You whispered, knowing he was right.

“Come on.”

You held on to him as you walked, your weary feet stinging with every faltered step you took.

“You need me to carry you?” He asked.

You shook your head weakly.

The sun had now almost set but the brightness outside was still blinding as you emerged from the darkness of the distillery.

“Get in the car.” Alfie ordered.

You did as he said, sliding into the front passenger seat and trying to avoid looking across the canal where your attacker still lay, a lifeless crumpled, mess on the floor. You blocked it out and focused on Alfie through the windscreen instead. He was leant into Ollie, telling him something. Ollie gave him a contrite nod and handed him what looked like a set of keys. With a pat on the back, Alfie left him to climb in to the drivers seat. He started the engine.

“Isn’t Ollie coming with us?”

“Na. He’s got to sort a few things out for me.” He replied, shoving the shift stick into gear and pulling off. You watched him intently. An unsolicited heat crept over you as he manoeuvred the machine with a confident ease that you couldn’t help but find alluring.

“Where are we going?” You asked croakily.

“Let me worry about that, right. You look exhausted. Rest your head and I’ll wake you when we get there.”

Too weak to argue you did just that. Leaning your head against the window which was slick with condensation. The soft purr of the cars engine lulled you rapidly into a deep and dreamless sleep.

You were roused from your confined slumber by Alfie as he lifted you from the passenger seat into his arms. Your neck throbbed where you had laid awkwardly propped up against the window for God knows how long. You let the aching heaviness of your head rest against Alfies chest as he carried you. A whooshing noise echoed familiarly in the blustery background, intertwined with what sounded like crunching gravel beneath Alfie’s feet as he walked. Curiously your sluggish eyes peered at your surroundings. You could just about make out the silhouette of a building and an unusual looking tree against the dark blue of the night sky.

Exhausted, your head fell back onto Alfie’s chest and you buried your face in the crook of his neck to shield it from the tenacious chill of the night air. He came to a stop holding you tightly with one arm as the other searched his trouser pocket. A jingling of keys and the sound of the lock turning, then you were finally inside and out of the cold.

The smell of fresh paint and varnish filled your nostrils as he carried you over the foreign residence. After kicking the door closed with his foot, you felt him ascend a set of stairs in the darkness, effortlessly, as if he was already well acquainted with the steps. A door creaked open and then shortly after you were being lowered. You unfolded from him as he placed you on the soft cushioning of a mattress. Your head sunk into the fluffy pillows, your arms stretching across the width of the spacious bed. Your eyes opened when you realised Alfie wasn’t joining you.

“Don’t leave me.” You begged.

“Sssh.” He soothed softly. His heavy hand brushing back your hair from your face. “You’re safe now, Yahalom.”

Your eyes closed, his reassuring tone and tender touch settling you back to sleep.

You awoke with a start. Looking around the huge room that was now highlighted by an orange hue emanating from the fire that crackled and danced in the fireplace adjacent to the bed. The ceaseless whooshing you heard earlier broke in from a set of french doors to your left and you raised from the bed to investigate. Pulling back the floor length curtains that decorated them, you were shocked to see the mosaicked balcony and the beach landscape that it overlooked. At a glance it appeared that Alfie had stolen you away from the perilous situation in London and brought you to Margate - your safe haven. But what was this place? It wasn’t a B&B or a hotel because you remembered that Alfie had entered with a key - you assumed the same key Ollie had handed him before you left. You glanced around the room once more, the unfamiliarity of your surroundings causing you great unease. And it was quiet, too quiet. Where was Alfie?

You poked your nose out of the bedroom door and peeked down the length of the darkened hallway. A sliver of warm light shone from a partially open door of one of the rooms and cautiously you ambled towards it. You lingered outside, your nerves settling when you heard Alfie’s hushed tone beyond the wood.

“Did you get hold of the rabbi?”

There was a long pause before Alfie spoke again.

“I don’t care what fucking time it is just keep trying. I want him up ‘ere by the end of the week, before the fight... Yeah? Well make-fucking-sure.” You heard a crashing bang which you guessed was the receiver of the telephone being put down on whoever Alfie was talking to.

“Are you gonna stand out there all fucking night or you gonna come in?” He shouted out to you, causing you to smile.

You entered slowly, stalling in the doorway.

Alfie was sat at a desk, a much neater, more fancier desk than the one he usually occupied at the bakery.

“You alright?” He asked, watching you intently as you came to sit in front of him.

You nodded absentmindedly, too busy taking in the plush interior of the room.

“Did you speak to Tommy?” You asked eagerly, your eyes finally meeting his. He waited a moment before answering you.

“Na, I ain’t been able to get hold of him. I’ll try again in the morning...You sure you’re alright?”

“Where are we?” You queried, ignoring his question.

“Margate.”

“No, I mean here.” You pointed to where you were sat. “Whose house is this?”

“This is our house.” He said casually.

You look at him stunned. Your mouth agape.

“Our house?”

He nodded simply.

“W-when? How?” You stuttered, dumbfounded.

“I bought it a while back, after I saw you again at the Eden. It was in a bit of a two an’ eight when I bought it. Taken me an’ the boys a little while to do up.”

“I’m confused.” You shook your head. “You’ve bought a house in Margate? But we’re so far away from London, from your businesses. What about the bakery?”

“I’m retiring, Yahalom. I’ve sold up all the properties I own and I’ve handed the bakery down to Ollie. This was my plan all along. The only way I knew I could keep you safe.”

It took you a moment to process everything and still you were stunned speechless.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I thought this was what you wanted?” He cites.

“It was-“

Alfie narrowed his eyes at your use of past tense.

“-I mean is.” You corrected swiftly before carrying on “It’s just come as a bit of a shock is all.”

“Hmm.” He let out a suspicious grunt. “It’s not the best timing after the day you’ve had, I get that. But that was out of my control wern’it?”

You nodded solemnly. Still trying to wrap your head around everything.

“I thought you’d be happy, Yahalom?”

“I am.” You frowned.

“At least show it then. Crack a smile or summin. You’ve got a face like a slapped arse at the minute.” You heard a frustrated annoyance creep into the grimmess of his voice.

“I don’t know how I feel about it, if I’m being honest. The last few months have been a whirlwind for me. I haven’t slept properly in days, weeks even. Weary to the bone. Wracked with guilt and worry. I honestly don’t know wether I’m coming or going. And now you’re telling me that you’re selling up. Leaving behind everything you’ve worked so hard to build and for what?”

“For us!” He barked. “For us to be together without the worry of someone hurting you to hurt me. And yeah, I’ve worked hard, I’ve earn’t my money, however, it’s time for me to rest now and enjoy the fruits of my labour.”

“I’m not sure, Alf...” You hummed uneasily.

“What’s there to be unsure of?”

“I still ain’t sure this is what you really want!” You snapped frustratedly. “A quiet life by the sea, a child you never wanted...I just can’t see it.” You admitted sadly.

He exhaled harshly, rising from his desk and stepping round to extend a hand to you.

“Come with me. I wanna show you something.”

Reluctantly you took his offered hand and let him guide you back out into the hallway and along to a room that was situated next to the one you had been resting in earlier.

He opened the door and moved aside for you to enter.

The waxing moon shon brightly through the bare windows, lighting up the room with it’s spectacular lunar glow. You stepped through noticing immediately the cot that lay new and empty against the far wall, next to it was a matching chest of drawers and a rocking horse that looked like it had been plucked from a fairground carousel.

Your eyes shot to Alfie whose bear like frame was leant in the doorway studying your reaction.

“When did you do this?”

“A couple of days ago. The room needs a lick of paint but I thought you might wanna choose the colour.” He came to join you in the centre of the room.

“So you did all this before you come to see me? Before you were even certain that the baby yours?...Why?”

He was silent for a moment, deep in thought.

He shrugged. “I s’pose deep down I knew you were lying and that the baby was mine... or maybe I didn’t fucking care, I dunno... doing this...it just felt right.”

“But you said-“

“-I know what I said but saying don’t mean fuck all does it. Actions speak louder than words.” He motions to the room. “And this speaks fucking volumes, dunnit. I mean if this doesn’t prove to you that this is what I really want then I don’t know what will.”

Reassurance drifted over you as you looked once again around the unfinished nursery.

“Say something.” He requested quietly.

Wordlessly you rushed to him and threw your arms around his broad shoulders.

“You like it then? You’re happy?” He confirmed uncertainly.

“I do. I am. It’s...wonderful! Thank you!” You choked a reply, your voice struggling past the forming lump in your throat.

He pulled you closer, his shoulders relaxing as if a weight had been lifted off them.

“You want me to show you round the rest of the house?” He whispered gruffly into your hair.

“Not tonight. Show me tomorrow in the daylight so I can properly take in the beauty of it all.”

“Alright. Well, what shall we do now then?” You were sure you heard a seductive undertone in his question and took full advantage.

“Take me to our bed.”

“You ain’t gotta ask me twice.” He said. His eyes lighting up at your words.

You squealed when he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the next room.

“Cor blimey. You’ve got heavier already.” He huffs.

“Oh give over, I ain’t even showing properly yet. You’re just getting weaker with age, old man.” You teased him.

“Oi! I’ll have you know that there’s nothing wrong with my stamina and I will gladly prove that to you in a minute.” He threatened hotly. Sending your pulse racing. “There’s just one more thing I’ve got to do first.”

He set you down carefully on your own two feet.

“Can’t it wait?” You whined as he stepped away from you and headed towards the door.

“It won’t take me a minute.” He assured you.

You stood in the middle of the once unfamiliar room that you now knew was yours and Alfies. Sighing happily, you glided to the french doors and tried the handle. They opened willingly under your touch. The chill of the night air was refreshing as you stepped out on to the balcony. Leaning on the stone balaustrade, you observed the unrelenting waves that stretched the distance, relishing in the peacefulness of their crashing melody. Nothing could ruin this moment, not even the ugliness of the Changretta situation. All that mattered right now was your future with Alfie, a future that this morning never even existed.

“Yahalom?” Alfie called, having returned.

You spun to look at him. He marched skittishly towards you, his hands behind his back, as he joined you on the balcony.

“I know I’ve asked you this before but as you so poignantly pointed out to me the other day, it’s a proposal that has since expired. So, I’m gonna ask you again... Y/N Y/L/N will you marry me?” He asked gruffly, his eyes so intense you thought they could set you on fire. You gasped unexpectedly. Although it was the second time he had asked you, it was the first time you had heard him say those words aloud.

“Oh, Alfie. Of course I’ll marry you.”

“Thank fuck for that. Here then.” He produced a ring that was hidden in his clenched fist behind his back. Grabbing your hand he slipped it on your finger. You stared down at it in awe. A ruby once again burned brightly on your finger but it wasn’t the one you were used to. You frowned down at the foreignness of the rings delicate beauty and the circle of winking diamonds that surrounded the red gem like a halo.

“I searched high and low for the other one in the bakery but couldn’t find it. So I bought you another one. D’you like it?”

“It’s beautiful... I was just expecting to see the old one.” You replied, your heart sinking at the thought of your first engagement ring being lost forever. It was only supposed to be a temporary ring, taken from Alfie’s pinky finger until he had gotten you a proper one. There wasn’t much to it just a thick gold band with a faceted ruby so red it was hypnotising. Back then you had persuaded Alfie not to buy a replacement, that you wanted to keep his one as every time you looked at it it reminded you of him. Now, thanks to yourself you’ll never see it again.

“That’s old hat now that one though, innit? a token of who we used to be. We’ve been through a lot of shit, right, shit I wanna leave in the past. I want us to have a fresh start, a clean slate, and this house and this ring is where it begins.”

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years

Text

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter IX

Safely driving out of Aracheole Stronghold, the group head in the direction of Lestallum. As they drew closer to their destination, Prompto turned on the radio just as a newscaster broadcasted the latest news. "At long last imperial blockades of Duscaen roadways have been removed. The imperial army has also demolished all related facilities erected around the region. The provisional government of Insomnia anticipates increased traffic congestion along most local highways, and encourages all citizens to refrain from any unnecessary travel for the time being."

At that moment, Prompto remembered what Ignis told him about Ravus. "So help me figure this out-that was Luna's brother?"

"The high commander himself-wartime makes for quick promotions," Ignis answered.

"Even a son of Tenebrae can rise to the top," Gladio added.

"But why would he want to lead their army?" The sharpshooter questioned.

"Who cares?" Noctis sighed.

"Certainly formidable enough on his own. We are fortunate (Y/n) intervened when she did," the tactician said.

"With that cool sword!" Prompto pops out of his seat and propped himself up on his knees, turning to face the backseat. "I had no idea you carried a sword with you, (Y/n)."

She curled her hands up in her lap, staring down at the middle console. "I haven't had it for long."

Ignis, who's eyes were still glued to the road, chimed in. "The Creator's Blade, if I recall what the high commander uttered."

She was hoping they hadn't heard Ravus use the sword's true name. "Yes. It's, well...um..."

Prompto noticed her distress as she clasped her hands tightly together and shifted uncomfortably in the seat. He leaned over the side of the seat and placed one of his hands over hers, squeezing them tightly. "You don't have to say anything if you're uncomfortable."

She looked up and stared into his eyes. "Thank you, Prom."

Eventually, the royal retinue and the guardian arrived back in Lestallum. Once parked, they headed to the Leville. As they walked into the lobby, they found Iris waiting for them. She had a devastated look on her face as she did her best to hold her tears at bay. "Oh, Gladdy."

Gladio was taken aback at his sister's forlorn expression and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I let you down. I never made it to Caem," she confessed melancholically. "The empire came while you were gone."

Deciding to speak somewhere more private, they headed upstairs to their hotel room. Everyone gathered around the distraught Iris as she explained the situation to them. "None of us said a word about Noct. They just showed up and then...poor Jared."

"What do you mean? What happened to Jared?!" Gladio demanded.

"There was nothing we could do!" Iris wailed back. "H-He...He tried protecting us and another woman. B-But the empire killed him and her!"

"They killed an obscure civilian?" Ignis asked.

She nodded, a single tear trailing down her cheek. "Th-They cut her down without even blinking and dragged her body away..."

Just then, the door to the room slowly opens. All eyes fall onto Talcott as he walks into the room, crying. Noctis gets down on one knee to speak with the weeping boy. His voice was full of sorrow as he spoke. "It's...not right. We should've been here."

"I... I couldn't stop them," Talcott mumbled between sniffles.

"But I won't let the empire get away with it. They'll pay for what they've done. I promise."

The little boy nodded. "I believe in you, Prince Noctis." He then walks away followed by (Y/n).

She followed him out into the hallway. She listened to him sniffle a few more times before squatting down in front of him. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Talcott."

"I-I miss him..." He wiped his tears away, but they were promptly replaced with even more tears. Through his blurry vision, he saw the golden gemstone in her arm. "Grandpa tried protecting a lady who was really nice to us when we first arrived here. Her name was Cynthia and she helped us with so much. You have a gem just like she did."

(Y/n) blinked in surprise. Now she knew the empire wasn't just here for Noctis, but to kill any spirits dwelling within Lestallum. "Really? Was it pretty?"

He nodded with a faint smile. "Mhm. It was blue just like the sky. And yours is yellow like the sun."

The spirit smiled back at him, taking his small hands in both of hers. "How about we get outta this stuffy hotel and have some fun?"

Talcott's smile widened, his tears vanishing. "Yeah!"

While (Y/n) escorted Talcott out of the Leville, the conversation inside the hotel room changed. Iris noticed the spirit when she walked out of the room to check on Talcott and couldn't help but admire her beauty and somewhat strange features. Prompto noticed the girl's perplexed expression and decided to clear the air. "Oh, right! You've never met (Y/n) before."

"I didn't know you guys had someone else traveling with you," Iris said.

"Neither did we until a month ago," Noctis commented.

The young Amicitia wasn't sure what he meant, but pushed it aside. "(Y/n)... She has a gem just like Cynthia. And her eyes are weird, too."

"Cynthia?" Gladio inquired.

"She's the woman Jared tried to protect. She helped us when we first arrived in Lestallum. We were shopping together when the empire showed up."

"Wait, y'mean this Cynthia person was a spirit?" Prompto questioned.

Iris' brows furrowed together, showing her puzzlement. "Spirit? I don't know anything about that."

"By the way you described her, she sounded like one."

"If that indeed is the case, we know for a fact Noct wasn't the empire's only target," Ignis chimed in.

Iris glanced between her brother and the other boys. "What're you talking about?"

"Guess an explanation is in order." Noctis turned to Prompto. "You probably better take this one. You would know more about guardians since you have one."

The blonde nodded and took the lead. He explained to Iris who (Y/n) was and what spirits were, remembering what the golden-eyed girl told him earlier during their journey. He even used pictures to help explain. Concluding his explanation, he examined Iris' expression and saw disbelief in her eyes. "You...don't believe me..."

Iris shook her head. "It's not that I don't believe you. It's just...hard to wrap my head around it. Geralt didn't even say anything about Cynthia being a guardian."

"Who's Geralt?" Gladio asked.

"Cynthia's husband. He sells vegetables in the marketplace."

Prompto blinked in surprise, his heart racing. "Her...husband? C-Can I go talk to him?"

"Don't you think the man needs time to mourn?" The shield sighed.

"Actually, I think he'd enjoy your company, Prompto. His stall is located near Tostwell Grill," Iris said. "Just try to keep talking about Cynthia to a minimum."

"Thanks, Iris!" Prompto dashes out of the room, leaving the others behind.

Noctis crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall with a smirk. "Wanna bet it's about (Y/n)?"

Ignis adjusted his glasses. "He is quite smitten with her."

"At least he's found someone who likes him," Gladio chortled.

Meanwhile in the marketplace, Prompto searches for Geralt's stall. He asked each stall owner their name until stumbling across the man he'd been searching for. He swallowed nervously as he grabbed the merchant's attention. "Sorry to bother you, but are you Geralt?"

The crimson-haired man nodded. "That I am. What can I do for you?"

Prompto held out his wrist and showed him the bracelet with the golden gemstone. "I was hoping to talk to you."

Geralt examines the gemstone, eyes widening when realizing what it was. "So you've got yourself a guardian. By the state of the gemstone, they're still alive."

"Huh?" The merchant held out his hand to show the boy the ring on his finger. Prompto gasped when seeing the gemstone adorning it was black and cracked. "Is that...?"

"The gemstone of my lovely Cynthia. After she was killed by those imperial bastards and dragged away, it turned black and cracked. Not only that, I could feel our connection shatter. It was as if someone had stabbed me in the chest."

The marksman frowned melancholically. "I'm...sorry you had to go through that. I-I don't know what I'd do if I lost (Y/n). She means so much to me..."

Geralt leant forward against the wooden table, staring into the blonde's cerulean eyes. "Listen, she may be your guardian and has sworn to protect you, but you've gotta protect her too. I failed to protect my Cynthia. Don't make the same mistake I did."

Prompto nodded with a determined gleam in his eyes. "I will protect (Y/n), I promise."

A smile appeared on the man's face. "I can tell there's not only determination in your eyes. You love her, don't ya?"

He lowered his head. "I do."

Geralt chortled. "You remind me of myself when I was younger. I fell in love with Cynthia and before I knew it, we were married."

The boy lifted his head. "Did you ever question your relationship? Y'know, since she was your guardian?"

"A buncha times. I don't know how many times I heard my sweet Cynthia worry about her status as my guardian. She feared how she wasn't human and wouldn't be able to satisfy me. But after we got married, all her fears vanished. We were living happily until..."

"The empire attacked," Prompto muttered.

"If I could get revenge for Cynthia, I would." Geralt leant over the table and patted the boy on the shoulder. "I wish you luck with (Y/n)."

"Thanks."

The marksman left the marketplace and searched for (Y/n). He wandered the streets of Lestallum until he found her at the outlook with Talcott. They were sitting on a bench, laughing with one another. The little boy was no longer feeling down thanks to the guardian cheering him up. Prompto froze for a second before snapping a picture of the scene. Checking the photo, he saw it was perfect. Lowering his camera, he walked up to the two with a brilliant smile. "Heyaz!"

"Hey, Prom," (Y/n) greeted him with her usual smile. "Talcott and I were just sharing some funny stories. And while we were out, we happened to overhear hunters talking about spotting a royal tomb atop the Rock of Ravatogh."

"We better tell Noct the good news, then!"

Talcott crosses his arms with a pout. "Man, I wish I could go with you guys. Your adventures sound so fun!"

The spirit patted the top of his head. "Trust me, you'll have your own fun adventures someday. Just keep enjoying being a kid for now." She stood up, stretching her arms into the air before lowering them. "Anyway, we should head back and tell the others what we learned. Right, Talcott?"

"Yeah!" Talcott hopped off the bench and dashed off towards the Leville.

Prompto chuckled at the sight. "Little guy sure has spirit."

"I'm glad he's feeling better," (Y/n) commented. Taking a closer look at the blonde, she noticed his joyous expression was replaced with melancholia. "What's wrong?"

Unconsciously, he'd been fiddling with the bracelet around his wrist. "I, um...I talked to Cynthia's husband, Geralt."

"Oh, Talcott told me about Cynthia. She was the spirit who Jared was trying to protect. He didn't say she was married, though. What made you want to visit Geralt?"

"Just wanted to ask him some things. That's all." Prompto glanced away from the girl, fiddling even more with the bracelet.

(Y/n) placed a hand on her hip, a single eyebrow raised. "Like what?"

"W-Well..."

She closed the distance between them, grabbing his chin between her thumb and index finger. She turned his head so he had no other choice but to look down at her. "You asked him about their relationship, didn't you?"

Prompto's eyes widen as they were still locked hers. "How'd you know?"

"If I had known earlier about Geralt, I would've sought him out myself to ask about his relationship with Cynthia. They're the first human/spirit couple I've heard of." She released his chin. "What did he have to say?"

"He said Cynthia had the same doubts about herself like you do. She was afraid she couldn't make him happy because she wasn't human, but all that fear went away when they got married. They were happy until the empire came to town and killed her." Prompto took her hands in his, entwining their fingers together. "I know you're supposed to be the one protecting me, but I want to protect you too. I-I can't bear the thought of losing you."

She smiled gently at him. "You won't lose me, Prom. I'll always be by your side, even when you don't want me to be."

Prompto laughed, leaning his forehead against hers. "There's no way that'll ever happen." He placed his lips over hers, kissing her gently. He squeezed her hands when the kiss deepened, drowning in the blissful moment. His heartbeat and hers picked up in speed as the kiss became heated. Before it could turn into a full make-out session in broad daylight, they pulled apart. The boy glanced down at their connected hands before quickly looking back up at (Y/n). "Guess we better head back."

"Then let's go." She released one of his hands, but continued to hold the other one. They held hands all the way to the hotel and weren't even ashamed when they walked into the lobby, grabbing everyone's attention.

Iris was the first to react, flying to her feet. She was aware of the couple holding hands, but she was more invested in introducing herself to (Y/n). "We haven't formally met. I'm Iris."

"I'm (Y/n). A pleasure to meet you, Iris," the guardian smiled.

The young Amicitia glances at the gemstone in the girl's upper arm. "Prompto told me everything about spirits earlier. I'm...still trying to wrap my head around it, especially since Cynthia was one too." She them looked over towards Talcott with a smile before meeting the spirit's gaze again. "Thank you for cheering Talcott up. He told me how much fun he had with you today."

"I'm glad I could bring his smile back."

"Oh!" Talcott suddenly shouted. He looked over at Noctis. "(Y/n) and I overheard some hunters talking about another tomb."

The raven-haired boy blinked in surprise. "Really? Where?"

"At the top of the Rock of Ravatogh."

"Well, looks like we know where we're heading next," Gladio commented. "Best head out now if we wanna beat the daemons."

"It is in our best interest to restock our supply of curatives before departing," Ignis said.

Iris and Talcott remained behind as the others left the Leville. They restocked their diminishing supply of curatives before heading to the parking lot. Before they climbed into the Regalia, they could hear the frustrated yells of someone nearby. They all exchanged glances with each other, deciding to check on the frustrated person. They came across the President and CEO of Meteor Publishing, Vyv. He was complaining about the heat, which is what caught the group's attention.

After calming down, Vyv explained to them how he wanted pictures of a cave located at the Rock of Ravatogh. Prompto gasped in excitement at the request. "We'll do it!"

"We will?" Noctis asked.

"I am not passing up this opportunity. Besides, we're already heading that way!"

"Prompto and his pictures..." (Y/n) mumbled.

"Indeed," Ignis said after overhearing the girl.

"Get a good shot and I'll pay you," Vyv said.

"We do need the money," Gladio stated. "And it's only a picture. Blondie'll handle it."

"Aw, yeah!" Prompto cheered. "You can count on me!"

With that, the group headed back to the parking lot and climbed into the Regalia. They left Lestallum and headed towards the Rock of Ravatogh. Ignis pulled the car over to the side of the road when they got as close to the pathway leading up the volcano as they possibly could. Hopping out of the vehicle, they trek up the path until they reached jagged, uneven ground. (Y/n) watched where she stepped to avoid tripping. "So, we're really going to trek up the side of a volcano for a picture and a royal arm."

"Why do you sound excited?" Gladio asked.

She grinned from ear to ear. "I thrive in environments of extreme heat. Makes my magic more powerful."

"You wanna take the lead then?" Noctis asked. "I wouldn't mind, especially if you burn all the monsters we come across. It'd make this whole trip easier."

"And let you guys miss all the fun?" She gasped in feign shock. "Never. Lead the way, Noctis."

Noctis groaned at her answer. "Ugh..."

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader

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petri808 · 4 years

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@fuck-yeah-nalu Naluween week 2020 Apocalypse prompt

Lucy POV

The further I run, the softer the screams become, dying away into garbled choking and haunting ripping sounds as the zombies tear away at the flesh of their hapless victims. I wipe away the tears that cloud my vision, don��t look back Lucy, I cry a mantra in my head, don’t look back and see your family... it’s too painful to know you are the only one who made it out alive. I can only be grateful that my mother never lived to see this day or become one of the undead. Oh god, please don’t tell me corpses will reanimate too! I shake the thoughts away. Don’t you do that!

How did this happen? I have no idea what is going on because it came on so suddenly. A plague that washed across our town, the state, is the world like this? Where do I go? Is there anywhere safe? Is there anyone I know that’s still alive? I call these creatures zombies because it’s like a horror movie come to life! I saw with my own two eyes a servant killed by one of the creatures, literally her throat ripped out and blood spurting everywhere, suddenly come back to life! Then they both went after our butler...

It was only by the grace of skill that I escaped with my life. Years of running track and a conditioned body allowed me to out pace these ravenous beings. They weren’t slow nor fast, yet deadly focused on their unquenchable hunger. Is that all we have left for our futures? Whether today or 60 years from now to turn the moment I die into a zombie? I have no idea. Is it just in the bite? Was it an airborn virus unleashed into the world? Has Mother Nature forsaken us? And can we blame her for it?

All the sounds of carnage have ceased and I’m left to my own thoughts as I walk the back roads from our country estate. I have no clear direction except to avoid areas of population. It was a good thing that we lived outside of the city itself where there are less people. The heart of town must be crawling with zombies by now. Yet distant gun fire or explosions, and occasional screams remind me to stay focused at least until I find somewhere safe to hold up in.

I hear a car approaching from behind and turn to look. As it gets closer, the vehicle looks awfully familiar... It grinds to halt a few feet before reaching me and I hear the best sound I’ve heard all day!

“Lucy!”

“Natsu!”

I run to his open trucks door and launch myself into his arms. “You’re alive!” The tears stream down my cheeks as I bury my face into his chest.

“I’m so glad I found you baby! I went past your house looking for you, but it was over run.”

“Everyone’s gone!” My sobs increase. Dead or undead, no longer the people I cared about.

“At least we’ve got each other.”

“But... your family?”

“Gone too,” he grits out.

His voice tells me he’s trying to hold himself together for my sake. “I’m so sorry Natsu.”

“Can’t be helped at this point. Come on,” he ushers me, “let’s get out of here.”

I jump into his truck and we take off again. “But where do we go?”

“No idea. Right now my main concern is doing what ever I need to keep us alive.”

Ever wished you’d watched more horror movies when you had the chance? Before today, it’s not something I would have ever considered. But it sure would be handy! As Natsu drove, different scenarios ran through my mind. Would this be like a 28 Days Later type zombie that eventually starves? Or more like a classic George Romero, never dies type, that finally stops because their body has completely rotted away? But let’s just hope it’s not a Resident Evil plot line with mutant zombies and a corporation behind the whole thing. Government... maybe... The current President does have a screw loose. Anyways, I guess the cause could be irrelevant at this point. We needed to figure out ways to survive this, however long it would last.

What are the common ideas in the movies? Find a secure building, preferably easy access for scavenging food and water. Avoidance as much as possible... Oh! And weapons! Guns, ammo, a big knife. Hmm, tactical clothing, comfortable and durable. But wait?! What if the outbreak came from contaminated food?! Ugh! This is so frustrating!

“Do you still have your cellphone Natsu? I wasn’t able to grab mine.”

“I do. Sent out a group text but so far no one’s answered.”

“At least that’s still working... for now.”

We drive and drive searching for supplies if we’re lucky enough to come across them. Gasoline, food, water, weapons, clothes, and bedding. Natsu’s truck is a blessing to have in times like this to use less travelled dirt roads or even no roads at all. These zombies are everywhere! How did it spread so quickly?

I use his phone to Google what’s happening and sure enough this pandemic is sweeping across the Americas but has not yet jumped across the oceans. The world’s response was to immediately shut down borders. Planes were turned around and grounded and ports grind to a halt. Military vessels from Asia and Europe were on their way to create blockades to stop boats from leaving either American continent, and fighter jets in the sky ordered to shoot down any planes...

“Oh my god...” my hands fly up and cover my mouth. “Natsu were trapped.” The world has turned its back on us. “This really is an apocalypse for our country.”

So many theories and stories about the cause of this infection fly around the internet. Best anyone can tell it started somewhere near Maryland and quickly moved across state lines. Several articles mention a government research hospital called Walter Reed as a possible link. We’re they working on something that caused this outbreak? Why doesn’t this surprise me?

“Why? What are you reading Luce?”

“In order to keep the pandemic from jumping continents, the world is basically cutting us off. I mean I can’t blame them, but what about survivors? Is no one gonna help us to escape?”

Damn! It could be like the 28 Weeks Later scenario! Are they going to bomb us, try to eradicate us! Oh look, at least the President is confirmed dead. That useless fat bastard was a plague of his own on this country.

Ping.

“Omg Natsu, Gray answered! He said he and Juvia made it out of the city, as well as Erza, Jellal, Levy, and Gajeel too! Right now they’re holding up at an abandoned warehouse in Clover. Natsu that’s the next town from here!”

“Should we go?”

“I think so, there’s safety in small groups.”

Natsu takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “Then we have a plan.”

What the future will hold is still to be seen. Will we survive it? You know what? I shut off Google and realize no one else is going to protect us but ourselves. We have to work together if we hope to live another day, but at least we have each other and our friends.

I smile back, he was right. “We have a plan!”

#naluweenweek #naluween week #naluween 2020 #apocalypse prompt #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu AU #nalu fanfiction #nalu fan fic #yes it was a jab at COVID and the US #sorry not sorry

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nkatr84 · 3 years

Text

Obi Wan/female reader one shot : Waiting part 1/2

When the reader is sixteen, she starts working as a waitress at Dex’s Diner. On her first day, she meets the love of her life. There’s just one problem. He’s a Jedi...

It had been a hectic first day. But you wouldn’t complain. Dex liked that about you. You just did what you were told. Buckled down, smiled at customers and only messed up one order so far. You just prayed to the Force that your natural clumsiness wouldn’t flare up.

The Force had a sense of humor.

One minute Dex had left the kitchens to chat with an old friend. Ordering a round of milkshakes. After setting the third milkshake on the tray, you carefully brought it out of the kitchen. But no sooner had you stepped out into the main dining room, the door of the kitchen swung forward knocking into your feet.

Your feet tripped over themselves and as your body twisted you gasped, seeing the tray flying, the milkshakes up in the air. But as you braced yourself for impact, you felt a pair of strong arms catch you.

You peeked open one eye. Then both eyes opened as you took in the sparkling blue eyes looking down at you in concern. It was a boy about your age. And he was gorgeous. Chiseled jaw just losing its baby fat. A perfect nose. You noticed two moles. One on his cheek and one on his forehead. Your heart hammered in your chest.

“Are you alright?” He gently asked, his voice a smooth, refined accent of the upper levels of Coruscant.

“Never better...” you gasped catching your breath. But then you noticed his haircut. Auburn hair buzzcut short, except for one single small braid hanging over his shoulder. Brow furrowed, you realized you hadn’t heard the milkshakes crash to the floor. You glanced around to confirm your suspicions. The milkshakes and tray were floating in midair.

And despite the romance the imagery of being dipped over his knee conjured, reality finally crashed in to ruin the moment. Your savior was a Jedi padawan.

“Hey hey! Looks like your Padawan has good reflexes Qui Gon!” Chuckled Dex from the booth.

Across from him, a tall Jedi with long graying brown hair nodded in amusement,

“One should hope so. Alright Obi Wan I think the poor girl can stand on her own feet again.”

The padawan Obi Wan blushed and righted you on your feet,

“Yes Master.”

“And you can stop showing off. It’s an inappropriate use of the Force.” Qui Gon added, a small wink towards Dex who chuckled, his four arms crossed over his shaking belly.

“Sorry Master.” Obi Wan flushed again, waving his hand. The milkshakes righted themselves and floated over to the table. Obi Wan plucked the tray from midair and handed it to you.

“Thank you.” You said, voice shy and small, eyes cast to your feet.

“You’re welcome.” Obi Wan nodded before sliding into the booth next to his Master. You nodded, returning to your other customers. But not without one last glance over your shoulder at the handsome padawan. It just wasn’t fair.

You tried to forget about the Jedi. But blue eyes haunted your dreams at night. Your mind reasonsed with yourself that the Jedi had a code that forbid attachments. But that didn’t stop your foolish heart from pounding in your chest every time Qui Gon and Obi Wan stopped by the diner for lunch.

It was no use. Having a stupid crush on a Jedi was just part of your reality now. Dex noticed of course. He thought it was hilarious. He made you wait on them every time. You were beginning to suspect he made your schedule out to guarantee you would be working when they came in. You didn’t know how. Especially when they started to go away on more missions and wouldn’t be back for weeks at a time. Once for a whole year. Not that you were counting the days or worrying or anything...

The only way you could cope with the crush was self deprecation. Telling yourself that even if he wasn’t a Jedi, Obi Wan wouldn’t give you a second glance. Oh he was polite and asked how you were, making conversation. But everyone else pretty much ignored you. You even had a customer point out one day that you just had one of those faces that just blended in.

You didn’t think you were ugly. But being a little short and your figure being a bit on the plump side you also weren’t kidding yourself. You guessed that was why you longed for Obi Wan like you did. You couldn’t have him anyway, so you might as well dream of the impossible.

But you also wished someone would want you like you wanted Obi Wan.

In a blink of an eye three years had past. And one day Obi Wan came in by himself. That was new.

“Hey! Obi Wan! Where’s Qui Gon?” Dex wiped his hands on his apron. Your heart twisted at the pained look on his face. Noting how red his eyes were.

“Obi Wan?” Dex pressed, suspicion growing with dread.

“He...fell in battle.” Obi Wan swallowed.

Dex shut his yellow eyes.

“Close the door Kid. We’re closing early today.” The grayish tan alien told you, pain evident.

“Sure Dex.” You nodded crossing over to flip the sign. You were the only waitress working today. Even your droid waitress FLO was out for maintenance. You hadn’t even had a customer all day until Obi Wan came in. The sky rumbled with thunder, the rain matching the mood.

“I’ll take my leave then.” Obi Wan nodded.

“No you sit. We’re going to honor my friend.” Dex let out a shuddering breath, entering the kitchen.

“Will he be alright?” Obi Wan asked you. You jumped hearing a roar of rage and pots crash to the floor.

“He will be. Just give him a minute.” You told him.

Obi Wan nodded then took a seat in his usual booth. Keeping to the edge as if Qui Gon was still beside him.

“Are you alright?” You asked, sliding into the booth across from him.

Obi Wan gave a stiff nod,

“Of course. A Jedi must accept death as a part of life. Less he fall to the Dark side.”

You lifted your brows. That sounded rehearsed. As if he were clinging to that mantra like a life preserver.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.” You pointed out.

“No it doesn’t.” He conceded. You then noticed his padawan braid was gone.

“Were you knighted?” You asked.

He scoffed,

“Yeah. The council felt that anybody that can kill a Sith Lord after a thousand years needs to be a Knight.”

“A Sith Lord?” You asked. Obi Wan began to tell you the story. Of the Trade Federation setting up a blockade on Naboo and how they had tried to kill Qui Gon and Obi Wan when they came to negotiate for the Republic. Saving the Naboo Queen and the detour to Tatooine. The discovery of a boy named Anakin with a high M count, strong in the Force. Wicked political plots and the wicked Sith Darth Maul dueling both Qui Gon and Obi Wan. Qui Gon’s death and Obi Wan killing the Sith. Of Qui Gon making Obi Wan promise to train Anakin.

“So I was knighted and now Anakin is my padawan. I don’t know if I’m ready.” He confesses to you.

“Qui Gon believed you were.” You point out.

“Qui Gon also believed Anakin is the Chosen One.” Obi Wan sighed.

“Chosen One?”

“The one meant to bring balance to the Force. Don’t get me wrong. Qui Gon was an excellent teacher. I’m confident that he’s taught me well. But how can the kid that was once destined for the Argricore teach the Chosen One?” He asked.

Your heart swelled. So your Jedi Knight doubted himself too. Why was that so endearing? Maybe because it made your stubborn heart believed you were connected.

But Obi Wan needed a friend. So a friend you would be. You squeezed his hand on the table.

“With patience. Kindness. Devotion. All the qualities that Qui Gon saw in you.” You said.

He gave a small smile, eyes still sad,

“Thank you.”

Dex interrupted you, already swaying on his feet from the Spotcha he had stored in his office. The Besalisk poured a round of shots and you all toasted to Qui Gon. That night Obi Wan helped you get Dex home, who was in no condition to drive. Then he walked you home after the rain let up.

The next ten years you’d think of that night whenever you had a bad date or another Life Day went by alone. Oh you tried to date. But no one made you feel the way Obi Wan did.

You had one steady boyfriend once. A good man. A mechanic. But then you had blown it when he tried to kiss you. You had sighed Obi Wan’s name. He was kind enough to forgive you. Until he surprised you at the diner one day. He had been patiently waiting for your shift to end. When Obi Wan and Anakin walked in.

“There she is Obi Wan!” The thirteen year old pointed you out. Obi Wan gave a friendly smile. You had waved, biting your lips as you saw how the beard Obi Wan was growing out suited him.

But then you had caught your boyfriend’s eye. He gave you a sad smile. He knew. And the pity in his eyes told you he understood your dilemma. You were in love with a man forbidden to love. And while he had been free to love you, he just couldn’t compete. He had left and you never saw him again. You had heard he married a few years later, and you were glad. Meanwhile you would stop trying to date after that.

Funny enough that same day, after your boyfriend had left, you had approached Obi Wan and Anakin to take their order.

“Was that your boyfriend?” Anakin had asked.

“Anakin...”

“Yes he was.” You nodded, setting out their utensils, not adding that you were no longer an item as of five minutes ago.

“Does he think you’re pretty like Obi Wan does?” Anakin had asked.

You looked at the boy stunned as his Master admonished,

“Anakin!”

You glanced at Obi Wan out of the corner of your eye. He was shielding his eyes with his hand, neck and face flushed red. You couldn’t help but be amused. Anakin was more like a annoying kid brother to Obi Wan than student and teacher. You liked the kid enough, but sometimes his confidence struck you as arrogance. He was improving that attitude under Obi Wan though.

“I suppose he did.” You answered, giving them menus.

“Did?” Anakin caught.

“That’s none of our business Padawan.” Obi Wan softly scolded.

“I’ll give you a minute to decide.” You told them.

But you heard over your shoulder,

“Don’t you think she’s pretty Master?”

“Shut up Anakin...”

That stupid flare of hope ignited in you once again.

As years past and Anakin grew, the conflict between the Republic and the Trade Federation Separtists grew into a full blown war. Anakin was soon knighted and given his own padawan along with a command over a clone trooper squad. Obi wan was made a general with his own squadron. The Jedi visits to the diner were rare.

The war and Obi Wan wasn’t the only thing you had to worry about. You had to take several moonlighting jobs during the war. Once you were hired as a server at a fancy gala for Republic senators.

You rarely visited the Upper levels outside Coco Town. The opulence of the ballroom had left you speechless. Still you did your job. When you heard a familiar voice call your name.

You were sure you were gawking as Obi Wan approached you. He looked so dashing in his armor.

“Obi Wan!”

It wasn’t you that called his name. A tall, beautiful woman with blonde hair and rich robes caught his attention.

“Duchess.” He said. You heard the warmth in his tone. The one that matched his eyes. You turned and disappeared into the background, not seeing Obi Wan try to introduce you only to find you gone.

You didn’t really have time to process how Obi Wan had looked at the Duchess over the next few months. You had to earn a living. You started taking waitressing jobs in Coruscant nightclubs. Which required a lot of skimpy short dresses. No one noticed you anyway. So they never bothered you too much.

Until a familiar voice said over the chatter of crowds and booming music,

“No one told me the view here was so lovely.”

With a blush you turned to see Obi Wan once again in his armor approach you.

“Hello Obi Wan.” You nodded.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Well between the taxes the Chancellor imposed on businesses considered non essential to the war, and the taxes that made my rent go up, a girl has to eat. Even Dex has a second job now.” You shrugged.

“Which explains why I saw you at the gala. I’m sorry I didn’t know you were working. I thought you might have been there as someone’s date.” He said.

You scoffed,

“Yeah right. Who would take a girl from Coco town to one of those Upper level parties?”

“I would be proud to have you on my arm.” He said. You looked up at him at that.

“That’s sweet. But I don’t have time for parties these days.” You told him, trying to excuse yourself.

“Maybe...when the war is over?”

You stopped and looked at him in shock. Did he just? No he thought of you as a friend.

“Well you’ll have to win the war first.” You recovered.

“All the more reason to do so then My Dear. And quickly.” He said, lips tugged up. Ugh. When did he get so charming?

“Obi Wan!” Ashoka waved him over next to Anakin, Senator Amidala and a few troopers.

“I should get back to work.” You said.

“If you get off soon or have a break you’re free to join us.” He said kindly.

“Thanks. But as soon as I get off I have to head home to get a few hours sleep. I have to open Dex’s in the morning.” You told him.

“Then I’ll walk you home.” He nodded.

“You don’t have to.” You shook your head.

“I insist. And don’t you dare try to sneak out on me this time.” He told you.

You gave him a mock salute,

“Yes Sir.”

He chuckled and returned to his friends, as you took a steadying breath. But you couldn’t help but hear the Senator ask,

“Will your friend join us Obi Wan?”

“You mean his girlfriend?” Ahsoka teased.

“Snips!”

Obi Wan sighed,

“Anakin do control your padawan.”

It turned out that it wasn’t just Obi Wan to walk you home. You were also escorted by a few of his men. Men that had chuckled when Obi Wan had kissed your cheek goodnight. Until a bark from their general made them snap to attention.

You watched him leave that night, savoring the kiss lingering on your cheek. A memory you would cling to when a month later you got the awful news. Obi Wan had been murdered.

You had wanted to curl up and cry for days after receiving the news from Ahsoka. Anakin was understandably too upset to even speak since it happened. But Dex had gotten himself kriffing drunk when he heard. Someone had to keep the diner going.

The diner was closed the day of the funeral. You had to go solo. Dex couldn’t bring himself to go to it. You had never been to the Jedi temple before. It was massive and almost otherworldly. You were escorted to a lift. Where the Duchess from the ball joined you. She too had tears in her eyes.

You were left alone in the lift together. When she asked,

“How did you know Obi Wan?”

“I work at the diner he liked to go for lunch. He’s been coming ever since he was a padawan. The owner Dex is...was...a good friend. He couldn’t come today.” You explained.

“Sounds like Obi Wan.” She nodded fondly. “He protected me during the Mandalore Civil War. Him and Qui Gon. Then just Obi Wan for nearly a year. We grew so close...”

She sniffed delicately into a hanky, not noticing how you turned green. Of course a beautiful Duchess would turn his head. You were just a plain waitress from the lower levels. A friend. Every moment you thought had been proof of hidden affection for you was just a product of your imagination. You had tried to push away a good friend because of some stupid crush. A stupid crush that he wouldn’t return because of the woman next to you and the Jedi code. And now he was gone.

The lift opened and you exited into a large open air chamber. Your breath catching seeing the body lying in state under a sheet. You only noticed Anakin seething in rage in front of the body. The look on his face gave you chills. The rest of the service you kept your gaze on Obi Wan’s body until the last moment he was lowered into his tomb that slid closed. The emblem of the Jedi craved into his marker.

Unlike other funerals you had attended, once the service was over the Jedi left. Regular mourners like you, the Duchess and Senator Amidala lingered to give final respects. When it was your turn, you whispered,

“I’ll never stop loving you Obi Wan Kenobi. Even if you never loved me.”

You returned home and back to life. A few days later, it was almost closing when a man entered. He was bald headed, and rough looking. A scar and tattoo on his face. Bounty hunter written all over him.

“Hi. Welcome to Dex’s. The kitchen just closed but if you want caff or pie we have plenty.” You greeted with a courteous smile.

He stood there staring at you. He made you nervous. But not afraid. Odd.

“Sir?”

He shook himself,

“Just caff.”

“Coming up.” You nodded turning to grab the pot. You startled when you found him sitting in Obi Wan’s booth. Sure others had sat there, but the way he sat now, it was just too similar. Too eerie.

Something wrong?” He asked, voice gruff but gentle. There was something familiar about it.

“Nothing. It’s just...have we met?” You asked.

“No. I’d remember a pretty girl like you.” He said hiding his smile behind his cup. He wasn’t that attractive, but you blushed nevertheless.

“Not many people would call me pretty.” You said.

“They’re idiots.”

“Well thanks.” You laughed, ready to leave him alone.

“Why are you sad?” He stopped you.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you lose someone?” He pressed.

You gave a short laugh,

“That obvious huh?”

“Who did you lose?” He asked.

“A friend.”

“Just a friend?”

You furrowed your brow,

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. He was just my friend.”

“I meant no offense.” He said as if remembering himself.

“Right...” you nodded wanting to excuse yourself.

“It’s just...I can’t believe a man would just be content to be your friend. I’d imagine...he’d wish things were different. More than once.” He said.

“Maybe. But not with me.” You said.

“Why not?”

“Well at first I thought he was devoted to his calling. A calling I was told didn’t allow for attachments. So I didn’t want to take that away from him. Only later I discovered he had feelings for someone else.” You confessed. Why you were sharing this with a stranger you didn’t know. But it felt good to confess it.

“Maybe he was confused himself. Torn between his calling and his feelings for two different women.” He offered.

“You haven’t seen the other woman.” You scoffed putting down the pot and leaning against the booth.

“Let me guess? Tall? Blonde? Regal?” He prompted.

“Uncanny. You sure we haven’t met?” You asked.

“I’d never forget meeting you.” He said.

It was the twinkle in his eye that had you shaking your head.

“Well. If you had seen them together, there would be no doubt on who he would choose if he wanted to give up his calling. They looked made for each other.” You told him.

“Maybe. But I can see why he’d be drawn to you.”

At your skeptical brow raise he continued, “Your kindness. Your selflessness. Your work ethic.”

“This sounds like a job interview.” You quipped.

“Your eyes. How they light up when you look at him. Your smile would haunt his dreams. Your laugh ringing in his ears. How you treat him like a normal man. Put his happiness ahead of your own. The other woman may have a strength, intelligence and beauty that’s draws him as well, and he does care for her. Deeply. But he can’t imagine a normal life with her. He can with you. It’s tempted him far more than she ever did. All he needed was a word from you.” The stranger went on.

“Who are you?” You asked. He suddenly stood, looking out the window. He exited the booth looking down at you.

“A coward. For not doing this sooner.” He replied. Then he kissed you. Your eyes widened in surprise. Then you melted in his embrace.

Before losing yourself completely, he suddenly bolted into the kitchen. Confused beyond belief, you tried to figure out what just happened. When Anakin stormed in, lightsaber ignited.

“Where is he?” He barked.

“Who?” You asked.

“Rako Hardeen!” He hissed.

“Who?!”

He growled stomping into the kitchen. Ahsoka burst in, out of breath, troopers on her heel.

“What’s going on? Who was that man?” You demanded.

“That’s the man that killed Obi Wan!” She huffed. You collapsed into the booth, feeling sick.

Hours past and you were kept there for questioning. Master Windu had come to question you. If you knew anything about Hardeen. What you talked about. You got the impression that he was trying to see if you were an accomplice. That angered you. It was Master Yoda that stopped him. The wise green Jedi master sensed the truth in you he had said.

“Forgive Master Windu and Young Skywalker you must. Seeking justice they are.” He told you as the Jedi left, a few Clones assigned to take you home.

“It’s not like I asked for a murderer to seek me out. Master Yoda? Why would he kiss me?” You asked, embarrassed. But you had to know.

“Hmm. To get in heads of targets, snipers learn everything about them they do. Saw your friendship with Obi Wan he did. Snipers known to fall for those their target cared about. Happens more than you think.” Yoda assured you.

It made sense. Especially given your odd conversation. Obviously just the man’s misconceptions.

“Hmm. Curious though. Why call himself a coward he did?” He asked. A secret dancing on his little smile as he left you.

To top off the strange day, after the troopers had cleared your apartment, posting a guard outside just in case, you dreamed of the kiss. Only when Hardeen broke the kiss, he had turned into Obi Wan.

You tried to get on with life. Work at the diner during the days, the clubs at night and on your days off. Hardeen was caught and sent to prison. You still dreamed of that kiss.

Months went by. Anakin started to come for lunch. His way of remembering Obi Wan you supposed. Only he only brought Ahsoka half the time. Senator Amidala was often his company. Padme as she insisted you call her. And judging by the looks they gave each other, they weren’t just friends. Which didn’t surprise you. Anakin had always been more willing to break the rules than Obi Wan had.

As much as you enjoyed getting to know them better, you still felt like a third wheel. When Ahsoka and the Clones joined him, you were more inclined to hang out. But seeing them flirting when they thought no one was looking you had to roll your eyes. Did they know how obvious they were?

But one day, you woke up with the realization that you hadn’t dreamt of the kiss. Maybe you were finally moving on. You fixed yourself a full breakfast. Then walked to Dex’s for the afternoon shift. Settling into the routine of taking and filling orders. You were mixing a milkshake when a voice you never thought you’d hear again spoke up.

“Hello there.”

You gasped, dropping the glass. Only it didn’t shatter. You looked and saw it was floating in midair.

“We really must stop meeting like this.” That voice said. You turned. Praying this wasn’t a cruel dream. For there was Obi Wan. His hair was buzzcut short again, his shaven beard growing back in. Smiling gently at you.

“That’s an inappropriate use of the Force.” You reminded him.

“Just say the word and I’ll give it up.” He said.

You blanched,

“What?”

He was interrupted by Dex running from the kitchen,

“Obi Wan! Knew you weren’t dead!”

“Hello Dex.” Obi Wab greeted before being pulled into a tight four armed hug.

The greeting soon turned into a celebration when Anakin, Ahsoka, Padme and the Clones showed up. You were soon given an explanation. Obi Wan had faked his death to go undercover to save the Chancellor from an assassination plot. Taking the identity of Rako Hardeen and even changing his face. Doing the timeline in your head, you realized something.

“That was you that night wasn’t it?” You asked him quietly.

“I’m sorry for deceiving you.” He apologized.

“But why?” You asked.

“I needed to make sure my voice modulator was working correctly. That if a friend who knew me for years couldn’t tell, then I could fool everyone else.” He replied.

Friend. Of course.

“And the kiss? All the things you said?” You asked.

“Well I like to be though.” He quipped, taking a bite of cake.

“I see.”

“You’re angry with me.” He stated.

“Maybe I am. After all Master Kenobi you did manipulate my feelings just to test your dumb disguise.” You clarified.

“Manipulate? I didn’t mean...”

“Next time try Satine. I’m sure she won’t be so easily fooled.” You told him yanking off your apron and stomping out, ignoring Obi Wan calling after you.

It would be almost a year before you saw him again. Anakin said he was focused on ending the war. Not that you asked about him. More than...six times. This time you suspected Dex had changed your schedule so you could avoid the Jedi. Until one night when you showed up for the late shift. Dex was sick again. So you would have to close up. Luckily you didn’t have to work the clubs tonight.

Only when you got there, you saw Obi Wan in his usual booth.

“He’s been sitting there all day. Won’t let me or FLO get him anything.” the other waitress Hermoine told you. You sighed tying on your apron. You still had a job to do.

“What can I get you General?” You had asked.

“That depends.” He replied.

“On?”

“If you’re still mad at me?” He asked.

You laughed softly, folding your arms,

“Believe it or not Obi Wan, regular people don’t hold on to past grievances. We’ve got lives to live.”

“I know. It’s one of the things I admire about you.” He said.

“I’m sorry about Satine.” You offered. You had heard it from the news. The Duchess assassinated. Mandalore under the control of a mysterious crime boss. The fate of the war up in the air.

“Thank you.” He said softly. Eyes sad.

“You were there weren’t you?” You guessed taking a seat.

“I tried to rescue her. I can’t say much, but the man who killed her is an old enemy of mine. He wanted me to suffer. I barely escaped.” Obi Wan told you.

“I’m sure she knew you did your best.” You assured him.

“She told me she loved me. That she always would.” He confessed.

Your heart skipped a beat,

“And what did you tell her?”

“That had she said the word, I’d have left the order.” He said.

“You did love her.” You said. But not me, you thought.

“Remember that year Qui Gon and I went to help during the Mandalore Civil War?” He asked.

“Yes. Satine told me. At your funeral. You spent a year together.” You recalled.

“We did grow close. And if she had asked I would have left the order. If I hadn’t mucked up our one and only kiss.” He explained.

“Mucked up how?”

“I called her by your name.” He confessed.

“What?” You blinked.

“She was furious. I tried to explain but I didn’t know how. I still don’t to be honest.” He said.

Your brain stopped working. You tried to process his words.

“I devoted myself to the Order because it was easier to ignore the fact that I cared for not just one woman but two. So I wouldn’t have to choose. That cost one of you your life. And it’s not fair. To either of you.

I only thank the Maker that no one knows about you. None of my enemies anyway. To be on the safe side a trooper will be working undercover here to protect you. You might have to pretend to be dating him.”

Obi Wan had grumbled this last part.

“Jealous?” You teased him.

“Very. But I promise you once this blasted war is over, I’m not going to keep you waiting anymore. I’ll leave the Order and we’ll figure out what we have. Together.” He stated.

“Are you just saying this because I’m your only choice now?” You asked.

He looked confused,

“What? No...I...”

You stopped him by taking his hand,

“Obi Wan. The Force chose you to have these marvelous gifts. To be used for good. Even before I knew about Satine I never wanted you to give that side of yourself up for me. I love you for who you are. As you are. I’ve dreamed of you wanting me as I’ve wanted you. But because you can’t live without me. Not because you’re scared to lose me. Correct me if I’m wrong but that’s the path to the Dark Side right?”

“Right as always my Darling.” He conceded.

#obi wan fluff #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #star wars #prequels fanfic

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salenakingston · 3 years

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Mystery March Day 1 - Heal

Wounds, in their purest form, can be seen on the physical plane. Each wound can have varying levels of severity, but bleeding all the same. Sometimes all it takes is one’s own self to close the wound, but sometimes it takes the help of others to fix the problem. But not all wounds can be seen. What’s to be done about those ones? The same rules apply to these as they do to physical wounds, they just require more care.

Life moves on, and in turn, so did Kingsmen Mechanics. Even in the aftermath of becoming a battlefield for one vengeful ghost, a vampiric plant woman, and a murderous kitsune.. God he could barely believe it all himself. Had he not been there himself, he probably would have scoffed at such a claim. It hadn’t been a figment of his imagination, the ‘boom’ of the shotgun echoing, shells ‘tinking’ down to the metal of the truck’s floor. Hate filled, and hollow, eyes fixated on the one that dare place a new hole in its heart.

Lance never did understand the kinds of things his nephew chose to pursue along with his friends, and more recent events made it seem like it was far more trouble than it was worth. But that wasn’t the biggest issue, far from it. It was Arthur himself. If there was one thing that kid was good at, it was keeping his feelings to himself. Who would want to worry those closest to him with his own problems as he always put it. The one thing that never seemed to get through his thick skulls was that family and friends would never push someone away for that.

They were there to listen.

Despite this, there were cues to show something was off with him. Having those friends of his had been the best thing that ever happened to him, taking a reclusive nerd and getting him out into the world. Tragedy had struck them, and of course his nephew didn’t take it well. He still recalled the way he behaved both in and out of the hospital after his accident. Strain on the mind and body to all present parties, but even that had turned around.

He very well couldn’t stop his determined nephew, not when he was so adamant in finding the missing person that made them all complete. There was no trio without a third body.

Now?

His nephew was at the shop again. He was working on his little projects into the late hours of the night. He was content in his uncle’s company. None of his recent actions would make it seem like something was off, but it was so obvious to the older man. Arthur was avoiding them.

The ones that would listen to him talk, following along as if they could understand all his techno babble.

The ones that got him roped into adventure after adventure, even if he was scared out of his wits. He kept going back for them.

The ones that brought him so much joy.

Enough was enough. How much time was it going to be before his nephew thought it might be a good idea to make the first move? Why did it have to be him? Well, even if they were to try and reach out to him, what’s to say the blond was going to reach back for them? He would have to take some initiative.

And so, the short, yet elder Kingsmen stalked through the garage of the shop. It wasn’t hard to spot Arthur, his signature yellow pants peeking out from the underside of one of the cars. It didn’t really matter what the vehicle was in for, his nephew wasn’t going to have to worry about it anymore. Lance stepped over to the side of the car, giving a knock of his hand against the metal to get the younger man’s attention, “Hey kid.”

Arthur slid out from under the car, body still resting against the creeper, as if he were ready to get back to work once they were done chatting. His head turned enough to show that he had his uncle’s attention, “Yes Uncle Lance?”

God, even the tone of his voice was masked so well. He didn’t show any sign that something was wrong. It was like today was just another day at work.

“I want ya to take the rest of the day off.”

His nephew’s head tilted, confusion flashing over his face, “I don’t understand.”

“Ain’t hard to understand. Get out of here.” A bit harsh sounding, but only to those that didn’t understand how their dynamic worked. He cared, but it was harder for him to show it. Arthur sat up, seeming to get it, but he still wasn’t moving, “I really should finish this one up.”

“I can take care of it.”

“What am I supposed to do Uncle Lance?”

“Why not see what yer friends are doin’?”

Hesitation and a sideways glance. There it was. He was contemplating it, but not moving, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea…”

Ok, maybe a different angle then, “Ya miss them don’t ya?”

“Well of course but…”

“So go on kid. Ain’t goin’ to do ya any good sticking around here all the time.”

He could see Arthur’s eyebrows furrow in thought, bouncing the pros and cons in his head before he came to a decision. He finally pushed himself up from the creeper, pacing across the garage to retrieve his signature orange, puffy vest. He mumbled a bit, but loud enough to hear, “Ok.. Ok.. yeah I can do that.. I’ll see you later Uncle Lance.”

Lance watched his nephew leave, a small smile forming between the hairs of his beard. That kid was a smart one, but sometimes he just needed a push in the right direction.

Arthur reached into the pocket of his vest, pulling out the keys to the van. Go see your friends. Yeah, that was easier said than done. Then again, how could he have expected his uncle to understand the complexity of the situation the four of them had managed to get themselves into? Vivi’s memory could still be unpredictably spotty. Mystery had been holding secrets from them. And Lewis…

Metal hand paused on the door handle. He found his eyes trailing down to the metal, glaring at it for a brief moment. Maybe if he gazed at it hard enough, the sleek silver would be replaced with the peach color of flesh that was meant to be there. But of course, even now knowing ghosts and magic were as real as science, such a thing was impossible. He’d long since accepted it, but one doesn’t just see their own possessed arm and not feel like life has dealt them an unfair hand.

Never in his life had he ever felt so angry. It was such a strange feeling, almost as if it had come out of nowhere.

He finally pulled the door open, settling down against the soft seat. The door shut, and now he was truly left alone with his own thoughts. He’d done so well to hide them, just as he always had. That’s how he got through life. When something was bothering him, he shut it away, pretended like it didn’t exist. And when that didn’t work, he physically removed himself from the equation. That’s what he did when he was growing up, and what he did when Lewis and Vivi started getting so close with each other.

And here he was doing it again.

He was avoiding the problem instead of facing it.

Fingers gripped at the steering wheel, a small tremble wracking his body. He cared about them so much, daring to say that he loved them. They gave him so much, but so much had been damaged. Vivi down her memories. Him down an arm. Lewis down the life he had waiting for him. He had found them after being alone for so long. How could he ever want to go back to that again? But what choice did he have?

No, he always had a choice. So long as he was still breathing, he had a choice.

Arthur finally removed one hand from the wheel, taking the keys, and slipping them into the ignition. Everything that led up to this very moment had been nothing more than a domino effect. Once one fell over, the rest tumbled after.

And it all started with him.

Was it some unspoken obligation that now made him think it was his responsibility to fix everything? Or maybe because deep down, he hated the distance. The only thing keeping him from being truly alone was himself. Go see your friends. Yes… and he knew exactly where to start.

With the turn of the key, the van roared to life. He pulled out of Kingsmen Mechanics, eyes following up the side of the hill where the guard rail still had yet to be repaired. At least there was another blockade back up, rather than the broken down one. He had been avoiding that road, just like everything else recently. Not anymore. His foot hit down on the gas, guiding the van up to that road, following it until asphalt turned to dirt.

Arthur took a deep breath before letting his eyes finally fall on the beating mansion. Just the sight of the place pulled his mind to the first time the van stopped in front of its doors. A thing of beauty, yet full of danger. A sigh passed through his lips, finally finding the courage to pry himself from the steering wheel and seat. He now stood beside the van, eyes wandering among the subtle movements in the windows. This wasn’t going to go very well, but he hoped, for once in his life, to be proven wrong.

His feet dragged, but he stood firm in front of the double doors. Fight or flight began to kick in, his body hoping he would choose to flee, run away like he always did. No. Not this time.

Metal hand raised up, prepared to knock on the door…

Yet met air as the door opened before he could do so, the ghost himself standing before his friend.

Lewis’ gaze peered down at the blond standing outside his home. Arthur was just as he remembered him, save for the metal arm that replaced his real one. Blinding anger kept him from noticing the sheen of that arm before it had begun sparking. It alone had caused so many questions to surface. That, and a green arm wandering around a body wearing a familiar wristband. No one else he knew wore the same ones day in and day out. How funny that once everything was said and done, he would adopt the cowardice that his murderer friend had been known for.

When did he get so brave?

Neither one of them said a thing, just allowed their eyes to meet before retreating to the side. When the silence got to be too much, he broke it, “What are you doing here?”

The unnatural echo of his voice must have unnerved the blond by the way he gave a small tremble. He wasn’t sure even he was used to the way his own voice sounded now. Arms crossed, waiting for what this spineless idiot had to say. Amber eyes found their way back to him, “I.. I wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?”

You know exactly what he’s here to talk about. It doesn’t matter what he has to say.

It didn’t matter before, but it matters now? We used to talk about anything and everything.

“I just..” He stopped, as if he were trying to find the right words to say. Just how much time had he poured into finding his ‘missing friend’ only to find out he wasn’t alive anymore? To find out his friend hated him more than anything in the world? Just how much nonsense remorse would spill?

“I’m sorry.”

Two words, but they said so much more than anything else could.

It doesn’t matter if you are sorry. Sorry doesn’t fix what’s happened to me. Sorry doesn’t give me back everything you took from me. Sorry doesn’t make up for your weakness.

He didn’t mean to do it. How could I blame him for something beyond his control? None of us knew what we were getting into. He’s guilty about it.

When Lewis said nothing, the blond seemed to take this as an opportunity to say more, “I can’t.. change what’s happened, as badly as I want to.. but I want to make up for it.. I want to fix it.”

You can’t fix this. What could you possibly do to help anyways?

Fix it.. He’s making an effort. Only a friend would do that. It wasn’t even his fault to begin with.

“You can’t fix this.”

“I know.. I know I can’t, but I still want to try.”

Such determination.

As if Arthur thought he could defy the impossible and fix his condition.

No, that’s not what he means. He means us.

Conflicting thoughts were always getting in the way, but what could be done about it? He was split, like two personalities constantly arguing with one another on what to do. Death has a way of changing a person, and festering like his rotting corpse back in the cave. You spend so much time hating someone, only to find out all that hatred was misplaced. Even if the true threat was gone, the anger never subsided, all pointing to the one person who wanted nothing more than to mend what was broken. It’s what he did with machines, so why not with anything else?

No.

Yes.

“We can try.”

It wasn’t a no, but no confirmation that anything was going to change in the long run. It seemed to be enough to bring a smile to Arthur’s face, like that was exactly what he needed to hear. Maybe it was. He glanced over to the van, then back to Lewis, “Do you.. Would you like to see how Vivi’s been doing?”

No, I can’t trust you with her. You’ll just backstab her like you did to me.

He said he wanted to fix things. He couldn’t have only meant with me. He wants to see Vivi too. He wants us to go to her together.

“Fine.”

Both left the doorway of the mansion, heading back to the van. The ghost simply phased through the door, leaving Arthur to settle in once he pulled the driver’s side open. He shut it, eyes peering up to the rear view mirror to the flamed hair peeking over the top of the back seats. Yeah, probably not a good idea to have the skeleton man sitting in the front seat with him.

Go see your friends.

The drive to the Yukino family home wasn’t a long one, but one full of silence. Even with clear intentions to mend things, neither one of them mustered the will to make conversation. It wasn’t like before when they would chat about what was going on in their lives, or just any nonsense to pass the time.

No one was around as the van pulled up to the home. Arthur slipped out of the driver’s side, and Lewis out the same side of the van, just further down the wall. The ghost dawned his human guise, a pair of sunglasses to cover his eyes. Man and ghost walked up to the front door, giving a knock. It had been another blond that answered from the other side. Arthur gave Mrs. Yukino a smile, “Is Vivi home?”

She turned her head back into the house, “Vivi, your friends are here.”

The sound of speedy footsteps was a good indication that she was on her way. They were led inside, the girl dressed nearly in all blue from head to toe making her grand entrance. She looked at each of them in turn, one with happiness, and the other with lingering bitterness. She practically pulled the two of them with her, “Well come on then.”

Just as quickly as she pulled them into her room, the door was shut behind them. Open arms made their way to Arthur, him seeming surprised by her gesture, “It’s so good to see you Art. I was wondering when you were going to come out of hiding.”

Before the blond even got a chance to say anything, her once loving eyes narrowed on the ghost, “You haven’t done anything to him have you?”

She was not as blind as others might have been led to believe. She was there when she saw the ghost trying to barrel into her best friend when he was cornered in the mansion. She was there when that otherworldly truck stalked them along the road. She was there when they had been sent flying off the road. She was there when that same ghost appeared again, three friends reunited to face down the three-eyed kitsune. It was kind of hard to ignore the anger the ghost had for Arthur.

As starry eyed as she got over him, she couldn’t just bypass everything he had done. She couldn’t trust him.

She must have struck a bit of a nerve when the ghost bit back, “No, I haven’t.”

“Good.”

“Vivi..”

She looked at her best friend. Oh Arthur. She cared about her friend, and would never want anything terrible to befall him, not even from the hands of their other best friend. She rubbed a fist through his spiky hair, “It’s fine Artie, I’m just making sure.”

There was a roll of the eyes behind the sunglasses, “I don’t know why you bother.”

“Uhh because he’s our friend? That you’re supposed to be too?” Even though you’re the one who stole my memories. If Arthur had been the thief for stealing everything from Lewis, then the ghost was the thief that stole what he actually meant to her.

“Right, of course.”

She hadn’t noticed that Arthur’s head turned away from her, probably because she had let go of him, leaving her to focus on the ghost. Lewis’ sarcasm bled from his words. Hands moved to her hips, “Don’t use that tone with me mister.”

“Sorry. Still getting used to this.”

“Should put a little more effort into it.”

“I am. Why else would I be here?”

“To see me.”

“No. Well.. yes… but why else would I be here with him?”

“Well I don’t know. You were pretty hellbent on getting revenge on him not too long ago.”

“Vivi.” His tone was sharp as he spoke her name. Part of him hated the way he had done so.

“Lewis,” her’s bit back just as much to match his own tone.

“Hey Vivi, where’s Mystery?”

The two bickering turned their attention on the blond. So that’s who he had been looking for. Her wonder for the kitsune hiding as her own pet dog kept her from tossing him out. Then again, why should she? Yes, he hid something major from the three of them, but he was just as much a part of her family, and a part of their team as Arthur and Lewis were. He was always there when she needed him. How could she turn a blind eye when so much of what happened to him had been out of his control?

Didn’t that sound familiar?

She gave a sad sigh, “He’s been moping around the house. I have been trying to give him some space, but I’m at a loss.” How was one supposed to help a depressed kitsune? This went beyond just researching something in one of her many books, but rather something on a much more personal level. What could be done to lift his spirits again? The three of them looked among themselves. What help could they really be in this situation? No one knew Mystery better than Vivi.

Then a spark almost seemed to hit her. Perhaps it was because all of them were standing together, in the same space without the threat of malice hanging in the air. In the heat of everything, there had been one key thing she failed to notice. Now it made sense. Gripping their wrists, she pushed the door open, pulling them out, “I’ve got an idea. Come on!”

As they raced through the house, the blond caught sight of the black and white dog. His head was hung, eyes moving up briefly to catch their figures passing by, then went back down. He knew that look. He knew it because he had lived it for plenty of his life. Mystery looked so down.

No, he looked alone.

Arthur dug the heels of his shoes into the floor, tugging back on his wrist, “Vivi wait! Maybe.. Maybe I should stay with Mystery.”

That seemed to catch them both off guard. He noticed not only the surprised look in her eyes, but the narrowed ones behind the darkness. Of course he would look annoyed. After being brave enough to walk up to the mansion and claim he wanted to fix things, now here he was seeming like he was ditching them all over again. All that anger wasn’t going to vanish in an instant, and he would have been a fool to believe that. No, he had another reason for this choice. He could feel the grip on his wrist loosen, as she was kind enough to grab the flesh one over the metal one, “Are you sure?”

One more look over to the dog solidified his answer, “Yes.”

“Alright then. Come on Lew.”

Once the two were gone, the blond stepped towards the brooding dog. Each step was met with more hesitation than the last. It was hard to forget that the kind canine he knew for so long had also been the one to rip his arm off. Mystery had saved him, but it didn’t negate any of the pain he had to regulate. His hand gripped at the metal, now standing over the disguised kitsune. Red eyes trailed up until they met amber, “You should have gone with them.”

“Maybe… but you.. you looked like you could use some company.”

Nothing.

“How about a walk, Mystery? I bet it’s been.. a while since you and Vivi took one.”

The dog looked up, seeing the small trembles the blond was trying to hide. He wondered if Lewis had seen them too. He wanted so much to help, giving up everything he had just so that he could fix things. So that he wouldn’t be alone. No, so that all of them could be whole again. How could he say no?

Man and dog walked down the nearly empty street, side by side. Two who had been wounded by the same entity, but didn’t allow it to bring them to ruin. If anyone could understand one another, it was the two of them.

“Arthur.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Maybe their wounds could heal after all.

#MysteryMarch2021 #mystery skulls animated #my writing #my submission

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years

Text

Sub Rosa [37]

viii. terms and conditions

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: blood, death, violence, nausea, fighting, guards doing the most, Pike being an asshole, headbutting bitches that deserve it (and breaking their nose, so like, descriptions of that).

Summary: tensions in Arkadia reach a head, and chaos ensues.

a/n: TODAY WE BEGIN THREE DAY A WEEK UPDATES!!! the new schedule is MWF, so be looking out for the next update on Friday! also i said this in a post at like 5 a.m. but I really just want to thank all of you for the love and support you’ve given to me and sub rosa! it means the absolute world to me!!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You and Bellamy are at Pike’s office bright and early the next morning, ready to discuss what to do next. But before you can even lift your hand to knock, the door swings open, revealing Pike. “Good, you’re both here. Hannah called and asked us to meet her at the lookout tower.”

You both nod, following him as he leads you through the camp and to the tower, climbing the ladder quickly, you and Bellamy right behind him. As you all step onto the platform, Pike comes to a stop beside Hannah, who is standing in the tower, looking worried. “Hannah?”

“Sir, we lost contact with one of our recon teams. Three teams departed Arkadia at 0800 on routine patrol. Each of them reported Grounder contact less than a mile outside of camp.” She points at three spots on the map, and you all step closer to get a better look. “As per your orders, two teams retreated and made it safely back inside the walls.”

“The third?”

“Was forced to engage. I believe they were attempting to secure a defensive position when-” She cuts herself off, taking a deep breath. “They ceased transmissions.”

You and Bellamy exchange a look, before you turn to look out at the land surrounding camp. Pike muses, “The Grounders are close.”

“Gathering from the North and West. It appears they're establishing a blockade. There's no way through it.”

Pike shakes his head. “Something's changed.”

You think about Lexa’s message, and what Bellamy said to Pike before sending you to the Grounder village. Blood must not have blood, but that doesn’t mean we can start taking over villages. You shake your head, wondering how you’re going to sneak away and update Kane, when the guard tasked with watching the perimeter turns to your group. “Sir? You need to see this.”

Two Grounders break through the trees, riding towards the camp on horseback. Pike asks, “What do they want?”

Bellamy looks at them, and then to you. “They brought a message. We've seen this before.”

You glance at Pike. “Finn. Before the alliance.”

Bellamy doesn’t wait another second, he turns and descends the ladder quickly, making a beeline for the gate, and you and Pike hurry after him. The guards pull the gate open, revealing the two men on horseback, now right outside the wall. Bellamy demands, “Talk.”

“We seek the one you call Pike.”

“Why?”

“An army has fallen. Blood soaking the earth where he took their lives, one by one. Life was taken. We demand life in return.”

Pike walks closer to the two men, now outside the walls beside you and Bellamy. “My life? What are your terms?”

Bellamy starts to argue, “Sir-”

Pike cuts him off with a wave of his hand, and the Grounder says, “Come with us, and we walk away.”

“Walk away? From what?”

“By order of the Commander, you have been surrounded by an army of the twelve clans. In every direction, warriors wait to kill anyone who attempts to cross the blockade. To greet them, as we greeted those we caught outside your walls today.”

He reaches behind him and pulls out a sack, throwing it to the ground at your feet, blood soaked guard armor spilling out. You feel a wave of nausea as you look at it, and you can hear murmuring in the crowd behind you. Bellamy tenses up beside you.

“We left the bodies for the animals.”

Bellamy grinds out, “That's enough.”

Pike reaches out, grabbing Bellamy’s arm. “Let's go.”

“They won't leave. I have seen this before.”

The Grounder raises his voice, loud enough that the crowd behind you can hear him. “The men who wore those uniforms took a long time to die.”

Pike mutters, “Fall back. That's an order.”

Pike steps backwards, towards the gate, and you start to follow, hesitating in place when you see that Bellamy isn’t doing the same. The Grounder yells, “If you do not give up your leader, you will all take a long time to die.”

You reach out for Bellamy, grabbing his arm, but he shrugs you off. “Bellamy!”

The Grounder turns his attention to him. “Choose the side that's best for your people.”

“I do that every day.” Before you can stop him, he pulls out his gun, and shoots the two Grounders quickly, one after the next. You watch in shock as they slump, and Bellamy mutters, “So far, nothing has changed my mind.”

He turns and stalks back into camp, and you step inside behind him, exchanging a look with Pike, who seems shocked that Bellamy took a page out of his Murder the Grounders Book. You let out a quiet sigh, aware that Monroe’s death is affecting him more than he’d like to admit. Her death has done nothing more than push Bellamy closer to Pike, a move that scares you more than you’d like to admit. Just when you start to think he’s coming around, something happens that sends him right back to Pike.

You turn and look towards Bellamy’s retreating figure, watching as he disappears from sight, heading in the direction of Pike’s office. Pike motions for you to follow. “Guess we’ll have that meeting now.”

He grabs Hannah and Monty on the way back to his office, and when you reach it, Bellamy is standing at the door already. Pike lets you all inside, and Bellamy heads over to the map, waiting for everyone to come inside. When you do, Bellamy points at the ridge around camp. “I radioed the lookouts on the way over here, and they confirm another three encampments just over that ridge.”

“Well, they're not hiding from us. That's for sure.” Pike turns to Hannah. “How many days can we keep our population fed without being able to send out hunting parties?”

“Food and water stores were already at less than sixty percent. Now it’s maybe a week before we go critical? Two, if we start rationing immediately.”

“Immediately it is.”

Hannah nods, then eyes the line on the map that Bellamy is drawing, indicating the blockade. “What about breaking the blockade?”

You scoff at her, “We don’t have the manpower or the bullets to fight all twelve clans.”

Pike adds, “And after Bellamy's theatrics this morning, they'll expect that anyways. Regardless, we can't engage the Grounders until we've got our own people under control, and that starts with Kane.”

He turns and looks between you and Bellamy. “I need you to suspend access to the prisoners. No contact with anyone in camp. For all we know, they've been providing intel on Grounder villages to Kane.”

“Yes, sir.”

He points to Monty. “And I want you to take over coordination of camp surveillance. We'll need new security protocols at all camp entrances.”

Pike offers Monty a radio, which he takes, and he offers his first suggestion. “Maybe, uh, changing critical passwords every twelve hours.”

“Good. Coordinate with your mom, but keep the circle tight.” Pike turns to look at all of you, one by one. “Then there's the matter of camp-wide surveillance.”

“You want us to spy on our people?”

He turns to Monty and nods. “We can't do what's needed to defend this camp, if every order I give is leaked before it can be executed. It's an old saying, but it's true. The walls have ears.”

You resist the urge to look at the bug underneath his desk. You have no idea. “We can't afford any more assumptions about who's a friend and who isn't, not your oldest acquaintance. Not your husband, wife, or lover. We're fighting two wars now, and the more dangerous one is here, inside this camp. We can't prove it yet, but Kane and his accomplices passed information to Octavia. I know none of you signed up to investigate your neighbors, but Monroe died because the traitors in this camp sold them out to the Grounders. Whoever did that will be hunted down and exposed for what they did to their own, for what they did to us. Now you get whatever resources, whatever personnel you need to make that happen.”

He looks at each of you, waiting for each nod that you understand, and you feel sick to your stomach as you think of what this means for Kane, what this means for you. A traitor and a spy. Add that to your growling list of nicknames.

“Dismissed.”

Everyone turns to leave, but you linger, wanting to talk to Pike alone. Bellamy nods at you when you glance at him, encouraging your decision, before he closes the door behind him, leaving you with Pike.

He glances at you, expectant. “What can I do for you, Miss Griffin?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the offer you made me the other day. I’ve made up my mind.”

“And?”

“And I’d be honored to lead a team.”

He smiles, already reaching for things on his desk. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

He grabs a few rolled up maps, and stacks of paper, holding them out to you, which you take. “This is all the data we had from the last village, along with a few guesses on the next few villages to test. You’ll need to run your plan and who you choose for your team by me first before we send you out there. But if everything looks right, we can start looking in the next few days.”

“What about the blockade?”

“Don’t worry about the blockade. We’ll figure it out. In the meantime, you have a lot of work ahead of you, you might want to get started.”

You nod. “Thank you, sir.”

You turn and slip out the door, nearly running into Bellamy, who is just outside, waiting. “So? How’d it go?”

You hold up the stacks of paper. “You’re looking at the newest team leader.”

He smiles at you, the first genuine one you’ve seen in a while. “I’m proud of you.”

“Really?'' The words, paired with his smile, make butterflies break free in your stomach, reminding you of the boy you fell in love with. But the butterflies turn to lead when you remember what you signed up to lead and who you agreed to do it for.

“Of course.” Bellamy leans down to kiss you, slow and sweet, and you can almost convince yourself that everything is okay, that you’re not a spy hidden in the ranks of a facist Chancellor. Almost.

He pulls away, and you both look at each other for a minute before you hold up your stacks of work. “Pike wants me to get started right away, so I should probably go do that.”

Bellamy nods, “I’m gonna get started on the campwide surveillance, come up with a few ideas with Monty, so we can run them by Pike later.”

“Okay. I think I’m gonna work outside, enjoy the sun a little.”

“If you sit under the ring, you get the best view of the camp and you’re in the best spot for the sun.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

You start to walk away, but he calls out to you, “I’ll come find you later, and update you on everything!”

You turn towards him, now walking backwards, a smile on your face. “Only if you bring a snack with you!”

He laughs and you smile back at him, before turning and heading outside, towards the ring, like Bellamy suggested. You work there for a while, pouring over the maps and data, trying to figure out how you can do this job, and still save the Grounder’s lives.

You take a break around noon, standing and stretching, before you decide to take a walk around the perimeter of the camp to stretch your legs and take your mind off things. You roll up your maps and papers, tucking them into your back pocket as you head towards the wall, and start to walk along it. You people watch as you go, smiling at the kids playing soccer and the friends talking together underneath the afternoon sun.

As you reach the back part of camp, the crowds thin out, this part of Arkadia not as popular to spend time in, and as you start to get lost in your head, you’re surprised to hear hushed whispers coming from nearby. You slow as you hear them approach you, and something inside of you, an instinct, tells you to duck between two buildings, and use the darkness to hide you. The whispers grow closer, and though you can’t make out what they’re saying, you know it’s important from the tone they’re using.

Seconds later, Pike, Hannah, and Bellamy walk past your hiding spot, unaware of your presence. They’re all pressed tightly together, still whispering, and every few seconds one of them looks around, suspicious. You know something is up as soon as you see them, and you wait a few seconds before slipping from your spot and following them at a distance. They walk from the back of the camp to the front, stopping their discussion as soon as they reach a populated area, all of them pulling apart slightly to blend with the crowd.

Their suspicious glances continue though, and don’t stop as they duck inside, walking quickly down the halls, heading straight for the Chancellor’s office. You follow them until you’re sure that’s where they’re going, and then you turn and run the opposite direction, making a beeline for the hidden alcove that Kane uses to hide the radio connected to the listening device. As you reach the alcove, you slow down, not wanting to raise any suspicions, and you look around a few times before you slip through the plastic curtain and into the space on the other side.

Kane, Harper, and Miller are all standing there, turned towards you, looking surprised. As you move closer to them, Kane whispers, “What’re you doing here?”

You ignore him, instead turning to Harper, who sits with the radio and headphones in her hand. You hold your hand out for it. “Give me the radio.”

She passes it to you, looking confused, and you turn the radio on, checking to make sure it’s on the right station before you unplug the headphones so the others can hear. “Results of this morning's mission inventory were sobering. In no way do we currently have the ammo for an extended series of firefights. Not even close.”

You hear Bellamy’s voice ask, “So what's Plan B?”

“Our lookouts say the largest Grounder encampment is in this valley. So, we deploy an assault team in Rover One, and we do as much damage as we can with automatic weapons.”

You and Kane exchange a worried look, another Grounder slaughter on your hands. Hannah’s voice crackles through, “They'll just fall back and make a run for reinforcements.”

“I'm counting on that. The only way there and back is over this ridge. We can bottleneck their warriors and pick them off.”

Bellamy asks, “We got the firepower for that?”

“We won't need it. We have a dozen concussive anti personnel devices in our armory. I've already got a weapons man rigging them with a remote trigger. We load the APDs into the rover, and mine the field before we attack. After we strike, we lure their reinforcements onto the ridge. And once we have enough Grounders in the killing box-”

Bellamy finishes for him, “We detonate. It'll buy us some time, but-”

Pike concludes, “Time's what we need. We move at dawn.”

You lower the radio, their conversation now finished, while you and Kane share a look. “All right. We need to disable that rover. If they take it out, it doesn't matter how many Grounders they kill. Ten times that number will descend on Arkadia, and no one'll survive.”

You shake your head, holding up a hand to stop him, a nagging feeling sitting heavy in your chest. “Wait. Something’s not right.”

“Of course something’s not right. Pike’s talking about starting a war.”

You cut your eyes at Miller, and he rolls his back at you. “Pike sent ten people to kill an army of 300. He had a plan, a good one. One that consisted of taking no prisoners or wounded. He was worried about retaliation.”

You turn and look at Kane. “But this plan? This is stupid. It’ll take most of the ammo we have left, and all of the APD’s, which is one of the best weapons in our arsenal. It’ll leave us defenseless against another attack or any retaliation.”

“Maybe Pike isn’t expecting another attack. I talked to him earlier, and tried to get him to give himself up, but he refused. He said the best way to handle things was to crush the Grounders so badly, they never move against us again. Maybe this is his plan to crush them.”

You shake your head, ignoring Kane’s words. “No, you don’t get it. Pike is smarter than that. I hate to admit it, but he is.”

Something about the plan pulls at a memory, something locked deep inside your brain. You let out a huff, trying to chase the lead, but lose it. “Mine the field, the only way out, then attack from the front using everything we’ve got. The Grounders retreat, into the killing box, then boom, take them out.”

You rack your brain, repeating the plan quietly to yourself again and again, and Miller, Kane, and Harper watch on in confusion. And then the memory hits you like a train, and you almost laugh at your stupidity. “It’s a Lasker trap, of course!”

“A what?”

Three confused faces watch as you roll your eyes. “It’s a chess move. Offer an unprotected pawn, which your opponent takes, thinking it gives them the advantage. But the unprotected pawn is a decoy, a trap. It distracts your opponent from the real threat, which you put into place while they’re focused on the other pieces on the board. Then you force them into the poisoned square, the disadvantageous position, and take out their King.”

Harper tries to make sense of your ramblings. “So, the attack is set up as a Lasker trap? So what?”

You shake your head. “No, no, no. The attack is the unprotected pawn. It doesn’t make enough sense on its own to be legitimate, which is why I think it’s a decoy meant to distract us. If we take the bait and sabotage the attack, he has us. We’re done.”

Kane looks at you in alarm. “So he knows we’re listening?”

“He must have found the bug. Monty is head of security now, I’m sure the first thing he did was sweep the office.”

“So what do we do?”

Miller glances at Harper, answering her question.“We do nothing, right? If what she says is right, and we sabotage the rover to stop the attack, then they’ll know we’re listening.”

“And we’ll be stuck in camp, behind a blockade, with a facist leader still in charge.”

You look at Kane, getting an idea. “What if we do fall for it?”

“What?”

“You said you tried talking to Pike to turn him over, despite knowing what they'll do to him.”

He squirms a little, and you know he’s thinking of Gustus, and the cut from every hand in the village, finished off by Lexa. “Yes, but if it’s what’s best for-”

You cut him off, “You don’t have to explain why. I get it. But Pike won’t give himself up to the Grounders, even if they guaranteed it would end things. He likes the power too much. Which is why we have to turn him in ourselves, set a decoy of our own.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“At any given time, Pike is surrounded by a handful of guards and strong supporters, like Hannah, Gillmer, and Bellamy. If you want minimal casualties, on both sides, then you need to get him alone. Best way to do that is a big distraction.”

And finally, Kane catches onto your line of thinking. “The prisoners.”

“No one can visit them, and it’s too risky to send one of us over there because Pike thinks they’re giving you information, so they’re gonna be watching anyone who gets close. But if someone gets locked up…”

Kane finishes, “They can deliver a message.”

“Start a riot, security goes on high alert, Pike is now alone. Shocklash him, deliver him to the Grounders, no more blockade.”

“I’ll talk to Sinclair, get him involved. We do this today. Our people shouldn’t have to suffer anymore than they already have.” He looks at you, “Stick by Bellamy’s side today, make sure he’s suspicious about the rover.”

“I want to be there when you deliver Pike.”

“Meet me at the rover at sundown. We’ll take care of the rest.”

You nod, passing Harper the radio. “I have to get back, Bellamy’s supposed to meet me soon.”

“Be safe.”

“See you tonight.”

You slip out from the hidden alcove and heab back to the arch, jogging quickly though the halls to reach it before anyone realizes that you’re gone. As you step out into the sun, and move back to your spot, you see that Bellamy is already there, waiting, hands on his hips, eyes searching for you. You slow your approach, telling yourself to be casual, and smile as you near him. “Did you bring my snack?”

He turns towards you, eyes narrowed in suspicion as he answers, “No. Where have you been?”

“Looking for you actually. I need help picking the guards for my team. You know a lot of them better than I do, and I don’t want to take anyone that you and Monty might need for security.”

He loosens up, “Oh. I can help you with that, but it has to be later. We have more important things to do now.”

“What’s going on?”

“Not here.”

He grabs your arm, leading you through the camp and inside, down a few hallways, until he pulls open a door, revealing a small room with a row of lockers along the wall, and a large radio set up on the wall opposite of you. He closes the door, and turns to you with a serious look. “Pike found a bug in his office.”

You feel the satisfaction of being right, and the relief from already warning Kane, which makes it easy for you to feign surprise. “What? Where?”

“Underneath his desk.”

“So Kane’s been listening all along.”

He nods, “Looks like it. But Pike has a plan. We pretended to plan an attack, and we talked about it openly in front of the bug. We’re gonna watch Kane, and the others that we suspect, and see if they try to sabotage the attack. If they do, we have our proof.”

“I’m a little hurt you conspired without me, but I’ll let it slide since this might solve the Kane problem once and for all.”

“There wasn’t enough time. I wanted to come get you, but Pike’s eager to get this handled.”

Something about his explanation is too similar to the one he gave you weeks ago when they tried to attack the army. You get a sneaking suspicion that these aren’t Bellamy’s words, but Pike’s, fed to Bellamy to create a sense of urgency so that he won’t have enough time to contemplate what Pike is asking of him. “I get it.”

“Good.”

He walks towards the radio, pulling out a chair, and motioning for you to sit. You do and he pulls out the other chair, plopping into it, before reaching forward and turning on the radio. “Monty, come in.”

“I’m here.”

“Anything yet?”

“Not yet. He’s just sitting outside and reading.”

“Let us know if anything changes.”

“Copy that.”

He leans back and you look at him, “What now?”

“Now, we wait.”

It takes a few hours before you hear from Monty again, and you and Bellamy spend the time talking about the details of Pike’s fake plan to capture the traitors. You pretend to act impressed and surprised, despite knowing all of it already. When you finally hear from Monty, he sounds excited. “Bellamy, you were right. I've got eyes on Kane.”

Bellamy turns to you, keeping eye contact as he lifts the radio and asks, “Anything suspicious?”

“Yeah, he's got something going. And I think Sinclair's part of it.”

“Copy that. We'll stay on Sinclair.”

As time passes, you feel your nerves building, becoming more aware of how much hinges on Sinclair getting arrested in time. You turn to Bellamy, prepared to make him suspicious. “You said the plan hinges on the rover, right?”

He nods, so you continue, “Well Sinclair’s an engineer, what if he’s going to sabotage it? He’d know exactly what to do.”

You see the realization pass over his face and he lifts the radio again. “Monty, what’s Sinclair doing now?”

“Heading into the hangar bay.”

“The one with rover one?”

“Yes.”

“He’s going to sabotage it! We’re heading that way.”

You and Bellamy run out of the room, heading towards the rover. As you hurry there, Bellamy grabs a handful of guards, and when you’re just outside the room, he turns to them. “Go inside, act casual. On my command, we’ll take Sinclair in.”

The guards all walk inside and spread out in the room, some talking to other guards inside, some just standing there. You and Bellamy walk inside, going straight for the rover, and as you come around the corner, you can see a pair of feet just underneath the vehicle.

Bellamy nudges you, motioning across the room, where Kane sits, reading a book. You give Bellamy a nod, playing along, before turning to the rover and asking, “Sinclair, what are you up to?”

He slides out from underneath the vehicle and looks up at you and Bellamy. “Raven said the solenoid’s acting up, so I thought I'd swap it out.”

Bellamy gives him a doubtful look. “You got a work order for that?”

Sinclair stands, nodding, “Sure... I think it's on my desk.”

He stands there for a second, looking between you two, before he abruptly takes off running, trying to escape. Bellamy nods towards him, commanding the guards, “Go.”

They descend on him quickly, cornering him until two of them can take him down and cuff him. You and Bellamy walk towards Sinclair, and Bellamy keeps his eyes locked on the man. “There is no work order and there is nothing wrong with the rover, though if you had another ten minutes, I'm sure there would be.”

You sense movement and you glance up, meeting Kane’s eyes, who gives you the smallest of nods. He stands and slips out of the room, as Bellamy charges Sinclar. “You're under arrest. Charge is treason.”

Bellamy walks out of the room, and the guards follow, dragging Sinclair with them. He leads your group through the Ark, towards an abandoned room used for small meetings, and motions to the guards to take Sinclair inside. He looks at you, expression unreadable, “You should go get Pike, I’ll see if I can get anything out of him in the meantime.”

“Be right back.”

You turn and walk towards the Chancellor's office, confident that you won’t miss anything, because Sinclair won’t say a word. When you reach the office, the door is open and Pike is inside, pouring over maps in front of him. You knock and he looks up, waving you inside. “Ready to tell me about your team?”

“Yes, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Later then. Why are you here?”

“We arrested Sinclair.”

Pike stands, already reaching for his jacket so he can follow you. As he steps towards you, you add, “Bellamy took him to a room to question him, but we caught him trying to sabotage the rover.”

“I should have known Sinclair would be with Kane.”

He follows you from the room as you lead him back to Bellamy and the others, and when you step inside, you see that Hannah is now there, standing near Sinclair. Bellamy is leaned against the wall by the door, arms crossed, and Pike walks right to him. “Anything?”

“Not a word.”

Pike walks over to Sinclair, and you and Bellamy follow him, stopping to stand at his right, while Hannah comes around to his left. Pike reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bug from his office, placing it on the table in front of Sinclair. “Perhaps you'd like to talk about that.”

He leans forward, inspecting it closely, before leaning back again. He shrugs, “Never seen it before.”

“Really? I thought you engineers like to take credit for your work.” He turns to Bellamy, holding out his hand. “Give me your gun.”

You and Bellamy exchange a look, both thinking the same thing. He’s about to shoot Sinclair. You shake your head slightly, urging him not to. Whether it exposes you as a spy or not, you don’t care, because you’re not about to watch Pike kill Sinclair for something he didn’t even do.

But Bellamy pulls out his gun anyway and passes it to Pike. You drop your hand to the knife that stays strapped to your thigh, ready to grab it if Pike aims the gun at Sinclair. Instead, he turns it around, using the end of it to smash the listening device into pieces. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, moving your hand away from your weapon, trying to fall into a relaxed stance again.

You feel Bellamy sag with relief, before turning to Pike. “He'll talk eventually, let's put him in lock up.”

Hannah steps forward, glaring. “He's a traitor. On the Ark-”

You turn towards her, looking at her in shock, trying to figure out if she’s suggesting what you think she is. Pike confirms it when he finishes, “We would have floated him. But we're not on the Ark. Lock him up.”

The guards pull Sinclair to his feet and drag him from the room, straight to the prisoners. Straight to Lincoln. You feel relief flow through you when you realize that the plan is on track. Pike turns to you and Bellamy, “See if you can get me more. I want Kane. I want this handled.”

You and Bellamy reply in unison, “Yes, sir.”

You turn and leave first, eager to get away from Hannah, who seems a little too excited at the prospect of killing her own people, treason or not. Bellamy is right behind you, jogging to catch up. You decide to push the boundaries with him for a second day in a row, too bothered to stop yourself. “Was Hannah serious in there? Float him? Are we really going to kill our own people?”

Bellamy gives you a confused look, brows pulling together. “Of course not. You heard Pike, we’re not on the Ark anymore.”

You nod, but say nothing, still unconvinced. You sense that Bellamy is about to say something up, when a guard comes around the corner up ahead, smiling when he sees you. “Kane’s looking for the two of you. He’s by the bar.”

“Thanks.”

You glance at Bellamy before you continue down the hall, muttering, “Wonder what this is about?”

“Not sure. But maybe he’ll turn himself in.”

You nod, “Yeah, maybe.”

As you walk into the room, your eyes immediately find Kane, standing in the place you last saw him in. He’s staring at the unsabotaged rover, expression blank, and he doesn’t turn when you stop beside him. Bellamy turns to him, shaking his head. “It wasn't much of a plan, sabotaging the rover. Keeping an eye on Sinclair was an easy call.”

Kane turns to him, shocked. “Was it? Spying on your friend, that was easy?”

“People here in camp are losing focus. There's a threat outside these walls-”

Kane cuts him off, “The threat's inside the walls! Can't you see that? Pike's turning us against each other.”

“He's the Chancellor. Have you forgotten that?”

“No. No, I haven't.”

“Then do the right thing.”

“That's the problem. No matter how I look at it, I am.”

“Really? Because the way I see it, Monroe died because of you.”

You shake your head when he says it, still disagreeing, watching as the two men go back and forth.

“And now Pike's locked up Sinclair. You don't think he'll be the next to die?”

Bellamy gives Kane the same confused face he gave you, genuinely convinced that killing his own people isn’t something Pike would do. “Of course not.”

“Think about where this ends. Half the camp behind bars while the other half starves. People won't stand for it. They'll turn against Pike. But by then it'll be too late.”

“Pike has a plan.”

Kane shakes his head, “Pike's always got a plan, and it's always the same one. Take the fight to the Grounders. That's what got Monroe killed.”

Bellamy sneers, “You're crossing a line, Kane.”

“No. No, I crossed it. I asked you here because I hoped you'd both join me. It's still not too late to choose the right side.”

Bellamy sets his jaw, the muscle in it clenching, giving away his feelings even though the rest of his face is blank. “That's exactly what we came here to tell you.”

Kane shakes his head, turning on you. “You think Mount Weather affected you? The guilt from pulling the lever, the despair you felt when you couldn’t stop the assassin. That’ll be nothing compared to the guilt and despair you’ll feel after you help Pike lock up and kill your own people. You think you’re doing what’s best for us, but you’re killing us. All of us.”

The words hit you hard, the truth in them a little too powerful. But that truth is the same reason you agreed to be a spy in the first place, and it’s the same reason you’ve stayed on Kane’s side the entire time. Still, Bellamy doesn’t know that, and he doesn’t know that you’ve been a traitor to the cause from day one, so he steps between you and Kane in your defense. “You don’t get to say stuff like that to her. She helped keep us alive when you were the one that sent us down here. She runs straight into danger if it means keeping our people safe. She’s made the hard decisions for our people when you couldn’t, something that you don’t seem to understand.”

“Don’t I? Why do you think I’m trying so hard to get through to you? I’m trying to keep you from making the same mistakes I did! Floating our people, your mother and her father among them, sending all 100 of you down here, the Culling, those were all hard decisions that I made for our people, and I hate that I made every one of them.”

Bellamy lets out a harsh laugh, disbelieving, before he turns and abruptly walks away. You watch him leave, unsure what to do. Kane whispers, “It’s almost time. If he won’t help us, you have to find a way to get away.”

You jog after Bellamy, catching up with him quickly as he stalks down the hall, pissed. You reach out and grab him, pulling him to a stop. “Bellamy, wait.”

He spins, letting out a scoff. “Can you believe him?”

“What if he has a point?”

“What?”

“Hannah says we have enough food stores for two weeks, and that’s with rationing. How exactly are we going to get through a blockade, especially one that’s being enforced by 12 different clans? We’ll starve.”

“Pike said he’s working on it.”

“Is he? Because to me, it looks like he’s working on locking up our own people.”

“They’re breaking the law! Going against our Chancellor.”

“Funny, I’m pretty sure we did the same thing on more than one occasion.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because we were doing it for our people.”

“Right.” You shake your head, tired of arguing. “I’m gonna go get some air.”

You see Bellamy’s face fall, aware that you’re starting to slip away. Little does he realize these are the very things you’ve wanted to say for weeks, but couldn’t. You hate arguing with him, but it’s the only thing that will give you enough time to steal a shock baton and meet up with Kane. It’s the only thing that will give you enough time to fix this.

His voice is soft, almost pleading. “We'll be in that room I took you to earlier, the one with the radio? Bryan is gonna meet us there, said he had some news about the security of the camp. You should meet us there.”

“Okay.”

You turn away from him, mind already distracted from the fight, and now on your next task: Pike. But before you make it down the hall, Bellamy calls your name. You turn to look back at him and he whispers, “I love you.”

You feel your heart constrict, and you try to ignore the hurt expression on his face. Maybe you’d never agree on Pike, and Bellamy would always believe in what he was doing for him. Which is exactly why you needed to deliver Pike to the Grounders, and save him from himself. “I love you more than the stars.”

You see relief on his face when you say it back, and you have to force yourself to turn away and continue on your earlier path, instead of running back to him and trying to fix things. Because you know that getting rid of Pike is the best way to do that.

As soon as Bellamy can no longer see you, you run through the halls, tearing through the building and out into the evening air. You check for the position of the sun, realizing that it’s nearly time, and you run to the armory and slip inside to grab a shock baton. You attach it to your belt and head back towards Kane, stepping inside just in time. “Pike is almost here, hide behind the rover.”

You do as he says, stepping into the shadow of the rover and peeking through the windows to watch as Pike comes inside the room with a handful of guards that spread out and block the exits. He comes to a stop right in front of Kane. “Marcus. I hope you're ready to negotiate the terms and conditions of your surrender.”

Kane ignores the jab, and starts, “On the Ark, you taught your students about the promise of our future. About the responsibility our descendants would bear when they finally set foot on the ground.”

“We didn't start this war. But you can be damn sure I intend to finish it.”

“What happened to you, Charles?”

Pike gives Kane an incredulous look. “You committed treason! You acted against your own people! Don't stand there and try and take the high road with me, it's demeaning.”

“I did nothing wrong.”

“Nothing that I can prove yet. Sinclair will give you up, it's only a matter of time. It's over, Marcus.”

“Is it?”

Right on time, the alarm sounds, ringing loud in the space, repeating, “All available guards to lock up.”

Pike looks at Kane in surprise, turning to yell to the guards, “Go!”

You watch as they all run from the room, leaving Pike alone. You pull out the shock baton, holding it by your side as you creep around the rover towards the two men. “I don't suppose you know anything about this?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

Kane nods and you light up the baton, the sound loud enough that Pike turns to face you. He starts to lunge towards you but you press the baton into his side, holding it there as he cries out in pain and drops to his knees. He looks up at you, surprised to see you, and before Kane knocks him out, he mutters, “You left us no choice.”

As soon as he hits the ground, you pull open the back of the rover, and Kane helps you load Pike inside. He zip ties him to a pole in the back, as Harper’s voice comes through the radio at Kane’s side. “It worked. We're clear. The guards have their hands full.”

You check the ties as Kane grabs his radio and asks, “Is the gate open?”

“Waiting on you. Cargo locked and loaded?”

You look at Kane and nod, and as you close the back, he answers, “Affirmative. On the move.”

You run to the driver’s side and Kane takes the passenger's seat, both of you sliding inside as quickly as possible. You start the rover and fly out of the building, cutting across the camp in the shortest path possible, even if it means you aren’t following the roads. As you reach the final stretch of road that leads to the gate, feet left between you and the outside of the walls, a row of guards jumps into your path, right in front of the gate. Kane yells, “Stop!”

You’re about to run them over, acceptable losses, when you realize the guard right in front of you is none other than Bellamy. You slam on the brakes, stopping feet from him, both of you staring at each other as he points his gun at you. You can see the surprise on his face, but you ignore it and yell, “Get the hell out of the way, Bellamy!”

But he doesn’t move, just stands staring at you. You watch a look pass over his face, one you can’t identify, and he starts to lower his gun, but it’s too late. The guards have caught up now and they yank the doors open, pulling you and Kane from the seats and slamming you into the side of the vehicle. You push back against them, pissed at their aggression, pissed that you failed.

They press into you harder, pinning you against the vehicle, leaving you no room to move. You turn and lock eyes with Bellamy, your gaze never leaving his as they pull your knife from your holster and drop it onto the hood beside the shock baton. They start to cuff your hands together and you fight them, until you feel more guards join the mix and hold you in place.

As soon as they have you restrained, they pull you away from the vehicle and lead you back towards the building. As you pass the back of the rover, Pike stands and watches, now free from his restraints. He smirks, “Should've killed me yourself.”

His smirk and his amusement at your failure make your blood boil, and weeks of anger, hidden deep so it wouldn’t betray you, bursts free. You let out a scream of rage and run towards him, slipping out of the two guards' grip as they reach for you. Even with your hands cuffed behind your back, you want nothing more than to hit him, so you put your head down and run towards him, hitting Pike in the stomach with your shoulder, knocking you both to the ground.

Somewhere nearby you can hear Kane and Bellamy yelling at you to stop, but you ignore them, only focusing on your rage. You scramble to your feet and pull your leg back to kick Pike, but before you can, you are tossed to the ground by one of the guards. With your arms behind your back, you can’t catch yourself, and you hit the ground hard, rolling along it. The guards descend on you and when you try to fight them off, they fight back, hitting every inch of you that they can reach. All you can do is curl in on yourself and try to protect your middle.

You hear Bellamy yelling, seconds before the guards all stop. Two of them yank you to your feet as Bellamy moves into your line of sight, concern written in the lines of his face. “Are you okay?”

You turn and spit blood, the metallic taste thick in your mouth. “Fantastic.”

Before he can check on you further, you are pulled away, dragged through the camp as you continue to fight back, kicking and dragging your feet, giving the guards a hard time the entire way to the interrogation room. When you reach it, you can see that Knae is already inside, and the guards pull you to a stop at the door, each standing beside you and making sure you don’t go anywhere.

Pike, Bellamy, and Hannah walk by a few minutes later, none of them looking your way, but you can see that Bellamy is struggling with this, his expression distressed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the world.

You don’t know how long you wait outside, unable to hear anything going on in the room, but when the doors finally open and Kane is led out, his head is held high, but you can see the sag of his shoulders, like a weight is bearing down on him. He turns as he is led past you, and whispers, “Don’t fight it.”

And something about the defeat in his voice makes you sick. His guards yank him away, muttering, “Quiet.”

You are led inside, and your eyes scan the room, looking for Bellamy. He is standing near Pike, but half hidden in the shadows of the room, and you can see the shock on his face. You feel fear build inside of you at the uncertainty of your fate, but you set your jaw and lift your head high, letting your anger carry you.

You are shoved down into the seat, and the room is so silent it’s deafening, as Pike just stands there, looking at you. For the first time, you can see emotions on his face, something other than the blank, unreadable expression he normally wears. You still can’t tell what it is, but it seems like two emotions are warring for dominance. Finally, he steps forward, pressing his palms into the table, one of the emotions now victorious. “How did you know? How did you know the plan was a trap?”

You realize that he looks bothered, bothered at the idea that you outsmarted him, even if you did fail. He adds, “You weren’t in the room when we laid it out, and Bellamy says you were by his side all day, and that there’s no way you could have told Kane after he told you.”

“You’re not the only person who played chess with my dad.”

He lets out a short laugh. “Of course. The one time I beat Jake was with a Lasker Trap. I should have known he would teach you.”

You say nothing, your eyes looking back to find Bellamy’s, whose gaze is locked on his feet. “What would your father say about you now?”

Your gaze snaps towards Pike, the cooled anger boiling to life again. “My father got floated for doing what was best for his people! He knew what it would cost him, and still he did it.”

You give him a look of disgust. “Though I do wonder, what would he think of you? A man whose only interest is feeding his own ego and saving his own skin.”

“Everything I have done has been for the people in this camp!'' His voice echoes in the room, and you see Bellamy jump slightly at the volume.

“If that was true then you would have walked out of camp this morning with those riders and ended this blockade.”

“Like when you gave up that boy Finn?”

“Finn gave himself up to save his people. He knew that his death would give us peace with the Grounders.”

“Until their Commander left you in Mount Weather.”

“You still don’t get it. Lexa made a deal to save her people, and broke our alliance, but she still upheld our treaty for peace. Everyone of us inside Mount Weather could have died, but the people left behind in Arkadia would have been safe from the Grounders. We had peace for months before you came along! You ruined everything, and you manipulated Bellamy to do it. Used his pain to blind him to anything other than revenge, and then used his influence to get yourself elected. You think you’re better than the Grounders, but you're not. You’re worse.”

“Enough.” He glares at you, clearly bothered by your words, and you lean back in your chair, as he continues, “The terms of martial law and of the Exodus Charter give me both latitude and ultimate authority in determining your punishment. Miss Griffin, for the crimes of treason, kidnapping, and attempted murder, I hereby sentence you to death.”

You hear ringing in your ears as soon as he says the words death, but you’re careful to keep your head high and your expression blank. Bellamy steps forward now, into the light, his expression one of anguish as he tries to argue, “Sir.”

Pike holds up a hand, stopping him, before glancing at the guards behind you. “Take her.”

You look towards Bellamy, and he meets your gaze for the first time since you entered the room. Any anger you had for him dissipates, now nothing more than disappointment. Because despite everything, you know that Pike used him, and even if Bellamy never realizes that, you tried. You tried to tell him, you tried to save him. As the guards pull you to your feet, you whisper, “How will you carry this, Atlas?”

You see his face fall, and he lifts a hand to hide the tears that start to fall from his eyes. You allow yourself to be led from the room, through the halls and straight to lock up. Kane, Lincoln, and Sinclair stand as they see you coming, watching your approach. You are pulled to a stop outside the door as the guards work to release your restraints, and Gillmer stands at the door, smirking at you. “I always knew we couldn’t trust you. Being a traitor runs in your blood.”

You don’t think, don’t process what you’re doing as you pull your head back and slam it forward, smashing it into Gillmer’s nose. He immediately pulls an arm back and punches you, fist smashing into your eye, pain exploding in your vision. You hear Kane and Lincoln yelling in protest, but their cries go ignored as the guards pull the door open and shove you inside, the force of it knocking you to the ground. You turn and look as Gillmer glares at you, clutching his nose as blood rushes between his fingers, and you return his earlier smirk with one of your own, “Need a bandaid?”

He launches towards the door, ready to pull it open and drag you out, but the other guards pull him back, yelling, “Let it go, Gillmer!”

He shrugs them off and storms away, and you watch on in amusement, letting the moment distract you from the fact that in less than 24 hours, you’re going to be executed.

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader

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