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sttngfashion · 3 years

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5.26 and 6.1 - Time’s Arrow

Oh my god. Y’all. It’s a new Fashion It So post. In the year of our Picard 2020. Yes.

For literal years, Charlie and I have been like UGH WE NEED TO DO TIME’S ARROW PARTS 1 AND 2 BUT IT’S JUST SUCH A MONSTER.

Well, I’m doing a complete rewatch of the series with my partner and we just got to these two, so IT IS TIME.

We open in a cave in San Francisco, where Data and Picard are checking something out:

Rent for the cave is $6,000 per month

Showing them around is this guy in a Science Outfit:

He’s ready to go night biking

We’ve seen this look before in both Silicon Avatar and Devil’s Due, and it’s functional, yet cute. Basically a windbreaker in jumpsuit form.

They find a couple of items in the cave, including a pocket watch from 1889 and also:

I left my head in San Francisco

IT’S DATA’S HEAD!!! And it’s been there for FIVE HUNDRED YEARS. What could have caused this? And why is Data’s head so absolutely terrifying?

Is that fondant

This head is, in a word, haunting. The 2020 of heads.

Data and Geordi chat in Ten-Forward about what the presence of Data’s head in the cave means. Data says it means he’s mortal; that someday he will die, and that’s comforting. Spoiler alert: that’s not what it means. But it’s a nice conversation.

Also, Guinan is here!!!

Merlot My God!!

Or maybe: Burgundy-lightful!! Or perhaps: De-Crimson-alize Sex Work!! Okay that last one was a stretch but I really think I missed my calling as a nail polish shade namer.

Anyway, she’s here in her classic look of a pizza-sized hat and a flowing gown/coat/top/robe. The collar here is a little too close to a mock turtleneck for my liking and honestly - this is a little staid for our friend Guinan. I want a TEXTURE or a SWEEP or some WIDE RIBBING or some PLEATS. Don’t worry, though...she will get plenty more later.

Then there’s some plot which frankly we DO NOT HAVE TIME to get into but let’s just say: the away team goes to a planet, there’s a temporal disturbance, and Data ends up here:

Huge mood

Where are we? Or should I say WHEN are we??

Well that old-timey font is a good clue...also the horse

Are we in the Old West land of an off-brand Disneyworld? Are we going to ride something called Large Lightning Mesa Train Tracks? What colorful characters will we meet here?

Winner of 1893’s Mustache Medal

This type of ‘stache is called a Fu Manchu, after the character Dr. Fu Manchu. It’s not...a great look? But it is memorable, which is sometimes enough. He’s also wearing a simple black cap, probably made of silk. He’s keeping it cazh.

So where are we?

SAN FRANCISCO, OPEN YOUR GOLDEN GATE / YOU’LL LET NOBODY WAIT / OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR

Yes, it’s San Francisco. And it’s *eyes popping out of head like a cartoon wolf seeing a busty babe* 1893!!!! That temporal disturbance was...disturbing.

So who else do we have hanging out?

Please check out our Vaudeville act, Knit Cap ‘n’ Bowly

These dudes understand those famous Bay Area MICROCLIMATES, amirite? We’ve got a Henley. We’ve got a buttondown. We’ve got a vest. We’ve got a coat. No matter which way the thermometer decides to go, THEY ARE READY. Also loving the pop of forest green on Knit Cap’s knit cap.

We also have a 49er:

No, it’s not Steve Young. I googled “famous 49ers” to complete this joke so if there is a more famous 49er please let me know

It’s a literal 49er. Since it’s 1893, this guy’s been hanging around in town for a while, and he’s also familiar with the layering techniques one must master if one is to conquer the Bay Area’s climate. He also has a kicky Colonel Sanders-type tie. He asks Data for money and gives him a few panhandling tips. He’s chill. We like him. But don’t get too attached if you know what I mean!!!!

Data decides he needs somewhere to stay, so he finds a hotel:

Brian.

Why is this so funny to me. Brian. Why would you name your hotel Brian. Brian!!!! I know it’s a last name but like...Brian. HOTEL BRIAN.

This bellhop’s name is not Brian:

Where’s your hat, bro

He’s giving us a classic bellhop look, complete with too many buttons. He gives Data the very important information that there’s a poker game happening in the back of the hotel, which means: Data is about to be RICH rich.

The poker game includes a few good looks:

Louie Anderson IS Wolverine IN a Lands’ End barn coat

Two plaids? Sir...I salute you

Colonel Sanders Goes to Carnaval

Data, of course, wipes the floor with them so hard that he wins their clothes:

Didn’t get that barn coat tho

Yes, that’s the actual vest and the actual hat of those guys from the previous scene. Oh, I love it. I love Data in a vest over his uniform and I love Data with a feather in his cap. Let’s call it macaroni.

Meanwhile, out on the street, the plot is happening:

Beige: inescapable

This is our first taste of the decadent 1890’s sleeves that appear in this episode, and these aren’t even the best sleeves!! These are an amuse-bouche of sleeves. An armuse-bouche, if you will.

Anyway, these two are aliens disguised as humans who are here to steal the 49er’s life energy.

Pew pew pew

I told you not to get attached!!!

Back on the Enterprise, Guinan is doing mixology:

She would never call it something as stupid as mixology though

She tells Picard that he needs to go check out the temporal disturbance, too, even though captains don’t normally go on away missions, and then she gives him this look:

It’s that serious

When Guinan looks at you like this, you do what she says.

Now this outfit is much better than the earlier one. We have some pleated sleeves, which I didn’t even think was a thing you could DO. We have some sort of functional(?) strap(??) across the front. We even have matching fingerless gloves which always make a look A LOOK. And if Picard wasn’t sure whether he needed to go on this away mission, she then gives him THIS look:

Okay now it’s REALLY serious

Back in 1893, Data is making something:

It’s actually just a really complicated and large music box that plays “I Left My Head in San Francisco”

He’s gotten his hands on some more period-appropriate clothing, including a bow tie and a vest. Since he’s not wearing arm garters and his sleeves appear to be the correct length for his arms, we can conclude that the shirt was custom-made, not ready-made, because Data is now a baller due to his poker earnings.

Then, Data sees this in the paper:

I know her!! From work!!!!

Yes, it’s Guinan. In 1893. In a hat!!!!

We cut to the literary reception, which is honestly not as well-attended as I thought it would be, considering it got a GIANT photo of Guinan on page THREE of the paper, but okay. And who should we spy there but:

You’ll love my secret blend of 11 herbs and spices

No, it’s not Colonel Sanders. (Sorry, I really have Colonel Sanders on the brain because of that Lifetime movie.) It’s Samuel Clements, AKA Mark Twain. I had an English teacher in high school who explained the origin of his pseudonym (it indicates a mark of two fathoms, aka twelve feet, on a steamboat) and for some reason she shouted MAAAARK TWAAAAAIN when she told us that story so now her delivery of that line is in my head until I die I guess.

Anyway, it’s Mark Twain.

He’s wearing his iconic white linen suit with a black bow tie, and he’s also wearing a lot of prosthetics, because the actor playing him (Jerry Hardin, AKA Deep Throat from The X-Files AKA Melora Hardin AKA Jan Levinson-Gould’s dad) (was that too many AKAs) (you get it, right?) didn’t look enough like Mark Twain, I guess? In conclusion: what if eyebrow wigs were a thing?

Twain is having a chit chat with “Madame Guinan,” who is wearing what can only be called a sumptuous gown:

It’s 11:30 and the gown is sumptin’ sumptin’

There are so many ELEMENTS to this look! First of all: the color. Royal purple. Fit for a queen. Appropriate.

Then: those sleeves! These sleeves are known as “leg of mutton sleeves” because they KIND OF look like a leg of mutton. Have you ever seen a leg of mutton? I haven’t. I’ve only seen these sleeves. Plus they have a stripe?? No, I don’t know why, but I LOVE IT.

The cuffs and the cravat bring this from “dress” to “lewk.” Top it all off with this hat and you have a true 1893 mood.

What bird is that feather even from

We get a few good extra looks in this scene as well:

Pink Lady is NOT wearing a corset

Look, sometimes you don’t have enough period-appropriate undergarments for all the background people and that’s fine. But I WILL notice.

Is that Loretta Lynn

I am loving all of this! That purple dress is fantastic, those stripes? I die. Military man has some fun flair on his shoulder, and there is a dude in a beautiful turban back there. Plus, another Black lady in addition to Guinan and That One Ensign Who Is On The Bridge Sometimes.

Data rolls in to the literary event in a different suit with a CRAVAT:

Craving a cravat

Data is like “we serve together on the same starship in the 24th century” and Guinan is like “huh” but then she’s like “okay” which...I’m not sure if I would believe that? But let’s just say it’s fine.

Over in the 24th century, the literal entire bridge crew is checking out the temporal disturbance and I DON’T LIKE THIS AT ALL:

Blue Man Group...on ACID

These beings are like ghosts but also like Dr. Manhattan but also like pure energy.

Then everyone goes through the temporal disturbance AND THE SEASON ENDS.

Fortunately for you, this post will continue...right now.

Okay, so we’re back in San Francisco in 1893. You can tell by the horses:

Also the fruit carts

Samuel Clemens is strolling around with a reporter, telling him that he has a great story for him that involves time travelers and, like, protecting the nation.

Here’s the thing about this episode’s version of Mark Twain: he’s kind of a dick. Was the real Mark Twain kind of a dick? I just feel like Mark Twain should be JAZZED about meeting time travelers and not acting like a fuckin’ time cop* and trying to put the Enterprise crew on blast.

Anyway I love his double-breasted vest.

See my vest

The reporter’s hat is technically period-accurate, but that style is SO associated with the 1930s-1950s that I would have gone with something else. He looks cute though.

Meanwhile, Data is wearing a three-piece suit:

My positronic olfactory synapses are interpreting something as...a fart

I hate brown, but this is fine.

Additionally, the beige baddies from before are back and this time, they’ve got a SNAKE CANE:

Love the snake cane, hate how they suck the life out of people

But we are not here for them, we are here to see our faves in period clothing. Our first look is at Riker, who is dressed as an actual cop, not a time cop like Mark Twain:

The past just had...so many buttons

I guess if you’re a time-traveling white man there are worse disguises than a cop. But WHERE DID HE GET THIS UNIFORM? I choose to believe that he found a cop with a similar large handsome body to his own and beat the shit out of him and stole his clothes. Now we can all enjoy imagining a cop being beat up.

The badge that Riker is wearing is a great historical detail; the SFPD started wearing them in 1886 and are reportedly the first law enforcement agency to have worn the seven-pointed star, which is now a common shape among sheriff’s departments across the United States.

But let’s move on to a better look: Dr. Beverly Crusher:

Curlz MT

Okay, now I have more questions. Beverly obviously wouldn’t beat someone up for their clothes, so where did SHE get HER outfit? And who did her hair? Did she do her OWN hair? Where did she get a curling iron? Does she know how to use a curling iron? Was it one of those ones that’s actually made of iron that you have to heat up in a fireplace?

We will get answers to zero (0) of these questions.

We actually get a much better look at her dress later, so let’s focus on that cloak!!! I love it and I also love her hat. Okay, I guess I had less to say about those than I thought.

Bev and Will, along with the rest of the officers, have somehow procured a room/apartment in some lady’s lodging house. It’s cute!

They gave it 5 stars on AirBnB

This also raises questions. How did they get this room? How many bedrooms does it have? Are they sharing one large bed? If so, who has to sleep crossways at the foot of the bed and why is it Geordi? We will get zero answers to these questions as well, so let’s move on to arguably the hottest costume in this two-parter:

I’ll be in Holodeck 4

Whewwwwwww. He’s giving us a rolled sleeve. He’s giving us a casual tweed vest. The pants? They’re perfect. And he KNOWS how that slouch is working. It’s working VERY well. But the Irish landlady? She’s having NONE OF IT.

Absolutely NO nonsense

She needs the rent, but Picard charms her and she leaves. So I guess that’s how they got the room. Her look is knitwear-forward:

Eileen Fisher does sound like an Irish name

She’s got a shawl AND a cardigan! The cozy factor is OFF THE CHARTS. She also has a brooch, because a touch of fancy is always welcome. I will say that her hair is a little more fashion-forward than I’d expect for a woman of her age and station. This is straight up 1890s hair, and she would probably still be rocking an 1860s look, which isn’t as sweepy and would likely involve more braids. Still, she looks lovely.

Geordi is also here looking dapper:

Make the collar as high as you can. I want to be sliced open by my own collar

You CAN go wrong with a three-piece suit, but it’s difficult to. He can’t wear his visor, so he has some kicky shades which we’ll get a better look at in a sec.

Back at the Hotel Brian (lol), the bellboy (who we learn in this scene is Jack London, inspired to be a writer by Mark Twain [citation needed]) lets Mark Twain into Data’s room and allows him to look around unsupervised. This is very bad hotel management.

Great Scott

Then Data and Guinan show back up, and Mark Twain hides in an armoire.

One short day in the emerald brocade

I think one reason I love Guinan’s looks so much, both in the 24th and the 19th century, is that our color palette is very similar. We’re both winters. Bold jewel tones are the vibe. This one is in a beautiful deep green fabric with what looks like a velvet flocking pattern on it. The collar is also velvet, and I love that sleeve with a flounce on top like there wasn’t already enough fucking fabric on the sleeve so they just added a random piece to be like “yes, bitch. I’m a sleeve.”

Naturally, the hat is also jaunty af:

San Francisco’s hottest milliner is: Madame Guinan

This hat has everything: feathers, netting, a brim, an angle that makes you think it’s going to fall off but it doesn’t. We stan.

Meanwhile, Picard is setting up a sensor in a hospital while wearing a hat:

I’m bowled over

We haven’t even asked where Picard got these clothes, but I would like to point out that he’s dressed as a lower-class guy, while Riker is a cop, and Geordi looks like a gentleman. Was there even a discussion they all had about how they would disguise themselves? Was Picard like “I just really want to wear a beat-up bowler hat” and since he’s the captain, they extrapolated from there? This episode is NOT CONCERNED about any of this. They all have clothes, end of story.

Bev even has TWO outfits!!

Hello nurse!!!!

I love this look. She still has her unlikely hairstyle happening, which means her nurse’s cap is sitting atop her voluminous hairstyle. (Not very practical, but realistic!) She’s sporting a simple striped dress and a button-on apron. (Look closely and you can see the two buttons holding the apron to the dress.) The fabric underneath might be cotton seersucker, but it’s likely a lightweight cotton or linen twill. You can see how closely her look matches these nurses from a similar time period:

Hello nurses!!!!

Deanna is also in this scene and this episode, but you wouldn’t know it from what she’s given to do. HUGE SHOCKER: TROI NOT GIVEN ENOUGH TO DO IN AN EPISODE. 🙃

She still looks beautiful:

Why aren’t capelets more popular

We never get a really GREAT look at her whole outfit, but I can tell you that it has a capelet, it’s in the red family, and the hat has a lot of business going on. For those reasons: approved. It has a flounce in the back too:

More fabric = more wealth

Sometimes I think about just how much fabric it took to make these old-timey dresses and I’m like...how did anyone get anything done?? It takes me like 4 weeks to finish a pair of leggings and those have like 5 seams and I own a serger. These historical bitches were sewing whole ass dresses in no time at all.

Okay, so Bev is in this hospital and here come some more energy-stealing aliens, disguised as healthcare professionals this time:

I cannot take a medical professional wearing a LIGHT BROWN TOP HAT seriously, sorry

Bev AND this energy-stealing alien have BOTH managed to get their hands on the SAME nurse’s uniform?? I guess in the case of the alien, she is a shape-shifter, so she got her clothes from...that. And her hair.

I hate this light brown top hat. If you’re going to wear a top hat, don’t DISRESPECT IT by making it BROWN, but if you’re going to make it brown, make it a good brown, like chocolate. Stupid energy-stealing aliens.

There’s a skirmish, the energy-stealing aliens disappear, and the real cops show up:

MOUSTACHE

Of course, the cops showing up is bad, because when has a cop showing up ever made a bad situation better? Never. Defund the police, but don’t defund handlebar mustaches. Those can stay.

Fortunately, Data has gotten a ping on that machine he was building before and shows up on a motherfucking HORSE:

Brent just wanted to show off

He’s back in his brown striped suit and red tie. Okay.

Everyone returns to the boarding house to suss out the situation, and we get a look at what Riker is rocking underneath his cop jacket:

Suspend me daddy

You can see very clearly here how the collar is not actually attached to the shirt. This was a thing people in the olden days did so they could wear their shirt for multiple days in a row and just switch out the collar and cuffs so they looked clean. As someone who is wearing the same sweatshirt for the third day in a row, I support this method. (If you’re interested on more info about collars, here is a very enjoyable article about them.)

We are also blessed with a better look at Deanna’s sleeves and bodice:

Black lace cuffs? Decadent!!!

You can also see Geordi’s shades, which suit him really nicely. One thing I’ve been enjoying on this rewatch is just how well LeVar Burton can act without having his eyes visible. He’s great. Let’s just all think about how great LeVar Burton is for a second

And also Bev’s dress:

I legitimately want this dress

I don’t think those buttons are functional. Can you imagine how annoying THAT would be? But I am absolutely in love with this dress. Two paisleys, Beverly???? A goddess. I’m also dying for that brooch with the chain. A+ look all around, great work.

Finally, FINALLY, Guinan meets the rest of the crew:

When you meet someone you won’t actually know for 500 years

She is wearing a hat that looks like a toilet paper cozy. Did your grandma have one of these? They’re so stupid and I love them so much.

Picard and Guinan meet for what is the first time for her, but not the first time for him, and honestly it is...sensual?????

If I got a m’lady from P. Stew I wouldn’t even mind

Patrick and Whoopi truly do some nice work in this ep. But we are here to yell about clothes, so: LOOK AT THIS DRESS ON AN EXTRA:

Gimme dat dress

I just want that dress to wear around my house. I legitimately bought an 18th century costume dress to do just that, so don’t think I won’t literally do this.

OKAY, WE ARE ALMOST TO THE END.

The crew, plus Guinan, go back to the cave where this all started:

Cave Club, the only club that meets in a cave

We get a nice look at the bodice of Guinan’s dress here and guess what: MORE BUTTONS. Buttons on the lapels, and also buttons on the front panel with the pointy top. I wonder if she has multiple front panels for that dress in different colors, like a Swatch watch.

Unbeknownst to them, Mark Twain followed them!! Then there’s a scuffle with the energy-stealing aliens during which a few things happen:

Data’s head flies off

Mark Twain gets sucked into the temporal disturbance

Guinan gets hurt

Picard stays behind to make sure Guinan is okay

So we end up with Mark Twain on the Enterprise, where he sees Worf, and he’s like:

Buh-WHAT

Worf is also confused:

This is...extremely perplexing

We have a few more looks back on the Enterprise, including Regular Guinan:

ShoulderSpreads™: The Bed Spread for Your Shoulders

I love love LOVE this outfit. The color is perfect, the shoulderspreads are perfect, the front draping is perfect. It looks like a velvet housedress from the 1960s except FANCY which is kind of my ideal aesthetic. And it’s red (my fave).

We get a quick glimpse at the barber uniform:

Bitch let me pass, idc if you wrote Huck Finn

This barber does. not. give. a. fuck!!!!

Geordi reattaches Data’s head, the one they already had, which means this whole thing was a ding dang closed loop. The reattachment also kind of diminishes the whole conversation they had earlier about how Data’s head in the cave meant that Data could die someday, because...he didn’t. He still might, but his head is back and he’s fine now.

Meanwhile, Picard is still back in 1893 and they have to go get him, but only one person can come back through the temporal disturbance, so Mark Twain is like “duh I’ll go get him.”

And finally Guinan and Picard can talk about how their friendship spans 500 years!!!!

Hey girl

Hey

YOU’RE WELCOME

*abolish the police

#SEASON 5 #SEASON 6 #TNG #TNG FASHION #STAR TREK #STAR TREK FASHION

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mediocre--writing · 3 years

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The Drooping Red Silvias on the Dining Room Table

Tom Riddle X fem!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: “Love could be remembered forever and it could be dwelled on for decades, but it didn’t last forever. Nothing did. Not a truly happy smile. Not the Red Silvias on the dining room table. Not even love.”

Word Count: 4544

Warnings: like two bad words, SUPER ANGSTY

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” A teasing voice questioned from behind Tom’s left shoulder.

“What is it now?” He heard a light giggle as he felt her get closer to him, her aura contrasting his in every way.

Where he was harsh, sharp angles, she was kind and bright, in every way possible. And it beat just about every brain in Hogwarts how the two ended up together at all.

“How much you mope around school scowling at people when you could just come find me and we could have a grand ol’ time!”

And so it was, the grin that was hardest to suppress made its way across his dull face, one only the girl next to him could elicit from him. He enjoyed it, no matter how much he protested her jokes and immature behavior, it brought out the child in him that he was never allowed to show.

“Should you be any more childish, they might have to hold you back this year, L/n,”

Matching smirks graced their faces as they made eye contact in the busy hallway on their way to dinner, in which she would ditch her rightful place at the Hufflepuff table and sit with Tom at the Slytherin table, a good bit away from any other students in the house.

“They would never, I’m far too loved in this school for anyone to wish me a disadvantage!” She said, mocking an offended tone and placing a dramatic hand on her chest.

“Think what you will, but you are one of the most adorably immature people I've had the chance to meet,”

“Oh, Tommy, that’s just pessimistic, be a bit happier, will you? We’ve got, like, a month left of school and I’d like to be happy for the time being, if you can manage that?”

They sat at the end of the Slytherin table, close to the door, and far from other students. They both began to place food onto their plates in mass amounts, the Hufflepuff being more than distraught at the idea of having to lose Hogwarts’ meals after graduation.

The brunet smiled at the bubbly girl in front of him, her eyes glimmering from the reflection of candles in the hall. There was nobody he admired more, from her personality to her obsession with Herbology to the way she read, all curled up on an uncomfortable library chair, and he especially adored the way she kept him connected to the person he always strived to be, even if he didn’t notice himself drifting, she always did.

“I think I can manage that,” He said softly, looking down to add more roast to his dinner plate. “For you, I think I can manage anything,”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” A teasing voice questioned from behind Tom’s left shoulder.

“What is it now?” He questioned the ghost that haunted him to this day.

“Well, the fact that you’re trying so hard, for one,” Her mocking voice chuckled as her semi-transparent form drifted to face him.

The man-- if you could call him that-- groaned at her insistence on bothering him.

“I also think that you’re doing far to much to not die, that you’re gonna end up getting killed and only end up living to, like, 80, at the most,”

“If you could be quiet for a moment then maybe I would be able to focus and then I won’t get killed!” He snapped, agitated at the nuisance around him, slamming his hand onto the table that had plans spilled across it.

“Too bad you can’t kill a ghost, huh?” She quirked her head to show a false sympathy for the man, “Though, you already did kill me, so…”

“Shut up!” He tried to command with a strong voice, but it came out quieter than he wanted it to, guilt overtaking what was left of his emotions.

She let out a loud sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes, “No need to be so dramatic, Tommy,”

“Why don’t you just go to wherever it is you go when you’re not bothering me,” He sneered at the ghost of a girl who used to be everything to him, but was now diminished to absolutely nothing.

“Alright,” She said, backing up to disappear and reappear somewhere else, “Catch you later, Tommy!”

He let out a final groan after she disappeared, getting back to what he was doing before.

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, the ghost was wandering around, talking to other ghosts, sometimes waving to younger students, and just milling around with nothing to do.

“Excuse me,” she heard a timid voice call from around her. “Ma’am, excuse me,”

“Are you talking to me?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at the brunet boy below her who nodded at her question. “What is it you need, darling?”

“Do you know other.... uhhhhh,” He paused his question, eyes darting around as if to escape the prevalent tension, “Other people, who have… gone from the world?”

“Why do you ask, and what is your name, darling?” The Hufflepuff asked tenderly.

“I’m Neville,” The boy spoke as his cheeks flushed pink, his grip tightening around his satchel, “And I was reading about how some ghosts have contact with those who are passed through, and others can’t and I just wondered if there were any ghosts at Hogwarts who could--”

“Neville, darling,” He was pulled from his rambling and fidgety monologue, “I’m very sorry, but I’ve not been able to contact those who have passed, but I may know who you are referring to, given I have been around Hogwarts for quite a while,”

“Well, my parents…”

“What’s your last name?”

“L-Longbottom, ma’am,” the boy stuttered out quietly.

“Your parents, they’re Frank and Alice, correct?” She tilted her head as she lowered her body from floating feet above the floor to be closer to the ground so as to not be intimidating to the shy boy, who looked more like his father than he probably knew.

“Yes, you knew them?” Neville had a spark of hope lit in his eyes, it was apparent in the way he straightened his posture and could look her in the eyes.

“Yes, I also knew your grandmother, Agusta, while I was at Hogwarts, is she still as intimidating as she once was?” Neville nodded with a small smile, “Well, Alice was one of the first friends I made while wandering Hogwarts. Kindest women I’ve ever met, by a long shot. I didn’t know Frank too well, however, but Alice worked him into just about every conversation she could, she loved that boy,”

“Do you have any stories?” Neville asked, taking a seat on a bench on the side of the hallway, “If you don’t mind, that is?”

“Of course I don’t mind!”

She spent until curfew talking about Alice and Frank, stories of their dates and their friends and how goofy and awkward and wonderful they both were. Neville had never felt so close to his parents, he could almost cry.

Y/n loved talking about her friends, though she was never truly a friend, but she liked feeling close to people and helping them along in the world.

She’d seen people she was once close to go down a path that only resulted in destruction, and she wanted to prevent as many people from doing that as she could. It hurt everyone when someone hurt themselves.

After Neville had gone to bed, she had begun wandering the halls once again, watching paintings move and random cats and owls move around outside on the grounds.

She could never get tired of the castle, especially not the grounds, which, no matter the weather, always seemed to be green and full of life. She loved the edge of the forest, right before it got too dense but where you could still be surrounded by trees.

“Tommy!” She squealed, feeling the blood run to her head as she was hung over his shoulder. “Tom! Thomas!”

He was giggling right along with her, running across the lawn, over to the forest where nobody went, enjoying the warm, sunny, spring day that seemed rare this time of year.

He finally allowed the girl’s feet to touch the ground, but kept her wrapped in his arms holding their chests together, fast breathing causing them to touch every breath or so.

“Was that necessary, love? You could’ve just asked to walk over here calmly,” She smirked, watching as his cheeks lost some of their pink tint as he calmed his breathing.

“Yes, but aren’t you always the one telling me that life should be fun, not mundane, like I, apparently, always am?” Tom teased the girl, poking one of her cheeks as she leant against a tree, staring into his eyes.

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, where a small white flower already was, probably from the bouquet that he’d given her just a few days ago. The bouquet had been mostly white flowers, along with a few yellow ones, and he’d said the white flowers were as perfect and pure as she was, along with the yellow sunflowers that he’d put in, comparing them to her bright smile.

“You’re not mundane,” She smirked, poking his cheek as well, to prove a point, but let her hand rest against his jaw, “maybe a little dull sometimes, but --”

His lips touched hers tenderly and with love as he smiled into the kiss they shared, in the forest, away from prying eyes and lurkers.

She gasped a bit from the surprise of her sentence ending so abruptly, but sunk into the kiss after a moment, still holding his cheek in her palm as his hands wrapped around her waist, curling her into his chest.

This was a routine for them, hiding from the eyes that seemed to follow them everywhere and share tender moments that neither would forget in years to come.

Sometimes, the moments they shared, weren’t just kissing, they would sit in the back corner of the library, far from the librarian’s prying eyes, and would read old children’s tales to one another.

(She swore that his voice was made for reading, and the way his chest felt when she rested on his lap was perfect for casual reading days.)

Other days, they would do homework. More like Tom would try and work and she would talk his ear off until he threatened her to do her work. Though the threats were harmless, (ex: no cuddles or kisses until Monday) though, he wasn’t good at keeping them anyway. She was too perfect to just ignore for the sake of lousy school work.

They enjoyed their time together, no matter what they did, it was always precious time if it was spent with the other.

“Ms. L/n!”

She jumped from her daydream as she noticed the man standing at the end of the hallway.

“Professor Dumbledore, how are you tonight?”

“I’m fine,” He smiled kindly from underneath his half moon spectacles, eyes glimmering even in the darkest corner of the castle. “You know what’s been brewing outside these walls. I’m here to ask something from you, once again. Would you be willing to aid me and my friends as you did many years ago, should the time come to do so?”

She stared off, quietly wishing she didn’t have to. “Of course, Professor,”

“My thanks means nothing in comparison to the help you will give us, Ms. L/n,”

The man nodded once more and walked to the end of the hallway, turning left as he disappeared out of sight.

Though it meant close to nothing, she couldn’t help but feel guilty.

How could she have gotten into Hufflepuff, the house of the loyal, if she were betraying the one person who ever treated her with more than a fake smile and courteous conversation.

Her Tommy, who had once been a kind soul who only wanted to feel the love he had been deprived of in his first life. The happiness that had been brutally ripped away from him any moment he got too comfortable.

It was the right thing, going against Lord Voldemort, but there was still a part of her that wanted to help Tom Riddle on the right path when there was so much persuading him from straying to the wrong path.

The person she knew was, well, a person at heart. He may not have shown it often, but he wanted what people were given freely. He hated having to ask or dream of what others were given daily.

For what should give a person a reason to treat a child as less than loved?

“Y/n I’ve been looking for you everywhere, do you know wh--” He paused halfway through the two shelves that hid the table and chairs that they would go on study dates to.

It was the perfect spot, a small window that showed the hilly landscape outside and allowed just enough light that it gave the spot a romantic feel without being too dark or light. There was a small table and two plush chairs, which was just enough for the two. It was the perfect spot, apart from right now, where there was Y/n, tears pouring down her cheeks as she tried to mop them up with the end of her sweater sleeves.

He walked up to her, slightly shaking, body, crouched down a bit, and opened his arms, to which she wrapped her sweater-covered hands around him and connected her hands around his neck, pulling him partially down to her chair.

He adjusted them bit by bit until he was in the chair and she was laying across his lap and chest, her cheek nestled into the side of his neck, his light gray sweater getting slightly damp from her tears.

She began to stop crying, embracing the earthy, yet clean smell he had, along with his fingertips running up and down her spine in an effort to bring comfort to the girl. She shivered every once and a while, in which he would respond by snuggling her deeper into his warm body.

They remained quiet for a while, even after she stopped crying and was breathing normally, just enjoying the embrace, and the calm atmosphere that came with it.

“Wanna tell me what’s got you spooked, darling?” He asked in a whisper, scared to break the comfort with too loud a voice.

She shook her head in the crook of his neck, nustling her nose deeper into his sweater, which was softer than anything she’d ever felt. ‘I’ll have to steal that later,’ she thought.

“That’s alright,” He reassured, “It wasn’t somebody, was it? Or were you overwhelmed, darling?”

She smiled into his shoulder, murmuring “Overwhelmed,” as she closed her eyes once again, feeling more tired than ever.

He had to know that it wasn’t someone who made her upset, and knew that more often than not, it was just a mix of school and general teenage angst, which he knew that better than anyone.

He felt her warm breath on his neck, feeling her yawn as she readjusted her head again, “Tired, darling?” to which he got no reply other than her arms squeezing around his torso a bit tighter than they had been.

He chuckled to himself, smiling at the girl who, in his eyes, at least, couldn’t be more perfect.

During the last war, Y/n had been in the same predicament.

She wanted to do the right thing for a majority of people, but she also felt as if she was going against her loyalty for not defending Tom, though he was barely even who he used to be at that point.

She had advantages for either side, mostly the Order of the Phoenix, because she understood how The Dark Lord’s mind worked and you couldn’t exactly hold a ghost back from a room or hear what she wanted, given you couldn’t exactly stop her from just floating through the wall.

She knew it was the right thing.

She wasn’t a complete idiot, she knew basic right from wrong, though it didn’t erase guilt.

Nothing erased guilt.

That went both ways.

Tom still felt a tremendous amount of guilt when it came to his lost love.

She had never given up on him, not a single time between their years at Hogwarts and the years beyond when they had been trying to understand how their life worked without people telling them how to act. Without set rules to follow.

They’d never strayed from one another, always been loyal and adamant about their trust in one another.

She never doubted him, and that was the worst part. She didn’t see him as a god or supernatural being, and he supposed it was nice to be admired for being a person rather than for actions that could be twisted back and forth.

He didn’t have the best conscious, given it was switching between what he wanted and what he needed, and she was something he needed, but he prioritized his wants over her. His views on blood status had clouded his judgement and, in turn, lost him everything he’d ever wanted and everything he’d needed.

“Stop acting like a fucking twat for once in your life, Thomas!” She screamed as she found, yet another, suspicious book sitting on his desk.

This time it was a book called Horcruxes: How to Make and Destroy the Key to Eternal Life.

“What is that supposed to mean?!” He was agitated, he was close to pulling out his own hair in pure agitation, “I was reading a book and now you’re being all pissy for no reason!”

“Oh, so you can read?” She asked, hands on her hips like a scolding mother, “Then what was the title of your little book, Tom?”

He was silent, looking around the room rather than in her eyes. He’d been caught but he was far too stubborn to admit that he was at fault for the argument.

“Tom,”

“If you’re so mad then just get out!”

“I’m not mad at you, I just want to know what’s going through your head because from what I’m looking at, it’s not a good situation. And you know, good and well, that I will believe what you tell me, but if you keep lying then I really will ‘get out,’”

She set the book down on the desk as she watched his body language, surveying his eyes flickering around the room and his fingers loosening and tightening his tie again and again.

“Tommy,”

“I don’t want to lose you, ever, and I’m trying to figure out a way that we never have to be without the other.” She opened her mouth to question him further but he began rambling, “I want to be with you forever and I don’t want us to be apart because I know we’ve been together for a long time, but I can’t bear the thought of, one day, not having you with me. It’s something I can’t afford to lose because of some stupid mistake or-or,”

“Tommy,” She put her hand over his, which was on the arm of his chair, “Life is about losing things and gaining things. We can’t cheat nature just because we want to be loved for longer or because of pure selfishness. I don’t exactly want to live without you, either, but I know that you’re always going to love me and I know that I will always love you, no matter what you think, so just calm down for a few moments and enjoy life while you still get to,”

That night had changed everything.

Had the conversation been had earlier, maybe the first two Horcruxes wouldn’t have been made. He rethought everything after that, finding his humanity that he’d been repressing for months, all for her.

It was never that easy, though. He had already made the Horcruxes, and he vowed he would stop now.

And he did. For almost a year, he made no more moves to further his progression of splitting his soul into seven pieces. He found happiness, he kept her love for him in a pocket right over his heart, where he also kept the small flowers she would pick him out of the garden, and he still felt like a person.

A person who, though he was now beginning to regret it, had an army of loyal, blood supremacists behind him. He had made them promises that he was now beginning to question.

It was a beautiful morning.

A blue sky, blooming flowers, and the smell of rain that was sure to fall later in the day. But now, Tom was reading in his study, watching his wonderful darling tend to her garden, she was fascinated with nature, what it meant and how it grew so freely.

She would ramble about why she had certain bouquets into the dining room table, about what they meant, and how her smile was only brighter when she was talking about him.

(“These are daisies and morning glories. The daisies mean hope and the morning glories mean care and affection. I noticed you were moping earlier and wanted you to feel happier.”)

(“These are violets and asters-- they look pretty together, no?” “Of course they do, darling,” “The violets are for loyalty and the asters are for love, because that’s how I feel for you,”)

(“All yellow tulips, darling?” “I read somewhere that they represent the sunshine in your loved one’s smile, and you just light up my world,” “Oh, how cheesy, darling,”)

That morning, she’d put in a large bouquet of Red Salvias, which bounced well off the crisp white tablecloth underneath.

“And what of those flowers, darling?” Tom had asked once he came into the room to find her in her gardening clothes, dirty and grimy but still looking absolutely stunning while she arranged the red flowers.

“They’re Red Salvias, they represent a forever love,” She’d sent a cheeky smile towards him at the last part of the sentence, to which he walked towards her, grinning, and wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“Then we shall put them everywhere, darling,” He whispered softly into her ear.

Her smile was one that could not be broken. When she was around those she loved, nothing could dull her happiness and affection towards them.

Tom never wanted her smile to fade, not because of him and certainly not because of anyone else.

A knock was heard from the front door, harsher than the old neighbor lady, who would bring them sweets occasionally, would knock.

Tom looked back to her, then walked to the door, coming to see Abraxas Malfoy, one of his friends from school, though they weren’t necessarily friends, given their heritage.

“Abraxas, how nice to see you,” Tom said curtly, confused as to why the man was there, given he hadn’t spoken to any of them recently.

Little did Tom know that they had been meeting one another recently. All his followers met to discuss their leader’s change in attitude, which led to the answer for his rejection of ideals.

Quite the understandable distraction, they had agreed, but unnecessary all the same.

As Tom was tensely chatting with Abraxas Malfoy, another, undetected Death Eater had walked to the back door, sending a silent petrification charm at Y/n, catching her before she hit the ground.

Unable to speak or move, her eyes widened and looked to Tom worriedly as she was aggressively moved and bound, hands together and a strange man’s hand around her neck, squeezing hardly, but not too tight that she was losing oxygen.

After a few more moments, Abraxas noticed that the girl had been restrained and nodded for Tom to turn, to which he immediately pulled out his wand to the platinum blond, threatening him, but it was evident that nobody was there to hurt him.

There were two more masked Death Eaters in the garden, watching from outside, threateningly, as Abraxas smiled and Tom tried not to act rashly as Y/n tried not to allow tears to slip from her eyes.

“All we want is our old leader back, Tom,” Abraxas said from behind his right shoulder. “It’s a pretty easy decision to make, if you ask me, we’ll spare the girl, if you come back to us, as you should,”

Tom’s wand, for the first time in his life, was trembling in his tight grip.

It didn’t feel right, the deal, and he knew that if he followed what he really, truly wanted, she wouldn’t live to continue his ideal life with him. But if he chose the path he was avoiding, would he lose her anyway, would she stay if he was a murderer?

She, though bound and being choked, didn’t feel as though she should be nervous, this was her Tommy, the Tommy who would read her children’s stories because it made her smile. The Tommy who would poke at her cheeks when she was trying to be mad at him.

Even if he chose, whatever it was, with these people, she knew that he would always be Tommy to her.

Her Tommy.

And as he made a decision, a stupid one on his part, he knew that it was his last act of true defiance and bravery.

He shot a spell at the man choking her, but was immediately pulled back down by Abraxas as he watched her fall over to the floor, unable to catch herself due to her bound hands.

“You have made a mistake, Tom, and we don’t tolerate mistakes here, now do we?”

There was one last look of vulnerability in Tom’s eyes as he watched a spell hit Y/n.

That last look of vulnerability lasted until his final death.

He watched as her, once tense, body went limp from the use of the Unforgivable Curse.

He’d done it to people before. He’d felt no remorse on the other end of it. He’d almost enjoyed the feeling of power that came with using the Unforgivables.

Not anymore. He didn’t like the other side. He didn’t like feeling this. The pain. The knowledge that if he’d just done what he should have a long time ago, he’d have her there. With him.

Abraxas allowed him to stand up, and he did, slowly, and tried to not look into her cold, dead eyes that still dripped with unfinished tears, and clothes still dirty from the gardening she’d done earlier that day.

He’d looked to the dining room table, at the Red Silivas that she’d just finished arranging only minutes ago.

The flowers that represented a love that spanned forever.

Little did those flowers know that forever only lasted until the love was broken in half and ripped to shreds. There was no love that lasted forever.

As the flowers would begin to droop with days to come and nobody to care for them, Tom’s once shining love would begin drooping with them.

Love could be remembered forever and it could be dwelled on for decades, but it didn’t last forever.

Nothing did.

Not a truly happy smile.

Not the Red Silvias on the dining room table.

Not even love.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x hufflepuff!reader #tom riddle x hufflepuff #lord voldemort x reader #lord voldemort #hogwarts #x reader #hufflepuff!reader #voldemort #one shot #tom riddle one shot #hufflepuff

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amxranthiine · 3 years

Text

c i c a t r i z e (aragorn x reader) pt. iii

cicatrize (v.) to find healing by the process of forming scars. Pronouns: She/her A/n: Yes yes I know it’s been a while. I’ve been trying to get my grades up before the semester ends and haven’t had much time to sit down and write. This is sort of a filler, I’m posting it now because I feel so bad for making you guys wait. Warnings: Alcohol, maybe light swearing? Summary: Y/n is Aragorn’s childhood best friend. However, when they got older, Y/n’s feelings towards her long time friend changed, but he is infatuated with the Evenstar. Out of heartbreak, she leaves Rivendell and sets off on her own, leaving her love and all she ever knew. When Elrond’s Council takes place, Y/n is forced back to her home and everything she ever knew. ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ Y/n’s POV. We left Bree a day after the Nazgûl incident, and the six of us were currently taking a stroll through Chetwood Forest. Well... I was taking a stroll. Aragorn was grumpy and tense, as usual. His eyes filled with caution as he led our small party through the gloomy woodland. I had to admit, it was almost... nice, being around him again. He had a sense of familiarity to him, and I missed that, far more than I would ever admit. I still refused to talk to him, though. At least, for more than five minutes, after that point he usually starts asking questions I am not ready to answer. You could call me a coward, as in this moment I was running from my problems- the same problems that had been chasing me, haunting me, since my teen years- and you’re right. I am a coward. But, I’m a drunk coward. As if that makes it any better. Which, I mean, maybe, but no. I admit, I’m ashamed. Even when I’m old and mature, a grandma in the eyes of regular humans, I still manage to have a terrifying fear of the act of confronting people. I shiver internally at the mere thought of confronting Aragorn. Needing something to distract me, I look to the Hobbits and their adorable companion, Bill. They’re chatty, as usual. They have this aura around them that tells me that they are very suspicious of us. Why wouldn’t they be? Two big people, as they call us, practically kidnap their friend (who just so happens to have the Ring of Power within his grasp), force them to move all of their belongings into one room because they may or may not die and then tell them some very ominous news. Yeah, I wouldn’t trust us either. I go to take a sip of Ale out of my waterskin, the thought of the Ring was giving me a migraine. I raised the skin to my lips, ready to savor the alcoholic taste of the beverage, only to taste nothing. I blink, confused. Then tip the waterskin upside down to see a mere drop of Ale fall out. I purse my lips as I try to hold back tears. All I wanted was one precious sip of Ale, was that too much to ask? By the Valar, the sun hasn’t even reached it’s peak and I’m already out of Ale! This is going to be a long journey. “Where are you taking us?” I hear Frodo call to Aragorn. The latter doesn’t even look back as he responds, “Into the wild.” “Way to be creepy, Strider,” I mumble, and I hear Frodo snicker at my comment. His light footsteps quickly try to match mine as we attempt to keep a steady pace. “Where are you from, Randir?” He asks me. I glance at him and ponder his question for a moment. “Why, I’m from all over! I’ve been to Gondor, lovely city. The Steward is kind of freaky, though. But other than that, it is a beautiful place. I’ve also been to Rohan, goodness I’ve never seen so many horses in one place! I wonder how King Theoden fairs, I’ve not seen him since he was a young lad. I’ve been to the Shire once, too. I never really understood the meaning of comfort until I stepped foot into your country, little Hobbit. I understood in that moment why your race appreciates the subtly of home and food rather than adventures.” He smiles at this while I wink at him, “Where I was born I do not know; somewhere in the North, I suppose. I grew up in Rivendell, Lord Elrond raised me after my parents passed. His sons; Elladan and Elrohir, found me outside the borders of the lovely city when I was a babe. I lived there until I was 19, after that I left and went off on my own.” I gave him no more details about why I left, for I knew Aragorn was secretly listening by the way his body tensed and shifted in our direction. “Why did you leave Rivendell?” Frodo asked, curiosity killing the cat. I was suddenly filled with an urge to not let satisfaction bring it back. “Hmm... Now, that, little Hobbit, is a story for another time.” I flash him a grin then proceed to ignore his stare as I walk ahead, a skip in my step as I do so. I saw Aragorn’s shoulders slump in disappointment at my lack of response. I did not know why he was so insistent on knowing why I left Rivendell. I would think he would have gotten over it. After all, it has been sixty seven years. Behind me I could hear Merry whisper to the others, “How do we know this Strider and Randir are friends of Gandalf?” “I trust Randir, oddly enough. We have no choice but to trust him,” Frodo responds. My heart warmed a little at his trust in me, it’s been a long time since anyone has trusted me. I liked it. “But where are they leading us?” Sam asks in desperation. He did not like that they were following two strangers into the wild. I knew he was a loyal and trustworthy friend. “To Rivendell, Master Gamgee,” Aragorn yells from ahead. I smirk at his attempt to get me to finish the sentence. He knew very well it would work. “To the House of Elrond,” I finish, and laugh quietly and the sound of their small gasps. “Rivendell? We’re going to see the Elves!” ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ TAG LIST @entishramblings @canibea-whore-yet @maaaaryx @frulyall @slytherinrising @/thepeanutcollective (im so sorry love i couldn’t find your blog) @carisi-sonny @haleypearce @hc-geralt-23 @lamikahn PLEASE MESSAGE ME IF I MISSED YOU!

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msmarvelouswinchester · 4 years

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Hello Stranger

Summary - You were going through a rough patch in your life. As you were drinking away your problems, you met with a green eyed man who acts a little too nice towards you.

Pairing - Dean x Reader

Warning - Mentions of crappy life, swearing, drinking, angst, fluff-ish, plot twist.

Word Count - 2.1k

Square Filled - One Night Stand ( @spndeanbingo ) - it is just mentioned

A/N - This is written for @impala-1979’s Words for Love challenge. My word was Viraag in Hindi. Viraag - The emotional pain of being separated from a loved one.

The divider is by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89

This is also my 5000th post on tumblr. Woah! Also I am back to my angsty self *evil laughs*

Rolling your eyes, you check your phone for the thousandth time that evening for any message.

“Bitch,” you grumbled, thinking about how your best friend had ditched you, again. You had waited for almost two hours for your friend to show up before you decided to leave the bar at first but then you decided to stick around for a couple of drinks.

Life has been kicking you in the ass lately. Maybe staying home and binging F.R.I.E.N.D.S for the hundredth time suddenly didn't seem like a bad idea considering the girl who you had thought to be your best friend had left you alone in a bar full of drunk and horny dudes.

Staring at the glass of whiskey in front of you, you sighed aloud grabbing the attention of the man on the stool beside you.

“What's a pretty girl like you doing here all by yourself?” You looked to your right towards the source of the sound and saw a man staring at you with a creepy little smile on his face. You shuddered at the thought of answering the man.

“Not in the mood. Back off,” you grumbled, downing the glass of whiskey in one go. The sleazy person got up from his seat and stalked his way towards you.

“Fuck off,” you growled, as he placed his hand on the small of your back.

“Back off! That's my wife you're talking to,” A deep voice growled from behind the man, taking you by surprise, “Hey honey. Sorry to keep you waiting, I had to work an extra shift.”

You looked up and a freckle faced, flannel clad man staring at you with his beautiful forest green eyes. Your heart started to beat loudly as the man put a hand around your shoulder.

“Whatever dude,” the drunk grumbled and went off in another direction, probably in search of another person who can keep his bed warm for one night.

“What a creep,” you mumbled, the ominous feeling finally leaving you, “thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“No problem,” he said, removing his hands from your shoulder and taking a seat on the stool beside you, “So can I buy you a drink?” The green eyed man smiled.

“I just told that man to fuck off, what makes you think I will let you touch me?” You said, your eyes narrowing at him, “I am not your wife.”

“I don't do relationships and who said anything about touching? You look like-”

“Shit?” You joked.

“I wasn't gonna say that,” he smirked, “maybe tired was the word.”

“Gee thanks. Life's been tough, boss is an asshat, people who I thought to be my friends turned out to be nothing but snakes,” you said, signalling for a refill, “now, look at me rambling about my fucked up life to a stranger.”

“You need someone to talk to and I'm a good listener,” the man had a soft look on his face, “Name's Dean.”

“Y/N,” you smiled.

“See I am not a stranger anymore,” he chuckled.

“What am I? Four? You say your name and you're suddenly not a stranger, huh? Stranger danger, I hope you know that,” he played along.

“You're something else, you know that?” Dean smirked.

“I know. Heard that a lot. So different that no one sticks around,” you said.

“Then they don't know the real you.”

“Why are you wasting your time?” Dean tilted his head at you, confusion evident on his face, “I already told you I'm not in the mood. I just wanna get drunk tonight.”

“You seriously think that I am acting friendly just because I wanna get in your pants?” You kept quiet sending him a clear message that it was exactly what you were thinking. “You need a friend tonight and not a one night stand.”

“Why?”

“Why? I just told you the reason.”

“Dean, there are other girls in this bar who have been ogling you the whole night and giving me the side eye. Why are you wasting your night with me?” You asked.

“Because I know how it feels to hit rock bottom in your life when all you need is someone to talk to,” Dean said. You nodded slowly at the man’s words.

“What about you Dean? How's life goin’ on for you?” You asked.

“Full of crap.” He gave a dry chuckle.

You took a glass of drink and raised it, Dean mimicking your actions. “Cheers to crappy life.”

“Cheers.”

“Sometimes I think what if my life was a little different. More adventurous, more exciting,” you wondered.

“Trust me, sweetheart, this life is what you want,” Dean said, taking a sip of his drink.

You didn't realise how much time you had spent talking to the green-eyed man in front of him. You were slowly succumbing to the charm of the man and there was this nagging voice in your head telling you to get away from him as fast as possible but in your heart, you couldn't believe that Dean would have a single bad bone in his body.

“Tell me about yourself.” You asked, hoping you could find out more about him and stop being paranoid.

“My life's pretty sucky like yours, no offence,” he chuckled.

“None taken.” You giggled.

“There are days where I just wanna give up, like today but then I meet this beautiful girl who effectively makes my day better,” Dean said with a cheeky grin on his face.

“And who might be this beautiful girl?”

“She is sitting right in front of me,” he smirked, making your heart flutter in your chest. Maybe Dean was genuinely a good man.

“I am happy I could make your day better because all I did was ramble about my stupid life,” you smiled.

“You have no idea how lucky I am to see you tonight. Did I help you?”

“You did. Thank you for tonight, Dean.” You said, leaning into kissing him on the cheek.

“You thinkin’ of going back home now?” He asked politely.

“I am, considering my friend will never show up and I don't want to waste anymore of your time. You want to….come with me?” You hesitated, a little unsure about taking him to your home but you were quite surprised when he shook his head.

“I already told you that I don't wanna get into your pants. Just holding up my end of the promise,” he smiled, signalling the bartender to let him know you would be leaving, “You sure you're okay to go home alone?”

“I'll call a cab,” you said.

“I can drop you off, I have my Baby parked outside,” he said, waving his hand towards the exit.

“Baby?” You cocked your head.

“My 67 Chevy Impala, she is my Baby,” Dean beamed, puffing his chest out.

“You have a nice taste in cars, Dean,” you smiled, “but you do know this kind of feels like the start of every roadside horror movie?”

“So I got an upgrade from the creep to a psycho killer machine?” He asked, a cocky grin plastered on his face, making you shrug.

“Just sayin’. Who knows maybe you're David freaking Yaegar,” you teased.

“Why don't you get in my car and find out? Maybe it's my time to slice and dice,” Dean grinned, your eyes widening at the reference.

“You have good taste in movies too,” you said, “but let me tell you if you kill me, I will come back to haunt your ass, Mister.”

“I will gladly have a cute ghost like you haunt me my entire life,” Dean chuckled, and guided you towards the exit.

“Damn, she is one sexy car,” you let out a low whistle and saw Dean smirking at you.

“Time to slice and dice. Get inside the car now,” he chuckled.

After an hour, with proper directions, the black Chevy had come to a halt in front of your house. Dean had previously told you that he was in the town for a couple more days at the “Red Motel” with his brother.

“You sure you don't wanna-”

“Nah. I'm a man of my words, Y/N,” he flashed you a smile.

“Okay. Thank you for tonight,” you said, “You're a good man, Dean. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, handsome.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, a lump forming in his throat as he heard you call him handsome.

“Don't be a stranger if we cross paths again,” You gave him a quick hug before climbing out of the car.

He gave you a small wave as he revved up the engine. You looked as he turned his car and drove out of your place. You smiled as your mind replayed the moments from the evening. You went inside your house, closing the door behind your back.

“What?” Dean grumbled as he saw his brother staring at him, the moment he entered the motel room.

“Where the hell were you? I called you so many times,” Sam frowned at his brother who stumbled into the motel room.

“At the bar.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked, “This is the third time in two weeks that you drove to this town.”

“Forgot the huge vampire nest we hunted?” He said, opening the cap of the beer bottle.

“Was it just about the case? I don't think my memory is failing me but doesn't Y/N live in this same town?” Sam raised his voice, “Did you or did you not go to the bar hoping you would meet her?”

Dean kept quiet.

“You can't do this to yourself Dean. It was your idea - you pushed her away!” It took Dean by surprise as he heard his brother yell at him. It was rare that Sam got this mad, “now you can't just waltz back into her life!”

“Sammy-”

“Don't ‘Sammy’ me, Dean. You-you did this to her, to us. Instead of dealing with the situation, you ran away from it!” Sam shoved his brother.

“I know! I know because I was the one who told Cas to erase her memories - give her a new life! I know it, Sammy. I know it better than anyone because I was the one who almost got her killed!” The green eyed hunter's voice broke at the end.

“You could have talked to her. She would have done anything to help you. It wasn't you.It was the mark.,” Sam said.

“It was still me,” he whispered, “she was the only one who could have talked me out of it but I didn't want that. This life - it's not for her, man. She deserves to have someone who is not ninety percent crap-”

“No. You don't get to say that. She was family. You shouldn't have made that decision for her,” the younger Winchester scoffed, “She would have stayed unlike you running from the problem because she loved you.”

Dean swallowed, “I loved her too. I still do but at least now she is safe….alive. She now has to deal with stupid bosses and asshole friends instead worrying about monsters, thinking about everyday to be your last.”

“Then let her go, man. Y/N’s not yours anymore. Y/N’s not your wife anymore,” Sam said, patting his brother's shoulder, “She was like a sister to me. I miss her. Everyday. I know you do too. But you gotta let her go.” Sam walked out of the room, tears pricking at his eyes.

Nursing the bottle in his hand, Dean stared at the bland wall in front of him. Closing his eyes shut, he remembered the intoxicating smell of yours entrapping him when you had hugged him, the way you were continuously playing with a loose strand of hair while talking to him. Looking down at his right arm, his left hand reached into his jeans pockets.

“I still love you, sweetheart,” he mumbled.

Twirling the wedding band between his fingers, he scoffed, “Till death do us part.”

Feedback is appreciated!

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emmelineparker308 · 4 years

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Father Dearest Part 7

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Harry Potter: Golden Trio Era

Pairing: Harry Potter x reader

Summary: Your third year at Hogwarts is about to start and with it come a lot of new changes. Harry, your best friend, and crush is in trouble from some man named Sirius Black. You try desperately to keep Harry safe but what happens when you find out some heartbreaking, mind-shattering information about your father?

Warnings: Angst, and suicidal ideations

A/N: I want to thank everyone for the support and the love you have shown this series. I started it on a whim and didn’t realize that you all would like it this much. Thank you to everyone who’s been asking to get tagged, commenting, reblogging, liking, and sending me private messages. You guys are honestly my biggest motivation and inspiration to keep writing! Thank You genuinely from the bottom of my heart!

Previously on Father Dearest: That night you decided that it was better to stop all the pain, all at once. You climbed up the Astronomy tower stairs, having to stop every two steps to catch your breath. Finally, you made it to the top and walked over to the balcony. Upon looking down you were terrified; it was a long way down. However, you knew you had to do it; you couldn’t go on like this. Everyone you loved either hated you or thought that you hated them. There was no going back, you closed your eyes tightly and threw yourself off the balcony.

Before you could jump two strong arms grabbed you and spun you away from the balcony. You fought to get the hands away from you but the more you fought the tighter the grasp held you. “Let me go Moony,” you cried.

“Not in a million years,” he answered. “I did not raise you, your mother did not die for you, your father did not fight for you, in order for you to throw yourself off a balcony.” You wailed although you had no tears left due to dehydration, you still let out a painful cry and before you knew it you passed out.

When you came to, you were laying in a nice warm bed. “You’re awake,” Moony exclaimed as he brought in a tray of all your favorite foods. “Eat,” he commanded but you only wrinkled your nose, your appetite still nonexistent. Moony took the spoon and force fed you a couple of things, and as he cleaned you up, he chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You just reminded me of the times I had to feed you as a child. Once you stuffed everything I gave into your mouth and then sprayed it back at my face,” he laughed fondly at the memory.

“Moony”

“Hmm”

“My dad didn’t kill Harry’s parents.”

Remus turned to face you, the facial expression that held joy a second ago was replaced by seriousness. “I am so sorry, my love.” You had opened your mouth to explain once again that your father was not capable of killing his best friend, but Moony placed a finger to your lips. “I am sorry because for thirteen years I’ve accused your father of a crime that he was incapable of committing. He loved me like his own brother and would have laid his life down for any of ours. I should have known better than to suspect him of this crime. He loved James more than anyone in the world. The evidence was just piled up against him that it blinded my eyes. However now I know who really betrayed Harry’s parents. I’m also sorry because I let you believe for years that your parents didn’t want you. The day I took you in, your mother, she walked up to my apartment in tears and gave me you. She made me promise to let you know that you were loved. She made me promise to raise you with all the luxuries that your parents would have provided for you. I was to love you as a mother and a father. I let her down, she made me promise all these as she breathed her last and I let her down.” Moony finished his monologue and faced you. Your eyes were filled with tears of joy and of sadness, you were so relieved that at least one person believed that your father was innocent. But upon hearing how guilty Moony felt you grabbed his arm and brought him into a soft, warm hug.

Once your sniffling went down, Moony forced you to drink some of his dreamless sleep potion. He claimed that for at least one night, you needed to rest without being haunted by nightmares. After you had taken the potion you laid awake for a while thinking about the events that took place this year. The year that started off on a sort of good news ended up with the man you were hopelessly in love with hating you, the people that you grew to hate for thirteen years being innocent of the crimes you accused them off, and you almost ending your life. Tears stung your eyes as you remembered all these things but before you could wallow in your lonesome Moony was by your side.

“Please don’t cry sweet child. You have cried enough for one lifetime. I promised your mother that I would never let you cry. Please don’t,” he whispered as he held you close to him.

“Can you tell me about them?” you drowsily state.

You heard Moony’s chuckle as he started telling you about your parents. “They were a troublesome duo. Your parents met during our first ride to Hogwarts. They were mischievous even then. Although back then they weren’t romantically involved. Your mother was such a great woman, kind, compassionate, as well as funny and brave. She stood for what she believed in and never once let anyone bully her into changing her view on anything. It was her third year when she found out about me being a werewolf. She held that secret close to heart, she would brew me all sorts of healing potions around the time of the full moon. Did I mention she was brilliant and beautiful? It was our fourth year that your father realized his true feelings for her. But like most teenagers they walked around their feelings for years. It was heartbreaking and nauseating at the same time. Your father was very handsome himself so you can imagine the effect he had on the girls at school. It used to drive your mum mad,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, “She once went after a girl who slipped a love potion into sirius’s cup with a bat. We caught her before she was able to hurt the girl, by the way. Then, our sixth year rolled around and it was as if everything changed. Sirius and your mother finally confessed their feelings for one another, Lily and James decided to give it a try. The darkness around us was brewing and perhaps because of that we all grew up fast. By the end of the seventh year James proposed to Lilly and Sirius proposed to your mum. We had a double wedding within weeks of graduation. And then a year or so later we were blessed with a god daughter, and god son.

Hearing the happy stories of your parents and their friends, for the first time in months, you went to sleep with a smile on your face.

---------------------------------------------

“I told him,” Hermione said casually.

“You did what?” you almost screamed making Hermione jump a bit.

“I had to”

“’Mione the whole reason I told you was so that you’d stop bothering me, and you promised to keep it a secret,” you whisper yelled at her. You both were talking behind a hidden passageway, one that you were sure the boys knew nothing off. You started to notice that every time Hermione was cordial with you in public, the boys (mainly Harry) would be cold towards her. This, of course, lead to you insisting that you meet away from prying eyes. Hermione had laughed at the idea, saying that we are not lovers to meet in secret but at your insistence she caved.

“He needed to realize the impact his actions had on you,” she firmly said, and then took your hands in hers. “For Godric’s sake (Y/N/N), his words and actions made you want to end your life.” A tear had fallen from her eyes as she said this, it terrified her to even think about that night. To think about what would have happened if Lupin hadn’t gotten there on time.

“What did he say?” you asked letting curiosity get the better of you.

Hermione let out a deep breath, you almost told her to not say anything to you, not wanting to hear the cruel words you were sure Harry had said. “Honestly, he didn’t say anything. He stayed silent for a long time, so long that I thought someone had cast a Body Binding curse on him. Then, he just got up and left for his dormitory. Ron told me the next day that he hadn’t slept the whole night. Ron was sure he was crying, said he heard him sniffle all night. In the morning Harry said he wanted to find you and apologize. But since you don’t seem to ever be in the common room, and you appear and disappear so quickly during class times, he hasn’t gotten the chance.”

Hermione eyed your expressions; you were taken aback that Harry wanted to apologize. You were also kind of ashamed that you thought so lowly of him. “Well ‘Mione, if he really wanted to apologize, he would have found a way to get to me,” you responded.

“(Y/N/N) he stayed up all night two days ago hoping to see you sneak into the common room after everyone left. He didn’t believe me when I said that you haven’t slept in our dorm in weeks,” Hermione stated with a bit of curiosity hidden in her tone. Much to her disappointment you refused to answer the question that was hanging in the air, and reluctantly Hermione left to go to the Gryffindor Tower.

After the incident at the tower Moony didn’t want you out of his sight. And frankly speaking you didn’t want to be near the students either. Moony had someone (house elves) fetch your essentials from the girls dormitory and you moved into his quarters. You ate, slept and studied in there. You would go outside of that sanctuary only for classes and your daily visits to Hagrid and Blackie.

Ah, yes, poor Blackie. You felt bad because now that you moved into Remus’s room, your nightly cuddles with the beautiful dog stopped. Not only that, Blackie was subjected to listening to all of your feelings. You had tearfully mentioned to him about your field trip to the Astronomy Tower balcony, and he was crying in pain as well. That entire day he followed you around, granted you were walking around the edge of the forest, but still he refused to leave your side until it was time for you to eat dinner.

--------------------------------

The visits to Hagrid’s hut were quiet depressing. He tried to be in good spirits but with Buckbeak’s sentencing and his professor job not going as greatly as he had hoped his mood was flat almost all the time now.

“Hagrid, why don’t you sit?” you asked the friendly giant of a man. He was bustling around his hut, trying to seem busy so that you weren’t able to see his tears.

“Nah (Y/N/N), I got to make ‘ou a cuppa tea,” he muttered out, trying to speak in a low voice so you wouldn’t detect his voice breaking due to pain.

“No, Rubeus Hagrid, I am commanding you to sit down,” you forcefully state as you pull at him. Your force was no match to the half- giant, you knew that but Hagrid obliged anyways. “Now you sit, and I’m going to make you a cuppa tea.” You got to work on the tea, and at first it was a bit hard, Hagrid’s pots and pans were made for him, it was quite heavy for a normal human to pick up. But soon you had a nice cup of tea poured out for him, and as he was enjoying that you whisked your wand and cleaned around his hut.

“Ya know I coudda done ‘hat,” Hagrid protested.

“Ah, you see Hagrid that’s the beauty of having people care for you,” you sass “they do things for you, even though you are very well capable of doing them yourself, because they like you.”

Hagrid smiled and looked at you for a minute. “You’r so much like your mother.”

His eyes and yours widened at this statement. “I shouldn’t said ‘hat. I should not have said ‘hat,” he fussed.

“It’s okay Hagrid,” you reassured him. “I know about my parents.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I found out that day at Hogsmeade. And just so you know, no matter what you believe, my father did not betray the Potters. He could never,” you tearfully state and before Hagrid could say anything you ran out of his hut.

“ (Y/N/N), wait,” you heard a voice call from behind you. Though the owner of that voice hasn’t spoken to you in months, it was still one that you would recognize anywhere. Hearing his voice only made your steps increase in speed, you were upset and crying, you were vulnerable, and this was not a form you wanted him to see you in. “(Y/N/N) please,” you heard the desperation in his voice as he was closing in on you. You felt silly, running away from him like this, when you spent weeks and months hoping this would happen.

“Please,” Harry stated as his hand grabbed hold of your wrist and brought you to his chest. He held you there for a minute, tears coming from his eyes, and yours. The scent of vanilla and pine cones filled your senses, once again filling you with the calmness you desperately needed. But the calmness left you as the events of the past months flooded your vision. You ripped yourself out of his grasp. Tears of anger and hurt flowed freely.

“What do you want Harry? What do you want now? You think that an apology is going to make everything better? You cut me out of your life, isolated me and made me feel like I was nothing to you. You were hurt, I get that, Merlin’s beard do I get that. I know you better than I know myself, and for a second I let myself think that you knew me better than anyone else. But that’s not true, I hurt for months, for months, I was crying out in excruciating pain and you did nothing. In fact, you did a little more than nothing, you added to the pain. I’m not blaming you for my decision to end my life, that was a spur of the moment, dumb decision that I made. But Harry, hearing you say that I would kill you, sent me over the edge. You know that I would gladly take the killing curse for you, jump in front of anything harming you, but then you still said those words. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to feel?”

You fell to the ground as your monologue left you exhausted, and you sobbed into your hands. Harry, who was dumbfounded at your outburst, fell next to you. He cautiously held you, thinking that maybe you’d not want him to touch you. But when you didn’t move away, he held onto you tighter as he sobbed alongside you. After what seemed to be eons, he cupped your face with his hands and made you face him. “I’m so so sorry. I was hurt and instead of facing my sadness and reality I decided to punish you for something you had no control over. I am so sorry. I never meant any of the words I said and now more than ever I feel like an idiot. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if Lupin hadn’t been there that night. And to think it was from what I said, from the way I’ve been treating you. You tried so hard to talk to me, to reach out. You’ve always been there for me and the one time you needed me I just left you, added to your pain. I’m sorry (Y/N/N) and I know that my words can never make up for how I made you feel. If you want to never speak to me again or hit me or jinx me I understand.”

You sobbed into his chest. You both knew that Harry Potter could do the worst things imaginable and still have the place in your heart reserved for him intact. His apology is all you needed. It was all you were craving, his attention, his touch, his support, and reassurance. It’s all you needed to feel like yourself again.

“If you ever hurt me again Harry Potter, I will jinx you into another dimension,” you sniffle out.

“Never again,” he promised in tears. He brought your face closer to his and without waiting brought your lips to connect with his. You imagined your first kiss to be firework filled, but it was a different feeling. You were filled with warmth but also safety. You felt safe even though you were standing by the forbidden forest in the middle of the night. With Harry’s arms wrapped around you and his lips on yours, you felt the safest you’ve ever felt in your life.

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#Harry Potter #harry potter series #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter marauders #harry potter x reader #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #sirius black x daughter!reader #remus lupin x daughter!reader #golden trio era #golden trio fanfiction #Marauders #marauders fanfiction

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dindjarinbae · 4 years

Text

It’s all for You (Ben Solo x Reader)

request from @belovedadam : hello there, can I request a ben x reader when he comes back from exogol looking for her?? cause it’s always and will always be her??? thank you

listen, this was one of my favorite little things to write, i adore writing ben. he’s just... perfection. anyways, thank you lots for this request, soft lil things like this melt my heart.

also, requests are literally (until further notice) eternally open. send me anything... i will write whatever your heart desires.

TW: none, it’s just literally softness with a touch of angst

WC: 1923

There were nights that the universe seemed so empty.

Though, this wasn’t true, you couldn’t help but feel this way, and you couldn’t help but feel so abandoned, night after endless night. And tonight was no exception. You couldn’t close your eyes without seeing him, without seeing Ben, without replaying the last time you saw him in your head. The last memory you had of Ben was his disheveled face and messy hair standing in front of you while you begged him not to go, begged him to not give himself to the darkness. But, to your dismay, he didn’t give into you as he so often did.

The two of you grew up together, his parents were practically your own, and yours were practically his as well. It was no surprise when the two of you fell in love. And it really was a love to end all loves. There were times the two of you would do nothing but talk, or run through forests, dance together, and when he began Jedi training with his uncle, you were always sneaking around behind his back just to spend time together. For years, you had loved him, and for you, it was always Ben. Every little thing came back to Ben Solo.

But it seemed as if he wasn’t yours to keep.

The day he left, the day that haunted your nightmares, was the day your Ben died, and the only thing left was Kylo Ren.

You were not born with the force, and time had proven that you weren’t force sensitive many times, so there was no way for you to reach out to him, to try and pull him back to the light. You never saw him after he left, and you didn’t really want more material for your brain to weave its’ nightmares, so you kept it that way. Leia knew this, and thankfully, she accommodated it to the best of her abilities as you traveled around with her and the nomadic rebels.You were hardly on a ship and more times than not you were left on whatever planet a base could be settled upon, far from the action.

Like tonight.

Tonight was worse than the others, because it wasn’t just the pain of losing the love of your life keeping you awake tonight; it was the fact that nearly all the rebels were on the most climatic mission of their fight to destroy the first order, and Leia laid comatose, your only parent figure left, was barely clinging to life.

It was dark, and the stars above you seemed sparse and few, and you felt nothing but cold dread in the pit of your stomach, because you knew full well that everyone on those ships might never come back. You stayed still, sitting on a rock, keeping your eyes on the sky for a sign, for a ship, for some indication that someone would return. If no one else, you prayed despeately, that at least Poe (the bain of your existence) would come back. You were too consumed with your thoughts to hear the footsteps approaching you, and you jumped upon hearing your name.

“y/n.”

You turned around quickly to see a communication technician behind you, and you felt instantly guilty for not remembering his name, “Yeah?” you asked and raised your eyebrow, trying to still your shaking hands.

“We’ve just gotten word that it’s over. The war, I mean. y/n, we’ve won,” he breathed, and his wide smile and joyfully tear-stained cheeks were visible under the few stars, “They’ll be here by morning.”

You slowly rose from the rock and looked at him carefully before daring to ask the questions that came forth into your mind, “The General? How is she?” you asked.

His smile was the first thing to fall, followed by a few more tears, “General Organa might just be our greatest loss. I’m sorry, y/n.” he whispered and grabbed your arm gently, “Come back to the command center with me and I can fill you in.”

The walk back to the base was silent, and you felt numb. You truly had lost everything: Ben, your parents, Han, Leia, even a handful of childhood friends, and you regretted your selfish need to stay away from the fight, to stay away from Kylo. A chilly breeze rustled your hair and by the time you got to the communication center, you realized your teeth were chattering together. Inside, the handful of people there bustled around busily and barked out orders to one another.

It wasn’t until the boy spoke your name again that you remembered the nature of your visit, “I mean, we took extremely heavy losses,” he said and pointed to a holopad with names and numbers of ships and their drivers that did not survive, “But we can’t know the full extent of them until they come back. Would you like to stay here until morning?” he asked.

You shook your head and turned on your heel, leaving the small bunker. Once you were outside, you could see dawn’s faintest light. Nothing was right about this, and it truly began to sink in that Leia was gone. Panic and sadness seemed to replace the blood in your veins as coldness spread through your body and your breaths quickened. You couldn’t think of anything at the moment except for getting as far away from that base as possible.

So you ran.

You ran through trees and through fields until the sun was nearly completely risen, before you fell to your knees. A wailing sound filled your ears and it wasn’t until you were sucking in air that you realized that the sound came from your own mouth. Tears fell steadily down your face and you wanted to chastise yourself for being grateful for winning a war, but you couldn’t help but stay in the dirt, sobbing, begging for some kind of absolution to come and save you from the selfishness that was creating your sadness.

You walked on your knees towards a tree and you leaned your back against it, sobs still shaking your body. The golden sunlight that filled the spaces between the trees and their leaves seemed like it was taunting you with its’ mirthful glow, beaming down on you almost like a reminder that everyone was probably celebrating gratefully, and you were sitting alone in your self-pity. The tears in your eyes blurred the world around you, making everything shift and liquefy, but one thing was clear in your vision, and that was the misshapen form of someone in black moving towards you. You gasped and quickly wiped the tears away from your eyes with your dirt-speckled hands, leaving small smears across your cheeks.

At first, nothing about the man registered in your mind as he stood on the threshold of the cluster of trees you were sat in. But as your eyes made their way up his legs which were clad in ripped pants and his shirt which was torn, your face drained of all color.

With a black eye forming, cuts littering his pale face, and his lip split, hair matted to his forehead, stood Kylo Ren. He took a step forward and you scrambled back, falling onto your hands so you wouldn’t fall on your back, “Don’t- don’t take a step closer to me,” you commanded, but your voice was hardly one with authority or strength in it as you struggled to keep in another sob.

He did not heed your request, and moved forward weakly, silently... timidly. You froze as he sunk down to his knees in front of you and you watched his bottom lip quiver before it mouthed your name.

“y/n.” he said after mouthing your name, “It’s me. It’s Ben.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes, “No. That’s impossible. Ben is gone. Kylo Ren killed him,” you stated and shook your head, half expecting to open your eyes and see that he was never really there. But, when you opened them again, there he was still, kneeling in front of you, a bleeding, wounded mess. You re-positioned yourself on the ground and knelt with him, your eyes searching his battered face.

He lifted a shaking hand and wrapped his long fingers around your small wrist. Every bit of common sense told you to yank your hand away, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. He pulled your wrist up and laid your palm flat against his heartbeat, “y/n, there wasn’t a single day I didn’t think of you,” he whispered and you felt the fast paced vibrations against his chest of his heart through your palm. His hand was warm against your wrist and you sniffled, meeting his eyes, “I wanted the darkness so badly, I wanted all of the most forbidden powers the force could offer me, yet every single time I was ready to completely turn myself over, something pulled me back. I never knew what held me back,” he breathed and you listened in shock.

You stared into his eyes, trying to find that malicious gleam he had when he left years ago, but all you saw was the sincerity that only Ben’s eyes could hold within them, “I thought it was my mother, maybe even Rey.” he continued, and you flinched at her name, remembering the one meeting between you two, the bitterness in your chest, and the sour taste in your mouth as she boasted about being the one thing that could turn Kylo into Ben once more.

“But as I tried to save her, revive her on Exegol... I couldn’t. And then i realized,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, “It was never Rey, never my mother, my father... anyone. But, do you know who it always was?” he asked and reached up with his free hand to wipe the tears away from your cheeks with his thumb. Your silence seemed to bring tears to his eyes and he never took his gaze off of you once, “It was you, y/n. You were always my light. And I’ll never forgive myself for not seeing it earlier, for not staying for you, for not being better... for you.”

Moments passed, and the two of you said nothing until one word passed your lips in his direction.

"Ben?”

He nodded and was quick to move his arms around your waist, pulling you securely against his chest, and you were just as quick to wrap your arms around him in return, “I’m here. It’s me. I’ll never leave your side again,” he promised and pulled back to look down at your tear stained face. His eyes fell upon your lips and he ducked his head down with a slight wince to press his lips fully against yours. You could taste the drying blood from his cut and the salt from the tears rolling down both of your cheeks, you could practically smell the darkness and the death on his skin, but there was no doubt that this was Ben in your arms, your Ben.

The story of how he got so beaten up and bloody could wait, the story of how the resistance won the war could wait.

For you, it was always Ben. Every little thing came back to Ben Solo.

As the sun grew higher in the sky above them, casting shadows across his skin, it seemed he was finally yours to keep.

And in that moment, in his arms, the universe seemed a little less empty.

#kylo x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #star wars #ben solo imagine #ben solo x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #kylo imagine

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wistfulcynic · 4 years

Text

The Eternal and Unseen (1 of 3)

SUMMARY: Misthaven University is an ancient place, and as all ancient places do it guards some secrets. Secrets such as Emma Swan and Killian Jones, a fae princess and her royal guardian, whose true identities are well concealed behind the guise of average college students—if not quite well enough to foil the plot their enemies have hatched against them. Now their friends will have to come together, putting their own differences aside to battle an enemy that threatens them all—fae and vampire and werewolf together… plus one very baffled human named David.

For @cssns

a/n: Thanks to @spartanguard and @optomisticgirl for the prompts that planted the seeds of this idea and to my TERRACE-mates @thisonesatellite, @ohmightydevviepuu, and @katie-dub, without whom I might never have found the right way to encourage them to grow, and of course INCOHERENT GIBBERING NOISES OF DELIGHT to @carpedzem for the absolutely stunning art about which I cannot possibly say enough good things. Please zoom all the way in and appreciate the perfection of all the little details she included. The tiny wee fronds on the plant! The shape of the light! Emma’s feather earrings! Her red cloak! Her hat! (the hat you guys, the hat!!). Everything about it is so, so gorgeous and Nat is so talented and creative and such a joy to work with ❤️❤️❤️.

On AO3 Rating: M Words: 3.9k (first chapter)

CHAPTER ONE:

David Nolan was always surprised by people’s reactions when they learned he was the Resident Assistant for H.C. Andersen Hall at Misthaven University. Sure, it was the oldest dorm on the campus, built of dark stone in a high Gothic style, with tall towers and pointed arches, way back when Misthaven and her people still believed in magic. And sure, the heavy wooden doors had a way of creaking on their iron hinges and the windows rattled in their frames when the wind was high... sometimes even when it didn’t blow at all. But this was merely rust and weather and David was a practical man, not one to be troubled by such things as can be plausibly explained away.

And yes, Andersen did have that reputation, though David was certain it could be no more than simple silly student gossip. As an upperclassmen dorm its occupancy was by request only, and over the years it had come to be known as the place where some of the more… unique students tended to convene. But that was surely no reason for people to give that startled twitch or to take a wary step back from him when he told them about his job. Or for the other candidates to look so relieved when they learned it was he and not they who’d be taking over from the last RA, a guy called Walsh who had, in the words of one, “Still not recovered from the trau—er, the experience. But hey, good luck, man.”

A thousand years ago when it was known by another name, Andersen alone had been the university, a haven for scholars of every kith and creed and a place where learning took precedence over any rivalry, however ancient. The building had both schooled and housed them, fed them in its great dining hall with food cooked in the basement kitchen, tutored them in the tower classrooms with books procured from the vast library. When lessons were completed the scholars found repose in the common room, a comfortable space with an enormous fireplace, large, overstuffed chairs, and carved wooden tables where lively debates were had each night until the fire died and they withdrew to their rooms to sleep. (Rooms which, David observed to his delight, were twice the size of those in the other dorms and always single occupancy—no roommate squabbles for him to contend with.) As the university grew and newer dorms were built, as the ancient covenants were forgotten and magic faded from the land, fewer and fewer students chose to reside in the newly christened Andersen Hall. At present there were only eight, plus David, who despite the strange reactions he encountered was thrilled to be the RA there. Eight residents, and all upperclassmen, he thought to himself. Andersen had to be the easiest gig on campus. How odd that no one else had seemed to want it.

The hall itself stood just at the edge of the modern campus, tucked against the so-called enchanted forest that marked the border of Misthaven on three sides. It was an ancient forest, whether enchanted or not—a forest of twisted trees and clinging moss and the shrouding mist that gave their country its name. Very little sunlight survived to reach its floor and thus such things as grew there fed on decay, most digging their roots deep into the soil to wrench what nutrients they could from it and barely peeking the tips of their grey-green leaves above the ground. Other valiant species reached out for whatever light could penetrate the dense canopy, stretching upward into vines that curled around the trunks and branches of the gnarled trees to unfurl their broad leaves hopefully as close as they could to the sky. And so it was of course these very leaves and vines and branches that crept up Andersen’s stone walls and scraped against its windows, and cast deep and shifting shadows that fell both outside the hall and in.

So yeah, David reflected, Andersen Hall was old. And dark. And with each successive year it sank a bit more deeply into the forest’s embrace—a perfectly benign embrace, most of the time, although perhaps not ideal when you found yourself alone in your dorm with the music in your headphones never quite as loud as the branches across your windows, or the distant howls of wolves, or the much less distant scrabblings of other creatures to which it was not always wise to put a name. So, yeah, there was that.

And the students who chose to live in Andersen were characters, that was for sure. Even David had to admit that he’d never met anyone quite like them before. But, he reminded himself, at the end of the day they were just students. Just kids like all the others, despite the sometimes unnerving focus of their attention and the surprising depth to their eyes. Just college kids discovering themselves, exploring their quirks and hobbies and interests.

Take Emma, for example. Emma Swan, as graceful as her name implied and even more beautiful, with her warm smile and wry humour and the spark of mischief in her green eyes. One of the nicest girls David had ever met, tough and smart but with a kind and generous heart and a tender vulnerability that made him wish it were still fashionable to slay dragons. He’d gladly slay one for her—or anything else that might threaten her. His urge to protect Emma at all costs—though from what dangers it was never quite clear—surprised him with its persistent and overwhelming strength.

Also surprising was Emma’s choice of dorm-room decor; the space in her room not occupied by the bed, desk, television, and mini-fridge that were standard even in Andersen rooms, she had filled entirely with plants. Plants the like of which David was certain he had never before seen, long and twisted vines that clung and crept across the stone walls, broad leaves and pointed ones and flowers in unexpected colours. He’d examined them with a frown the day she moved in, mildly unnerved by how comfortably they already seemed to inhabit the space but convinced by Emma’s soothing reassurances and the evidence of his own eyes that none of them were anything college kids might wish to dry and smoke. And while keeping what was essentially a greenhouse in a dorm room may be a bit unorthodox it wasn’t strictly against the rules—David had even made a special visit to the Chancellor to ensure Emma wouldn’t run into any difficulty later on, if another student made a complaint, for example. The Chancellor’s eyes had widened to an alarming size, but he’d confirmed that yes, students were allowed plants in their rooms, and there wasn’t technically a limit on their number, then hustled David from his office with the rather thin excuse of a dentist appointment he suddenly remembered he had.

And as for Emma’s habit of chatting to her plants as though they understood her words, or chuckling to herself as she did so, or singing as she watered them—a low and haunting tune in a language David felt he really ought to recognise—all while wearing a pointed hat made of green straw with flowers round the brim which she called her ‘special gardening hat’… well, she wasn’t bothering anyone and David really didn’t think it was his place to judge.

And actually, Emma’s plants weren’t even the most unusual things that could be found in the rooms of his residents. Victor Whale, a slender, pale young man who gave the impression of feeding off his own nervous energy, had what looked to David’s admittedly untrained eye like an entire laboratory set up in his room—tall shelves lined with specimen jars and long tables loaded with Bunsen burners under simmering beakers of… substances in which David felt it might be wisest not to invest too much careful thought. He had not spoken to the Chancellor about those burners and didn’t intend to, both because he didn’t wish to draw attention to them and because Victor with his wild hair and wilder eyes, the sardonic smirk he nearly always wore and the barbed comments he loved to make, did not rouse quite the same protective instincts in David as Emma did.

That, and he wasn’t entirely certain the Chancellor would agree to meet with him again.

Of all his residents, the one David felt he could relate to most was Graham. They shared a similar taste for plaid shirts and brown leather jackets, and a similar appreciation for the simple joys that could be had in the great outdoors. Graham had an deep, instinctual understanding of nature that David envied; several times he’d caught the younger man in conversation with the dogs he met on the walks he liked to take or the squirrels who paused to chatter at him from the branches of trees, even the deer and other creatures that crept out from the forest to scratch at his window, serious conversation that did not appear one-sided. Graham spoke to animals as Emma did to plants—in the manner of folk to their brethren—but the connection went deeper even than that. Every few weeks he went out to spend all night in the woods, generally, David couldn’t help noticing, around the time of the full moon—and when David inquired why Graham simply replied “The animals need me.”

If animals of the furry variety had need of Graham, the feathered kind flocked, quite literally, to Snow. There never seemed to be a time when she wasn't accompanied by some feathered friend or other, and her dorm window was always open so they could come and go as they pleased. She kept bowls of seeds on her shelves and handfuls of them in her pockets and had been delighted when Emma gave her a tree so the birds would have somewhere in her room to nest—a tree that within a week had overgrown its pot and sunk roots into the stone floor of Snow’s room in a way David again found himself opting not to examine. He himself passed many a pleasant afternoon with Snow in that room, listening to her talk about—and to—her birds. It amazed him now how little attention he’d paid to birds before. They were astounding, beautiful creatures, and the sound of Snow’s voice, melodic and soothing as she stroked their feathered heads, was… well, it was… it was something he sometimes felt he could listen to forever.

Snow’s best friend in the dorm was Ruby and though David liked Ruby perfectly well he had to admit he was a bit baffled by how close the two were. They didn’t seem to have a whole lot in common. All but the bravest of Snow’s birds fled when Ruby approached, and the ones that stayed eyed her warily and stuck close to Snow as she flashed them a grin and licked her chops. Er, her lips. She licked her lips and it made the birds nervous, and… and at any rate, Ruby was bold and charming but just a bit wild. She liked to party and to stay out late, often not returning to her room until the early hours of the morning. Andersen had no curfew so David said nothing, though he couldn’t help noticing that in sharp contrast to Ruby’s habits Snow was usually in bed by 10 o’clock. Not that he paid her or her sleeping habits any particular attention, certainly not, just that he happened to notice she always left her room at around 9.45 to go wash her face, always wearing such cute pajamas and trailed by a flock of bluebirds—and it wasn’t like he made a point of being out in the common room when he knew she’d be walking by, he just… well, he happened to be there sometimes. That was all.

Yet despite these differences Snow and Ruby were the best of friends, and while Emma was more solitary and a bit distant until you got to know her, she also got along well with them. Ruby got along with just about everybody, including Belle, who David sometimes forgot was even among his residents. Belle had an unnerving way of appearing very suddenly where she was least expected and of disappearing without warning from places she’d been moments before. She was a quiet, studious young woman who moved as though her feet didn’t quite touch the floor and was so pale he sometimes fancied he could see through her. She was hardly ever in her room or even the common room, preferring to spend her time in the library.

“You might say she haunts the place,” August had remarked with a wry note in his voice that David imagined was significant, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Feeling at something of a loss, he had simply nodded. “She certainly does spend a lot of time there,” he’d agreed, then frowned when August laughed.

August was a bit of an odd one, the only person in the dorm whom Ruby actively disliked, so much that she actually snarled at him whenever their paths crossed. He took only evening classes and was never anywhere to be found during the day. At least once a week he returned from his classes accompanied by a young woman—always beautiful and rarely the same one twice—and David observed that while August preferred to sleep the day away those women would stumble from his room quite early the next morning and looking awful—pale and drawn and thoroughly exhausted. Before leaving they all would go to Emma’s door, knock three times slowly then three times fast, and when it opened they all smiled the same sheepish smile and stuttered the same apologies as they slipped into her room. When they emerged from it they were as new women—pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, glowing with health and quite pleased with themselves, wreathed in satisfied smiles.

David felt uncomfortably as though he ought to do something about this, though he had no idea what. The women always seemed so thrilled when they arrived—clinging to August’s arm and chattering brightly as he smiled at them with a peculiar sort of fond disinterest—and so contented when they left, after they’d seen Emma, at least, and as no formal complaints were ever lodged David was left with nothing more to go on than a feeling of vague discomfort.

He’d attempted to broach the subject once with Emma but she had simply shrugged and said “Groupies. What can you do?” and so he’d let it go.

So those were his residents. Four women—Emma, Snow, Ruby, and Belle, and four men—Graham, Victor, August… and Killian.

Ah, yes. Killian.

David liked Killian, he truly did. It was a point of pride with him to find something to like about every one of his residents, though he had to admit that finding that thing for Killian posed something of a challenge. It wasn’t just that Killian preferred his leather black or opted for dark button-downs or obscure band t-shirts instead of plaid. It wasn’t even that he was mouthy and arrogant, smarter than most everyone he met and not afraid to let them know it. No, the challenge for David when it came to liking Killian was Emma. Or more specifically, the way Killian looked at Emma. And the way she very much looked back.

“I suppose that’s one way to ‘guard’ her,” Victor remarked one evening as they sat around the fire in the common room, Emma laughing with Graham in one corner while Killian glowered darkly at the pair of them from the other. “Very dramatic, you know. Very Charlotte Brontë. Or is it Emily, I always get them mixed up.”

“Piss off,” Killian snarled, returning his attention to his textbooks just in time to miss the glance Emma shot him from the corner of her eye.

“‘Course I suppose she doesn’t make it easy for you—” Victor began, then smirked when Killian slammed his book shut and got up. “I’m going to bed,” he declared and stalked from the room, Emma’s eyes following his every move as he went.

“Enemies to lovers slow burn, 100k,” Belle whispered to Ruby on another occasion, a rare instance when she left the library to join them for breakfast. Ruby nodded sagely and both of them sat back, observing Emma and Killian’s heated argument about the best way to make a cup of tea with all apparent enjoyment. David wasn’t entirely certain what that meant, or that he liked the way his residents seemed to find the pair’s squabbles so entertaining. He knew only that if Emma and Killian really thought anyone believed they hated each other the way they both so loudly and frequently proclaimed, they were seriously deluding themselves. Their little snarky comments and defiant challenges were some of the most obvious flirtation David had ever seen, especially when combined with those damned looks. Looks that all but screamed how much they would prefer to resolve their differences with physical action than with words, and that they had already imagined how those physical dispute resolutions might go—frequently and in great detail.

David did not approve of those looks.

Nor did he approve, as the summer heat faded into the cooler air of autumn and the green leaves of the forest’s trees took on brighter hues, of the way Emma and Killian’s snappish words began to lose the battle with that oh-so-evident longing to touch. Slowly at first and tentatively, small brushes of arms and fingers that before long began to linger… In principle he supposed there was nothing wrong with what they were doing, or with the budding feelings they continued to deny. He would be one hundred percent in support of it, in fact, were it not so damned blatant—those sparks of tension that turned the air electric, the raw hunger in Killian’s eyes as he watched her, the answering ache in hers when she watched him—David had come to think of Emma as he would a little sister and he did not appreciate being slapped in the face, so to speak, by the evidence of her active sexual interest in a man whom David was not at all convinced was good enough for her. It annoyed him so much that he almost—almost—found himself agreeing with Victor, who had taken to rolling his eyes and muttering “I wish they’d just fuck already” a bit too loudly whenever Emma and Killian got into one of their ‘disputes.’

He would have been able to officially disapprove the night he caught them doing tequila slammers in her dorm room—alcohol was discouraged in the dorms, even for students of legal drinking age—except that had turned out to be nothing but a very bizarre dream… although… had it been a dream? It must have been, though it had seemed so real at the time… but he remembered only catching sight of them through her slightly open door and reaching up to knock… the next thing he knew he was groaning as he woke in his own room, his head aching and feeling full of cotton wool, Emma sitting by his bedside with her ‘world famous hangover cure’ in one of Victor’s beakers explaining that he was the one who’d overindulged... “So unlike you, David, I’m really very shocked,” she’d said with that glint in her eye… and when David confronted Killian about the incident he’d merely scoffed and said “Tequila, mate? You were definitely dreaming. You know I only drink rum, and that in the company of ladies more… amenable than Swan.”

Of course, on the late October afternoon when David accompanied Graham on his walk and they stumbled upon Emma and Killian beneath a tree in the forest, wrapped around each other and kissing so deeply that he wondered how they could also be breathing—well, that was most definitely not a dream. It was also not in the dorm and therefore not technically within his jurisdiction, so he simply caught Graham by the arm and turned back the way they came.

The energy had shifted between Emma and Killian, he realised with a curious sort of bittersweet thrum in his chest. An unmistakable shift yet hard to define, as though they were hovering just on the cusp of something both nebulous and truly extraordinary. And despite them being right out in public—seriously, right off the footpath—the way they’d held each other was so intensely intimate that interrupting them, even to ask them to move to a more appropriate location, would have felt like the worst kind of intrusion. Plus of course there was no telling what uncomfortable circumstances David might find himself waking up in if he dared to cock-block Emma Swan.

Now where in hell had that thought come from?

A few hours later Emma and Killian returned to the dorm, flushed and mussed and with leaves in their hair, buzzing with that newly shifted energy—and holding hands, though they let go both reluctantly and immediately upon realising they were being eagerly observed.

“Well well well,” smirked Victor, elbowing David in the ribs. “Looks like August owes me twenty. I should probably thank you, Jones.”

“Bugger off, mate,” muttered Killian, entirely without his usual snarl, and then with a defiant glare and a flush high on his cheekbones, he sauntered after Emma into her room and shut the door firmly behind him.

“Well, I think I’ll go put on some very loud music,” Victor remarked, and retreated into his own room, leaving David alone in the common room feeling vaguely unsettled.

The next morning Killian and Emma arrived at breakfast together, radiating happiness and unable to stop touching, and, David would swear to it, with actual stars in their eyes. They left for their morning classes with their arms around each other, returning in the afternoon in the same manner, and when Victor and August tried to mock him about it Killian just laughed.

“We’ve worked out our differences, mates,” he said, with a waggle of his eyebrows. “I’m certain you know what I mean.”

“It’s sweet, really,” August observed one evening a week or so later, in that dry, supercilious tone of his that grated on David’s nerves. “Though possibly not the wisest move, sleeping with the woman under his protection. I’ve seen the vows they have to take, you know, and they are intense. It could literally be the death of him.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Ruby snapped, baring her teeth as Snow placed a soothing hand on her arm. “Not that you would know anything about that.”

“You’re right of course,” August agreed, his eyes flashing red in the firelight. “What would I know about love and loss, I’m only three hundr—”

“Well, I think it’s great they’ve finally gotten together,” said Snow loudly, glaring first at August then Ruby then August again. “I hope they’ll be happy.”

David hoped so too, genuinely. Even he could see how good the two of them were for each other. She smoothed his rough edges and he drew her out from her shell, and the dangerous sparks of their attraction settled down into the far gentler flame of new love. It was sweet, and he did approve, and yet—still he felt unsettled, a vague sensation of unease twisting deep in his gut. He’d call it a premonition, if he believed in such things. But he was a sensible man, a man of science and the twenty-first century, and so he firmly ignored it.

Two days later Emma Swan disappeared.

___

#cssns20 #cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #magic au #witch!emma #captain swan #college au #sort of #there's a university #and magic #and a sword #that's magic #and a creepy forest #because of course there is #there has to be #where else would the magical battles take place #the eternal and unseen #profdanglaisstuff

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vikingsagine · 4 years

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My Loyalty Is Yours (Ivar x Reader)

Hey, this one. I like it but its kinda long. Don’t know how long it is. but yerp. Love my cripple God Ivar the Boneless, kind of miss his ruthless behavior. Miss that psycho tang he had in season 5. Can’t wait for the finale. (Admire my beautiful crazy baby)

Summary : Reader is interrogated by Bjorn to why you were imprisoned instead of fighting for Ivar, the man you dedicated your life to. You are his right hand, his most trusted and most loyal.

Warning: Violence. Mentions of rape. Pretty sad. Death.

“Why are you still here?” Gruff and tough. You were on your knees, hands tied behind your back, body tattered and bruised from torture. Bjorn sat with pride on the dark throne, carved from maple oak wood, where not too long ago you were standing next to. Not sitting, not below but standing beside. Now, a bloody mess grovelling at the hands of another ruler. “Why were you imprisoned and not fighting for my brother?” He leaned forward, light silver-ish eyes boring into yours with such dominant demeanour, it reminded you of a hunter looking down on its prey.

“It’s good to see you too, Bjorn Ironside.” Your voice was dry from the long days of imprisonment. The lack of food and water and rest. Your lips curved upwards smugly and spat the blood that kissed your teeth. Pushing yourself into a comfortable position, you spread your legs forward and slumped against the man standing behind you. A grunt leaving your lips. “I’m surprised to see you but, somewhat...happy.”

“Enough.” You knew Bjorn Ironside, you knew his brothers, Ubba, Hviserk, Singurd and especially Ivar. After the disappearance of Ragnar Lothbrook, when all the boys were teenagers and older, you made an appearance. In fact, it was exactly in the same predicament you’re in now. On your knees, bleeding and at the mercy of the ruler of Kattegat. “Answer me woman or I swear by the Gods that I will not hesitate to kill you right here, right now.” Bjorn was impatient, his fists clenched and teeth seethed waiting for your response. Your excuse.

“It’s simple, I couldn’t do Ivar’s bidding anymore.” When you arrived in Kattegat many years ago, you had a purpose. A clear and meaningful reason for your living. It was to serve and protect Ivar from everything and anything. All your life before Kattegat and the sons of Ragnar, it was about survival and fulfilling the wishes of the Gods. The visions or dreams of a sort that haunted you every night, led you to Kattegat. “I betrayed him.” The words felt venomous like burning water poured down your throat. You could taste the metallic flavour of your own blood.

“Tch and how do you suppose I should believe what you say?” Bjorn scoffed, intrigued by your honest response. It was a private meeting, with only you, the King of Kattegat, Ubba and his wife and Lagertha. They all stared and listened intently.

“Bjorn’s right, (Y/N). We all know of your dedication towards my little brother. What reason is there for you to betray him even though, I recall, your purpose was to serve and protect him.” Ubba finally spoke, his striking blue orbs filled with conflict of pain but also righteousness. It wasn’t easy for him to see the girl he once thought as a little sister and a good friend, covered in different wounds that were dripping with blood and crusting from dirt and rotting flesh. You missed Ubba. His gentle and kind heart. You missed having his friendship, the days of endless drinking and dancing and fighting. “Does your loyalty change?”

“Ubba. My sweet and gentle Ubba.” The memory still seemed fresh yet so far away. The days where you’d share stories and laugh over a cup of ale as he tried to flirt with other women and as you watched longingly at Ivar. They were all turned to ash when your swords met during the fight over Kattegat, working alongside Ivar and King Harald and Hvitserk. “I don’t wish you to believe me. That is your own choice and decision, a right I do not own.” Ubba frowned at your answer, not at all proving a reason to keep you alive. “However, I am still loyal to Ivar. I always will be.” Ubba’s jaw clenched, expecting a different response and the hope behind his warm ocean orbs, crushed.

“I don’t understand. You say you betray Ivar but yet, still loyal to him. That does not make sense.” Torvi spoke up from beside her husband, beautiful blonde hair glowing like pure ember that her murderous and calloused hands betrayed. You knew she was a strong woman and you smiled, happy that Ubba found a great wife and shieldmaiden.

“I did not betray Ivar the way you think I did.” You remember the exchange, vividly. The night you wanted out. The night you refused Ivar’s wishes. The night he broke your heart. Letting out a long sigh, you closed your eyes and reminisced in the painful memory. All of it came back to you like an arrow diving into your heart. The tears, the emotions, the words, the blood, the action and the choice. “Two moons before the attack, Queen Freydis gave birth to the supposed divine son of God Ivar.” Your voice mocked the word God as if talking to the self-proclaimed man himself. Imagining the scowl crossing his face and then the bitter insult he’d snark back. “The boy, you see, was...different. He wasn’t what Ivar expected. He saw him as himself, crippled and ruined. And so, he ordered me to kill him. To kill his own child.” Your eyes locked with Bjorn’s filled with burning tears and suppressed emotions. “And I did. I left him out in the cold, leaving the crying babe to defend for itself. Left it for a pack of foxes that ended up eating him, but even still, the baby was dead beforehand because it was too cold.” Your voice started to shake, recalling the cries, the innocent shrieks of a pleading and freezing child in the middle of the forest on a sharp winter night.

“No, no, you didn’t. Y-you couldn’t have. Ivar forced you to, the (Y/N) I knew wouldn’t have done that. She wouldn’t of-.” Ubba intervened, distraught by the news and took a few steps closer to your hunched figure. His eyes pleading for you to be joking as sick as it was, he hoped you were lying, kidding. But you weren’t.

“You’re wrong.” You snapped, aimed your stern glare towards your best friend. “I did Ubba. It may have been Ivar’s wish, but I could have rejected, I could have chosen otherwise. The girl you were once friends with, is long gone.” It was true, all that time you spent with Ivar had changed you. Slowly but surely twisting that once righteous and somewhat innocent soul into nothing but a slave to a monster. A heartless and dutiful dog. You took another deep breath, swallowing the emotions clogged in your throat and returned your famous stoic and expressionless mask. “But after that night, I could no longer do it anymore. I could no longer be that person and I told him, I was done. I was done with killing innocents and slaughtering the people I grew up with. But oh no, it was not a good enough reason. Ivar screamed and yelled and we were like that for a while.”

“Ivar, I’m done.” You uttered barely above a whisper, standing in front of your supposed God with the cold of the night's air still nipping at your cheeks and fingertips. The merciless man froze in his seat, motioning for his men to quiet and turned away from his wife who was clueless by your doings.

“What did you say?” His tone was gentle and soft but still filled with cruelty and opposing anger. The fire behind his icy blue eyes burned like wildfire. The smile, however fake it may be, was dangerous and deadly. Daring you to speak again. His men soon noticed his change of behaviour and lowered their heads, their flappering mouths came to a pause but their ears burned with curiosity.

“You heard me, I’m done. I cannot do this anymore.”

“Please, leave us.” Ivar spoke calmly, waiting for his men and wife to leave the room. To leave you two alone to discuss the current matter. It was normal. Mundane for you two to argue about things, his battle tactics, his childish behaviour or your reckless demeanour and your hostile behaviour towards everyone. Soon enough, it was just you and him.

“I will be leaving Kattegat at first light tomorrow morning. I wanted to tell you this before going and to inform you that Hvitserk is now the leader of your armies before the attack from Bjorn and King Harald.” You stood, waiting for a reply from Ivar. You did not expect him to huff, lean back into his chair and continue eating his meal.

“You can’t.” He hummed, a smile spreading across his lips.

“And why can’t I?” His immature behaviour pushed your buttons.

“Because I rule over you and you are mine. Bound to me by the fates of the Gods, you say so yourself.” Ivar spoke smugly, happy with himself and thought his reasoning to be perfect and completely reasonable. “Besides, why would you leave? You have everything that you need and could ever want. You have done nothing wrong.” You were left awestruck for a split second. Staring at Ivar like he’d grown two heads.

“Nothing wrong?” Your voice picked up in disbelief, your voice beginning to falter as your heart pounded and your mind sped up. Flashes of obeying his orders coming to mind. All the deaths, all the screams, all the killing on your hands. “Nothing wrong!? Ivar, I just finished killing your son! Your baby! And you think that is everything I want and need?!” You were glad everyone had left and that the walls were made with solid timber and the clash of thunder and rain roared outside. Ivar snapped his head back, not liking the way you raised your tone at him as if you were superior.

“Do not talk to me as if I am lesser than you.” Ivar growled and grabbed his crutch to stand up and limped towards your figure draped in leather and cloth. His eyes widened and glared down at you.

“I am not speaking to you as if you are lesser than me, I am yelling at you because I am angry.” You could feel thick tears burn your placid brown orbs, ready to spill and your throat ready to crack. “I am angry and tired of killing people. That is all I do and see Ivar. Is death. Is blood. All their bodies. People I know, people that have once called me friends, I killed in cold blood. All because of...all because…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, Ivar’s heated gaze trapped on you and breathing in every word you screamed wholeheartedly.

“All because of what, hmm? All because of what? Go on, finish the sentence. All because of me, right?” His voice seethed, his tone dark and heavy as he leaned in closer to your face so you could hear and feel his wrath through his breathing. “Yes, blame me. Blame me like I forced you to do that. I gave you a choice. Everytime, I told you, you didn’t have to do it. But yet, you accepted. So, this...this isn’t just my fault. This is your doing too. You had a choice to make, to walk with clean hands or to kill for me?” Both Ivar’s hands came around your shoulders, squeezing tight and his nails dug into your clothes. “You think I wanted you to kill my son, huh?! You think I wanted that? No, I did not! But I wasn’t going to have him grow up just like I did. A cripple. A laughingstock for everyone. A reason to pity. A harder life to live.” You stared up at him with shocked facials, staring at the pure and passionate emotions he was displaying.

“And that gives you the right? That’s supposed to make me feel better. To make me feel like I’m no longer a monster.” You shoved his hands off of you and stomped your feet on the ground. “Everything I have done, I have done for you. I have protected you, killed hundreds for you, lied for you, been raped for you, been defiled and humiliated...for you.”

“Then why do you stay? I know the Gods do not wish this upon you. So please, do not give me your poor excuse of it being the Gods doing, that I am your fate, your duty, your responsibility. Because I know, there is more to it.” His fists came to your collar and clenched. You could feel your emotions overtake your usual calm and strategic mind, overthrowing all sense out the window and before you know it, you punched him across the face. Striking him down onto the ground with a thud, he growled.

“Because I love you. I love you so much that it hurts.” Tears were now violently falling from your cheeks as you slumped on the floor, glaring at Ivar - the cripple who stole your heart, silently, slowly but completely. He didn’t say a word, his jaw didn’t shut and his eyes didn’t waver. “All my life, I never knew what family was. I didn’t know what it was like to love. And then I find you and of course, I thought these emotions were the feelings the Gods had put on me, what it was like to actually find their duty and responsibility. But then, I fell in love with you. It was no longer the Gods who kept me by your side, it was my heart.”

The fight still pained you to this day. It was one of your greatest regrets but one of your most needed encounters in your life. You had been sitting in silence for a while now, just staring out to nothing until Bjorn Ironside finally spoke. His patience ran thin and wanted answers. There were visible tears falling from your eyes, stinging your prior wounds across your cheeks but not enough for you to care.

“Right.” You coughed, clearing your throat in hopes of ridding the obvious hurtful emotions that were on show for everyone to see. “I told him that I...that I loved him and for a long time he didn’t say anything and I left. However, just as I predicted, he sent his men to kill me and proclaimed that I was a murderer, a traitor and a spy working for your armies.” You let out a dry laugh, the betrayal and the disappointment hurting you. It was silly to think that you would expect Ivar to let you leave. It was naive to think that he’d feel the same, that he loved you enough to let you go. It was stupid enough for you to hope, that the great Ivar the Boneless, would put his paranoia for power and victory to actually let you escape. He was too caught up in the idea that you’d betray him. And in his mind, you wanting to leave was already a betrayal. So, therefore, you did betray him. “And now, here I am, alive to live another day.”

#vikings #ivar imagine #ivar x you #vikings bjorn #ubbe #vikings imagine #oneshot

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whitewolfandthefox · 4 years

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Call of the Wild Part 5

Summary: Geralt tells you more of the actual reason he was in the forest near your home. You receive an unexpected visitor who bears some unnerving news.

Words: 5.2k

Series Masterlist (updated Saturdays)

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A/N. Here’s the next part, hope you enjoy! Like always, comments and love are appreciated, helps me stay motivated to keep writing. Likes and reblogs are always welcome, especially reblogs! Thank you to the darling @riviawitch3r who has been essential in the process. Enjoy babes!

The Catalyst

He has been trapping and murdering shapeshifters.

You felt your world stop at those words, the calmness that had manifested in you from the day shattering as fear took hold once more. You had known this revelation would make your life difficult, but you hadn’t imagined the level of danger that that one sentence identified.

You stayed where you sat, staring at Geralt as he looked back at the floor. A shiver ran through your body before you whined, slinking over to where he sat. Absently, he reached down and hooked his hand underneath your middle, lifting you to sit on the seat next to him. He left his hand in your fur, encouraging you to nuzzle against him, trying to draw comfort from the contact.

Geralt suddenly broke the silence. “Shapeshifters are a rare breed; not much is known about our kind. People, especially mages, have tried to study us and learn more but we guard our secrets fiercely. Most outsiders trying to learn about us don’t have good intentions. We have been finding murdered shapeshifters, and it looks like they’ve been used for experimentation and study.”

You felt sick, ears pulling back to tuck against your skull. “That’s why I was here in the first place; I had tracked the deaths to another village on the edge of this forest. We think it's a small group of people led by a sorcerer. We’re not sure why they are studying us, just that they have been taking shapeshifters at an alarming rate. My pack and I are investigating this; that’s who the letter is from. Yennefer, a mage in my pack, discovered new deaths yesterday and needs me to look into it. She thinks she's found where this group has been doing their experimentation.”

You whined lowly in the back of your throat, causing Geralt to look down at you. He stroked your head softly, before asking. “Can you change back?”

Closing your eyes as you focused, you drew the power up from below, allowing it to wash over you. When you opened your eyes again, you were sitting on the couch as Geralt observed you. You swayed as exhaustion surged through you, before righting yourself and looking up at Geralt expectantly. His lips quirked at the corners. “You are getting better at this.”

You shook your head to rid yourself of the phantom feeling of a muzzle. “It still feels weird, although I am not as drained.” You turned to face the man next to you. “Are you sure you have to go?”

He paused, searching for something in your face. Seeming to find it, he nodded, saying “I do. If I don’t look into this, no one else will and our kind will continue to be murdered.”

He lifted a hand to brush a strand of your hair out of your face. You caught his hand, bringing it to your mouth to press a kiss against his palm, causing him to start. “I just worry. If so many have died, what's to say they won’t hurt you too?”

His eyes flashed, “Are you worried about me, little fox?”

You hesitated, as the feelings you had been ignoring bubbled back up. You had no idea where they were coming from, you hadn’t even known this man for a week and yet there was an undeniable connection between the two of you. Looking down, you whispered, “I am. I don’t know why, but there is some feeling telling me something is going to go wrong.” You glanced up at him with fear in your eyes. “I have been having dreams.”

“Dreams?” he asked sharply, “of what?”

“They have just been flashes,” you shook your head. ”Different animals, a dark castle. Blood, pain, a feeling like I’m running from something. Geralt, it scares me.”

He laced his fingers with yours. “You don’t have to be scared, little fox. Our community is very protective of each other. Any shapeshifter you find will help you, if that’s what you’re worried about. That being said, a shapeshifters instincts are one of their best weapons. Listen to them; if you are worried about something, be wary of your surroundings.”

Unable to find the words to describe your feelings of fear, you just nodded your head and gave his hand a light squeeze.

Hesitantly, he glanced away before looking back over at you, “You could come with me.” You turned your head sharply, shocked at his offer. “Join my pack, run with me. We could keep you safe.”

You were silent, turning your gaze to look out the window. “It’s not safe for lone shapeshifters; too often we are discovered, turned on by friends and family, betrayed by those we thought we could trust. They don’t understand what we are.”

“Not here. My people won’t abandon me. My home, my life, is here in this village, Geralt. I grew up here, have watched the children grow up here. I was there when some of them were born. I can’t just up and leave. People need me.” You were certain of this, not meeting his gaze as you looked off into the distance, towards the little village you had made your home for most of your life. “As much as I would love to join you, I can’t leave this behind.”

“I don’t need an answer now, little fox.” A hand reached under your chin, lifting your face so you met his golden eyes. “It is a dangerous world for our kind, and I only think of your safety when I ask. Somehow, secrets get out and people turn against us. I have seen it time and time again. Friends turn against you and drive you out, betraying you though you help them.”

His eyes were haunted as he spoke, memories flickering across the surface. He refocused on you. “I would also like for you to be near me,” he rumbled, “to have you close, be able to hold you at night. Think about it, my little fox, and answer me when I return. You can meet the rest of my pack, and maybe that will help you with your decision.”

Turning away from you, he stood and searched through his saddlebags before coming up with the dagger that you had stolen from him earlier. He handed it to you without a word, closing your fingers around it when you tried to refuse it. “Please, for me.” Looking into his eyes, seeing the fear for you in them, you finally relented, grasping the dagger in its sheath and letting your arm drop to your side. You followed him as he gathered his belongings and headed out the door, slinging them over his mount, stopping in the doorway to watch him.

Geralt tugged on the straps of his saddle, making sure everything was secure before he returned to where you stood, arms wrapped around your middle, posture defeated. He gently swept a piece of hair back from your face, gazing softly into your eyes. “Don’t fear for me little fox, I have lived a long time and faced more dangerous people than this.”

As you gazed into his golden eyes, you felt slightly more assured that the man you had come to care for would be safe. The emotions you had been suppressing came back full force, astounding you at the strength of feelings you had for him. Seeming to sense this, Geralt leaned down, hesitating just slightly before he brushed his lips against your forehead, pulling back to lean your foreheads together briefly before lifting his head once more.

With that, he turned and mounted Roach, glancing back at you standing in your doorway as he passed through the gates. “I shall only be a few days; my pack is not far from here. I will be back in no time. Think of my offer, Y/N, don’t just brush it aside.” You lifted your hand in farewell, watching him until he disappeared between the trees, before going into your house and dropping into a chair, your mind whirling at his last request.

Go with him? How could I, my village needs me. I am the only healer, people would suffer without me. They would never cast me out, my people know me.

He said he wanted me near him.

Pushing the dangerous thoughts from your head, you headed back inside. Entering your workroom, you began cleaning the materials left over from Geralt’s treatment. As you gathered the bandages you had cut off of him, you caught a whiff of his scent, musky and earthy, and your eyes filled with tears. He had just left, and already you were missing your presence. Shaking yourself, you dumped the used bandages and materials into your disposal bin before heading to your kitchen. You puttered there for a while, making yourself dinner and then cleaning up, ignoring the feelings that bubbled up in your chest at seeing the extra set of dishes you had unthinkingly pulled out.

Thoughts and doubts whirled through your head. You wanted to go with Geralt, but your life was here. How could you just up and leave? Your parents were buried here, your friends lived in town.

You stood abruptly and paced towards your gate, heading to the forest. You needed to go for a walk, that always helped clear your head. Wandering through the forest, you allowed the scents and sounds to soothe you, stripping away your anxiety and your stress. You walked faster, and faster, until you were running, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with it, trees flying past you as you sprinted.

When you felt the power swell within you, you didn’t deny it. Instead, you allowed your magic to surge through you, your body dropping forwards as you continued running, only now on four legs instead of two. Your vision became sharper, the smells stronger. You could hear the heartbeat of some small rodent in the trees. Veering off the path, you raced towards the sound, relishing in the exhilaration that accompanied your chase. You pounced, missing when the animal darted into a small hole in the base of a tree. Slowing, you snuffled around the edge.

You froze at the sound of something large stepping on a branch, lifting your head and searching for where it came from. Your tail bushed, fur standing on end as you listened for footsteps, a heartbeat, anything that would identify the large predator that your senses were trying to warn you of. You dropped low to the ground, crawling into the ferns, feeling like there were eyes burning into your skin.

You stayed there for what felt like hours, listening for any movement that might give their position away. Slowly relaxing, you shook yourself. Silly, you scolded, just because Geralt said there was a sorcerer out there doesn’t mean you are always in immediate danger.

Taking off again, you wandered through the forest, watching the birds fly high above you. The urge to snap and pounce at them crept up on you, forcing you up the base of a tree into its branches.

You explored for what felt like hours, climbing trees, crawling through the underbrush, chasing rodents. The sun was below the horizon and the moon just peaking over the treeline when you finally trotted back to your house. You shifted back before locking your door and heading to your bathroom, stripping down to wash yourself.

You flopped into bed, exhausted from everything that had happened that day. You were still unsure, but your mind was quieter now, letting you succumb to sleep quickly.

**~*~*~*~**

A shadowy figure looked furtively over its shoulder as it slipped into a dark alleyway. A glowing circle appeared in the air, before another form stepped out. “She’s one of them.”

A small bag changed hands, a clinking sound ringing through the air as the second figure stepped back through the portal, the first turning and heading back down the alleyway, glancing into the street before slipping away in the shadows.

**~*~*~*~**

The clearing was calm when Geralt rode in, stopping and dismounting from Roach before tying her to a tree. He could see Yennefer’s tent set up on the far side, with the remains of a campfire in the middle surrounded by logs. It was there that he found Jaskier, sitting and quietly strumming his lute while singing softly to a mostly grown lion cub who was dozing on the ground next to him. Jaskier nodded to him as he passed, continuing to play the instrument in his hands. The lion lifted its head, blinking blearily at the man and yawning, revealing its sharp teeth. Geralt dropped a hand on its head and continued on his way, the lion putting its head back down and peering at Jaskier.

Approaching the tent, he ducked underneath the flap as he entered. He spotted Yennefer across the larger than normal space, striding towards her to join her at the table. She glanced up at him and greeted him with a tight, closed-lip smile before looking back down at the map in front of her. Geralt looked down, seeing the small ‘x’s laid out across the nation. He glared at the new batch closest to where they were staying.

“He got another three?” he rumbled, glancing over at the woman next to him. She nodded sharply. “We know he is still in the area though, they disappeared less than a fortnight ago.”

Geralt hummed, shifting his feet. “We need to find him; there have been too many deaths. Too many shapeshifters gone. It’s not safe for our people.”

Yennefer shot him a sharp glance, “You’ve never much cared to get involved before, Geralt, what changed your mind? Speaking of which, where have you been? You said you would be back yesterday.”

He glared at her. “I was detained by an unexpected occurrence.”

“And what would that be? You don’t typically get laid up for that long.” At his silence, she sniffed the air, her eyes widening at the smell. “Were you injured, Geralt? I can smell herbs and insectoid oil.”

Geralt caught her hands as she went to look him over for injuries, “I was injured, Yenn, but not anymore. I met another shapeshifter, a healer. She treated me, I’m fine now.” She pulled her hands back, satisfied with that answer.

“Where is she?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where is she?” Yennefer repeated, “It’s not like you to leave lone shapeshifters by themselves. You normally take them back to our community.”

Geralt stared hard at her, “Who said anything about a lone shapeshifter?

“You said her, not them. Normally you say the pack took you in. So again I ask, where is she? Especially with this sorcerer running around, it is dangerous for our kind to be out on their own.” Yennefer ran her fingers over the map absently as she continued to look at Geralt, waiting for an answer.

Tense, Geralt turned away from her, looking back at the map on the table. “she wasn’t sure if she wanted to leave or not. I’m going to return in a few days to get her answer.

Sensing that this mystery woman was a touchy subject for the witcher, Yennefer changed the subject as she shared what new information she had discovered. “All of his kills have radiated out from this spot,” she tapped a spot near where they were camped. “I think that this is where he must be basing his research. Tomorrow we should pack up and head that way, see if we can find anything there.”

Geralt hummed his agreement before turning and stalking out of the tent, heading back to where Roach was to unsaddle her and get settled for the night.

**~*~*~*~**

A dark castle, terror, running through the forest. You had to get away, he was going to kill you. Geralt! Help me! A wolf’s golden eyes staring at you before turning and walking away, followed by a lion. A raven, swooping through the air. Torches, pitchforks, an angry crowd yelling as you desperately scrambled away. You couldn’t breathe. Please, someone! Help!

Pain

Burning

Fear

You woke with a violent start, shooting up to a sitting position, gasping for air. The dreams were back again, you had had them two nights in a row now, ever since Geralt had left. You sat there, trying to control your breathing. As it slowed, you glanced outside. The sun was high in the sky now; you had slept late, past noon.

Shaking yourself, you emerged from your cocoon of blankets, dressing yourself and heading for the kitchen to eat a late lunch. As you finished and were cleaning the dishes, you became aware of footsteps approaching your door. Drying your hands, you set your cloth to the side and headed to the door, hearing your visitor knock on your way there.

Opening the door, you were greeted with the sight of your friend Kiala. You grinned at her before your face fell at her expression. “Is everything ok? Am I needed in the village?”

Her eyes quickly searched the yard before she turned to you, face pinched, mouth set in a hard line. “Y/N, can I come in?”

“Of course,” you stepped back from the entranceway to let her into your house, sweeping the trees around your house for anything out of the ordinary before closing the door. You led her to the couch where you both sat.

“What is it, Kiala? What has happened?” She burst into tears. Startled, you reached for her hands, drawing them into your lap. “What is it? What is wrong? Is someone hurt? Kiala, please, speak to me.”

“They are coming to kill you,” she sobbed. You froze at her words, “Vissen saw you in the forest. He said you were a witch, that you had magical powers and have enslaved the town. That you could turn into a great beast, he saw you kill animals in the forest. They are coming to drive you out or kill you, I didn’t wait to hear what they decided.”

Betrayal.

Fear.

Kiala continued babbling, unaware of your reaction. “You’re not a witch, are you? You’ve been in this town since you were a little girl! You were there when I gave birth, how could they think this? Tell me it's not true, tell me they’ve lost their minds.”

Your thoughts whirled, Geralt's words coming to mind. Somehow, secrets get out and people turn against us. I have seen it time and time again. Friends turn against you and drive you out, betraying you though you help them. His face had been sad when he spoke, as if he knew this would happen.

Kiala had fallen silent, noticing your distraction. She squeezed your hands gently, staring at your face. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t meet her gaze. “Not in the way that he has been describing it.” You felt her pull her hands away, the motion striking at your heart. You could smell something bitter in the air, slowly growing stronger the longer the two of you sat.

You lifted your head, eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t know, I swear.” Standing abruptly, you took two steps away from the couch, arms wrapped around your middle, shoulders hunched as if to ward off an incoming blow. You glanced at her, the tears starting to spill over.

Seeing your pain, Kiala reached a hand towards you, catching herself at the last second. “You didn’t know what?”

Turning slowly, you stared at a spot over Kiala’s head, refusing to meet her eyes. “I have the ability to heal, not just with potions. I only found out two days ago, when I came across an injured man in the forest. I didn’t know! I can’t use spells, cast curses, I can only heal! And I don’t even know how to use that power!” You didn’t mention your shapeshifting abilities, too afraid of what your friend would think.

Kiala stood from the couch, cautiously approaching you. When you didn’t move, she wrapped her arms around you, bringing your head to rest on her shoulder. You burst into tears, gripping her shift in your hands, your whole body shuddering as you sobbed at the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal. She shushed you, swaying back and forth to soothe you as if you were a child.

As your breathing calmed, she pulled back to regard you. “What else is there?”

You stared at her, your expression shuttering so as not to reveal your emotions. She smiled gently, “Y/N, you are one of my oldest friends. That’s not everything. Vissen mentioned you turned into a beast as well. Now, I don’t know that I believe that, but it’s not just healing that you can do.”

Your grip on her clothes tightened as you put your head back on her shoulder, breath shuddering out of you as you tried to suppress another sob. “It's a fox.” You felt her shift beneath you but she didn’t say anything at your words. “I have the ability to shapeshift, but I change into a fox, not a beast! And I wouldn’t hurt anyone, I haven’t killed anything! I would never, I’m a healer! I help preserve life, not take it!”

Again, you burst into tears. Kiala’s hand came up to rest in your hair as she walked the two of you backwards to sit back down on your couch. She held you as you cried, comforting you, providing silent support.

Cried out, you slowly released yourself from her embrace, looking up to meet her eyes with a sad smile. “They won’t believe me, will they?”

Kiala hesitated, before shaking her head. “I don’t know, love. Vissen has whipped them all into a frenzy. They are coming tonight; to do what, I don’t know.”

“Then I have to leave.” You looked around the room in sadness. You loved your little home, it was all you needed in life. You had grown up in this home, helped your first patient here. Your parents had built this house when they first arrived at the village. You could feel your heart shattering at the prospect of leaving it behind.

“Where will you go?” Kiala’s voice broke through your reverie. A moment of panic rushed through you at the thought of having nowhere to go. You could come with me, Geralt’s voice spoke in your head.

“You remember how I told you about healing a man and that’s how I discovered my magic?” At her nod, you continued. “He is one of my kind as well, another shapeshifter. He offered for me to run with him. I think I will go find him.”

“But how will you know where he is?” As she voiced this thought, you faltered. How would you find him?

“He said he would come back for me in a few days. I will hide in the forest until he gets here.” As you spoke, a sense of sureness filled you, comforting you that the decision you were making was the right one. You glanced out the window; the sun was setting. You needed to get going quickly if they were coming to your house tonight.

Kiala seemed to sense your unease, offering you a sad smile as she stood, pulling you up and into a hug. “Be careful,” she whispered in your ear, “I will try and delay them as long as I can.

You drew back, grabbing your friend’s upper arms in panic. “No! You mustn’t do that, they will only think you are in league with me. I will be fine. But go now, before anyone sees you visiting me.” You drew her back in for another embrace, both of you crying into each other’s shoulders at the prospect of separating. Finally, you drew back and ushered her out your door, wishing her a safe journey home.

After locking your door you stood in the middle of the room, feeling waves of emotions wash over you. Betrayal, panic, heartbreak were just some of the feelings whirling through you. You collapsed to your knees, letting out a scream before breaking down into sobs.

**~*~*~*~**

“There’s a beast in our village! It has been living amongst us, feeding off of us. How are we to know it hasn’t already enslaved us, forced us to do its bidding?”

Vissen paced in front of the crowd of villagers, a torch grasped in his hand. The villagers in front of him murmured, shifting amongst themselves, some gripping various makeshift weapons.

“It's probably replaced our children with it’s own demonic offspring! A beast like that knows nothing other than slaughtering and fighting. I saw it with my own two eyes! It was running through the forest, killing animals left and right! How long until it comes for our livestock? Our homes? We have to drive it out now, before it can do any more damage! Before it can get to our children!”

At this, the villagers started yelling, catcalling, “Kill the beast!” “It can’t stay here!” “We need to protect our children!”

Vissen jumped up onto a nearby cart, lifting his torch high. “To the forest! We'll kill it tonight!” he roared, turning and leading the way up the road to your house.

**~*~*~*~**

You had been packing the last of your things when you heard shouting outside of your house, coming up the path to your gate. You steeled yourself, preparing to try to reason with the people one last time. These were your friends, your family, you couldn’t believe that they had turned on you so quickly.

Opening the door gently, you stepped outside before blanching at the crowd - no, mob - that stood outside your gate. Upon seeing you, they all froze in place. You stared at them, at the weapons in their hands, and felt your heart break a little more. Kiala is right, they have turned on me.

There was a commotion in the crowd before Vissen pushed himself to the front. He spat on the ground by your yard, “Well, bitch? What have you to say for yourself?”

Shocked at his words, you recoiled into yourself. “What have I ever done, Vissen? Any of you, why are you doing this? What do you believe that you come with your torches and your swords?”

The crowd shuffled, falling silent before a shout came from the back.

“You’re a witch! You’ve enslaved our children!”

A chorus of agreement followed those words.

“You’re a beast, you’ll kill us all in our sleep!”

You frantically looked around, searching for a friendly face, for someone that you knew who might be able to help you. You found none, only seeing the smirk on Vissen’s face that slowly grew as the crowd got louder.

You never saw who threw the first rock, but you instinctively ducked out of the way, hearing the window next to you smash. The crowd surged forward as you turned to run, darting for the back of your house to try to escape into the forest.

You didn’t make it three steps before you felt a rock strike you between your shoulder blades, forcing a cry from your throat as you stumbled and fell to the ground. Immediately the mob was on you, hands pulling your hair, striking your arms, shouting curses at you.

Heart beating fast, you curled into a ball as you tucked your arms above your head to try to protect yourself. Tears streaming down your face, you again cried out as you felt a foot connect with your ribs.

The pain forced you deep within yourself, reaching blindly for that warm well of power, it calling and reaching back to you. You dove into it, coating yourself in a feeling of comfort as a wave of warmth surged over you.

When you opened your eyes, the villagers had drawn back from you, the moment of silence broken when Vissen stepped forward.

“See? I told you, she turns into a beast!” he howled, bending down to pick up another rock, slinging at you as he straightened. You whimpered, dancing to the side to avoid the projectile before turning and racing for the woods as you heard the mob come to life behind you.

You could hear the villagers calling for someone to grab you, to hurt you, to kill you. You could feel your heart breaking in your chest, betrayal washing over you, but you forced yourself to continue running, ignoring the pain from where you had been struck.

You dashed through the underbrush, finding a tree with lower branches, digging your claws into the bark, racing up the trunk and onto a branch. Hearing the mob searching through the forest, you lowered yourself to your belly, creeping along the branch to where it passed another one, leading to a taller tree. You crawled over to the junction of a branch and the trunk, just big enough to hold your body.

You collapsed into the space, curling your tail tight around yourself with your ears pressed against your head, shaking as you could hear the villagers running through the trees and shouting to each other.

Finally safe, you allowed yourself to break, the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal washing over you. Geralt was right, they never would have accepted me as I am. They turned so fast, didn’t listen to a word I had to say. Me, who birthed their children, cared for them when they were sick. Me, someone who did all I could to help them and heal them when they were in pain.

The exhaustion finally beat the fear, pulling your mind beneath its blanket of darkness as you fell unconscious, finally succumbing to the pain of your various injuries.

**~*~*~*~**

You lay there until the stars were high in the night sky. Heaving yourself into a sitting position, you forced yourself to take stock of your situation. You needed to return to your house to gather what you could. You crept closer to the trunk, slowly descending as you listened for any sign that the mob was still near before taking off towards your home, staying low in the underbrush to avoid detection.

Reaching your house, you shifted back to your human form, staggering at the change, still not used to the difference between forms. Going into your room, you changed out of your dress into a pair of trousers and a tunic that you normally wore for travelling.

Gathering your most essential belongings you dropped them on your couch before going in search of a bag. As you packed, you glanced at the dagger that Geralt had given to you before strapping it to your waist. You froze at the sound of a door creaking, slowly dragging the dagger from the sheathy you had just placed at your side.

You felt a cloth cover your mouth as a strong arm went around your waist, a bitter smell overcoming your sense. You struggled, kicking at the body behind you as you tried to bite the hand covering your mouth. You reached down into yourself, racing towards that well of power, almost reaching it before you felt your body falling as the world went dark.

**~*~*~*~**

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axwalker · 4 years

Text

Tears in Heaven 4: Start Over

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Liam x MC, Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings: NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog.

This story will deal with very dark subjects such as death, severe depression and suicide attempt (among others) if you’re triggered by any of those issues, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY

A/N: The story will go back and forth between three different periods of time (2010 / 2015 / 2020)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word count: 5,010

Songs inspiration: Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton

THANKS TO: @burnsoslow Thanks for beta reading and correcting so many mistakes. I love you!

And to @pedudley your comments and feedback are the best. LOVE YOU BOTH! ❤️❤️❤️

March 2015

Bastien was extremely worried about Drake. He thought that some time and distance would help Drake heal, but he seemed to get more and more depressed every day. He spent his days on the couch or in the hammock looking at the sea with a bottle in his hand. His gaze was lost, empty.

The nights were even worse; he didn’t sleep, and the rare nights where he was able to close his eyes for more than a few hours, he woke up sweating with a nightmare - reliving that day, over and over again.

He had barely spoken since he had arrived in Spain. Andrea, Bastien’s wife, had convinced Bastien to try and reach Alexis in Cordonia, but Liam had told him that she was as destroyed as Drake was. Bastien suggested bringing them back together, maybe flying Alexis to Spain. He was convinced that seeing her would help Drake, and vice versa, but Liam had said that Alexis was too weak to travel.

“Son, you can’t keep going like this. You’re going to kill yourself,” Bastien said one night, tired of feeling useless.

“What difference does it make?” Drake took a swig directly from the bottle. “Why should I live after … after what I did?” He felt empty; the guilt was eating him alive, and the only person that could have saved him hated him even more than he hated himself.

“Drake, I’m sure that if you reach out to her- “

“No! I told you already. Do not contact her! I’m not good for her.” He noticed that his bottle was empty, so he stood up and lurched into the kitchen. Bastien followed him. “I destroyed her life … I … destroyed everything ...” He opened the bottle and took a big gulp. “Everything I touch … it dies. My dad died, my mother left, and now T … T… Fuck! I can’t even say his name.”

Bastien placed his hand on his godson’s shoulder. “Son, it wasn’t your fault.”

Drake barked at him, “What the fuck do you know, Bastien? It was my fault, only my fault. I swore to her that I’d protect them. It was my job to keep them safe.” It hurt too much to even breathe. He laid on the hammock again. “Please leave me alone.” He closed his eyes, trying to remember them: his pure laughter and her beautiful face, his little hand gripping his or her soft body against his at night, all the Sunday mornings taking him to the forest and the spicy breakfast waiting for them at the cabin. Maybe if he focused hard enough, he could make time go back.

June 2010

Drake and Alexis had been living together for two days. After another horrible fight with her father, she had finally had enough, and, tired of the way he treated her, she had left to live with Drake at his cabin.

They spent their first 48 hours completely lost in each other. Their second night together, they were both wrapped under a blanket watching the stars on the terrace, when it hit him. All he wanted from life was already there in his arms. So he held her even tighter and, after only eight months since meeting her, he whispered the question in her ear. She couldn’t believe it at first - it was too soon, they were too young, there were a million reasons not to do it - but she was completely crazy about him, too. Her eyes watered before she screamed a loud “yes” into the night. He kissed her deeply and ran to get his grandmother’s emerald engagement ring. It suited her perfectly. It was meant to be.

The wedding preparations had been hectic. They didn’t see the point of a long engagement, so they had set the date for two months from then: the 18th of June, a Saturday.

“Are we completely crazy?” he asked her, grinning after they had gone to the town hall to register their marriage application.

She laughed. “Yeah, completely,” she said, snuggling against him as they walked, “but I love you so much.”

“Me too, baby.” He kissed the top of her head. He was the happiest man in the world.

They didn’t have a lot of money, so they were going to have a small wedding in the forest behind their cabin. All their friends had offered to cooperate, but Drake and Alexis were adamant: They were only going to accept manual labor as wedding gifts. Drake, Liam and Leo brought the tables and chairs for the ceremony and the reception. Bertrand helped them with all the wedding documents, Maxwell was in charge of the music, Savannah decorated the place with Alexis, and Olivia was paying her chef to make the wedding cake. Bastien was working on a special surprise in his woodshop and would be in charge of the BBQ for the big day.

One day before the wedding, Drake was preparing the salads for the BBQ while Alexis and Maxwell chose the songs for the party.

“Guys!” Maxwell said, panicked. “You don’t have a song?”

“Not really,” Alexis paused. “We danced for the first time to ‘She Will Be Loved,’ though.’”

Maxwell grimaced before speaking. “Really? Maroon 5, Blossom?”

“Hey! I love them!” She laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong, Lexie. Adam Levine is the sexiest man alive. But ‘She Will Be Loved’ is not a wedding song.”

Alexis was about to respond when Drake intervened, blushing. “I have one.”

Max and Alexis turned their heads in unison. “You have a wedding song?” Max arched his brows.

Drake shook his head, exasperated to be having this conversation with Maxwell. “It’s not a wedding song, Beaumont. It’s just a song I like.”

Alexis looked at Max meaningfully. “I think Bertrand was looking for you outside to help with the flower arrangements, Max.”

He winked. “Of course, Bertrand is looking for me, riiight.”

When he left, Alexis circled her arms around her future husband’s waist. “What’s the song, babe?”

He sighed, wondering when he had become such a damn softie. “Van Morrison, ‘Crazy Love.’ He looked into her bright eyes and smiled as he cupped her face. “Do you like it?”

“I love it; it’s one of the most romantic songs ever. Why do you like it?”

He smiled sheepishly. “One night after I dropped you off at your father’s house, I put the stereo on, and that song started playing. Listening to it I realized how well it suited you, us.”

That man was going to make her crazy. She crashed her lips against his as he grabbed the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss, letting his tongue meet hers. After a few seconds, he gripped her hips and lifted her to sit her on the counter. She straddled him, while his lips and teeth explored and bit her neck and her hands roamed over his back.

Max cleared his throat. “Fuck! Leo was right. I owe him $20.”

Leo entered the kitchen with a screwdriver in his hand. “Li and I set up the bar …” He stopped to see Alexis combing her hair with her hand. “I told you, Maxwell, you can’t leave these two alone - pay up.”

“Fuck off, Leo.” Drake exchanged a wink with Alexis and went with Leo to check on the improvised bar the brothers had set up in the garden.

The rehearsal was fast; after it, everyone went to sleep early as the preparations had left them exhausted.

The next day, Alexis woke up at Olivia’s apartment feeling giddy with happiness.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married today.”

“If you want to bail, I have the getaway car ready, darling.” Olivia was only half-joking.

Alexis shook her head before she warned her best friend, “You’ll understand one day, Liv. You’ll fall in love like we did, and all of this will make sense to you, I promise.”

“Shoot me if I ever get that sappy. You have my permission.” Olivia opened the door and let a woman in. “This is Clara; she will do your hair and makeup.”

Alexis was about to protest, but Olivia raised her hand. “I know you said you didn’t want this kind of gift, but it’s your wedding day, and you deserve this, Alexis.” She looked at her friend through the mirror of the dresser as she talked. “I can’t cook a BBQ or build improvised bars, but please let me do this.”

Alexis understood what her friend was trying to say. “I love you too, Liv.”

Olivia waved her hand, smiling. “Shit, you’re going to be cheesier than usual today. God help us.” She squeezed Alexis’s shoulder. “Still no news about your father?”

Alexis shook her head. “Not yet. He said that if I married Drake, I was dead to him. He hates him only because he has no money. If he knew him better …” She sighed sadly. “Anyway, it'll all be okay; maybe he’ll show up at the cabin.”

Olivia disguised her sadness for her with a smile. “Maybe, darling. I’ll go change.” She called Drake the minute she left Alexis’ room. Olivia knew George O’Brien, and she was sure he wasn’t coming.

Alexis texted her father the address of the cabin; she was sure he’d regret his decision and would arrive at the last minute, or at least she hoped he would. She hadn’t asked anyone else to walk down the aisle with her.

Drake intercepted Bertrand when he arrived at the cabin.

“Alexis’s father won’t come; I know she was still hoping that he would, but that fucking asshole doesn’t give a damn about her.” Drake’s heart broke just thinking about her waiting for George. “Could you walk her down the aisle? Max is officiating the ceremony, but I know Lexie cares a lot about you, too.” Bertrand assured him that he was proud to accept.

Bastien had built a beautiful arch for the ceremony, and Liam and Leo had placed chairs all over the lawn for their 30 guests.

‘Here Comes the Sun' started to play. Drake waited at the end of the aisle with his heart beating as hard as it could without actually leaving his chest.

After what felt like an eternity, she appeared on Bertrand’s arm. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was; she was gorgeous. Her long white dress made her look like she was floating, her wide smile illuminated her whole face, her dark eyes were glistening with happy tears. Suddenly, he noticed his own eyes watering for the second time in his life, and he didn’t care. Her. All he cared about was her. He couldn’t wait to have her next to him.

Finally, they reached him, and he felt like his heart was going to burst with the smile she reserved only for him. He squeezed her hand, and they stood in front of Maxwell, who had gotten ordained on the internet for the ceremony.

Maxwell took his role very seriously. “As the great poet George Eliot once said:

What greater thing is there for two human souls

than to feel that they are joined together to strengthen

each other in all labor, to minister to each other in all sorrow,

to share with each other in all gladness,

to be one with each other in the

silent unspoken memories?”

Drake and Alexis exchanged a loving glance, as Maxwell proceeded with the ceremony until he reached the part where they had to share their vows.

“I think we’re all impatient to hear Drake’s vows, so let’s start with him.”

Drake turned to face Alexis, who was staring intently at him through her eyelashes. “Fuck, Lexie, stop looking at me like that or I won’t be able to say this.”

She beamed at him.

“I’m not good with words or feelings, so when you suggested that we should write our own vows, I almost choked.”

Their friends laughed.

Drake locked eyes with her. “But then I realized this wasn’t difficult at all. Because the truth is that I love you. I love your beautiful smile, your bright eyes, and the fire in them when you get angry.” Alexis shook her head, smiling through her tears. “I love how much you enjoy every single moment of your life.” He grinned at her. “I couldn’t live without smelling your cherry scent in our pillows or without you dancing all around the house.” He gently stroked her cheek. He was dying to kiss her, but he kept talking. “I love the light you have cast into my life since the second we met, and I swear I’ll always protect you, take care of you, and make sure that your beautiful light keeps on shining.” His voice betrayed his emotion, so he paused for a second. “I’m eager to start our lives together because I’m not sure about a lot of things, but I know without the shadow of a doubt that I’ll love you until the day I die.” He leaned and kissed her forehead.

“I love you too.” Alexis was crying. “Shit! I won’t be able to do this.” She took a deep breath as a grinning Drake gripped her hand reassuringly. “Every day I spend with you is the happiest day of my life. You’re strong, smart, and the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met, even when you try so hard to hide it. I love that smirk that is so you -” she caressed his face tenderly - “those crinkles around your eyes when you smile, your strong hands and your legendary stubbornness. I’ve never felt so safe and so loved before, and I want you to know that I love you with the same intensity, the same fierceness. I promise I’ll always be your partner, your best friend, your lover. I can’t wait to be your wife because I know I’ll love you until the day I die.” She smiled through her tears pronouncing the same words he had told her a few seconds ago.

Maxwell was crying, unable to proceed with the ceremony for a few minutes. “I don’t think I was the best person to do this. You’re so adorable, guys!”

Drake and Alexis laughed with the rest of the guests.

They exchanged their rings, visibly excited, promising to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives. Finally, Maxwell declared them husband and wife.

“Drake, you may kiss the bride.”

He cupped her face and whispered so only she could hear him. “You have no idea how much I love you, baby.”

Before she could answer, he kissed her softly, slowly deepening the kiss until they heard Maxwell cheer with the rest of their friends.

“I’ve never been this happy, Drake.”

“Me neither, Lexie.”

The party was exactly what they wanted: stress-free and laid back. Bastien was in charge of the BBQ, and they had set up a salad buffet to go with it. Fordessert, they would serve wedding cake and had set up a corner next to a bonfire where guests could prepare their own s’mores. Liv and Liam gave their toasts, and soon it was time for their first dance. Maxwell gave Drake a knowing look before playing their song. Drake stood up and offered his hand to her; she grinned at him and followed him to the improvised dance floor Drake and Liam had set up.

I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles

And the heavens open every time she smiles

And when I come to her that's where I belong

Yet I'm running to her like a river's song

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

He placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her against him, letting his eyes roam over her beautiful face as they danced. “You look so gorgeous, baby. I can’t wait to have you all to myself tonight.”

She bit her bottom lip, blushing. “You’re much better with words than you think, Drake.” She placed her head on his chest as he led her across the dance floor, the sandalwood invading her nostrils. “And me neither, I can’t wait.”

She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down

And when I come to her when the sun goes down

Take away my trouble, take away my grief

Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief

He spun her around confidently. “Wow, I didn’t know you were such a smooth dancer, Walker.” She winked at him, making him laugh.

“I might’ve received a tip or two from Maxwell,” he admitted sheepishly.

He looked so adorable when he was flustered. “Fuck, Drake! I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby.” He leaned down to her face and gave her a nose kiss before spinning her again.

Yes I want to throw my arms around her

Kiss her hug her kiss her hug her tight

And when I'm returning from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day

Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me feel whole

Yes it makes me mellow down in to my soul

With the last notes of the song, Drake asked h,er smirking, “Are you ready?”

She nodded, puzzled, and he elegantly dipped her at the end of the song, making her laugh with that throaty laugh he loved so much.

“I’m happy to see I can still surprise you, Mrs. Walker.”

She beamed at him. “I’ll never get tired of how good that sounds.”

April 2019

“Alexis.”

“Hello, Drake. We need to talk.”

He opened the door and gestured for her to come in.

When she entered the cabin, a hundred memories came flooding back: the day she had moved in, the nights they had spent stargazing, the day they had married, and so many others that she tried to avoid because they were too painful. She couldn’t avoid a quick glance to the floor upstairs, but turned her head fast, refusing to think about that room.

Drake watched her move around the cabin, without sitting, her eyes darting everywhere. She’s nervous.

Without a word, he went into the kitchen, took a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet, and poured two glasses.

He came back to the living room and saw Alexis still standing next to the door, like an uninvited guest in her own house. In her old house, Drake corrected himself. He gave her the glass and she gulped it.

“Thank you, I needed that.” She pointed upstairs. “Still the same?”

He took a sip of his whiskey and nodded, still silent. He fixed his piercing eyes on her; she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever met, but her beauty was different now, miles away from the lively, sunny girl he had met. Drake watched her bite her bottom lip as she always did when she was nervous. He knew that the next step would be to twist her ring … except it wasn’t his ring anymore. She was wearing a huge diamond engagement ring, and he immediately guessed the reason she was there. Savannah had warned him a few months back.

The faster they’d get to it, the faster she’d be out of his life again. For good this time. He gulped his own glass and asked her, “What are you doing here, Alexis?”

“Um …” Her heart was still racing; she didn’t want to cry, but being there brought back every painful memory she had in that cabin - every laugh, every look, every word. She swallowed hard and forced herself to talk. “I need the divorce papers; we never signed anything.”

“Of course,” he smiled bitterly; “you need to be divorced to get married again.”

She hugged herself, knowing how hard the situation was for both of them.

Drake poured himself another whiskey before adding contemptuously, “That’s a nice ring. I wonder when he bought it.” He downed the content of his glass in one gulp. “I wonder how long he had been waiting to make his move, to take you away from me.”

Alexis couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Do not speak of Liam like that! He was always a good, loyal friend to you and to me. He was the one here picking up the pieces when you left.” She hadn’t realized that she was almost yelling or that her eyes were full of tears. “You left and never once looked back!”

Her words infuriated him; he didn’t yell, but his voice was full of anger. “What the hell, Alexis? Did you just say that I left and didn’t come back? Me?”

She turned her back, angry - not only at him, at herself, too, at their damn fate that had played such a cruel, horrible joke on them.

He cut the distance between them and stood in front of her, making her face him. “I left?” he asked again. “And what about what you did?”

She recognized the pain in the eyes she had avoided looking at for so long, and the anger faded. “What if I say it’s my fault? What difference does it make? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Drake shook his head, frustrated; as much as it still hurt, as much as he hated to admit it, they didn’t belong together anymore. “You’re right, it doesn’t.” He sighed; he was eager to see her leave and take all the painful memories with her. “Did you bring the papers?”

She took a deep breath before speaking. “It’s more complicated than that. We never made our separation official, so as far as the law is concerned, we’re still together.” He kept staring at her with his arms folded over his chest. His gaze made her extremely nervous, but she forced herself to finish what she needed to say. “I spoke with Rashad, we need to file an application and set a date with a judge for a … meeting.” She put a strand of hair behind her ear.

Drake frowned. “What kind of meeting?”

“It’s called an “attempted conciliation” meeting. It’s mandatory in Cordonia if we want things to go faster. After the meeting, we only have to wait 15 days to sign the papers and everything will be over.”

She seemed cold and distant, talking about the life that they had shared together like it was a simple legal procedure. “Send me the date and I’ll be there, the sooner the better.” He watched her twist his ring again and couldn’t avoid the surge of anger. “This marriage was a fucking mistake anyway.” He regretted his words as soon as he said them, but it was too late.

She looked at him sadly; he had never shown her cruelty before. “Maybe it was a mistake for you.” She took her purse and walked to the door.

“Alexis!” he called before she left. “It might have been a huge mistake; I don’t know. But I don’t regret a single minute of it.” He fixed his chocolate eyes on hers; she seemed so vulnerable again that he had to actively stop himself from taking her into his arms.

She answered through her tears, “Me neither, Drake. I don’t regret anything.” She threw a last glance at the floor upstairs and left.

She drove for a few miles until she was forced to pull over. Her hands were shaking; she couldn’t drive anymore. Forcing herself to steady her voice, she immediately called Liam because she knew how worried he would be about her. She told him that she was all right and that he should go to his meeting with Bertrand and Francesco; she would see him later at her apartment.

When she hung up, she called Max. He arrived an hour later with Olivia, and they took her to Maxwell’s loft in the capital.

“Something to drink?” Maxwell asked.

“Whiskey, double.” She took off her coat, still shaking.

“Here, Blossom.” She gulped it fast.

“Now, tell us everything, Alexis,” Olivia said while she prepared a vodka martini.

“It was so surreal to see him again. He looked …” she sighed, “older, obviously, but still very handsome.” She couldn’t avoid the sorrow in her eyes. “He hates me.”

Olivia arched her brow and simply stated, “Liam.”

She nodded. “Yes, partly,” she shrugged, “but he’s also angry about the last time we saw each other.” Her eyes watered, but she rubbed them hard. “I’m not going to cry. Liam is in the middle of some intense negotiations for the duchy; he doesn’t need to worry about me, too.”

“You can be so fucking frustrating, Alexis.” Olivia looked at her, exasperated.

Maxwell shook his head. “Bravo, Olivia, subtle.”

“I don’t give a damn if I’m subtle or not. Alexis, you need to stop worrying about Liam, or Drake, or anyone else, for that matter. How do you feel? What did you feel when you saw Walker?”

She stared back at her best friend, twisting her ring. “Nothing. I mean, I felt sad for us, and going back to the cabin, to the last place I saw Tho- … him was extremely hard. But I feel absolutely nothing for Drake anymore.”

Olivia squinted at her. “Please, Alexis. You saw Drake again. The man that we know you loved like crazy, who you shared your life with for five years, and you pretend that you didn’t feel anything? You’re shaking, for Christ’s sake. You need to talk, darling.”

Alexis turned to Maxwell for support, but he shrugged. “I don’t approve of her brutal interrogation techniques, but I agree with her; you had to feel something, Lexie. That doesn’t mean you’re being disloyal to Li.”

She dropped the glass on the table and stood up, angrily looking for her coat and purse. “I have no feelings for him anymore. Nothing. He left me without a fucking regret.”

Maxwell shook his head. “You know that’s not exactly true, Blossom. You know why he left.”

Alexis was furious. “I can’t even believe what I’m hearing. If you’ll excuse me, the man that loves me, that I love, is worried sick waiting for me. Have a good night.”

She left, slamming the door.

Liam spent the afternoon working in his office in Cordonia. He was very satisfied with the deal he had made with Francesco and the Italian government. He had already succeeded in making Valtoria the richest duchy in Cordonia, and his new goal was to transform it into the most successful business center on the Mediterranean coast.

While he was searching for the contracts, he came across the invitation Bertrand had given him for his fifth wedding anniversary party. He was in quite a conundrum; on the one hand, it would be inappropriate for them not to show up. Bertrand was his number two, his closest employee. On the other hand, Drake was back in Cordonia, and he was surely going to go too; after all, Savannah was his sister.

His memory drifted back to that day at the clinic. He had been so confident that it was the right thing to do that he hadn’t doubted his actions, but now he wasn’t so sure about it. Drake’s grief still haunted him. He wondered how their “reunion” had gone. He decided to cut his day short and go check on Alexis.

Her job as a freelance translator allowed her to work from wherever she wanted, but she spent most of her time in her city’s loft. Liam hoped she would easily accept her new role as the duchess of Valtoria when the time came, but he was aware that it was going to be a tough adjustment. As much as she tried to hide it, the weekly royal etiquette lessons she took with Regina were torture for her.

She was already in her room when he got home. He undressed and went to join her in bed. When she sensed his presence, she turned around and laid her head on his chest.

He caressed her face with the back of his hand. “How did it go, my love?” he asked softly.

“As bad as expected, but I don’t want to talk about it, Li.” She looked for his lips, and he immediately kissed her back.

He needed to claim her as much as she needed to forget. He took off her silky robe and made love to her passionately and lovingly, trying to make her forget about everything else.

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Drake sat in front of the fireplace with Savannah's invitation in his hand. He refused to go back to those days where alcohol was the only thing he used to numb the pain. He let himself get lost in the flames while he thought about them, about all the nights they had spent exploring each other in front of that same fireplace. About all the stories she had read to him while she snuggled on his lap. And now that life was gone, and she was with Liam.

With Liam.

When Savannah had called him all those months ago, he had refused to believe it, but then she had sent him their picture in an email, and everything had fallen into place. Especially that last day at her clinic.

Well, if she could move on, he could do it too. He had a new life, a new job, and was dating someone new.

He had come back to Cordonia determined to get a semblance of a life back. He knew himself well enough to realize that he would never love again, or at least never with the same force, with the same intensity, but if he was going to fulfill the promise he had made at his grave, he needed a new life.

The job he had gotten at Ezequiel’s clinic was the first step; dating Kiara was step two. He wondered if he would truly forget her one day if one day he would wake up to realize she didn’t occupy his every thought. He certainly hoped so; she was marrying Liam soon.

A new family or kids weren’t even a possibility. He might forget Alexis one day, but he would never forget about Tom.

Tagging: @ao719 @yukinagato2012 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @cordonia-gothqueen @bebepac @nomadics-stuff @hopefulmoonobject @gardeningourmet

Permatag: @ac27dj @twinkle-320 @kimmiedoo5 @marshmallowsandfire @loveellamae @burnsoslow @mskaneko @pedudley @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @lauzales @pug-bitch

#tears in heaven #tw death #tw depression #tw suicide #axwalker writes

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winchestermotel · 3 years

Text

The Road We Take

Chapter 1

Pairing : Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader x Sam

Warnings: fluff, smut, angst, loss of a loved, all kinds of kinky sex and stuff(we’ll see where it goes), nsfw, 18+, slow burn(hopefully)

WC: 2464

Summary: Y/N is a hunter who has just lost a father figure. Sunny took her in when her family died tragically and raised her. She grew up listening to Sunny go on and on about how good Sam and Dean were as hunters and as people, but she personally never met them. The only Winchester she met was John and she didn’t like him at all. Now she invites all hunters on Sunny’s contact list for his Wake. She can’t wait to meet the Winchester Brothers. Their meeting isn’t ideal, but it marks the beginning of a new chapter in Y/N’s life but where does this road lead to?

Assume all warnings apply to all chapters. Chapters will be individually warned as well.

A/N: Hi. This is my first fan fic ever so if you’re reading this THANK YOU but also, I would appreciate if you could leave some constructive criticism and comments on how you would like the story to progress. If you like it, share it with your friends as well😊

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Dean Winchester. Sam Winchester. You had grown up hearing these names. Best damn hunters in the world. You couldn’t wait to meet them only because Sunny seemed to have loved them. Sunny used to hunt with their dad, John. Well, Sunny taught John how to hunt, how to fight and generally how to hold his own and Sunny introduced Bobby to John as well. It was almost weird you and the Winchester Boys still hadn’t met or chanced upon each other until now, until Sunny’s wake. The Winchester Brothers were going to be your closest relation at the wake, and you didn’t even know what they looked like.

The pain struck again when you remembered. In all fairness, you had not forgotten, you were trying hard not to think. All alone in this ramshackle house in the middle of a forest. The once maroon wallpaper, covered in decades of dust, blood splatter and sigils coming of the walls had turned brown. The green fungus on the walls was slowly creeping towards the ceiling. Neither Sunny nor you stayed here long enough in between hunts to care much for housekeeping. If anyone thought the living room looked bad, they would faint if they saw the basement. The place you occasionally held down demons, witches, vamps, werewolves, sometimes gods or any manner of monster that needed some extra persuasion to talk. The 3 bedrooms were in no better condition however the kitchen was spotless. Sunny kept all work, killings and rituals out of the kitchen. It didn’t even look like a part of the house, but your favorite place was the rooftop.

The house didn’t have another floor, the rooftop wasn’t high enough for a very nice view, but it did look over the forest. You and Sunny had set up some lights and kept a small fridge and two very old recliners. The nights you both were back home this was where you both would spend most of the time but none of it really seemed to matter now because you felt all alone haunted by your own memories and now that he was gone everything in the house was screaming for attention. Everything reminded you of the man that took you in and raised you.

You had sent out messages to every hunter on all of Sunny’s phones, but you didn’t reply to anyone. Building his pyre, burning his body had left you exhausted both physically as well as mentally. You were hardly 5’0 but had built strength and stamina from years of hunting. At 25 you still had a decade worth of experience in hunting. You had made the arrangement for the wake which was mostly just booze, bacon and burgers. Now it was time for the hunters to show up.

The clock strikes 3pm and the hunters start showing up. One after the other. In half an hour, there was hardly any space to set foot. You didn’t imagine so many would turn up. When 6 more hunters turned up you were certain you would run out of beer. The hunters all made themselves at home. You kept making small talk. Everybody apologized, everybody had stories to tell you about him. After a while you wanted the beer to run out, so you had a reason to get out of the house for a second and breath. Couple hours passed and the general topic was way past Sunny. Some had passed out from drinking, some were still playing a drinking game, others were telling jokes or catching up after years of not seeing each other. You had to replenish the beer supply twice now, not that you minded but it was only 7pm.

The noise suddenly was too much, the smells were to potent, so you ran outside. You didn’t get far before you tripped and fell just a few yards away from the front door. You looked up at the stars and tears rolled down on your cheeks.

“Why did you leave me? Why did you have to push me to the side? Nobody would’ve cared if the werewolf ate my heart but look at all of these people. They love you. Why didn’t you let me save you , you bastard? You screamed into the nothingness.

You sat there as tears rolled down your cheeks when you heard a roar an engine nearing you. As you look up, you’re blinded by bright headlights. The car comes nearer and nearer. You’re not sure the driver can see you, but you don’t move. You’re not sure you want to. The car stops right in front of you and the lights turn of. Because you had been starring right into the bright lights, now you can’t see anything, but you hear two doors creak open and you hear an angry man walking up to you.

“What the hell are you doing, lady? Tryin’a get yourself killed here?” you hear him speak as he comes closer to you.

“Dean wait….” You hear another voice. This one’s a little calmer.

The lights have somehow sent you into a trance because you can’t move. Every muscle feels a lot heavier. You look up to see two giant men towering over you.

“Oh…I..um..’’ you hear the angry man’s fury fade away as he looks at you.

“Here, let me help you up.’’ The other one offers you a hand.

You take his hand and stand up.

“Woah….’’ Is all that you can muster.

You were always the short one but these two were huge and because you were standing so close, you could hardly see their faces. Maybe you were tired from the day or drained from the crying, you lost your footing for a second and stumbled backwards when you pushed your head back to get a good look them.

“Oh hey, careful sweetheart. Are you alight?’’ He stepped forward almost immediately to help you, but you had already stabilized and nodded.

“My name’s Dean. This is my brother, Sam. We’re John Winchester’s sons. We’re here for Sunny’s wake.’’

“Oh, I’m sorry. My name’s Y/N. Please go inside. Make yourself at home. I’ll be there in a minute.’’ You said monotonously.

“You’re y/n? Sunny’s kid? Sam asked and when you nodded, he immediately hugged you.

You didn’t know whether it was nobody had hugged you or was it because he called you ‘Sunny’s kid’ you started crying again into his chest and his grip tightened.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright. Let it out. I’ve got you.’’ Sam almost whispered as he attempted to calm you down.

You step away and wipe your tears away and barely nodded to say thank you.

“ You alright?’’ Dean inquired.

“Yeah. I needed that I think. Come inside. Please.’’ You reply in a quiet and embarrassed voice as you turn around to lead the way.

‘They probably think you’re a stupid cry baby now. Quite the first impression.’ You think to yourself.

The second you open the door; every head in the room turned towards you.

“The Winchesters are hear!’’ somebody yells.

You think a fight is about to break out but in a matter of seconds you realize it’s more of celebration because everybody cheers them on as they step inside behind you. You’re not comfortable with the whole situation.

“This is about Sunny. This about remembering him. This is NOT about your petty little drinking games or playing catch up.’’ You yelled as you opened a door that revealed a staircase behind the living room and went up.

It wasn’t a very cold night but the thought of Sunny never being up on the roof top made you shiver.

“Mind if I join you?’’

You turned around and saw Dean walking towards you.

“Hey….’’ Is a you can muster.

“ I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay because I know you ain’t doing so well. Beer?’’ he offered

“I’ll pass. And yeah not doing so well. The guy who was the closest thing I had to a father died 3 days ago, saving me from a werewolf. I had to build his pyre, burn his body and now I have to look at his friends having the time of their lives in his house. So, you’re right, I’m not okay!’’ you almost yell at him.

“Hey. Look. I’ve lost my fair share of family. Hell, other than Sammy I’ve lost everyone I loved. I even lost him a couple of times, but life doesn’t stop. I know it’s hard right now and it never get easy, but you move on. So, we keep grinding. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you got to keep grinding. And that's how we keep fighting.’’ Dean replies in a firm tone.

“Dean….he was all I had. He gave me this life. There’s nothing else I have. After my family, he took me in. Now that he’s gone I…...’’ You break down in tears again.

You feel Dean wrap his arms around you. There’s a comfort in his hug but somehow the tears don’t stop.

‘yeah, now they’ll definitely think I’m just another emotional bitch’ you think to yourself. ‘Awesome way to embarrass yourself!’

“ It is okay. You have me and Sam now. It’s what Bobby and Sunny would have wanted. You got us now. You ain’t gonna be alone ever.’’ He soothed. His hand rubbed your back.

Without breaking out of his embrace, you looked up into his eyes. They were green. He was very tall as well but not as tall as his brother. The freckles scattered over his face added to his persona. He was a very handsome man. You could see hints of his father in his face. High cheek bones, the green eyes, the way he talked had the ghost of his father.

“Do I have something on my face?’’ he smirked.

“No….you’re….’’ You weren’t sure whether you wanted to tell him what you really thought.

“ I know I’m adorable.’’ He stepped back and you could swear he pouted

“Someone’s cocky!’’ you smirked.

“Y/n, the people downstairs meant a lot to Sunny and us hunters, we’re messed up. But the fact that they dropped everything and drove here from all over the country to be here is the most they can do to show they cared. You need to get yourself together, go down and raise a toast to Sunny. Now they’ll be leaving soon but Sammy and I’ll stick around for the night…..if you want.’’ He tried not to make it sound like an order.

You turned away and looked up at the sky. You closed your eyes and thought about Sunny and a tear rolled down your eye. Taking a deep breath, you turned back around, wiped the tear and nodded.

Dean leads the way and you follow. When the other hunters see you coming down everybody is silent. The remnants of the emotional breakdown you had earlier still lingers in the air. Once in the living room, you can feel all eyes on you.

“I’d first like you apologize for whatever I said. I know what I said was wrong. You all are…..were as much a part of Sunny’s life as much as I was’’ You begin. “So many of you knew him as a friend, a buddy, a leader. He was a kind, loving man even though he would never admit it, he loved every single person in this room. I mean look at me. He took me in when he didn’t have to. The case was dealt with. He had no business sticking around but he did. Took me in when everybody refused to take me in. Hell, he died saving me and he knew nothing would survive that fall but he jumped at the werewolf, gave me an open shot and fell over the cliff.’’

You paused for a second trying to keep that ball that just formed in your throat from chocking you and your crowd cheers you on. They could feel your pain, but their cheer gave you strength to continue.

You continued “ Sunny died doing what he loved and there was no other way he wanted to go out. A couple days ago I gave him a hunter’s sendoff because he deserved nothing less. Sunny was tough, strong and stubborn as hell. The man did know how to cook though. He loved to cook. But his legacy will live in on all the lives he touched, the lives he saved and the love he gave to the people he cared about.’’ You raise your beer “To Sunny!’’

“ To Sunny!” everybody repeats unanimously.

After that things did become easier. You wanted to thank Dean, but you couldn’t see him or Sam. You moved around, talked to everybody else. Now you wanted to talk to them, you wanted to listen to what they had to tell you. Everybody appreciated the toast you raised to Sunny. You even spotted a damp eye or two, but you knew they would never admit it.

The crowd around you started thinning as the hunters started to leave. Soon, you were all alone again. Seeing off the last hunter you went outside. The black beast that you nearly let run over you was still parked there.

They’re still here. But where are they??

“Y/N up here!” you heard Sam’s voice.

You turned around and looked up. Sam and Dean were on the roof.

“ Come up sweetheart. Have a beer with us.’’ Dean smiled at you.

#spn #spnfandom #spnfamliy #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #misha collins #supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural family #fanfic #lovers #tragic

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delightfulstarlightparadise · 4 years

Text

Stardew valley Imagine. Reader/ Sebastian (?)

-Before we start, oce again I remind you that English is not my main language, but I am doing my best.

“I didn’t think you were so tired to the point of passing out in that sofa.” Sebastian says while taking a drag of his cigarette. “If I knew we would have come earlier.”

“Aw... I shouldn’t have drink that beer.” you say, feeling sick to your stomach.

“If you are going to throw up, please do it in some bush and not near me.”

You didn’t even bother answering him. Next thing you knew, you were kneeling down barfing behind a tree. You were not very used to drinking.

“Sorry.” you say when you can finally talk.

“What about?”

“Everything.”

He shrugs and helps you stand up.

“You are... different.” he says.

“I know, I am weird.”

He laughs.

“You think you are weird? My best friend is the weirdest person I know. Being different in a town like this is not a bad thing you know?” he says.

You stare at him for a while too long, he blushes showing is uncomfort.

“You didn’t pass as a supportive type at first.” you say.

“Don’t get used to it.” he says smirking at you.

When you arrive the farm you can see that the seeds you planted in the morning had turned into little saplings already. You shake your head, sure that it is a prank of your dizzy mind, but they are there.

“Sebastian, can you see those or am I really wasted?” you ask him, pointing at the saplings.

“I can see them, but I am also pretty sure you ARE wasted.” He mocks you.

“How can it be?! I planted them this morning!” you look at him completely astonished.

“So what?” he asks.

“They were not supposed to grow like this… I mean, this is crazy!”

“Oh really? I don’t understand much about farming.” he says while getting another cigarette from his pocket. “I will be going now, ok? Thanks for the game, I had fun. Destroying Sam every time was starting to get boring.

As he goes, you sit down on your porch staring at those little saplings.

…

You have a dream.

You are playing with your cousins by the mountain river. A younger Sam and a younger Sebastian are there too. Sebastian is ginger back then, but Sam’s hair still challenges gravity somehow. There is a third boy that is not from your family, he is brunette, very alethic and seems to like you a lot.

Sebastian challenges you all: who can go up a tree by the shore faster. You are the first to run there, before anyone even agrees to the bet. He doesn’t like it and runs as fast as he can, followed by the other boy and your cousins. Sam kind of gets left behind.

You start climbing the tree so fast, you didn’t even remember being so agile, you feel like a feral squirl. The other boy is right behind you, he even tries to hold your foot and tickle you, but you don’t give up. As you laugh together, Sebastian gets to pass you, but you quickly follow after him.

Somehow you manage to get to the top first, Sebastian is all sweaty and puffing. The other boy comes after and congratulates you on the win. He kisses you on the cheek and you get all red about it. Sebastian doesn’t like it, actually he seems really jealous. You think it is about you having won and start mocking on him.

You call him gingerbread man. He hates it and pushes you. Because of your weigh the branch you fall on cracks and you fall on the river. You can see both Sebastian and the other boy reaching towards you.

Your head hits a rock and you get unconscious. But actually, you just can't move, you still can see... everyone is jumping on the water after you, but you feel like you are nowhere to be found. Maybe that is it, your short life has come to an end.

You hear a funny sound and turn your head to the left. You see an apple.

The apple has two eyes and pink cheeks.

There are others, they are all around you, making that funny sound and lifting you up from the bottom of the lake.

Next thing you see, a hand grabs your wrist, lifted by the little apple spirits. You are pulled out of the water by Sebastian, he has almost drowned too. He is crying and doesn’t stop apologizing, but you aren’t able to say anything to him, the words don’t come out.

You spend some days in the hospital, all your vitals are ok, but you keep seeing those little apple spirits around. The adults are afraid you had too bad of a concussion and no one believes in you... except for... grandpa?

He says you were saved by the forest spirits, but your mother and father tell him not to incentive these kind of thoughts in you. Eventually, they stop taking you to Stardew valley.

The longer you are away, the more you forget about your time there.

When you wake up, the dream seems like a shadow, but you feel very different.

…

They were even bigger! From one night to the other, the saplings have grown as much as they should in a week.

“Am I going insane?” you ask yourself.

You water them and put some extra fertilizer, then you decide to go to the city and buy some food for the farm. When you arrive there, you see Mayor Lewis in front of a big old house behind the square.

“Oh, hi y/n!” he calls you, as you two seem to be the only people around. “Come here a second.”

You feel a little annoyed. Is it going to be like this now? Every day that amount of interaction in your life... how can you handle it?

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lewis.” you say.

“Call me Lewis.” he says with a gentle smile. “Do you remember this place?”

You take a look at it. Everything is so broken and old you can swear it is probably haunted. You can’t seem to remember anything like it.

“I see.” he says. “You were so young, but you, your cousins and your grandpa used to come here. This is the community center of Pelican town. Well... it used to be. Come on in.”

You follow him inside and it looks even worse than the outside. Bindweed has taken over the walls, there isn’t a single piece of wood that is not broken or rotten and there is even a tree fully grown in the corner of the main hall, but even that tree seems to be decaying.

“This used to be the heart of the town, everyone in the community gathered here for parties, birthdays and even city events.” he says. “But as time went by... it seems like these kinds of things are not as important nowadays.”

He starts a discourse about how people would rather watch TV instead of gathering with the community, but you can’t follow because... there is an apple jumping by the window.

“Y/n, what’s with you?” the mayor asks turning to the place you are looking.

It immediately disappears.

“It was...” you are about to tell him about the apple but, why bother? “I think I saw a mouse.”

“This place is probably infested by mice, it has been closed for so long.” He says and sighs. “It is sad to see it like this. But I think that is what happens to old things, see Paradise farm, for example. Good that now you are there to rebuild it. Too bad for this place, there aren’t people willing to do it.”

“Did you ask people?” you ask out of curiosity.

“Unfortunately, every time we set to rebuild everyone was busy with something else. Eventually, I think everyone just gave up.” the mayor let go a long sigh. “And since Joja Mart came to town, they keep making offers to buy it and turn it into a warehouse. I am thinking about selling it by the end of this year... the city could use the money.”

You look around once more. It does seem sad to let ANYTHING that once was good end up in Joja corporation’s hands. Wasn’t this what happened to you.

You feel a strange connection to the place.

“Anyway, I must be going now. Have some mayor duties to accomplish. Thanks for giving an old man some time to be nostalgic.” he says and chuckles. “I will leave this place open if you want to take a look, maybe you can find some of you Paradise kid’s old toys in the crafts room.”

It is weird because you wouldn’t usually do something like that, but as the mayor went away, you started exploring the rooms and they seemed to bring you back some blurry memories. Maybe you played with your cousins in that corner. Maybe you attended someone’s birthday and ate cake by that old table. Maybe you sat with your grandpa in front of that big fish tank and he told you stories about fishing.

You hear a sound and it immediately makes you turn to the decaying tree in the corner of the main hall. Your heartbeat increases as you see not one, but many apple spirits jumping around and waving at you. They seem to be talking but you can’t quite understand.

“What the hell is going on with me?” you say, rubbing your eyes and shaking your head.

They are still there.

One of them, a green one makes you a sign for you to follow it Still uncertain, you do, and it takes you to a golden scroll in the middle of the crafts room. You see there is something written there, but you can’t quite understand it.

“Junimos?” is the only thing you can discern.

The little apple starts jumping and making that funny sound as if it is agreeing to you.

“You are Junimos?”

It seems even more excited. The more it makes those funny sounds, the more it seems like it is saying your name.

“You know me, isn’t it?”

It seems to agree.

“You saved me that day.” you say. “So either everyone was wrong and I didn’t go crazy back then, or I am going crazy right now.”

“You are certainly not going crazy, my dear.”

You yell as you listen to a voice come from behind you and a figure comes from the shadows of the corner of the room. A purple bearded wizard dressed up in a fine robe walks towards you.

“Don’t be afraid. I am Rasmodius, the Wizard, keeper of the secrets of the forest, master of the elemental’s knowledge... you get the picture.”

“Where did you come from?!” you yell as you try to step back, but you end up tripping and falling.

“I have been paying close attention to you for the past couple of days. You are the one whose arrival was foreseen by the valley. The one connected to the forest powers, the one to change the valleys destiny... well you, my friend, are a hero to become.”

“What the fuck is going on here? Am I dreaming? Am I dead? Am I dreaming in a comma?” you star hyperventilating. “I have gone crazy, that is it. I finally lost it!”

“Please, calm down.” the wizard says as he can see you going pale.

“Oh my, what if I never left Zuzu city? I must still be in bed, I need to wake up to go to work, that is it! I am not crazy I am just sleeping...”

The little Junimo beside up jumps and slaps your face with his little stick hand and it hurts way more than it seems to be possible.

“What the...” you say, but it seems to take you away from your anxious thoughts.

“As I was saying...” the Wizard cleans his throat. “You were brought back to this valley to help it heal from the many hazards it has been imposed by both mankind and witchcraft. Also, I have seen, to change the destiny of the people who live here.”

“Me?” you screech with unbelief. “Man, I can’t barely fix my own life.”

The wizard chuckles.

“Well, sometimes to help another one is the best way of helping oneself.” he says.

“What the hell is going on?” you say rubbing your temples.

“You will understand when the time is right.” the wizard replies. “For now, drink this.”

He extended to you a cup filled with a green liquid.

“You are kidding right?” you say.

“No, you are supposed to drink. These are the ingredients from the forest, it will help you understand the language of the elementals.” he says.

“I am not drinking it.”

The Junimo beside you starts jumping and puffing in a way to demonstrate impatience and he seems so angry that you take the cup from the wizard’s hand and, after taking a nauseated look at the content, you drink it.

You feel dizzy and things start moving a lot slower. You can see the memories of yourself as a kid running among trees, playing in the river, collecting and eating savage berries. You see yourself playing with animals, riding a horse, rolling in the mud with grandpa's pig.

You see the faces of some people from the town. You are beside them, helping them and doing nice things, things you had never thought you would do in your life. You feel happy to help, you feel like a part of something. And then... there is this someone you suddenly see yourself kiss.

“If you might ever need me... meet me in the towers west Cindersap forest.” you hear the Wizard’s voice.

As you open your eyes, you see the image of a man and a girl, both with glasses in front of you.

“Y/n? Are you ok?” you hear Maru’s voice coming from the distance. “Oh my Yoba, what a scare you gave me!”

“What? Where am I?” you say slowly sitting down and looking around.

“You are in the clinic. Maru found you passed out near the fountain. You have symptoms of an insulation, perhaps you have been working too hard in the farm.” the man says, adjusting his glasses. “I am doctor Harvey.”

“Insulation? Last thing I remember I was drinking that green thing from the wizard...”

Both Maru and the doctor stare at you, looking concerned.

“I mean, I probably had a bad dream while passed out. Thanks for bringing me Maru, sorry for the trouble.” you say.

“No problem, I am stronger than I look.” she says. “Now lay down, you are taking intravenous medicine, you seem to be very poorly nourished. Have you been skipping meals?”

She gently pushes you into laying down.

“I forget to eat sometimes.”

“That is very hazardous! Even more being a farmer and working a lot in the sun and with so much physical effort!” says Harvey, looking very angry.

He gives you a full lecture about the importance of eating healthy and says that he is going to give you some supplements. You are actually worried about how you are going to pay for the treatment.

…-

Next part here:

Credits for the pose reference: https://snuffysbox.tumblr.com/post/160658875287/have-another-angsty-draw-your-otp-%E1%95%95-3-%E1%95%97-please

#stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew #stardew valley fanart #stardew valley Sebastian #sdv #SnufkinWasHere #stardew valley rasmodius

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

CS JJ Day 22: what a plot twist you were (1/1)

Emma’s life is solid. She has her few friends, a job that pays decently enough, and a schedule that works for her. She doesn’t want any of that to change. But when she gets a call saying she’s been left a house in Storybrooke, Maine, she ends up leaving Boston intending to deal with the house and then return to her life like nothing has changed.

Intentions never quite work out, however, especially when she runs into a blue-eyed bartender who just might entice her to stay.

Rating: Mature

a/n: This story is the result of late night baby feedings, leaving plot notes on my phone in the middle of the night, and then not understanding what the heck the notes section on my phone means when I wake up in the morning. Thanks to the ladies at @csjanuaryjoy for bringing some joy to January 💙

Found on AO3 | Here |

-/-

Thick bunches of trees with deep green leaves line the road. They’re on each side of the concrete, dark gray with a faded yellow line in the middle, and she can’t see anything in the woods through the fullness of the forest. She’s never seen anything like this, not that’s so natural, and the darkness of the sky and the gentle rain falling down make it almost haunting.

She’s not lost, but it sure as hell feels like it.

“Keep going for another five miles,” her GPS says in the British accent she can’t figure out how to change.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma huffs, turning up her radio and increasing the speed of her wipers. “I got it.”

In a split second, the rain turns from gentle to harsh, water beating down against Emma’s old bug’s windows so hard that the glass may break, and if she could see the sides of the road, she’d turn off the road and wait the storm out. She’s got a bag of Chex Mix and several bottles of water in the back. She could definitely wait it out. But she’s also ready to get to where she’s going and out of this car, so she pushes through and keeps driving until she reads the sign in front of her.

Welcome to Storybrooke.

Finally.

Emma’s phone rings in her passenger seat, and she reaches over to press it, hitting the buttons to put it on speaker.

“Hey, Rubes.”

“Emma Swan,” Ruby huffs out, “where the hell are you? I got home from work expecting you to be here so we could eat entire gallons of ice cream, and I do mean gallons and not pints, but you were gone. I thought tonight was our pity party night.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m…going on a trip.”

“You have never gone on a trip that wasn’t with me.” “I like to try new things.”

“You’re a liar. You hate new things. Seriously. Where are you?”

“Storybrooke, Maine.” “What the hell is a Storybrooke?”

“I don’t know,” Emma huffs, peering forward to try to see where she’s going. Buildings are starting to come into view, short ones all pressed together like some kind of Hallmark movie downtown where they decorate for every holiday with an insane budget that’s not at all realistic. Maybe this is the place where they shoot those movies. The name of it sounds made up enough. “It’s just somewhere new.”

“I repeat: you are a liar.”

Emma hums as she tries to ignore Ruby and look for a place to stay tonight. It’s only ten o’clock, but everything seems to be closed, all the storefront lights turned off to cloud the town in near darkness.

Of-freaking-course.

“Look, can I tell you about it later, okay? I don’t really want to get into it. I should be home next week.”

“Next week? How are you going to be – ”

Emma ends the call and switches her phone onto silent. Ruby is going to keep calling until Emma answers again, but she’s too tired to explain it tonight. All she wants is a warm bed and possibly a shower. She probably should have looked up hotels in this town before she came, but it was a last-minute decision fueled by the need for a change of scenery.

She pulls into a parking lot between two buildings and then stares up at the neon sign on one of them. It might be the only light on. “Who names a bar The Rabbit Hole? This town keeps getting weirder.”

There she goes talking to herself again. Maybe she’s the one who is getting weirder.

Sighing, she shuts off her car, grabs her phone, wallet, and keys before running inside the building, only getting slightly soaked. The lights inside are dimmed and it smells of cigarette smoke and spilled beer. Sweat is also likely in the air, but it’s better if she doesn’t think too much about all of the disgusting things that have been spilled in this place. The bar isn’t full, only a few people playing pool or throwing darts, and Emma ignores them to walk up to the bar and sit down on a stool.

“Can I have a glass of whatever your strongest whiskey is?”

“That’s like asking to light a fire in your stomach.”

“Whiskey,” she repeats, tapping her nail against the bar top.

The bartender hasn’t even turned around to look at her, but he nods his head, reaching up on a shelf to grab a bottle and then pouring her a glass. She doesn’t bother looking at him either, simply taking the glass and downing half of it so that it easily burns, most likely lighting a fire in her stomach. She should be asking about a hotel room and getting out of here, but the reality of the past few days is starting to hit her enough that she needs a drink.

Boyfriend cheated.

Couldn’t catch her skip that would have paid rent for the next two months, something that’s been happening a lot lately.

Received a call from a lawyer saying her foster mom from when she was fifteen left her a house in Storybrooke, Maine.

That woman had been crazy. She’d been Emma’s best foster parent, one that genuinely cared, and then one day she pushed Emma into the street when there was oncoming traffic because she’d believed Emma had magic or some bullshit like that. The woman was declared mentally unstable, and yet somehow her lawyers have allowed her to give a vacation home to Emma, someone she has no relation to when Emma knows the woman had family. Sisters, she thinks.

Walsh cheating and the skip being elusive suck, obviously, but they haven’t quite shaken her to her core in the same way.

Her past is her past, and she doesn’t want to relive it.

So why the hell is she here?

“Are you passing through, or are you visiting?”

“Hm?”

“Are you waiting out the storm, love?” the bartender repeats in a deep, foreign accent. He sounds like her freaking GPS. “Or are you visiting the town?”

Emma finally looks up from her drink to see him. The light in here is so poor that she can’t quite make out his face, but there’s a hint of ginger in his beard covering a sharp jawline. A quick glance down shows her muscles under a tight plaid shirt, and that has her looking back up. He’s got dark, messy hair that’s been tousled one too many times, but mostly, all she can see is the blue of his eyes.

Damn.

“I could be from here,” she sighs, running her finger of the rim of her drink.

He scoffs and tilts his head to the side, tongue running over his bottom lip. “This is true. About twenty-thousand people live here, and while I don’t know each and every one of them, I do know that this bar really only sees regulars in here. It’s not often that I get to see someone new.”

“So you’re guessing I’m new on a hunch.”

“Ah, well, that and the fact that your t-shirt says ‘Boston Bail Bonds’ on it. I’m assuming that can only be found in one place.”

“Maybe I just collect t-shirts.”

The man clicks his tongue. “Maybe. Can I get you anything else, Boston?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Another glass of this and directions to the nearest hotel.”

“That I can do for you, love.”

“Not your love, buddy.”

“Pity that.”

She downs the rest of her drink before he refills her glass and then slides a piece of paper in front of her, quickly drawing a map of downtown and where she can find a hotel. It’s a bed and breakfast behind a restaurant, and Emma commits it to memory because there’s no way this piece of paper is going to make it through the weather outside.

After she pays her tab, Emma makes her way out of the bar with the umbrella the bartender gave her, and quickly hops in her car to drive the few feet to the bed and breakfast only to find that there’s no parking and she has to park back at the bar and run across the street in this New England monsoon.

This town makes no sense.

And she could totally be staying in Ingrid’s house for free, since it is her house now, but that’s creepy and disturbed on so many levels.

Then again, so is all of the floral wallpaper at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast.

“Welcome to Storybrooke, Emma Swan,” the old woman says as she hands Emma the keys to her room.

-/-

Emma sleeps until two in the afternoon.

She doesn’t mean to, not really. She was supposed to meet with Ingrid’s lawyer about the house at noon, but apparently she can’t be a responsible adult and make her appointments on time. The moment she wakes up and realizes it, she calls the law firm and tries to reschedule only to be told that she’ll have to wait at least two weeks because Mr. Nolan has gone out of town for vacation.

He has got to be kidding her.

He’s not. He’s going to Nevada to visit his wife’s family.

Emma groans and falls back onto the springy bed. What is she supposed to do now? She wanted this over with, and as much as she deals with the law on a regular basis, it’s more dealing with scummy guys not paying child support or assaulting someone. It’s not real estate law or anything having to deal with what happens when someone leaves you a freaking house.

Her phone buzzes next to her.

Walsh Osbourne: Can we talk?

Walsh Osbourne: It wasn’t what you think it was.

Walsh Osbourne: Please, baby. I just want to talk. I love you.

Emma could vibrate out of her skin she’s so angry to see texts from him. What a douchebag. Real scum of the earth, that one.

Emma Swan: I hate when you call me baby. You should know that. I pointed it out every fucking time. We’re over, Walsh. I don’t deal with cheaters.

The little bubbles pop up, but she doesn’t wait to see the message. Instead, she blocks his number and keeps herself from having to ever hear from him again.

Asshole.

Food. She needs food. It’s too early to have another drink, but food sounds like a great idea.

After showering and getting dressed in a pair of jeans and a white sweater, she runs downstairs to the diner attached to the bed and breakfast. There’s only one other person in there, and it doesn’t bode well for Emma not getting food poisoning from the food. But the grilled cheese and onion rings end up being good, the hot chocolate even more so, and when she’s finished, Emma tips her waitress and asks her for directions to the police station.

If she’s going to be here for two weeks – because there’s no way in hell she’s going back and then doing this drive again – she might as well see if she can make some money. She knew getting licensed in Maine would come in handy eventually.

“What can I help you with, lass?”

“Um, yeah, my name is Emma Swan, and I was wondering if you guys were in need of a bail bondswoman.”

“Graham Humbert,” he says, sticking his hand out for her to shake. “We usually deal with bonds in the neighboring country. They have an office already, though, so if you’re thinking about setting one up, I’m not sure you’ll have much business.”

“I do more of the tracking down than the office work.”

He cocks his head to the side and softly smiles at her. She’s only seen two men in this town so far, and both of them have been attractive and had foreign accents.

They’re in rural Maine. That makes no sense. None of this does.

“So more of a bounty hunter then?”

“It’s a mixture. So do you have any jobs? Short-term probably.”

“Do you know how to mix a drink?”

Emma turns to where the familiar voice is sitting. It’s the bartender from last night, and in the light of day, he looks much the same but with clearer features. It’s just those damn eyes – they’re even bluer in the sunlight, and they have to be contacts or something.

“A few.”

“Well, Swan,” he sighs, her name curled on his tongue with his accent, “I’m looking for an extra hand at the bar if you’re going to be in town for awhile. If Sheriff Humbert doesn’t have something for you, of course.”

“I’m sorry, lass. I don’t think I do. You’d have to go to Easton and ask them there.”

Emma sighs and turns to the other man. “You’d hire me just like that? You don’t want to run background checks or call my references?”

He waves her away, standing from the desk and sliding over paperwork to Sheriff Humbert. “No, I’m good. I can train you this afternoon, and then if you’re dreadful, I’ll let you go.”

“Do I get to keep tips?”

His smile curves up on one side. “Of course. Killian Jones. It’s a pleasure to meet you, milady. Or, rather, to make your acquaintance again.”

Great. The guy who’s giving her a job is also some freak who talks like he’s from another century.

(Or maybe just likes he’s British.)

Killian finishes up whatever business he had in the police station, talking to Graham for a few minutes, before he asks her if she’s ready to go. They walk the few blocks back to The Rabbit Hole, which looks far seedier in the light of day, and Killian unlocks the door before holding it open for her.

“So are you a gentleman or something?”

“I’m always a gentleman, love,” he says, leaning into her and lowering his voice. “Though, don’t feel special. I do like to hold the door open for most anyone, just as I call most people ‘love.’”

Her cheeks flush red, memories of her grumbling about his term of endearment last night. “Well, I’ll try not to be too disappointed.”

He chuckles and keeps walking through the bar, flicking the light switches until the place is illuminated. It’s actually much cleaner on the inside than it was last night, the haze of the night gone, and she can see where all of the chairs are resting on the table and the floor has been freshly mopped.

“So, it’s pretty simple. We open at four and close at two. Weekdays are calm, just a few regulars who almost exclusively drink what’s on tap, and then on the weekends we’re usually a little more packed with everyone trying to unwind or find a date.”

“People come here to find dates?”

“It’s the only bar in town, so if that’s how you’re looking for a date, yes.” He stares at her, but when she doesn’t say anything back, he nods his head and keeps walking through the bar. “Restroom is back down that hallway as well as the utility closet. The kitchen is directly behind the bar. My old buddy doubled as bartender and cook before he moved. Can you do both?”

“Not unless you want your customers to get food poisoning.”

His eyes crinkle with his smile. “We’ll figure something out then, Swan.”

-/-

Her first night at the bar is hectic.

There’s a bachelor party from two towns over coming in on a Wednesday night of all things, and every one of them hits on her. They don’t do it well either. How one of them is getting married is a mystery to her because he both doesn’t know how to flirt and obviously has no respect for his future wife. Killian asks her if they’re bothering her, she tells him she can handle herself, and they move on with their night and their jobs.

That’s pretty much the only time they talk the entire time unless he’s giving her some kind of instruction. Being behind the bar is a completely different experience than the two of them being on opposite sides.

It’s quieter, much quieter.

At least she thinks that it is until it’s six nights in, a rainy Monday evening much like the one when she got here, and they have no customers.

None.

He asks why she’s in town, she evades the question again, but eventually the quiet begins to get to her, and she huffs and starts talking while focusing on getting a stain off the bar top.

“Just wanted to get away.”

“Ah, so relationship problems.”

She turns to him then. “Wait, just because I’m a woman means my only problems can be relationship problems?”

His brows arch. “I simply meant any relationship. Romantic, familial, friendship. I find most everybody who’s running from something is running for one of those reasons. I’ve never known too many people to leave a place because they were upset over a job.”

“Yeah, well that seems like something a personal thing. People run for all kinds of reasons.”

“Fair enough.” He tugs the sleeves on his flannel shirt up, rolling the cuffs until they’re at his elbows, and Emma gets a glance of toned forearms and angry red scars inching up his left arm. She wants to ask, but it’s none of her business. And asking him questions means he’ll feel more entitled to ask her the same things. “Your business is your business. Simply figured you might want to make a little conversation since we don’t have any business.”

“Nope,” Emma sighs, “I’m good.”

The next night is better, and the night after that. Though, Emma does realize that she’s now fascinating to the town as a new person, which they apparently don’t get a lot of. It’s obnoxious, but it also means the bar starts getting a steady stream of people who are curious as to who she is and what she’s doing.

At least they give good tips. She’s all about the tips.

“You’d think you had magical powers for how they’re all staring at you,” Killian mumbles as he walks past her with a tray of drinks.

“It’s creepy.”

“It dies down. Trust me.”

For a moment, she wants to ask, to get to know more about him, but she doesn’t want to open that can of warms. It’d be too difficult to close.

-/-

“This place is a piece of shit.”

“It’s certainly got character,” David Nolan says, obviously uncomfortable with her language. He is not what she expected Ingrid’s lawyer to look like, but he’s what she’s got. A forty-year-old wearing a flannel shirt and dirty boots while meeting a client is definitely unlike any attorney she’s ever met, but so far, she doesn’t mind him. “Ingrid was never here. I only met her once or twice. I think this was her aunt’s house, so it’s definitely on the older side.”

Emma nods and presses her foot down on the porch only for the wood to start cracking underneath her. The foundation of the house is probably falling apart, the windows are broken, roof shingles are falling off, there’s some rot on the columns, and she hasn’t even gotten to go inside.

“Did she not hire someone to do maintenance?”

“What do you think?”

Emma scoffs and presses against the front door until it’s opening for her and revealing dust-covered furniture and more decay. It’s not as bad as the exterior, but it’s not good. “So, what exactly do I do here? Can I refuse the house?”

“You can.”

“But if I do keep it, what happens then?”

“Well, it’s yours, and you’re responsible for it and for paying property tax. It’s not much, but honestly, I think your best option is fixing the place up and then putting it on the market. It’s basically free money.”

“There’s no such thing.”

David laughs, and she can’t help but feel like he’d be someone who would be good to have around in life. “Think on it, okay? You have some time.”

-/-

“Do you know anything about house repairs?”

“Pardon, love?”

“Home repairs,” she repeats, tipping back her bottle of water. “You look like you’re…handy. Do you know how to repair things like windows and floors or putting a hinge back in a cabinet?”

“Well,” Killian starts, “window frames I can do. Window glass repairs require a professional. Hinges I can do, though. I think I’d have to know what kind of floor repair you need. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Killian quirks his brow. “Believe it or not, Swan, but I’m actually quite perceptive. You’re not asking for no reason.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

“Oh, so you’ve been watching me then?”

“I’ve been working with you every single day for two weeks.” Emma rolls her eyes at his smirk. “I notice things.”

“Funny, so do I. You’re more of an open book than you think.”

With that, Killian walks away to move across the bar to tend to a group of linemen sitting at the table in the back. They all go by some kind of ridiculous nickname, and she can’t remember any of them at the moment despite them always being in here. But the asshole probably said that line and walked away just to annoy her. He seems to like to do that, getting some kind of reaction out of her and then walking away.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? She’s an open book?

Killian’s words nag at her all night, his accent curling around each of them in her memory, but he goes on as if everything is normal. Nothing about her life is normal right now. She’s living in a strange town, sleeping in a bed and breakfast with flowers on all of the walls, and working at a bar all the while avoiding everything about her life.

“Someone left me a house in town,” Emma blurts out two hours later. They’ve only got seven people in the bar now, and she can’t distract herself by flattering men so they give her more tips. “That’s why I’m here. I had to deal with it, and then the lawyer was out of town for two weeks because apparently that’s a thing he does. But I went and saw the house today, and it’s a disaster. That’s why I asked about the home repairs.”

Killian’s mouth curls from one side to the other, and she wants to smack it off of his smug face. She also kinds of wants to kiss it.

Woah. Where did that thought come from?

(Probably from having her life turned upside down and losing her boyfriend and being left a house by her crazy ex foster mother.)

(And staying in this town instead of going home and calling her boss about her not being available for jobs.)

(Not having Ruby to complain to likely doesn’t help.)

“Are you planning on living here then, Swan?” He leans forward and props his chin in his palm while his brows reach his hairline. “Did you find me that irresistible?”

“Shut up.”

“You have a way with words.” Emma groans at him, and Killian keeps on smirking. “Look, I’ve been renovating this bar and the apartment above it for about a year now, so I know a thing or two about home renovations, as I told you. I can take a look at the house for you and answer any of your questions.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You were asking for advice earlier.”

“But I don’t need any help!”

He holds his hands up and steps away. “I apologize, love. I seemed to have misread the situation. I won’t do it again.”

Shit.

She messed up, didn’t she? Of course she did. Why is she always so rude to people who are trying to help her?

“Killian?”

“Mhm?”

“Would you like to come look at the house with me tomorrow before work?”

He turns to her and smiles again, a little glint in his eyes. “Meet me here at noon.”

-/-

Killian tells her the place isn’t in as bad as shape as she thinks it is. Emma can’t imagine that as a giant spider crawls across the living room, but he swears that it’s true.

He also offers to help for no cost to her other than the supplies.

“Why would you do that?” “I actually quite fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me, and I enjoy the work.”

And for some insane reason, she makes the decision to stay in this weird as hell town and fix up this house so that she can sell it and leave this whole thing behind her. Her life was going to shit in Boston, and she needs a break from that. She needs some kind of change and purpose, and maybe she’ll end up being able to fix this house up and sell it for enough money that she comes into an actual savings account for the first time in her life.

What a thought.

On slow nights at the bar, Emma watches videos on the best ways to paint window trim and how to buff hardwood floors. She looks into the electrical stuff too, but that seems like a recipe for disaster. Or death. Really, it looks like a recipe for her death.

Definitely.

Killian will walk by, muttering comments under his breath about the videos she’s watching and how absolutely inane some of the people are, but she ignores him and keeps trying to learn. Fixing up a house, even a rotting pit like this one, shouldn’t be too hard. It’ll be fine.

It starts with having all of the wiring inside the walls stolen, which is decidedly not fine.

“Who the hell steals electrical wiring?” Emma huffs as she and Killian walk through the house, cold morning air nipping at their extremities. “What’s the purpose of that?”

“They sell it.” “For how much?”

“Not much, but it’s something.” He hits his hammer against the hole (one of them, at least) in the drywall. “I can call Scarlet and have him fix your wiring, but we’ll have to fix the walls ourselves.”

“I can’t afford an electrician right now.”

“Don’t worry about it, love. He owes me a favor.” “A favor to rewire an entire house?”

He winks. “Trust me.”

“Don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for a second, Jones.”

He freaking bows, throwing in an exaggerated wink too. “I would despair if you did.”

The entire month of September is spent the same way. She and Killian meet up at the house at noon with takeout from Granny’s for lunch (which is really breakfast for them since they wake up at eleven most days) and work on the house until they have to go to the bar. They’re the only two people working there right now, which has got to be against some labor law, but Emma doesn’t mind not having the days off. She likes the money and likes keeping busy. When she asks Killian about it, though, he simply hums and says that he hasn’t taken a day off since he bought the place.

She had no idea he was the owner. She thought he was the manager or something who happened to be living there.

(Not her brightest moment.)

How does a British man end up owning a bar in a small town in Maine?

She almost asks, but it’s not her business. None of his life is.

But that doesn’t keep her from learning that he’s got a penchant for rum and for double-stuffed Oreos. There’s a dirty joke there, and Killian most definitely makes it. He’s also got a penchant for making a dirty joke or sliding an innuendo into every possible situation. It’d be creepy if it wasn’t so damn charming sometimes.

But it’s not charming. Nope. It’s just…it’s who he is. That’s all. And it’s something she’s got to get used to since this is apparently the man she’s going to be spending all of her time with. It would scare her because in a situation like this, she’d usually have already had sex with him and then have some kind of meltdown. She doesn’t know why she does stuff like that, but she does.

(That’s a lie. She definitely knows why.)

Emma is not going to sleep with him, though. It’s not going to happen. Ever. She is not going to be doing the whole dating – or not dating – thing again anytime soon. Or forever.

It’s October when she starts to feel like maybe this house has hope. It’s still a mess, but it’s making definite progress.

It’s also when she realizes that maybe she doesn’t hate this town so much. It’s still weird and kooky and doesn’t quite make sense, but it’s also full of good people. David, Ingrid’s lawyer, ends up pitching in a hand on window repairs, and his wife Mary Margaret may be one of the sweetest people Emma has ever met. She bakes food for Emma and talks paint colors and cabinet stains and always has a smile on her face. Will Scarlet is always lurking around, even once the electrical work is done, and as obnoxious as he can be, Emma kind of likes him. He’s helpful and kind of funny and he beats Killian’s ass at pool at the bar every single time they play.

Killian pouts and mopes around after he loses, and Emma gets an infinite amount of joy out of it.

“You look pathetic, Jones.”

“I do not look pathetic.”

“You do.” She turns around behind the bar to tease him as he grabs a bottle of his favorite rum off the shelf and pours himself a small glass, gulping it down. “You should really learn not to be such a sore loser.”

His brow arches. “Oh, and you wouldn’t be a sore loser?”

“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t lose.”

Killian exhales with his laugh before putting his glass down and inching closer to her until his back is behind hers, warmth from his body covering her so that little bumps pop up over her skin and her breath hitches. It takes everything in her not to shiver while her stomach flips.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” she whispers, trying to keep her breath steady.

“Well,” Killian whispers right back, his scruff brushing up against her cheek and sending a shiver down her spine, dammit, “I do love a challenge.”

With that, he moves away so quickly that his heat immediately evaporates, and if it wasn’t for the swirling in her stomach, Emma would swear it was all a dream.

What the hell just happened?

There’s a low whistle across the bar. “Emma fucking Swan.”

Emma whips her hair toward the sound, and her jaw may literally drop. “Ruby?”

“Oh, so you remember me,” Ruby scoffs. She’s smiling, but there’s fury in her eyes. “I figured you’d forgotten since we only talk on the phone and you’re not living in our apartment anymore.”

“What are you doing here, Rubes?” Emma asks as she leans over the bar to hug her. At least Ruby hugs back. She doesn’t have to, and Emma appreciates that.

Ruby settles down on the stool in front of her, and Emma realizes the entire bar is staring at the two of them. “I took off for your birthday, remember? We were going to binge watch TV and stuff our faces with junk food and feel no guilt about it.”

“Shit happened.”

“And by shit you mean Walsh cheating, your job sucking, and then this crazy lady leaving you a house even though she tried to kill you when you were a teenager?”

“Ruby,” Emma hisses, “shut up. Everyone can hear you, and I don’t want everyone knowing my business.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Emma doesn’t dare look over at Killian to see if he heard all that. She doesn’t need to. She knows that he heard it all. It’s that whole perceptive thing. “Do you want something to drink? Or eat? You must be so tired after the drive.”

“The biggest glass of wine you have. You know what I like.”

Emma nods and turns around to their wine selection before Killian walks up behind her again, this time putting more distance between them. It still feels like he’s right there though, like he never really left.

“You okay, love?”

“Just dandy.”

“Well, your use of the word ‘dandy’ makes me think otherwise.”

Emma rolls her eyes and looks up at him. His eyes are stupid concerned and stupid blue, and who does he think he is being so concerned about her when he barely knows her?

“I’m fine.”

“Hey, hot guy who’s flirting with my friend,” Ruby yells out. Killian’s brow raises at her as his eyes glance to the side. He’s silently asking her for permission to talk to Ruby, and her resolve deflates immediately. She nods and steps away with the wine, leaving him to Ruby. “What’s your name?”

“Killian Jones. Are you the infamous Ruby Lucas?”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me. That’s funny because I’ve heard nothing about you.”

“You’re obviously much more interesting than me.”

Ruby takes a sip of the wine Emma pours for her before Emma is called to the other end of the bar to deal with some of the cops who are here after their shift. Her ears never leave Killian and Ruby’s conversation, though.

“I mean, obviously,” Ruby agrees, leaning forward so her boobs are nearly falling out of her dress. Emma almost drops a beer glass. “What exactly do you think you’re doing with Emma? She doesn’t need some knight in shining armor to rescue her just because she’s a little vulnerable right now. I mean, you obviously ran a background – ”

Emma’s grip loosens until the tray of beer glasses she was holding slips out of her hands and falls to the ground, glass splitting off into shards and covering the floor.

Shit.

“Don’t move, Swan,” Killian calls out, immediately moving away from Ruby and coming toward her, glass crunching underneath his boots. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she croaks out. In truth, she doesn’t know. her heart is in her throat, and she can’t really breathe. “I’m fine.”

His eyes scan over hers, but he doesn’t dispute her words. “I’m going to clean this up, okay? Why don’t you go sit with your friend? Be careful. I’m not sure how thick your shoes are.”

All Emma can do is nod, and she’s basically a robot as she walks toward Ruby, who is still sipping on her wine and tapping away at her phone. Emma loves her, but sometimes she doesn’t think before she acts. Half the time it works out, and half the time it means Emma is stuck cleaning up Ruby’s messes.

(While Killian seems to be stuck cleaning up Emma’s.)

“What the hell?” she hisses, trying to keep quiet. “You’ve been here for ten minutes, and you’re already telling everyone shit they don’t need to know.” “I didn’t mean to! I mean, I figured he did know since you’re obviously sleeping with him as well as working for him.”

What the hell?

“I’m not sleeping with him. I’m not sleeping with anyone. And he didn’t run a background check on me. Killian’s a good guy, and he’s doing me a lot of favors, okay?”

“If you’re not sleeping with him, he definitely wants to sleep with you. Like, he’s having eye sex with you right now.” “You’re gross, and you have the mind of a teenage boy.”

“I’m speaking the truth,” Ruby nods while her mouth opens with a long yawn.

“Rubes, why don’t you go back to my hotel room, okay? It’s late, and you’re tired. I’ll meet you when my shift is over.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Emma nods, “and we can talk about what we’re going to do for my birthday tomorrow.” Ruby smiles, and Emma tries to let some of her anger fade away. This is her best friend, and she’s got her own faults just like Emma does. Hell, Emma pretty much ghosted her for two months, and Ruby isn’t even really mad. They’ve both got their issues. It’s fine. It’s life. Ruby has never done anything to purposefully hurt Emma.

Ruby takes Emma’s hotel key and leaves, and for the rest of her shift, Killian tiptoes around her. He’s timid and not making any of his jokes. There’s almost no personality to him, and for a few moments, she starts to believe that he’s mad at her. In actuality, he’s probably just realized he’s been working with someone with a criminal past for two months.

“Hey, Killian? Can we talk?”

“Swan – ” he hesitates, holding the chair he was about to put up.

“No, just, please let me explain some of this, some of what Ruby said.”

His lips are pressed tightly together. “You want to come upstairs? I have coffee there.”

“Coffee sounds great.”

They stop what they’re doing, and Killian turns on his heels to walk up to the second floor of the bar to where she knows his apartment is. She’s never been up this staircase, never even thought about it, but she follows him without question. His apartment isn’t much. It’s clean, which doesn’t shock her for how Killian is, and all of the appliances have been updated. Other than that, though, it’s pretty bare bones – brown leather couch, television mounted on the wall, coffee table full of books that should be on the tall bookshelves against the wall, and a bed with a deep blue comforter pushed back against the wall behind a half-wall.

Oh, and a coffee machine. An actual one. Not a Keurig.

That’s where Killian starts puttering around, not bothering to tell her to make herself at home or not to touch anything. His words can be flowery sometimes, but oftentimes he doesn’t say anything at all, simply letting her decide what she wants.

She kind of likes that.

Except for right now when she’s freaking out.

“So,” she begins.

“You want milk in your coffee right? I’m afraid I don’t have your preferred creamer.”

“Milk is fine. So, Killian, I – ”

“Look,” he starts, his voice gruff, “I don’t care about your past. We all have one, myself included, and it’s not great. So unless you’re a murderer or are going to rob me blind, I don’t need to know.” He turns to her as the coffee percolates and raises both brows, wrinkles appearing on his forehead. “Are you a murderer or are you going to rob me blind?”

“No,” Emma quietly admits.

“Then I know everything I need to know unless you really want to tell me why I would need to run a background check on you.”

She bites down on her lip, her stomach twirling. She never wants to tell anyone this, but the words are at the tip of her tongue. “I was sixteen, had just been taken out of Ingrid’s custody, and I was dating this older guy. I loved him, thought he loved me too, but then he stole some watches, framed me for it, and got the hell out of dodge. I went to jail for it, but I promise I didn’t do it. I’m not going to rob you blind. The only things I’ve ever stolen were some keychains and food when my foster parents didn’t give me dinner.”

Straightforward and only the facts. That’s the only way she can talk about Neal without hurling.

Killian’s brows furrow, and she wonders if he can express every emotion with just his eyebrows. It almost seems like it. “He’s a bastard. So is the bloke who cheated on you, by the way. A bloody fool.”

“I agree with that.”

Killian breathes out and turns around, opening up a cabinet to pull down a coffee mug, pouring milk and coffee into her cup before pouring black coffee into his. He hands hers over to her, and she immediately takes a sip while Killian stares down at his mug, tapping his fingers on the countertop.

And then he’s pulling up his Henley’s left sleeve until she can see those familiar red scars.

“I was in the Navy in England,” he begins. “I thought it was my calling. I loved everything about it, and then there was a damn mechanical misfiring that caused an explosion and tore up my arm and part of my torso. Hurt like hell, and I don’t know…I guess I kind of lost the passion for serving, and when my contract ended, I didn’t reenlist. Then I moved here. I’ve got dual citizenship. Mum was an American.”

“I thought you said people don’t run because of jobs?”

“I did say that.”

“Isn’t that what you did?”

“I ran because of my girlfriend ending our relationship to go back to her husband I didn’t know about and my brother’s death,” Killian corrects. The job simply happened to give me the push.”

Emma’s got a million questions, but she doesn’t think she should ask them. It’s probably best not to. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“Aye,” he laughs, scratching his ear. “It does. Life sucks, as you put it. That’s why I don’t judge you. That’s why I’m so willing to help you out with the job and with your house. You looked like you needed some help, and I know what it’s like to be in your position.”

Oh.

No one has ever done something like that for her, not really, and Emma thinks to herself once more that under all of his gruff and brooding and penchant for getting angry at customers, he’s a good man. She gets up and walks over to him, pressing up on her toes to lightly brush her lips over his cheek. His scruff burns against her lips, and she gets a stronger whiff of cologne than she ever has as her own cheeks heat up.

“Thank you, Killian.”

He scares her, in more ways than one, but weirdly, she almost craves that little jolt of fear, one she feels in the tingling of her lips far after she leaves his apartment.

-/-

Things shift after that night. It’s not in some monumental, earth-shattering way, but there’s definitely a difference in how Emma and Killian interact. Ruby spends the weekend with them, touring the house and sharing her opinions on what it looks like now and how it should look in the future. Ruby doesn’t get why Emma is staying in Storybrooke, doesn’t understand why she can’t get rid of the place and come back to Boston, but she still supports Emma. It’s what friends do unless they’re making batshit crazy decisions.

Ruby’s words. Not hers.

Besides, Ruby is convinced that Emma is staying for Killian, which actually would be batshit crazy. She’s not staying here for him. She’s staying here because she needs to fix up this house. She needs to fix up this house to prove she can, sell it, and wash her hands of anything and everything that Ingrid left behind.

Killian gives her the night off for her birthday, tells her to go out and have fun, but since there’s only one bar in town, they hang out at the Rabbit Hole and drink fruity drinks Killian hates making and eat onion rings he made specifically for her, mumbling something about how he knows that she really wanted to spend her day at home in pajamas eating junk food instead of hanging out at the place where she works.

She doesn’t mind, not really. Especially when Killian tells her that he’ll cover her tab for the night, throwing her a downright dirty wink and whispering in her ear that he’d take tips in other ways.

Ridiculous man. Such a cocky asshole sometimes.

When Ruby leaves town and heads back to Boston, she tells Emma to stop being stupid and to do something good with what she’s got here. If she’s going to be here, she needs to make it worth it.

Emma tries to do just that. She really does, but as the months pass and the house gets closer and closer to being presentable (and functionable) enough to sell, all Emma can think is that she’s got an apartment back in Boston and a job that will take her back if she begs just enough.

Boston is safe. Boston is…home. In Boston, there’s no man with blue eyes and a sharp wit who makes her stomach swirl like she’s got damn butterflies fluttering around in there.

Leaving Killian makes her heart ache, but admitting that to herself is something she’s barely capable of. Admitting it to him would be damn near impossible.

-/-

“Swan,” Killian calls out as she walks into the bar, “come help me get these blasted lights up. I thought it would be nice to make it a little festive in here for Christmas.”

He’s standing on a chair up against the wall, box after box of white lights scattered around his feet, and as capable as Killian is, this seems like a disaster waiting to happen. She takes a step toward him, a step toward his bright smile and slightly overgrown beard, but then she stops. She was supposed to be in and out, just like that. She wasn’t supposed to get attached.

She can’t stay.

“I sold the house, Killian.”

He drops a string of lights to the ground, small shards of glass scattering everywhere.

Shit.

“You what?”

“I’m going to sell the house,” she corrects. Her heart is beating faster than it ever has. “I got an offer from a couple from New York who wanted it as a vacation home and are going to finish the renovations and add on an extra room. I don’t really know. But it’s money that I need and that will help me out back in Boston.”

“Emma – ”

She hates when he says her first name. It makes her throat tighten and her stomach ache, and no matter how many times he says it instead of calling her by one of his many names for her, she’ll never get used to it.

She swallows the lump in her throat.

“You’re leaving?” Killian asks, obviously devastated. She hates that she knows the looks on his face and knows how he feels without even a word now. She nods. He knows her looks as well. “Stay, Emma.”

“I can’t.” “Why not? Why can’t you stay?”

“I don’t live here. I have a life back in Boston. I have friends, a job, a – ”

“A what?”

“I don’t know,” Emma groans, hot tears pricking in her eyes. When did any of this happen? How did it happen? How did she allow herself to have so many feelings? “I don’t know, but I can’t stay here. It was only supposed to be a day, maybe a week. It wasn’t supposed to be months. It wasn’t supposed to be this.”

She motions between the two of them, speaking the words that neither of them have spoken over long days working at the house, long nights working here, and too quick of times watching movies in his apartment or grabbing lunch at Granny’s or even racing each other on their runs.

She knows. He does too.

“You can see a future here, and that scares you,” Killian tells her, stepping close.

“Oh, let me guess, with you.”

“Aye,” Killian says as he steps into her space, the now familiar scent of his cologne surrounding her while the warmth of his hands presses through her jeans and then her sweater as his hands move from her hips to her shoulders. “You and I both know – ”

“We don’t know anything!”

His jaw clenches, and she knows he’s holding back. She knows him well enough to know he’s pressing down the fire within him.

“Emma,” he whispers, and her heart does that thing again that’s got to be medically impossible, “you have been the best part of my life for the past four months, and I know that I can’t ask you to stay. I have already, but I can’t honestly be selfish enough to think that you’ll stay just for me. What I can’t do, darling, is let you go without telling you how I feel.”

Her heart may be in her throat now because she can’t breathe. Not at all. Why the hell are his eyes so blue and earnest? Why is he so earnest?

She nods again, and he smiles this soft little smile that makes his eyes crinkle.

“I am rather fond of you, Emma Swan. I’m fond of the way that your smile shifts from small to absolutely beaming and the way that you laugh at your little comedy podcasts we listen to while we’re working. I’m fond of the way that you call me out on my shit and the way that you help me every day, even if you don’t know it. I’m fond of the smell of your perfume and the way I find long blonde strands of hair on all of my clothes even if I didn’t wear the shirt around you. I’m fond of the way you’ve weaved your way into every part of my life so seamlessly while I’ve had to carefully take a hammer to the bricks you built up around your heart.”

His hands trace up her neck, shivers running down her spine and bumps rising up over her skin. “I like you,” Killian continues, “and I don’t want you to go back to Boston thinking that you don’t have a life here. Everyone in this town would welcome you with open arms, but I’d be standing at the front waiting for you.”

Emma’s never been good with words, has never been an expert at expressing how she feels, but she has been good with actions. It’s why she wraps her arms around his neck, fingers tickling along the nape of his neck and into his hair, and kisses him.

She kisses him.

His lips are soft, softer than should even be possible, and his beard brushes against her skin much like it did when she kissed his cheek a few weeks ago while Killian quietly grunts into the kiss. They don’t move much, mouth pressed against mouth, but Emma finds herself getting lost in it. She imagined what it would be like kissing Killian Jones, something she would never admit to anyone else, but it was nothing like this. She didn’t feel it all over her, didn’t feel emotions swirling in her stomach and spreading over her skin, and she definitely didn’t think it would make her this happy.

She’s not sure when or how this happened, how exactly he hammered down the bricks around her heart, but she’s infinitely glad that he did.

Piece by piece and stone by stone.

“I don’t know if I can stay,” Emma whispers when she pulls back from the kiss, her forehead resting against his while her heart beats too fast. “I don’t – ”

“You don’t have to stay, darling. I simply ask that no matter your decision, you still allow me to be a part of your life, however you decide.”

Emma nods in affirmation before kissing him again, hungrily gliding her lips over his while heat curls between her thighs at the feel of Killian pressed up against her. The first kiss was soft, gentle, and while this one could still be described that way, there’s a fire simmering underneath her skin that comes to the surface with Killian’s hearty growl and the way that he starts backing her across the bar until her back is against the wall next to the staircase. Killian captures her gasp with his mouth, and she melts into him some more.

They should talk more. They really should, but they’ve talked for four months, and when Killian asks her if she’d like to go upstairs, she gladly says yes.

They shed their clothes the moment they’re in his apartment, tugging at shirts and pants as Killian finds the skin of her neck and leaves warm, open-mouthed kisses there while it takes everything in Emma to keep running her hands over his sides, feeling the warm skin and slightly marked up places. She’s already warm everywhere, gooseflesh rising, and her breathing is uneven as Killian keeps touching her.

It’s amazing.

And he’s beautiful. It’s all dark skin and lean muscle, someone who doesn’t work out much at the gym but is active, and he’s got dark patches of hair covering his chest and stomach, some of the black hiding the tattoos he has scrawled across his skin. She thinks most of the ones on his torso are there to cover up the scars from his accident, and Emma takes the time to trace her finger over the ink and over the scars, making sure to occasionally watch Killian’s face as she does so.

Of all of the times Killian has looked at her with admiration in his eyes, it’s never been quite like that.

She is so screwed.

When they reach the bed after Killian slamming his lips back into hers and whispering absolutely filthy things into her ear, his hand easily finds where she’s sensitive. He runs his fingers there, making her gasp and moan and whine that she needs more. Killian gladly gives her more.

There’s a push and pull, whispered words of want shared, and she gets lost in it.

He’s warm and thick when he buries himself inside of her, and his moan is one of the most delicious sounds she’s ever heard. His blue eyes are almost completely black now, but they’re no less beautiful. Everything about this is intimate, from the way that Killian kisses her to the controlled movement of his hips, sliding in and out in a slow rhythm that she knows is for her. A part of her wants more, wants faster and harder, but the other part of her is still catching up to the fact that this is real.

This is happening.

And she’s happy.

That might be the most shocking part of the entire thing. Emma is happy, which kind of snuck up on her without her really realizing it, and for the first time in a long time, if not ever, she can feel herself smiling during sex.

Is this what this is supposed to be like? Is this what it’s always supposed to have been like?

Killian smiles right back at her, letting his brows unfurrow from how they were folded in concentration, and then he’s dipping back down to move his teeth over her lips, a light graze that means almost everything to her all the while his hand dips down to where they are joined, the movement making her see all of those metaphorical stars.

Or, at least, something similar in blue orbs and a kind smile.

This is good. This is how things are supposed to be.

Happy.

“Killian?” she asks later. Sweat has dried on her skin, her hair curling around the temples, and she’s folded herself into Killian’s side while her legs are tucked between his calves. Her fingers can’t stop moving through his chest hair, untangling the patches, before moving down to trace over his tattoos and scars once more. She likes the way the red mixes in with the colors of ink.

“Yeah, Swan?”

She nearly giggles at the deep set of his voice, at how it’s harsh and soft all at once, kind of like him.

“I’m rather fond of you too. I thought you should know that.”

“The sex kind of clued me into that.”

“No, I meant. I – you…”

“I know exactly what you meant, love,” he promises as his head dips until his lips press into hers. “I was teasing you. You don’t have to tell me that.”

“I know, but I still want to. You deserve to hear the words as much as I do.”

-/-

She ends up selling the house to the couple from New York.

She puts away the money into her savings account, which was really nothing more than pennies and a few dust bunnies, and for the first time in her life, she has options.

Go back to Boston. Go anywhere.

Or stay in Storybrooke.

Stay in Storybrooke where the people are kind and know her by name, where the beach is nearby and often empty, where she could have a bit of quiet in her life, something that’s also been a novelty for someone who has never really had a quiet she liked. They’ve always been too haunting. This is comforting.

Stay in Storybrooke where there’s a man with blue eyes and the devil in his smile.

Only in the best way, of course, and she can’t keep her own smile away when thinking of him.

Of this life here.

So she stays. It’s what she feels in her heart is right, even if it means leaving her life in Boston behind. And she’s not staying for Killian. As great as he is and as happy as she is that she’s going to be around him, this is all for herself. After Emma tells Ruby her decision, Ruby is disappointed at first, but she promises to visit and still annoy the hell out of her. Emma doesn’t doubt it for a second.

Killian helps her find a place of her own after she tells him that she’s staying. The smile on his face has never been brighter, even when she rejects his offer to stay in the spare room behind the bar that he can renovate into a bedroom. It’s a kind offer, and she imagines she’ll be there often to spend time in Killian’s apartment, but she needs to do this on her own. It’s a new adventure, and she likes a challenge. Besides, if she and Killian keep flirting and making out like teenagers, she imagines one day she’ll be fine living with him.

Who has she become? Being so hopeful like that.

She likes it.

It’s a year and a half later when she and Killian sign the deed to a house on the shoreline, shutters falling off and porch rotting.

“So, Swan, you ready to fix up our new home?”

His fingers tangle into hers while her lips press into his jawline.

Our home.

She likes the sound of that.

“Yeah,” she smiles, “I am.”

-/-

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#what a plot twist you were #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #cs January joy #cs jj #captain swan January joy

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writing-hound · 4 years

Text

Written in the Sand:

Summary: Mazikeen Sage ventured too far into an abandoned house, the hide locker being in one of the rooms up stairs, abandoned and alone. Her friends had dared her to go in there to see if it was haunted, alone. Her hide, named Spitfire, known for being unpredictable, maternal, and bold, chose her under the very unusual circumstances.

Reading/Pairing: Hamish Duke X Werewolf! Reader

Word Count: 2371 words

Warnings: Really none at this point.

A/N: Hello! This story is gonna be a long one with multiple parts. How many? I don’t know yet. Mazikeen is my character, I own her, and so, you know, don’t steal her. Here are the other part(s):

Part 1

When I came to, I was cold. I coughed as I sat up, looking around. This wasn't where I was last time. I was outside, on the earth, bare fucking naked. I visibly freaked out as I sat there, trying to conceal myself and wildly looking around to see if I can find my clothes. A sudden noise drew my attention as I froze, in horror.

Fuck! I can't let anyone see me like this! I thought as I got up and backed away behind some bushes. I watched as someone walked on a trail, looking around. He was tall, well dressed, and had dirty blond hair. He seemed confused as he looked around. When I saw his face, I literally couldn't breath. He was beautiful. I say beautiful because he is; his face is kind of round, his jaw is soft yet sharp enough to cut paper, and his eyes are a blue-grey.

His eyes fixated where I had been before, seeing red liquid, and followed the trail to where I was. I mentally freaked out as he gradually grew closer to me.

Please don't find me, please don't find me, I chanted in my head as I cowered down in the bushes as he walked by. He hesitated near my hiding place, walking a slow circle.

"Hello? Anyone here?" He asked. "I promise I won't hurt you," He said, a little quieter. I didn't move. I couldn't out of fear. When his back was to me, I slowly scooted away, and, to my dismay, made a sound. Cliché as it is, a twig snapped under my palm. The man cocked his head subtly and turned around facing my direction.

Oh shit. I thought.

My heart was banging against my ribcage by now. Maybe if I don't move, he won't see me, I thought innocently. The man approached the bushes in front of me, peering over them with ease because of his height. My body shook. He'll think I'm crazy or on drugs. I thought. Or both.

I tried to cover my naked body with what little I could, but it was inevitable. HE saw me, and without hesitation, he walked up and crouched. I gave a visible flinch, not knowing what he was gonna do or say.

"Are you all right?" He asked, concerned. "It's freezing out here! What happened?" The man began to shrug off his jacket, handing it to me. I was baffled. He didn't even mind that I was naked. In front of him nonetheless.

He might be gay then, I instantly thought. "T-thanks?" I said, more of a question than a statement. The man nodded, getting up and giving out his hand. I took it without a word, being helped up. We said nothing as we stood there, a foot or so apart, staring at each other.

"What happened?" The man repeated. I just shook my head. "You're guess is as good as mine," I gave a weak laugh. The man stared at me. I realized how I must have looked to him. Crazy and naked out in the forest.

"Do you happen to know where I am?" I asked, trying to get this meeting over as soon as possible.

The man looked at me a moment longer before turning away his gray-blue gaze. "You're at Belgrave University," He said. I stared at him, my mouth partially open. "What?" I exclaimed. I was far from home.

"You seemed surprised," The man observed. "You're not a student here?" He asked. I merely shook my head. "No," I was internally freaking out. How did I end up here? I tried to remember anything before this moment.

Walking up to the door, I opened it. Inside were odd things, furniture covered, windows boarded up, and some boxes. One was in the middle, and on top was a journal-

My memory was interrupted by the man. "Are you okay?" He asked. I looked back at him. "Yeah," I said quietly, then more confidently, "Yeah, I was just trying to remember how I got here," I gave a small and guarded smile.

The man gave me a look; a believing look. "I understand," He said. "Do you have somewhere to go?"

At first I didn't understand the question. It seemed foreign.

"What?" I asked, confused for a minute. The man looked at me and spoke slowly. "Do you have a place to stay at?" I shook my head in response. "No," I said. What am I gonna do?! I can't go wandering around naked! I mentally freaked out.

"Follow me," The man said, and began to walk away. I almost laughed.

"Uh, excuse me," I said, getting his attention. "But I don't know about you, and I mean no offense," I pointed out. "But for all I know you might be a serial killer," The man gave a chuckle, one I assume he doesn't do often.

"Well, I can assure you that I am not a serial killer," He said. I somehow believed him. "And as for knowing me, my name is Hamish," The man--now known as Hamish--said, looking back at me. "And you are?"

I hesitated. The logical side of me was screaming at me to run. To not say or reveal anything. But the illogical part is whispering to do the opposite.

"My name is Mazikeen," I finally said, deciding to share my name. Hamish gave a nod.

"Well, Mazikeen, it's nice to meet you," He said, inclining his head a little bit. I couldn't help but give a small smile as I put one foot in front of the other. We walked in silence, not saying anything until we came in view of an abandoned looking house.

"I dare you to go into that abandoned house on Magnolia Drive," Taunted Abigail. Abigail was one of my friends. She always was a motor mouth and never knew what she was saying before she said it.

"Yeah, don't you want to see what's inside?" another one of my friends said.

"Maybe she's scared," Said another. "Look at her, her face is white!" They all laughed. I ground my teeth together, and determinedly decided that I would go into that spooky house one way or another.

Hamish was by the porch, looking at me. "Mazikeen? Are you all right?" He asked, noticing that I faltered. I gave him a quick smile. "Yeah," I said, walking up the porch. Inside the house wasn't as abandoned as the exterior seemed to be. It was homey, in that, clubhouse sort of way.

I slowly looked around, going into what seems to be the living room. There was a bar of sorts to the right of me, a couch in front of me along with some chairs, and a fireplace along the right wall.

Hamish cleared his throat as he stood in the doorway. "You can, uh, get cleaned up in there," He said, pointing to a bathroom. I gave a smile as I walked past, and entered the bathroom. A knock on the door sounded, and Hamish's voice said, "I'm gonna go and get you some clothes that might fit you," He hesitated before saying, "I'm gonna go and, uh, grab them now,"

I heard his footsteps retreat up the stairs in the main entry. I gave a sigh and looked in the mirror. I gave out a gasp at how I looked. "Holy shit," I muttered under my breath. I looked horrible. I had blood on my chest and chin, as well as the rest of my body.

"What have I done?" I asked myself as I turned on the water and used a black towel. Hope he doesn't mind that I use this...I thought as I cleaned myself up. I was down to my legs when a knock sounded.

"I got some clothes here for you, Mazikeen." Hamish said at the door. I cracked it open to see him standing there, clothes folded in his hands. I took them with a "Thanks" and closed the door.

The jeans were a little tight, but they would work, and the shirt was a button down and was extremely baggy and smelled like... mint and rain? I looked into the mirror and saw how baggy it really was, so I tied the shirt around my waist so it was like a crop top. I took a deep breath, putting on the jacket that Hamish gave me, and walked out the bathroom. I didn't see him in the foyer, so I walked into the living room. I saw him behind the bar area making himself a drink. My heart thundered at the sight of him.

I walked up and gave a smile, down casting my eyes. "Thanks for the clothes," I said quietly, standing there awkwardly. Hamish gave a nod, gesturing to the glass. "Want one?" He asked.

I gave a shake of my head. "No, but thanks," I said, still not looking at him. I could feel my face heating up as I stood there. "Well, uh, I gotta get going," I said, risking a look up to look at Hamish. He was standing there looking at me, with the glass to his lips. His eyes bored holes into me as he stayed silent.

"Where will you go?" He asked, seemingly curious.

I gave a shrug. "I don't really know how I got here, but I sure as hell can find my way back," I said determinedly. Just as Hamish was opening his mouth to speak, the door flung open and came walking in a skinny, lanky, goofy kid. Well, to me he was a kid; he had curly hair and had this immature aura around him, yet he seemed mature at the same time.

"Hey, Hamish, you here?" He asked, walking into the living room. He hadn't seen me yet, as he was focused on trying to find Hamish. "Okay, good, you're here. Lil-" He broke off as he caught sight of me. "Hey, Hamish, who's this?" He asked, confused. "And why is she here," He said, giving Hamish a tense smile, eyes wide.

"I found her," Hamish stated simply. "She was out in the woods here, lost and, uh-" He cut himself off as he looked at this new person, obviously not wanting to say how he had found me. The guy gave a nod, looking at me. "Oh, if Hamish found you and didn't chase you off, then I guess you're good. Names Randall by the way," He said, sticking his hand out for me to shake it. I hesitated before I took his hand in mine in a firm shake.

"Nice to meet you, Randall," I said quietly. "My name is Mazikeen,"

"Wow, great name!" He exclaimed enthusiastically, making me smile. Randall seemed like a good guy, and already I felt at ease with this goofball. He reminded me of my best friend back in Oregon before I moved.

"Thanks," I said, not knowing what else to say. I took my hand back as well as a step, and looked between the two. "I've got to be going now," I said, looking at my feet and chewing on my bottom lip.

As I started to walk away, another person walked in through the open doorway. This time it was a girl with black hair and fiery eyes. She was shorter than I was, but not by much.

"Who the fuck is this?" She demanded, looking at Randall and Hamish. "What's she doing here-" She cut herself off as she looked at my appearance, then her eyes seemed to glow with rage. "In my pants?" She practically growled out. She gave me a kidney melting glare as I stood there frozen for a minute. Then, out of reaction, I took on a defensive stance, angling my body in front of the two men, who are clearly capable of taking off themselves, to shield them from this girl's anger.

Randall, peeking out from behind me, gave the girl a shit-eating grin. "Hey, Lilith! This is Mazikeen, Hamish found her out in the woods.”

Lilith didn't back off or apologize, though the fire in her eyes died down a little. "That still doesn't explain why she's in my jeans or in Hamish's shirt," She pointed out ruthlessly, giving both boys a pointed, and still angry, ready-to-rip-your-throats-out, look.

I gave a silent growl, anger gripping my limbs. Lilith all of a sudden went slack-jawed. "Did you guys see that?" She exclaimed, all of a sudden kinda shaken up.

I glanced back at Hamish and Randall in confusion. They both looked at me with similar expressions. "Okay, what is it guys?" I said, calming down. "Is there something wrong?"

"Um, Hamish, did you know this?" Randall asked, his voice wavering and a look of confusion. Hamish shook his head, baffled. "No, I didn't," He said. "Though it would explain why she was naked in the woods," He said, looking at his friends. I gave him an angry glare, rage boiling inside my chest.

"You have no shame, what's so ever," I said angrily to Hamish, my voice growing dangerous. "You can't just tell people about that without asking me!"

Lilith grew tense and Randall looked uneasy. "Hey, maybe you should calm down, okay?" Randall said, trying to smooth things out. "We don't want anyone getting killed or anything," He tried to joke. I turned my glare at him. He shrank away behind Lilith.

I felt rage build in me. How dare Hamish humiliate me?! He shouldn't have done that! It wasn't his place to say that, I wanted to rip someone's throat out. I felt my body ache and burn. I stumbled back, my back hurting and my teeth seeming like it was being yanked out by a dentist. I gave out a whimper as my body began to burn and hurt.

"Mazikeen, you have to calm down," Someone said, their voice distorted and far away. All I could feel was pain. All I could hear is the blood rushing in my ears. I don't know if I screamed, or if I imagined it, but as soon as the pain and burn came, it went and so did my common sense.

#Story time #x reader #hamish duke #HamishxReader #the order #the order netflix #Netflix

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