#be with her and not put her through that (ive been traveling since childhood so im used to it- but she has certain mental stuff going on and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snowbellewells · 1 year

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One More {Part Four}

Oh goodness, Melanie @searchingwardrobes This is still your birthday fic (even though I apologize for taking so long to finish it that we could now be celebrating your half-birthday!) One more chapter after this - and I think by the end of this one, things will finally feel like they are looking up for our younger Emma and Killian...

Also available on AO3, if that’s your preference -

Or from the beginning here on Tumblr

iv. 22 years old (three years old)

“One more move, Henry,” Emma murmured, glancing at her little boy in his carseat behind her as she adjusted the rearview mirror to start out. “We’ll try one more town, okay?” She offered the happily babbling toddler a reassuring smile - really as much for herself as Henry - though he couldn’t agree in words or fully understand her. His gummy grin bolstered her courage all the same.

“Yep,” she repeated with a bob of her chin, putting the loaded car in gear. “This will be the one.” She pulled away from the curb near the small fourth floor apartment she’d rented for the last few years, almost since bringing Henry home from the hospital, and after carefully making sure there was no traffic coming, eased her beat-up yellow VW onto the two lane road out of town.

Despite what she had told Sabine, a friend she had made through Tink Green and whose mother had rented her the apartment she and Henry had called home, Emma didn’t truly have a good reason for moving on . Things had been tough at first - her money certainly stretched to the limit - but she had also found true friendships and gotten as close to putting down roots as she had ever come. Bless Tink’s sweet, mothering soul; the nurse had stuck to her side from the delivery room all through Henry’s infancy and beyond, allowing Emma to finally feel what having a bestie, or even a sister, might have been like. Tink had introduced her to Sabine - no-nonsense, wryly hilarious owner of her own Creole food truck and maker of the best beignets east of Louisiana, and thankfully with a family in all levels of real estate. Between the two of them, they kept Emma afloat, pinch hit as babysitters, and were the only reason she hesitated when the urge to go began to stir within her bones once more.

Despite the small semblance of roots she had established, no place had ever quite felt like where she was meant to stay. Emma couldn’t explain it; she only knew that an itch would start to prickle beneath her skin, restlessness to stir until she couldn’t focus, couldn’t help but think about where she might go next, and then she’d be packing her bags again. Largely due to Henry, and wanting him to have a more stable childhood than she’d had, and the support system she had gained, these three years since his birth had been the longest Emma stayed anywhere since she had lost -

“Nope,” she hissed under her breath, shaking her head fervently as she glanced back to be sure her sharp reaction hadn’t disturbed her little boy’s quiet doze. “We’re not going there,” she admonished herself, forcing away images of the wrung-out despair on Liam Jone’s face as he’d come to deliver the earth-shattering news, the hopeful excitement in Killian’s bright blue eyes when he had left, those front porch steps where they’d both met and said goodbye, and the cozy den at Liam and Killian’s house, where all three of them had laughed and talked and stuffed their faces full of popcorn as they’d journeyed the world via tv travel shows, all scrunched onto the brothers’ small overstuffed couch together. That was only place she had ever left that she truly missed.

By this point, she had lived all up and down the eastern seaboard, from Maine to Florida, and each of the bustling cities and small hamlets had their charms, but not one had ever stuck to her, not the way she felt that a home should do. When Tink had demanded to know where she was heading, why she suddenly had to go, Emma didn’t even have a good reply, other than to say Maine and that she felt like giving it a second chance. She just knew some thread inside was pulling her, and instead of forward to some unknown once more, she was winding her way back.

Maybe she shouldn’t have left so quickly years ago. She had been shattered, yes, and there wasn’t anything holding her there, but she could have been present for a devastated man who might as well have been a brother; they could have grieved together, found some sort of closure and peace. Instead, she had been romaing ever since - as if some new place, some view over the water or the right stretch of highway could ever fill the void in her soul.

Flicking her turn signal, Emma left behind the quiet street she travelled nearly every day, guiding the sturdy older car smoothly onto the busy highway that would have them slowly beginning to wend their way northward. Henry slept contentedly, though Emma left the radio on a gentle, folksy station just in case, hoping the easy rhythms might be soothing if he woke fussy. Her whole world and reason for being sat just behind her in that carseat, and though it had been painstakingly hard to trip, fall, fail, pull herself up, and repeat the whole thing over and again, she wouldn’t choose to live her life differently, or she wouldn’t have him.

Not doubt there would be those who considered her a terrible parent for uprooting her son from the environment he was used to, the extended family who had been there for them both when Henry had colic, or she just needed a few hours to herself, or who were willing to accept rent just a couple days late if her paychecks didn’t fall quite right one month. Emma was well aware that she was working without a net and didn’t have much of a plan either, but then, that had been the case her entire life. When it came right down to it, she had to depend on her own grit and determination - having known a bit of backup and support in the last couple years didn’t undo a lifetime of prior experience.

Plus, if she was to keep a brave face for Henry, to show him a strong, capable front as he got older and doubtlessly more perceptive, then she had to see to her own needs and desires occasionally, whether they made sense to the rest of the world or not. When she finally stopped for the evening, to find them some supper and a motel room for the night, they were almost out of Georgia and up into North Carolina. Henry whined grumpily when she extricated him from the carseat and took his hand to lead him into the all-night Waffle House, but he cheered considerably at the prospect of chocolate chip pancakes, just as she had known he would.

It was only as she curled up in bed that night, surrounding her little boy’s small form with her own body as she attempted to get comfortable on the thin mattress which had clearly seen better days - certainly not a lot of support for her neck and back already stiff from driving for hours - that she found she still couldn’t relax. With a resigned sigh, Emma forced her eyes closed and tried to rest. She’d chosen to make this journey on as small a budget as possible, not wanting to decimate the tiny nest egg she’d scrimped and saved to put away for the future. They could have stayed somewhere a bit nicer, if her earlier life hadn’t trained her to be frugal to the extreme - even now as an adult gainfully employed and getting by better than she might once have been able to imagine.

Thankfully, the thickness of mattresses or the age and wear of motel wallpaper made little difference to a three-year-old. Henry was simply excited by the whole adventure; he’d gotten chocolate chip pancakes, an extra story as he fought valiantly to keep his eyes from closing in sleep, and the promise that tomorrow they would see and ride a real train on the Tweetsie Railroad in Blowing Rock. Emma wondered if she had ever been that easily joyful - happy and unafraid. Unconcerned for what a new day might bring, and excited to find out.

Exactly as she’d wanted, exactly as she’d hoped and sweat and clawed and fought to make reality, Henry’s first three years had been so different from her own start in life. The way he was resting calmly without a care in the world right now, while she lay staring into the dark restlessly, was proof enough of that.

Despite how physically tired she was from remaining alert and driving for so long, Emma was lost in her thoughts, her mind unable to let go of its restless swirl as her limbs had done. She had just forced herself to close her eyes regardless, when she heard the buzz of a text message from her phone on the nightstand.

Rolling over and then reaching out for the offending object, Emma pulled the cell close to her face, squinting a bit without her contacts and much less light than normal by which to see, she stubbornly strained to decipher the type before her on the small screen. It was from Tink, because, of course it was. In some ways, it felt as if the woman had been hovering over Emma’s shoulder, waiting to cushion her falls like her magical Disney namesake ever since they met. It was little wonder Tink would feel the need to make sure they had reached somewhere safe and stopped to rest for the night. Belatedly, Emma chided herself for not messaging her friend with an update first, so she wouldn’t have had to worry.

‘Hey, E – ‘ the message began before charging ahead in her friend’s typical quick, effervescent fashion. ‘I couldn’t sleep, and I wondered if you might be having the same problem and see this. Anyway, I got to thinking, you’re headed for Maine, right? Some place you spent time in when you were younger? Well, I know I told you that I did some practicum hours several years ago at a physical therapist’s office up that way…’

Emma couldn’t help rolling her eyes playfully at her friend’s way of rambling effusively, even when typing instead of speaking aloud. If they were together, she would be teasing Tink to ‘get to the point already’. Instead, she only shook her head and kept reading.

‘While I was there, I met this gentleman… retired Navy, if I remember right… Anway, he was very nice - helpful, dependable… You should look him up once you get settled. You know, if you need restaurant recommendations or to know which repair companies won’t rip you off, that sort of thing. The guy is noble to a fault, probably why we only went on one date because - Whew, girl, was he handsome!’ Tink’s winky-faced, tongue-out emoji had Emma chuckling to herself just imagining the diminutive blonde saying all that in her usual rush of words and accompanying facial expressions. It made her shock at the last lines of text on the screen all the more pronounced, her breath catching in her throat, choking down her windpipe and making her cough and gasp for breath. Reading the lines over again, Emma still couldn’t wrap her mind around how it was possible. She had never told Tink - or anyone - about the Jones brothers, the closest people to family she’d ever had, and yet there it was in black and white: ‘His name was Liam. Liam Jones’ followed by a telephone number and the promise that she wasn’t trying to set Emma up, her feeling on that had been made perfectly clear.

Stunned, Emma sat the phone back on her nightstand before it fell from her nerveless hand and blinked away the moisture stinging the corners of her eyelids. However it had happened, Fate had either an incredibly cruel or patiently hopeful sense of humor. She might have eventually tried to find her self-adopted big brother once more - if she’d ever felt she could see him without Killian and not bawl until she made herself sick - but it would appear that destiny worked on a schedule all its own.

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Three days later, having stopped occasionally for picnics in parks, sleep at motels that seemed relatively clean and safe, and a few other attractions that had caught Henry’s fancy, Emma finally found herself at the address she had seen advertised for rent, not very far from the street where her old foster family had once lived. She could have made much better time without stopping as often, but with a three-year-old in tow, breaks were a must. There wasn’t a particular need to hurry anyway, other than the strange pull in her gut which had set them on their current journey. And in truth, why shouldn’t she sightsee and let Henry have a little fun along the way? She meant what she’d told her son, whether he understood enough to hold her to it or not. She didn’t intend to drag him all over the country like some rootless nomad. She would find a way to silence the wanderlust and stay in one place for him; as long as he liked it here, that would be what mattered.

Dusk was just beginning to gather in the evening sky, pink and orange streaks in the clouds darkening to lavender and gray as late afternoon inched toward the night. Emma exited the Beetle, stretching her back with a groan, and moving to round the front of the vehicle and get Henry from his carseat in back on the passenger side. Her hand had just grasped the door handle when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

Wheeling, Emma froze at the sound of her own name whispered hoarsely on the gentle breeze. Blinking and dumbstruck, she tried to correct her vision, knowing she had to be imagining the sight before her.

But the vision didn’t melt away, and her heart leapt, finally daring to believe what she saw. “K - Killian?” she breathed, not sure the words had even come out loud enough to be heard. “Is it really you?”

Tagging a few who might enjoy @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @xsajx @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @cosette141 @anmylica @sotangledupinit @xarandomdreamx @justanother-unluckysoul @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling @thislassishooked @wefoundloveunderthelight @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @winterbaby89

#cs au ff #cs fandom birthday fic #cs angst #young modern au cs #one more #part four

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yeeshastone · 2 years

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Much like Ded Linnaeus is a character from the TTRPG ive been writting but isn’t really a ‘NPC’ as there is no where in the one shot I wrote where a player would be likely to meet her. That being said I think she is still a really fun character and worth sharing.

full backstory bellow the cut

Linnaeus was born as Elsa Svalbard and she only has vague memories of her mother. She spent most of her childhood on her own as a transient. She traveled from town to town asking for handouts and nicking things from those who turned their nose up at her. She didn't ever feel bad about stealing as it was always from those she felt slighted her. She would never stay in one town for too long and when things got tense she would pack up and move on, never to return. Always getting out before things got hot she would never actually see any repercussions of her actions.

One day as she was wandering far south a harsh winter storm picked up forcing her to find cover. She managed to hide under a stack of thick branches till the storm passed, and after digging herself out of the snow she looked around at the blanketed white world. Spotting a small dash of color a ways off her curiosity got the best of her and wandered over to it to find a limp, cold Vulpes body.

Making the most of this situation she decided to search the body for anything that she might need in the coming days. As are searched the pockets she found a wealth of goods. Not only had this Vulpes been loaded but their clothes were also extremely nice and expensive. After maybe thinking about it for a single fleeting moment she decided that this poor chap didn't need any of this anymore, so why shouldn't she take it? She quickly stripped the dead Vulpes naked and put on all his belongings. She smiled as she took a moment to appreciate the gift that had been handed to her, this clothing was the nicest she had ever worn in her life. So smooth, so silky.

Not wanting to get in trouble or be blamed for the Vulpes's demise she quickly tossed the body into the fridged sea where it slowly drifted off into the horizon. With any luck, it would never be found.

Thinking that would be the end of that she wandered into the closest city, Windwall, to buy herself a nice meal from the Vulpes's generous donation. However, as soon as she stepped into the city a Foristeri flagged her down and taking her by the arm started to lead her through the city and talking as if they knew each other. Unsure of what to do she kept quiet and went along with the Aves trying to put pieces together by listening to what they had to say.

She quickly realized that the clothes she had taken were a unique set and this Aves had mistaken her for the dead Vulpes she had taken them off of. The Vulpes had been some sort of history teacher, or maybe student, and he had come here to work for the Historians. From what she could tell, it seemed that no one here had actually seen the Vulpes before as they had only talked via letter. As she was trying to figure a way out of the situation, the Foristeri that had been guiding her around suddenly brought up the subject of how much they would pay for her to be a historian and her jaw dropped. It was a ridiculous amount...almost too good to pass up.

After following around the Aves for a bit longer she made up her mind, she was going to try to replace the Vulpes, this ' Linnaeus Quinzee', and see how far her skills in deception could get her.

(on a side note, Linnaeus is generally a male name, so she often has to tell people its pronounced in a more feminine way. 'the U says A')

She has now worked as a Historian for a number of years and to her knowledge, no one is the wiser. She has kept her head down, listened carefully to what others talk about, and studied quite a bit of the Windwall legend. If asked for her thoughts she will always agree with whatever her superiors says even if it makes no sense. She keeps quiet and has no real friends, her job also pays extremely well and since taking it she has never really wanted much for money.

She has a nice house and all the food she could ask for causing her to be quite content. From time to time she gets lonely, but she will quickly shake off the feeling as if she were ever to get close to anyone they would find out her secret for sure.

#artic fox #vulpes #Lagopus #linnaeus #yeesha stone #animalia #oc-tober #npc

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p4l3bl00d · 10 months

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I think im gonna tie my Titan more to Xivu Arath lore wise a bit, a part of that is probably becuase she's started to finally appear but I do think it makes sense thematically. I've always liked to attribute the "Hivebane" title to Vess because she's been fighting the hive since first rezzed. I put her at Burning Lake and then in The Great Disaster after that giving her a real front row seat to the complete nightmare they are. Having lost a lot of friends to them (Vell Tarlowe specifically), and having actually seen Crota holding up Wei Ning's body, she has a personal hatred for them and a practically never ending score to settle. (She likes to go into the hellmouth to hunt hive for fun, which is insane but ive done it in-game so im just giving myself this one ha)

With all that in mind I think that would certainly make her a candidate for a gaurdian Xivu would keep an eye on, maybe even attempt to turn. One idea I had was since my titan is the youngest of my guardians she has a "slight" insecurity of inexperiance, which is completely unfounded at this point but its never quite gone away, which seems like something Xivu would exploit. I think Xivu calling Vess a whetstone would specifically piss her off.

One last thing I think that fits is Xivu goes on about fighting forever and is keeping up constant wars in the background for her tithes, which I think plays off Vess having been rezzed into constant war and fighting basically forever even since before she was an Exo (which again Exo's were literally built for war with the Vex). Both her and my warlock were child soldiers, and eventually recruited by Clovis as hired killers and mercenaries. They were even both rewarded with custom exo bodies for their unquestionable service and loyalty to him, which definetely hints how they were really not good people at all in the golden age. (The custom exo bodies are also a good lore reason for why my titan and warlock are both about as tall as Shaxx, or well would be haha)

I'll want to elaborate more on this again later but to get to the point they've been fighting wars and killing since even before they were guardians, who were then brought back from the dead to yet again fight more wars and kill even more things. So her perception of herself as nothing more than a warmachine and hired killer isnt completely unfounded, either hired with money and advanced technology or hired with magical powers from a god its all the same in her eyes.

When she learns her past from the DSC that would give her alot of conflicting emotions, the biggest (and hardest to reconcile) being pride. Her pride in her martial prowess since childhood and having lived as long as she has now through all that she has been through being flipped around against her. Also considering she and her ghost have stopped fully trusting the traveler to begin with, and having taken to useing Stasis as her main power now, that all would be perfect for Xivu (or the Witness for that matter) to potentially shake her foundations and lead her to falling to darkness.

Ok! Thats just what ive been thinkin about lately after playing through deep, ill definetely wanna go through more connections my guardians have to other characters in lore over time but i could go on literally forever so I should chill for now, go actually like eat something.

#talking about more lore stuff gets really long really fast jesus #also this is really fun

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

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Prisoner's Game Pt. 3 (Rowaelin)

~Aelin~

There was something decidedly pleasant about sneaking out of prison.

It was the thrill, she supposed.

She'd always been a bit of an adrenaline junky, and there was nothing that matched up to the excitement of breaking out of a maximum security prison with no one being the wiser.

Aelin ran through the tunnel, her steps sure and soundless, a smile blooming on her face. What she was doing shouldn't give her such joy, but along with being a thrill seeker, she'd always been just a little bit vindictive.

Or maybe a lot.

The map of the tunnels was still crystal clear after all this time, and she had it memorized down to the number of steps it took to get to the right turn.

It was a three hour run. Two underground, then one through the city out into the suburbs.

While the first two hours were definitely not fun, it was the last hour that was tricky.

Avoiding cameras, not drawing any unwanted attention, dressing so no one could see her face without looking too much like the criminal she was.

It was also more exhausting.

It was an hour of sprinting across rooftops, sprinting through town, then sprinting some more.

It was a little funny to her that the journey to where she needed to go was more difficult than actually breaking into the building.

She had a set of scrubs stored in a nearby lockbox, along with a wig and a few prosthetics to make her look more like Ansel, one of the nurses working the night shift.

The security guard, Shelly, was prone to reading romance novels during her shift and never questioned why she occasionally thought she saw two of the same person wandering around.

It was no different tonight.

Once she had everything in place, Aelin strode confidently through the halls, grabbing charts and nodding like she knew what the hell she was looking at.

No one stopped her, no one questioned her.

When she got to the room and chart she wanted, she slipped inside soundlessly and crept up to the bed.

Despite the ever-present urge to hurry things along, she stuck to her plan and kept the dose the same.

The person on the bed never woke up, never noticed her slip an extra drug into the IV bag hanging on the wall.

Silent, efficient, traceless.

Just like she'd been taught.

Leaving was even easier than entering.

She waited until real-Ansel had been out of the guard's sight for a while, then walked out the back door of the facility like she hadn't just committed a felony.

One of the few crimes she actually deserved to be in prison for, ironically.

Then she ran back, hiding in the traffic camera's blind spots and ditching the wig along the way.

It was a little stupid and drawn out to do it this way, not to mention unbelievably cruel, but Aelin had always had a flair for the dramatic.

Plus, like she said: exciting.

~Rowan~

Doubt is a strange emotion.

It starts small, so small you hardly even realize it's there.

And then, over time, it grows and grows like a fungus, eventually becoming something that you think about all the time. Something that kills you.

Rowan didn't believe in doubt.

His problem had never been with not believing in himself, it'd always been with the opposite affliction: over-conviction.

He believed things so fully, so deeply, it was hard to see it any other way.

It was what made him such a good lawyer. As the top public prosecutor in the city, he had a reputation for being impossible to win against.

He convinced himself of the defendant's guilt so completely, the jury had almost no option but to believe him.

He hadn't always been that way, he didn't think. Argumentative and stubborn, sure. His mother could attest to that. But never so unflinchingly self-assured. So alright with deceiving himself if need be.

If he had to guess, he'd say it'd started two months after the day of Aelin's trial.

He hadn't been lying to her four days ago; every word had been the truth. He'd worked his ass off all those years ago, trying to find something that would help him either clear her name or at least fucking sleep at night.

He'd given himself a timeline, deciding that if he couldn't find a single lead in two months, there probably wasn't one. Two months, and then he'd let it go.

He didn't regret stopping his hunt--he'd seen what an obsession could do to someone.

And when that day had come, he'd thought he was ready. He'd exhausted himself working both her case and the ones he was assigned, burning the candle at both ends and sleeping in the office more nights than his own bed.

There'd been nothing to be found. The evidence, the testimonies, the medical examiner's reports... they'd all pointed to Aelin.

So eventually he'd forced himself to stop looking.

But the sight of her swinging between the two court police officers, fighting for just one more second with him with a desperation he'd never seen from her... he hadn't known how he could just forget something like that.

The image followed him, haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw hers. Lined with tears and disbelief and so much hurt he felt like invisible hands were wrapped around his neck.

So he'd hardened himself against it.

He'd repeated the pieces of evidence against her, told himself she was guilty until the words were easy to say, forced himself to visualize the crime scenes of her victims whenever he thought of her.

Piece by piece, he'd swapped out the months of positive memories they had with stone cold facts.

And it had worked.

After a month, he could sleep again. After a year, he hardly thought of her and when he did, it was with disgust.

Yet now, over eight years later, he found himself with just the slightest amount of doubt again.

It was the same nagging, incessant feeling he hadn't been able to shake eight years ago. Back for round two, apparently.

At first, he'd played it off as nerves from their conversation. She'd worked him up so much he'd admitted how much he'd once loved her and said things he shouldn't have.

His body was reacting to the sadness in her eyes, the surprise that had bloomed when he'd told her he'd fought for her. It was emotion, nothing based in logic, that made him want to start looking again.

At least that's what he told himself.

But four days later, he found himself on the couch--he really did need to give up and just buy a new bed--staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep and not being able to.

Because... well because what if she was telling the truth?

Why else would she have told him that story?

What had he missed during all those late nights spent hunched over her folder?

The questions grew and grew, until that once-little shard of doubt started to slowly drive him mad.

The uncertainty, no matter how small it had begun, had grown to be almost irritatingly large and unavoidable.

He couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said. The breadcrumbs that apparently only he could find.

What did that mean?

And why couldn't he just let it go?

"Fuck!" he yelled, throwing his blanket off and storming to the closet.

Like a love-struck idiot, he'd kept a box full of the stuff she'd left at his apartment during their relationship. The stuff that wasn't evidence, at least.

If it was something only he could find like she'd said, it was probably something only he had access to.

He dropped the box on his kitchen table and opened the lid.

Then cursed when the first thing he saw was a pair of red lace underwear. That was the last thing he needed to be thinking about and remembering.

Especially when he'd barely been able to resist the temptation to kiss her in that interrogation room.

Something about the way she'd looked at him after he'd told her he'd fought for her all those years ago had rattled the grip he had on his control hard.

She'd seemed so... sad. So hopeless. It had brought out the urge to comfort her in whatever way he could.

Hearing about her childhood and how she'd been raised by Arobynn Hamel hadn't made it any better. Truthfully, it'd broken something inside of him.

She'd always been so positive around him--a ray of light he'd felt was put on this earth just for him.

And all the while, she'd been forced to live with and work for one of the most notorious crime syndicate members of all time.

He'd always known she hadn't had a good childhood, but there was a difference between foster care hell and an actual house of horrors. Rowan couldn't even imagine the things she'd seen. Been forced to see, to do.

She made it out, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath.

But had she?

If what she'd told him was true, she'd killed those people because she'd been forced to.

It hadn't been her choice.

But there was something else about her, something he couldn't stop thinking about.

The secret she'd eluded to, the one that apparently only he had the key to solving.

A secret she'd promised would explain everything.

He tossed the underwear on the table, vowing to ignore them.

Then threw them in the trash a minute later when that became impossible.

You're such an asshole, he told himself, shaking his head. It's been eight years.

Even if that part of their relationship was most definitely memorable.

"Jesus," he laughed, running a hand over his face. Why was he even thinking about that?

Maybe it was the look in her eyes four days ago, or maybe it was simply that Aelin had been an important part of his life. He'd never forget the connection they'd had. Maybe it would always be a part of him.

But that was ridiculous, because he'd been connected to plenty of women since. Plenty of gorgeous brunettes and redheads.

For some reason, he hadn't been able to date a blonde, but that didn't mean anything.

He was over her.

Obviously.

Forcing his thoughts away from Aelin, he grabbed the next thing in the box.

Her address book. Maybe she'd left a note in there?

He flipped it open, scrolling through blank page after blank page. Her cousin's address and phone number were there--both of which he confirmed with police records--but other than that, it was blank.

The next thing he found made the ache in his chest expand to a soul-sucking hole.

It was a travel brochure for Aruba.

The edges were frayed from how much she'd flipped through it, and notes in her handwriting were scribbled throughout the pages.

He remembered this, all right.

He'd woken up one morning, a morning that seemed like a lifetime ago, to find her laying on top of him, leafing through the travel pamphlet with a huge grin on her face.

"We're going to Aruba," she'd whispered in lieu of a greeting, leaning down to press her lips to his.

"Why?" he'd asked back between kisses.

"Because it's the perfect place to hide from your real life," had been her laughed response.

She'd planned a trip for them at Christmas. Their very first trip together.

Every time they saw each other, she'd shown him a new page or told him about a new activity she wanted to do.

In general, she was a happy, excited person, but he'd never seen her so thrilled over anything like she was that trip.

He'd hidden it better, trying to play it cool, but he'd been excited, too.

He'd pictured her on the beach, running in the sand and smiling and laughing and drinking from a coconut. He'd imagined sneaking to the beach one night and making love to her in the ocean.

He'd imagined getting down on one knee and asking her to be his travel partner for life.

She'd been arrested two weeks before they were supposed to leave.

He tossed the little magazine back into the box, shaking his head to clear it of the memories and long-lost dreams.

The only thing left in the worn box was books.

Aelin had volunteered at a publishing house, trying to get hired as a fiction editor, and she'd always had a book in her ridiculously heavy pocket book.

She'd given him a few of her favorites, claiming that if he ever wanted to know the "real her," he had to read them.

A statement that made a lot more sense now than it used to.

He grabbed the one on top and leafed through it, going through the pages and scanning.

When that didn't yield anything, he flipped to the back of the book and looked at the inscription she'd written him.

March 1

Rowan,

I know you're not a fan of fiction, let alone romantic, feminist fiction, but I hope you'll read this and fall in love with Elizabeth's character like I did.

Aelin

He turned the book over and looked at the front again, then flipped through it again, then went through the whole process again.

Why did he feel like something about this didn't add up? And why was this, of all things, what she'd left as a breadcrumb?

He didn't figure it out until he reread the inscription for the fifth time and realized the date she'd written.

March 1st.

It was wrong; she'd given him this book on his birthday in February. He remembered because he'd laughed about her giving a grown man a romance novel for his birthday.

Why had she put March 1st? And why did that date stand out in his mind?

Stomach dropping, he finally figured out why that date was so important. It was the date of the first murder.

Maddison Kliff, a state senator who controversially wanted to fund renewable energy in the upcoming year, had been murdered the morning of March 1st eight years ago.

Breadcrumb.

He grabbed the next book from the stack, Wuthering Heights, and flipped to the end.

Almost the exact same inscription, except the date was April 13th, and the inspiring character was Linton Heathcliff.

April 13th was the day another victim died.

Rowan's heart started pounding, so hard he thought he was going to either pass out or go into cardiac arrest.

What was the connection between these dates, characters, and victims? Rowan could feel it in his gut that this was what she'd been talking about. It had to be.

He flipped through the books again, looking for something else, but there was nothing there. Nothing was underlined or highlighted, and the books were all in brand-new condition, no pages were bookmarked.

"What are you trying to tell me, Aelin?" he whispered, rubbing at his temples.

He made a list of all the dates and characters, stared at it until he thought he'd go blind, and tried to think like her.

Except her mind was a complex puzzle he'd never quite solved, so that didn't give him anything besides a headache.

He looked in the box again, hoping to magically find another note or something that explained everything in simple, idiot-proof terms.

But all that was there was that damn Aruba magazine.

It's the perfect place to hide from your real life.

The words came rushing back to him, so suddenly and violently it was like his subconscious had been shouting it for a while.

Was that it?

Maybe the connection wasn't only between the dates and characters, but it also had something to do with Aruba.

Maybe that was where this secret, whatever it was, was hiding.

Knowing he was probably grasping at straws, Rowan grabbed his phone and called the one person who'd help him.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I need a favor, Gavriel."

He heard a heavy sigh. "Like a we've been friends for twenty years favor or like an I'm the Chief of Police favor?"

"The latter," Rowan answered.

"Dammit, Rowan, you're going to get me fired one day." That was what he said every time. There was a long pause, then, "What do you need?"

"Flight manifests from Rifthold to Aruba from ten different days eight years ago."

Gavriel caught on quickly. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with a former flame of yours, would it? One currently serving time for ten murders from eight years ago?"

"Of course not," he lied, knowing he was busted.

Another sigh. "You need to let this go, kid."

Rowan ran a hand over his face, knowing that wasn't possible. Not when, for the first time since he'd been assigned this God forbidden case, he had a lead.

"Can you help me or not?"

"I will, as long as you promise to drop it once whatever you're chasing ends up to be yet another dead end."

Knowing he didn't have another choice, Rowan agreed.

Gavriel told him he'd send them over, then said softly, "I know you loved her, Rowan, but it's time to move on."

It's not that easy, he thought, thinking once again of Aelin sitting in that tiny cell, skin pale and hair too long.

"Thanks for your help," he said instead, hanging up before the lecture could continue.

A few minutes later, he was printing out the passenger lists from all the Rifthold to Aruba flights on each of the ten dates.

Starting with August 1st, he went through, passenger by passenger, and looked for an Elizabeth.

There'd been three direct flights to Aruba that day, so by the time he found it, his eyes were so tired he almost missed it entirely.

But there was a name that stuck out, one that was straight out of his copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Seat 14C had been occupied by Elizabeth Darcy, and she'd flown directly from Rifthold to Aruba on August 1st.

Rowan's jaw damn near hit the floor.

His hands shook as he highlighted the name, writing the victim's name next to it to keep it straight in his head.

His mind whirled with possible explanations, but he didn't let himself think about anything except the next date.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, he went through the passenger list for April 13th.

And sure enough, Linton Heathcliff was on one of the flights. In the same damn seat.

"Holy fuck," he whispered, grabbing the next sheet of paper.

He went date by date, flight by flight, and by the time he'd located every character, he was sure of what he'd found. What she'd left for him.

It wasn't a breadcrumb, it was the whole goddamn loaf.

Rowan barely made it to the kitchen sink before his stomach emptied as an explanation of what had really happened eight years ago started to form in his mind.

He didn't have all the pieces, but the ones he did have made him literally sick to think about.

Her insistence on being innocent, her begging him to look again, telling him only he could find the clues... it all made sense.

The doubt he'd been struggling with for eight long years suddenly disappeared, replaced by a certainty so swift and thorough and all encompassing, it almost took his breath away.

She hadn't been lying.

She hadn't killed those ten people.

She couldn't have, because...

"They're still alive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dun dun duuuuun

part 4 out next Friday (sorry for the slow updates I'm in summer school)

@audreycressworth @whimsicallyreading @onceupona-chaos @lil-unoriginal-weirdo-273sole @surielandiareendgame @captain-swan-is-endgame @poisonous00 @vasudharaghavan @sailorsassley @endlessdaydream @swankii-art-teacher @beanco8 @stokingthemidnightflame @mis-lil-red @ladyfireheart-and-buzzard @sheharahu @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @jorjy-jo @court-of-dreams-and-ashes @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @loudphantomdragon @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitehorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fandom

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part VI - Star Wars Time Travel AU

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V

Anakin watched Obi-Wan through the stalks for several minutes. He could see him kneeling at the base of the waterfall, occasionally glancing around, as if searching for someone. Just when he was about to break and interrupt him, Obi-Wan stood and walked over. They sat together on the low bench, surrounded by the carefully cultivated colored fungi.

“Obi-Wan...maybe we should talk about what’s going on with you. Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” Anakin offered hesitantly.

Obi-Wan tensed, hands clenching in his lap.

“No.”

“Master Windu and Bant both seemed to think this isn’t a drug thing. Please, let-”

“That wasn’t what I was saying no to.”

Obi-Wan stood and began threading a path through the mushrooms, careful not to step on any of the smaller ones. Anakin was forced to follow directly in his footsteps, not wanting to risk damaging something Obi-Wan clearly seemed to care about, but wishing he could look at his Master’s face.

“Did I ever tell you about Bruck Chun?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No. Who’s Bruck?” Anakin responded with deliberate patience.

“He was an old crechemate of mine, quite gifted, though he had a temper. There have been times you remind me of him. We were rivals.” They were approaching the end of the alcove, a large stone overhang throwing them in to shadow.

“Were?”

“He died. When we were twelve.”

When they reached the rock face, Obi-Wan started climbing straight up. Anakin followed. Several clicks above the floor, Obi-Wan squeezed his way into a narrow crack, invisible from the floor below. Anakin followed. They awkwardly shuffled along the passage until Obi-Wan suddenly dropped out of sight. Anakin followed.

They landed in a hidden alcove. It was half lit by sunlight filtering in from cracks above, and half lit by the glow of mushrooms and crystals tenaciously embedded in the rock face around.

“Oh.” Anakin said softly. “Is this where you go when you visit the fountains to meditate?”

“No, I hadn’t been here in years.” Obi-Wan answered wistfully. “I started getting too big, didn’t want to damage the passageway too much. I figured some other younglings would stumble upon it someday like I did. I’m sorry. I avoided this room for the first year or two of your padawanship. By the time I even thought to share it, you had already grown so big...”

He sat down, legs stretched out in front. Anakin sat next to him, mirroring his position.

“I’m glad you’re sharing it with me now.” Anakin smiled reassuringly, but Obi-Wan was staring ahead blankly.

The young knight swallowed nervously. “Did you...come here with Bruck?”

Obi-Wan let out a snort. “Gods, no! I hid here from him. Before we were rivals, he bullied me relentlessly.”

“And...this is the guy you said I remind you of?” Was he being insulted?

“At times. Math lessons, saber practice, none of that ever came easy to me. But you and him...you never even needed to study. And you do have a vicious streak, Anakin.”

Rather than try to argue in vain against the slight hurt, Anakin just asked, “How did he die?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “He fell.”

Anakin jerked in surprise, “Wait, you mean-”

“We were fighting at the top of the waterfall- it- he had nearly killed Bant. He was angry that we both had been chosen by Masters, and Xanatos used that to manipulate him into helping with an attack on the temple. Bruck was lashing out. He was a better swordsmen, but his anger made him unbalanced. I knocked him back. And he fell. I’ve forgotten a lot of details about him as a person, but I still remember his body at the bottom of the falls.”

"That’s...awful. I’m sorry.” Anakin said helplessly. He had known the bare basics of Xanatos’s fall, but clearly not the full story.

Obi-Wan sighed, leaning slightly to press their shoulders together. Anakin scootched over to try and provide a little extra silent comfort.

“I thought I had learned to live with my guilt over my part in what happened to him, but I suppose recent events have torn open old scars, so to speak.”

Anakin held his breath, Obi-Wan didn’t add anything else.

“Obi-Wan” he tried to nudge gently.

“Hmm?”

Anakin lost his patience, jumping up. “Master, please!” He half yelled, looming over his Master. A flash of fear crossed Obi-Wan’s expression as he looked up, which immediately halted the fit of rage.

He knelt down penitently, “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, I shouldn’t have yelled, but please, let me help. I won’t get mad like that again, I swear. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“You’re not.” Obi-Wan whispered, expression blank. He shuddered all over, fists clenching tightly.

“You’re NOT here for me!” Obi-Wan shouted, suddenly offended. “How can you POSSIBLY claim to be there for anyone after what you-” Obi-Wan seemed to choke on the words. He let out a strangled cry and pulled his knees up to his chest. Tears welled, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Anakin stared wide-eyed, cold all over. “This...this is about something I did. I don’t understand. You... told me a few hours that I’m dear to you, what...what could I have done since then to make you...I don’t understand.”

“You know what you did.” Obi-Wan let out. “And the fact that learning about it didn’t stop me from caring about you doesn’t help, it just makes the heartbreak a thousand times more painful.”

Anakin racked his brain wildly. This couldn’t be about his marriage with Padme, right? He told him this morning that he didn’t mind the sneaking off. There was only one screw-up big enough that could possibly warrant this severe a reaction, and only two people alive knew about that, both sworn to secrecy.

“The younglings,” Obi-Wan whispered. “You - you didn’t even spare the younglings.” Obi-wan looked gutted, terrified.

Anakin felt like he had been dropped in ice water. This was- this was his worst fear- that Obi-Wan would learn about his darkest failing as a Jedi and be ashamed of him, angry at him, would abandon him. He had already made his judgement. How could he have even learned about about the Tuskens?

“Padme-” he breathed out. “Padme told-”

“No!” Obi-Wan denied desperately, lurching forward. “Padme would never betray you! I would never betray you! We both love you, Anakin. Please, some part of you must know that! You must!”

His master seemed frantic, fingernails digging painfully into Anakin’s arm.

“You love me?” Anakin asked brokenly, heart cracked open.

Obi-Wan let go of Anakin to curl in on himself again. He seemed very small. It hurt to look at.

“I think its safe to say at this point that there’s nothing you could, no betrayal or atrocity you could commit that would make me stop loving you. Despite what you’ve done, you’re my brother, my son- of course I love you. The fact that I led you to doubt my love for you might be my greatest failing, though there are so many its hard to really say.” Obi-Wan sounded utterly defeated.

Anakin’s heart was pounding. This was a nightmare and a childhood dream. Obi-Wan loved him unconditionally, but he knew about his slaughter of the Tusken's and was ashamed. This couldn’t be real. He can’t know.

“Palpatine-” Anakin tried to ask.

Obi-Wan growled. “I do not need to talk about how that power-hungry liar systematically worked to tear us apart. I want to know why you would-” he cut himself off again.

Palpatine told Obi-Wan- that was more than he could even begin to process.

"I’m sorry, Master. I’m so sorry for failing you.” The words came desperately tumbling out, “I was just- I was so angry about my mom’s death and-”

“Your mother’s death? You killed innocent children for the sake of your Mother?! I don’t- how could anyone possibly rationalize-” Obi-Wan hissed out, truly angry for the first time that day. He took a deep breath and pulled himself upright.

“Your mother’s death was a terrible tragedy and I will forever regret my role in it. I should have tried harder to free her, for her own sake. I was so afraid that if I pushed for permission with the council they would think I was failing you, and they would take you from me. I made- so many decisions out of attachment, out of fear of losing you, and in the end I hurt you so badly you couldn’t trust me. You didn’t trust me with the truth of your visions, so I gave you bad advice born of misunderstanding, and your mother died horribly. I- I can see how you would blame the Jedi for that, even if its not rational. I certainly understand why you would blame me for that, why you would hate me because of her death.”

Obi-Wan scrubbed at his face mercilessly, practically tearing skin in his haste to wipe away snot and tears.

“But why, if you were getting revenge, would you kill the children and not me?” “Why couldn’t you just kill me and be satisfied?” He finally looked straight at Anakin, asking like it was a real question.

Anakin was horrified. After a few false starts he finally choked out, “Master, I love you. I told you, you’re the closest thing I have to a father. You’re the last person I could ever kill.”

“The last person you could ever kill,” Obi-Wan echoed back, looking pained.

“Please, Master, tell me how to fix this. I want to make things right. How can I fix things?” Anakin begged.

“That’s not a fair question. You can’t unmurder people. You can’t put them back together like a- an engine or a droid- ”

“There has to be something I can do to make you forgive me!” Anakin said desperately. “You can’t just tell me you love me and then say I’m an irredeemable monster!”

“Well that’s an entirely different matter, though no less cruel to think about.”

He leaned into Anakin’s side once more, the press providing a hint of warmth even in the unshakable cold. “Anakin, it isn’t very rational or fair of me, but it wouldn’t really take that much to get me to forgive you. Kriff, if you just acted sorry for what you had done.” Obi-Wan sighed.

“If you told me that you regretted the lives you took and swore you were going to stop murdering, force help me, I’d probably take you back in an instant. All I ever wanted was to help you be the best version of yourself.”

“I’m sorry.” Anakin said immediately. “I’m so, so sorry for what I did. I lost control of myself because I was scared, and angry, and suffering and, and then I was so scared that you would hate me that I pretended it was ok, and I told myself that they deserved to die, but how could children ever deserve to die and please Master I’ll throw away my lightsaber just please, please don’t leave me, I need you, please-” and the rest of the words dissolved into large, ugly sobs.

Obi-Wan keened and pulled Anakin into his lap like he was a child again. Anakin scrabbled at his cloak, desperately trying to hold on. The terrible chill that had been haunting him slowly started to fade away as he was rocked back and forth.

After a minute, Anakin got enough of a hold on himself to consider trying to stop blubbering like a crecheling on his Master’s robes. But he quickly realized that Obi-Wan was also crying, so instead threw his arms around the older man and let himself go.

An uncertain amount of time passed before they both slowed from heaving sobs, to dry hiccups, to quiet whimpers. Eventually they ended up laying in a heap, boneless but for their hold on each other. And finally, the cavern was more or less silent.

Anakin felt physically lighter, mind clear like he had just completed an extremely successful meditation session.

Without a word, they slowly shifted so they were leaning on the wall instead of sprawled on the ground. Obi-Wan pulled his robe off, first using it to wipe his face, then tenderly cleaning his Padwan’s.

Anakin just chuckled.

Obi-Wan threw the robe so it covered the two of them, which was a little gross, but that only made Anakin snort giddily.

They sat there peacefully for sometime. The shadows from above started shifting, and Obi-Wan sighed, “I really should go eat something.”

Anakin sighed back at him in agreement. They both stretched in the small space, joints popping.

“Do you need to walk through the rest of the gardens first?” Anakin asked.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, tenderly fussing with his kid’s hair and robes so they looked presentable. “This was...more than I could have hoped for.”

Anakin beamed, giving Obi-Wan one last quick hug before gesturing upwards. “Time to get back to the real world?” he joked with a hint of regret.

“Time to get back to the real world.” Obi-Wan repeated heavily.

Part VII

#star wars #star wars au #my au #time travel #suicidal misunderstanding au #Its about the DOUBLE MEANINGS in every conversation #Its about not Understanding because UNEXPECTED TIME TRAVEL is involved but also they’re idiots #obi wan gets a hug #fanfic #star wars au no 27 #why anakin #just why

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tobesolonely · 3 years

Text

muse

A/n: hello everyone!! im very excited to put this out :-) i was going to make a long one shot but ive never written anything multi-part before and i wanted to give it a go!! also my first time with an oc 🌟so i hope everyone enjoys!! not sure when the next part will come out but i wanna upload at least once a week or every two weeks or something idk haha but anywayssss lmk ur thoughts!

biggest, biggest thank u to my love @harryysstyless for beta reading and being so encouraging<333 luv u!!

photographer oc x harry styles

please let me know your thoughts on miss aminah, iman, serena, and harry!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

Los Angeles was your newest muse.

You had always been the spontaneous type. It came as no shock to your family and friends when you told them you had purchased a one-way ticket and were moving across the country. Although your parents weren’t too keen on the idea of their daughter moving so far away from them, they helped you withdraw your savings and find a modest apartment in LA before sending you on your way.

Your reason for moving to LA was simple, really. You were a freelance photographer that felt your career was growing rather… stagnant. You had a thick portfolio and were proud of the work you produced, but your clientele wasn’t as impressive as you’d hope it would be after nearly six years of working at it.

And so began your desire to move from New York to Los Angeles— one big city to the next.

People who knew you often described you as ambitious, fiery, and an absolute go-getter. If your big move scared you in any way, no one knew any better. Your confidence never faltered— not even in the slightest.

After nearly three months of being in LA, you developed a routine of sorts. You’d wake up, eat a breakfast that almost always consisted of avocado toast and coffee, and go on a run. After your run, you would come home, shower, and decide how far you wanted to venture to take pictures that day.

Sometimes your roommates, Serena and Iman, would join you to keep you company. Although you’d never met either one of them before answering their ad for a roommate on Craigslist, you had grown extremely close to the girls in the few months that you’d known them. Despite the two girls being friends since their childhood, they never made you feel left out, and you fit in with them effortlessly.

During your short time in the city, there were so many places you had been, but still, even more you had yet to see. Serena and Iman, both native Angelenos, would often suggest spots for you to check out and even offer to drive you around— you were from New York after all, and at twenty-four years old, you were still not the owner of a driver's license.

“You’ve never been to North Hollywood yet, right Aminah?” Iman questioned as you all lounged around, trying to come up with a place you had not yet been.

“No, I haven’t really gone anywhere farther than walking distance,” you reply, looking around the cramped living room for your camera bag. “Or the places you guys have driven me. That was still considered Downtown though, right? Where we went the other day?” You were still getting used to how absolutely massive Los Angeles was.

“We should go to Santa Monica or something— wait, Malibu!” Serena exclaims. “We have to go to Malibu, Mina. It’s so nice there, you could totally get a bunch of good shots.”

“Yeah, we might even see a celebrity!” Iman chimes in, stifling laughter.

It was an on-going joke between the three of you. When you first moved to LA, you told your roommates that you couldn’t wait to make your way around the city because you were hoping to run into a celebrity. It was Los Angeles after all— you figured they were everywhere.

You quickly learned that wasn’t the case. Celebrities here kept a low-profile and even if you did encounter a celebrity, it’s not like you would approach them. “You’re not funny, Iman,” you tell your roommate with a roll of your eyes.

“Yes I am,” Iman quips, wiggling her eyebrows. “If we’re gonna go to Malibu then I gotta change. Can I borrow a cute shirt from anyone?”

A short twenty minutes later, the three of you were piled in Serena’s car on your way to Malibu. You’d heard of the city before and knew it was a wealthy area, but that’s about it. Your roommates promised you that out of all the beaches in LA, Malibu had the nicest ones, and lots of places to take pictures. Since none of you had anything to do, you all decided it was as good a day as any to have a beach day and get some shots of your roommates to add to your portfolio. Since you didn’t know anyone except Serena and Iman, the pictures on your camera from the last few months consisted entirely of nature and inanimate objects. While it was good practice, you really preferred to photograph actual people.

“Traffic is so bad today,” you say from the backseat after traveling approximately two feet in five minutes. Iman snorts from the passenger side.

“When isn’t traffic bad, Mina,” she turns to look at you, an amused look on her face. “Don’t worry about it. It always gets backed up at this fuckin’ exit and then as soon as we get past it there’s like, zero traffic.”

“Right! I always complain about how shitty this exit is. I have no clue who designed it,” Serena adds, skipping through songs on her playlist. “It’s still early in the day, though. I’m just hoping the beach won’t be too crowded by the time we get there.”

“I don’t care how crowded the beach is. I just don’t want it to take us forty minutes to find parking…”

You tune out your roommate's voices, instead choosing to focus on the traffic jam outside the car. To Serena and Iman, people who were born and raised in Los Angeles, the city wasn’t necessarily anything special. Sure, they loved how there was always something to do, but the bad drivers, traffic, and smog got old. The novelty of LA hadn’t yet worn off to you, though. You didn’t know how your roommates were content to sit inside the apartment all day when there were tons of things to do basically right outside your doorstep. You felt like you were the one convincing them to go out with you half of the time, and you didn’t even know where you were going.

After what feels like almost entirely too long but was really only half an hour, Serena pulls into a fairly empty parking lot. “Are we not allowed to be here?”

“Why do you think that?” Iman asks, squinting her eyes to read a sign. “It doesn’t say it’s closed. I mean, there are a few cars–– look.” She points to a few cars scattered around the parking lot.

“I mean, it is nine in the morning on a Wednesday. People are probably at work,” you tell the two girls in the front seat. “Besides, there’s someone in the parking booth. Can you even close a beach?”

Serena drives forward, rolling down her window. “I mean, I guess not. You can close the parking lot, though.” You hum in agreement. She quickly pays for parking and tosses her receipt on the dashboard before driving slowly through the parking lot.

“I love when no one’s at the beach,” Iman sighs, clapping her hands. “No one will get in the way of your picture-taking either, Meens.”

You smile at the nickname. “Yeah, that’s true. We picked a perfect time to come too, guys. The lighting’s great.”

“Really? Is it gonna make my skin pop?” Iman turns around and sticks her arm out, sensually running her fingers along it.

“You always look good no matter what the lighting’s like, Iman,” you reply, refraining from rolling your eyes at her. “You have the glowiest complexion out of all of us.”

“We’re literally all the same skin-tone, Aminah,” she retorts, crossing her arms.

“We have different undertones, though,” you answer. “So not really. Plus, Serena is way lighter than us! What are you talking about?”

“Should I park here?” Serena asks, interrupting your conversation.

“Why here? All these empty spots and you wanna park directly next to this car?”

“This is a good spot, Iman. It’s a parking lot. If they didn’t want anyone to park next to them, they should’ve taken an Uber and got dropped off.” She turns into the spot, quickly putting the car in park and crossing her arms to prove her point.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, smiling at your friends’ bickering. They were so close they were basically sisters. They argued sometimes and were quick to call the other out on their shit, and you loved it.

“I just think you’re weird for parking next to this car. It’s a nice car.”

“Who cares, girl?” Serena groans, exasperated. “We’re gonna be on the beach. They’ll probably be gone before we will.” She pops the trunk before unplugging her phone from the aux cord and stepping outside. Iman mimics her before flinging the door open as well and stepping out of the car.

You make sure your camera bag is closed all the way before situating it over your shoulder and climbing out of the car as well.

“It’s kinda cold,” Iman says, wrapping her arms around her body. “If I knew it would be so overcast I would’ve bought a jacket.” Serena hums in agreement and you look up at the sky, unphased.

“It’s like, seventy degrees?” you look at the weather app on your phone in confirmation.

“We get it, Meens. You’re from New York,” Serena teases, closing her trunk. She hands you a few towels and a blanket to carry while she rolls the cooler and Iman carries the beach chairs and umbrella.

“It’s a cold seventy degrees and you know it,” Iman defends. “Look at my goosebumps. I can’t fake this shit.” You shake your head at your overly dramatic friends and follow them down to the beach. You take off your sandals as soon as you’re off the pavement, wiggling your toes in the cold sand.

“We can set up pretty much wherever we want,” Serena points out, tucking flyaway curls behind her ears. “Where do you think the best place to be is, Mina? Y’know, so you can get good pictures?”

“It doesn’t really matter, to be honest,” you tell them distractedly, too busy looking around the beach in awe. Your friends were right–– out of all the beaches you’d visited in Los Angeles so far, this one was the nicest (and cleanest). “Maybe we can get a little closer to the water?”

The three of you walk for a couple of minutes before Iman abruptly stops, dramatically dropping everything she was carrying. “Let’s just set up here. There’s no one around anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“There actually is someone around,” you tell them, looking at a stranger who seemed to be fixated on staring at you and your friends. “Don’t look, but a cute guy is staring at us.” Serena and Iman immediately turn around, shading their eyes from the bit of sun that was starting to peek through the clouds. The guy couldn’t have been more than twenty yards away from where you were setting up.

...“Huh,” Serena says, turning back around. “Is it just me, or does that guy look a lot like Harry Styles?” She looks back over her shoulder again, but he’s no longer staring at the three of you, focusing on what appeared to be a book instead.

“Why would Harry Styles be at the beach by himself at nine in the morning?” Iman asks, unfolding a beach chair and flopping down on it.

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s Malibu, dude,” Serena responds. You could tell your friends were about to start bickering again, so you quickly jump in.

“Doesn’t matter. Neither one of you would go up to him even if it was, so what’s the point in arguing about it?” They both raise their eyebrows at you.

“And you would, Mina? Bullshit!” Iman exclaims, laughing. “I dare you to go see if it’s him, and if it is, ask him if he wants to join us.”

“That’s weird! What if it’s not him?”

“Even if it’s not him, we’ll still get to hang out with a cute boy.” Iman points out. Serena nods in agreement and you can’t deny that she makes a convincing argument. “Just ask him if he wants a mimosa or something!”

“No, don’t ask that,” Serena interjects. “Tell him that you’re a photographer and you’re working on building a new portfolio. Ask him if he would be cool with you photographing him.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Are you sure that’s not weird, Serena?”

“Aminah, trust me. I wouldn’t deliberately let you make yourself look weird.” Your roommate reassures you.

And so you found yourself clearing the short distance to where the handsome stranger was laid, half hoping it was Harry Styles, half hoping it was not. You couldn’t act like you weren’t a fan of him–– you thought he was incredibly attractive and enjoyed his music just like most people. If Harry Styles was the first celebrity you encountered during your short time in Los Angeles, you‘d never stop talking about it. Ever.

When you’re almost to him he looks up, dog-earring the page he’s on. After making eye contact with him, there’s no mistaking that this is Harry Styles. You pinch the back of your hand, urging yourself not to freak out. He has a knowing look on his face and you’re grateful for your darker complexion that hides your blush.

“Hi,” you speak first, stopping a few feet away from him. “Uh, my friends and I are just uh, we’re... you know.” You internally wince at your inability to form a coherent sentence. His gaze never breaks from yours and you look away first, growing shyer by the second. If you thought he was beautiful on Instagram, he was even more gorgeous in person. It was incredible.

“Hi,” he finally says after a brief moment of silence. “‘M sorry if I was starin’ at you ladies a moment ago. I jus’ usually never see anyone else this early out here. Are you a photographer?”

You almost ask him how he knows when you realize your camera is still hanging around your neck. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am.” He’s still staring intently at you.

“Would you like to sit?”

You look over your shoulder at Serena and Iman who were pretending to be preoccupied putting on sunscreen, but you know they were waiting for you to come back with the man you now knew to be Harry Styles.

“Oh, my friends are waiting for me,” Harry looks up at you patiently, waiting for you to continue speaking. “I was actually going to photograph them. I’m working on building up my portfolio. I understand if you can’t for… I dunno, legal reasons? Or if you just don’t want to–– and that’s fine if you don’t, but would it be okay if I photographed you as well?”

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun. It’s kinda boring jus’ readin’ out here on my own,” he agrees quickly, surprising you. Harry stands up and stretches a bit before leaning down to gather up his blanket, towel, water bottle, and book. “What’s your name? I’m Harry.”

You know that Harry knows that you know exactly who he is, but the fact that he introduced himself to you makes him even more endearing. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Aminah.”

Harry extends his free hand to you. “It’s very nice to meet you, Aminah.” You love the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth.

As you approach Serena and Iman, their eyes go wide when they realize it really was him. Serena nudges Iman and you know without even having heard it that she’s saying, “I told you so!” Harry stops a bit behind you, smiling at them.

“Hello,” he starts. “S’okay if I join you ladies? Aminah here extended such a nice offer that I jus’ couldn’t pass it up, but wanna check with the two of you first.”

Serena’s mouth is shamelessly hanging open, and you realize that she may have been a bigger fan than she let on. Iman answers for them. “Of course! Mina’s building her portfolio and I bet it would look like, super cool, if you were a part of it!” Harry nods, setting the few things he had with him down.

“I don’t think I would even be the center of attention if ‘m sittin’ beside you beautiful ladies. I’ll jus’ act as a prop or something,” he flashes them a dimpled smile. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are your names? I’m Harry.”

“We know,” Iman answers a little too quickly. “I’m Iman and this is Serena.” Serena gives him a timid wave.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you all. Are you guys from around here?” He lays his blanket beside all of your stuff and sits down cross-legged, not once breaking eye contact with any of you. You had no idea how he did it.

“We live Downtown. We’re only over here so Mina could get some good pictures, she’s a photographer,” Iman answers proudly. “She’s amazing, but she’ll never admit it.”

“Iman…,” you trail off. “Stop, dude.”

“It’s true,” Serena jumps into the conversation, now seemingly over the initial shock of who was sitting barely two feet away from her. “She’s the best photographer I know.” Harry turns to look at you, an amused look on his face.

“That’s a hefty claim. I can’t wait to see your photography skills, Aminah.”

“They’re just hyping me up,” you reply, making a mental note to yell at your friends for embarrassing you once the three of you were alone again. “I’m not that good.”

“That looks pretty professional to me,” Harry says, gesturing to the camera that has not yet left your neck since arriving at the beach. “I bet you’re just as good as they say you are.” You look away, hiding your face. Iman, being the wing woman she is, can tell you’re growing flustered from all the attention and moves the conversation away from you.

“Do any of y’all want a mimosa?” Before anyone can even answer her, she’s popping open the champagne and handing the orange juice to Serena to open. Harry politely declines, as he drove himself to the beach that morning. You and Iman are ultimately the only ones who indulge in a drink since you were the only ones not driving.

Talking to Harry was like catching up with an old friend. He wanted to know everything about the three of you and whenever he felt the conversation was becoming too much about him, he quickly changed the subject. Harry learned that Iman and Serena have been friends since the second grade when Iman pushed some boy off of the monkey bars for teasing Serena. He learned your favorite take-out spots, your favorite bars, and what freeways Iman and Serena tried to avoid at all cost (it was the 405, which he agreed with). What seemed to intrigue Harry the most, though, was him learning that you just moved from New York and had never even been to Los Angeles before moving.

“Why did you pick somewhere all the way across the country that you’d never even vacationed at before?” He had a look of confusion written across his face. You shrug, not really knowing the answer.

“I mean, I’ve seen it on TV shows and in movies. That doesn’t count?” you joke. Harry still looks utterly bewildered.

“I mean… no?”

Serena laughs. “We were just as confused as you were, Harry. We were scared for a moment when she moved in because we were like, oh shit, what if she’s insane? You know? Like, what sane person would move all the way across the country to live somewhere they’d never even vacationed before?”

You let out an offended, “heyyyy”, lightly smacking Serena’s thigh. “I just needed a change and I’m a drastic person! I either go all-in when I do something, or I just don’t do it at all.” You defend yourself.

“I actually think that’s really fuckin’ cool,” Harry says after a moment. “Sometimes I wish I could just… up an’ go. Y’know?” you all nod, and it falls silent again. “Well, should we take some pictures now?”

Any intimidation you felt to photograph Harry disappeared as soon as he started posing for you.

Being that he was a major celebrity, he was no stranger to posing for a photoshoot. Harry was ethereal–– you knew the pictures of him would most likely require minimal to no editing. Serena and Iman also looked incredible, and you were thankful to have such gorgeous people as your muses. You were taking pictures of them in various places around the beach, only stopping once it started getting too crowded. There were starting to be too many people in the background of your shots and Harry wanted to get going, not particularly in the mood to be recognized. The three of you decide you should get going too. You had more than enough pictures to go through and besides, you were all starting to grow hungry.

Harry follows the three of you to the parking lot, keeping his head down the entire way. The closer you got to Serena’s car, the sadder you got. You didn’t want to stop talking to Harry and photographing him. However, you knew you were just in the right place at the right time, and it was likely that you’d never cross paths with him any time soon–– if ever again.

“Thank you for letting me photograph you,” you tell him sincerely once you were almost to Serena’s car. “That was really kind of you. I can promise you I won’t post them anywhere without your permission or like, disclose the location or anything like that.”

Harry finally looks up, determining you were far enough away from the crowds and he was no longer at risk of getting recognized. “It was my pleasure, really. Thank you for inviting me to hang out with you and your friends. It was a lot of fun getting to know you all.” You feel your body heat up.

“Where did you park?”

“Right there,” Harry points straight ahead. “You?”

You let out a loud laugh, causing Serena and Iman, who was walking slightly ahead of you and Harry, to turn around and look at the two of you. “We parked right next to you! Iman was getting on Serena for parking next to you because the lot was pretty much empty when we got here this morning.”

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess it’s fate that we crossed paths then, yeah?” You let out a quiet hum in agreement, stopping a few feet in front of Serena’s car. You hear her and Iman debating on where you should stop for lunch, but you were waiting to see what Harry would say next.

“Aminah? After you get a chance to look at those pictures, do you think you can send them to my manager? His name’s Jeff. I’d love to see how they come out.”

“Oh yeah, of course! Do you have his business card or something?” You were excited that Harry actually cared to see your work but based on the couple of hours you spent interacting with him, you learned he was just an overall insanely kind person.

“I can jus’ put his contact info in your phone? If you don’t mind,” his gaze falters, a sheepish look on his face.

“Totally! Let me just unlock my phone,” you dig in the pocket of your shorts, pulling your phone out and unlocking it with your face. You hand it over to him and while he’s looking down typing you glance over at your roommates who had shocked looks on their faces. You would explain to them later that he wasn’t giving you his number, just his managers, but for now, you’d let them think he was giving his number to you out of all people–– a total stranger.

Harry hands it back to you a few moments later, running his fingers through his hair. “Thank you again for such a great morning, Aminah. I’ll let you get goin’, don’t wanna hold you ladies up any longer,” he waves at Serena and Iman. “It was really nice to meet all of you. Hope to see you all again soon.” You notice that his gaze lingers on you for a moment when he says that, and you feel your body heat up for what must have been at least the tenth time that day.

The three of you watch as Harry unlocks his car and throws his items haphazardly into the passenger side before climbing in, slamming the door shut. His car starts immediately afterwards and he gives you a quick nod before quickly backing out of the spot, leaving. None of you say anything for a bit, just processing what just happened. Serena is the first one to speak, her hand on the handle of her car door.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Harry fucking Styles?” her voice raises at least two octaves and you know she’s about to have a mini freakout. “Did he ask for your number, Meens?”

“No dude, he just gave me his manager's number. He wants to see how the pictures come out after I edit them,” you tell her, opening the backseat of her car. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, that’s definitely a big deal, Aminah. Stop being so humble,” Iman tells you, exaggerated annoyance lacing her voice. “Did you see how he looked at you? When he said, ‘Hope to see you all again soon’?” She puts on a terrible posh accent.

“You’re so annoying,” you groan, shaking out the blanket and beach towels before throwing them onto the seat. “Where are we gonna eat?”

Iman and Serena pile into the car as well, telling you about the three restaurants they were stuck choosing between. You hum distractedly, typing the name ‘Jeff’ into your contacts to see if Harry left a number and an email, or just an email. Your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the name is nowhere to be found in your contact list. You chalk up the mistake to Harry just forgetting to press ‘save’ after creating the contact and figure you can just find his manager’s contact information on the internet somewhere. As you’re scrolling back up through your contact list, your eye lands on a name that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

Harry Styles.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles one shot #uhhh idk what else to tag this #enjoy!!

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anotherimaginethatblog · 3 years

Text

Family Gatherings

Meet the parents.

Pairing: Kenny x reader

Warnings: small mention of something cheeky ... maybe more in part 2

Summary: you finally make the trip to meet Kenny’s family.

so i finally found the time to sit and write a little and this ended up being a lil longer than expected bit ive enjoyed writing this one, probably be a part two (possibly 3) so let me know what you think x

hope you like it

You were nervous, you had been since the day Kenny booked your airline ticket to Winnipeg so you could finally meet his family. You had heard all the stories about them, and they sounded lovely, but you were still, naturally nervous. Constant thoughts had flown through your head since the day you packed, what if they didn’t like you? Didn’t approve of you? you took another sip of your drink hoping the soothing flavour would relax you.

An hour later the pilot informed the plane full of weary passengers that the flight would be making its late arrival at the airport shortly, you began to gather your things up and pack them back into your designer backpack Kenny had bought you as a gift but couldn’t help thinking you’d made a mistake by bringing it, what if they thought you were showing off? Too gaudy? “breathe” you told yourself “it’ll be fine, they’ll love you” you said trying to boost your self-confidence.

“sorry mam, but would you mind stowing your bag? Were going to land soon that’s all” asked the kind stewardess who had given you that extra miniature off the drinks trolly earlier, probably due to the anxiety she saw on your face after striking up a conversation about why you’d be visiting Winnipeg in November.

“sure, sorry” you smiled back.

Finally, After the stress of the queue at passport control, your bag coming off the plane last and trying to find your way out of the baggage hall altogether you were here. You grabbed your phone out of your bag to see a text from Kenny already, “waiting in the arrivals hall, ring me when your out” it read. You dialled his number and he picked up immediately, so quick he must have been waiting for you thought. “finally, you here yet?” he laughed.

“yeah, just got through, been a nightmare” you replied, “where you at?” you asked him.

“just at the coffee shop with my dad, well wait here for you. You’ll see it if you walk to the end”.

“okay babes see you in a sec” you replied before hanging up, instantly feeling nervous. His dad. You were going to meet his dad for the first time in an airport after hours of travel. Fantastic.

You saw Kenny straight away, those two-tone curls where recognisable anywhere. He looked relaxed and rested whilst he sat chatting to his dad unbeknown to you about how nervous he was for you to see his home and family. “what if she thinks I’m a huge loser once she’s seen I’m just a weird kid from Canada?” he asked his dad. His anxiety spiking in anticipation.

“she won’t, she sounds a great girl and clearly likes you so stop worrying.” His dad replied smiling at his son.

So deep in conversation they hadn’t seen you approach, “hey ken” you said, smiling from ear to ear at finally being reunited.

“babe, you look amazing, I missed you so much” said Kenny, words spilling out with a huge smile in his face as he looked you up and down, clearly appreciating the effort you had made. “this is my dad, (y/n)” he said stepping to the side to introduce the older gentleman who looked very much like his son.

“hi, I’m (y/n), I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you Kenny always talks about you” you replied any nerves melting away at how normal and nice he seemed, internally laughing at why you were so nervous in the first place.

“nice to meet you too, we’ve heard everything about you I’m so glad you managed to make it out. Big freeze on the way” he said. “let’s get home, before it’s too dark and your mother kills us for being late.” He laughed.

Kenny grabbed your bags and you both followed to the car as soon as you left the terminal you regretted your choice of coat. The leather jacket though warm was not enough to keep your heat against the cold Canadian weather “I told you to get a good coat (y/n)” said Kenny shaking his head at you.

“okay, I just thought you where exaggerating” you replied shivering.

“your so cute, its not far to walk” he said.

After realising Kenny’s definition of short walk was not the same as yours you reached the car and were incredibly grateful when his dad opened it for you so you could jump straight in. “thankyou” you told him while he cranked the heat up for you.

“no problem, its not a far drive either so well have you home and warm in a little while” he told you smiling at your lack of appreciation for the Canada winters.

After a 40-minute drive you were at Kenny’s childhood home, it was just what you had imagined after hearing all of the stories from him about living in the suburbs as a kid. It was your classic suburban home with a lawn out front and a porch to sit on. It was actually really cute, you where excited to see inside. Kenny’s dad got out and left you two to make your way in, all of a sudden you where back to the nervous girl on the plane with the millions of questions about whether you where enough flooding your brain. All of a sudden Kenny planted his lips on yours and you snapped out of whatever you where thinking of immediately “they’re gonna love you, because I love you” he said. It was like he could read your mind and you kissed him back, you’d missed him so much in the time you’d been apart and if it wasn’t for being in his dads car outside his parents house you’d have climbed over and had him right there in the car. The moment was perfect for it … but the location was severely lacking. “we better get in the house before my mom sends my dad back out to get us” he smirked pulling away, clearly thinking the same thoughts you had been a few minutes prior.

“okay” you smiled back “lets go”.

Once inside the house you felt relaxed all of a sudden, it felt like a home and all the stress you had had about the visit faded away. You took your coat and shoes off and followed Kenny into the kitchen where a beautiful blonde lady stood at the counter. “Tyson, and this must be (y/n). your so pretty” she said patting her son on the shoulder in an approving manor.

“thanks mom, I’m glas you two finally get to spend some time together. It’ll be nice to have the family all under one roof again.” He replied, with his mum giving you the once over.

“I’m so glad you’ve finally brought us a girl home, I thought you’d never setlle down to be honest” she said teasing her only son.

“mom” he said laughing back “I’m gonna take our stuff up, my room yeah?” he asked

“mhmm, and (y/n) across the hall” she said trying to gauge her sons reaction.

“your joking, I’m a grown man mom” said Kenny laughing trying to cover for the fact he’d been wanting to get you into bed since he’d seen you in the airport in those skin tight pants he loved so much.

“Its fine” you interjected not wanting to upset Kenny’s mum and to stop a fight over a room before you’d even settled in. “its fine, I totally respect that. We respect that don’t we ken” you said looking at him with pleading eyes to drop it.

“fine, its fine” he said turning to walk upstairs leaving His mum feeling guilty, though she would never admit it. Honestly she had no problem with the two of you sharing a room but who wants to hear the inevitable through thin walls on the first weekend of meeting your sons possible future wife.

“thankyou” she mouthed quietly to you smiling at how gracious and kind you had been at trying to avoid an awkward situation on your first meeting. You smiled back and followed Kenny upstairs to your room for the next few days. It was a gorgeous guest room, you dropped your bags off and crossed the hall to see Kenny in his childhood room. It was painted blue and like you expected there where wrestling and hockey pictures and posters all over the walls. “cute,” you said smiling at him

“its changed a little but not much” he said smiling back “my mom painted but put all my pictures back up” he laughed.

“that’s sweet, she probably wanted it to be the same for when you got back” you said.

“not that I ever got the chance much” Kenny sadly replied.

“she understood why though” you mentioned reassuringly with your arm on his back.

“you know, I never thought id get a hot girl in my room” he said laughing

“you still wont” you said getting up to go downstairs “come on lets go hang out” you laughed Kenny following reluctantly.

you spent the rest of the evening chilling out in the kitchen, drinking wine with his mum while him and his dad watched sports on tv. “I’m glad I got to meet you” his mum said to you smiling

“me too, I’m so glad to finally meet everyone and happy for Kenny to spend some family time at home, he’s always on the road I’ve told him he needs to make more of an effort” his mum appreciating your words.

“yeah but he’s busy doing what he loves, I would never tear him away from that” she said laughing at him and his dad.

A few hours later it was time to head to bed, his mum and dad had called it a night a few hours earlier but you and Kenny had stayed up to chill and watch a little tv together. “I’m heading up babe” you said pecking him on the cheek

“okay babe me too then” he said getting up to turn everything off before following you upstairs

You waited for him at the top of the stairs, pulling him into a hug “guess ill see you in the morning” you teased

“unless you wanna sneak over in a little bit” he teased

“Kenny … no, I don’t want to disrespect your mom” you said back shrugging.

“okay okay, can I at least get a hand job in the bathroom” he laughed

“goodnight Kenny” you said turning to walk away.

After completing your evening routine you settled down for the night, it was hard to drift off knowing your man was just over the hall, who you had been dying to touch since before the last time you had said goodbye all those weeks ago. Eventually your eyes began to feel heavy and just as you where settling in for the night your phone began to buzz, straight away you knew who it was. – im lonely- it read, you rolled your eyes, it was gonna be along night.

#kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fanfiction #kenny omega x reader #aew fanfiction #aew imagine #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction

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sullustangin · 3 years

Text

Theron Shan Week, Prompt 1: Childhood

Corellia, 14 ATC (3639 BBY)

(Post Annihilation, pre-Hutt Cartel)

Word Count: ~3000

Rating: PG/T

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33142732

A whoosh of air.

He touched down on the last building ledge before the street turned into a crater. He recalibrated his jetpack for the potentially dangerous terrain he was about to face below. This job was to be a quick one. Recover personnel data and exfiltrate to the remains of the Coronet Spaceport. Then it was on to Makeb for initial reconnaissance. That job would take more time than this one, but still, it had to be quick. Too much was buzzing there, literally and figuratively…

Theron Shan was willing to bet there’d be boots on the ground not long after the new galactic year rolled in. He leapt from his perch on the building and activated the retroboosters just in time to let himself touch down softly, flexing his foot against the ground to test stability.

Acceptable. Theron switched the pack to standby and fixed his attention on what was beneath his feet. That was always the center of focus now, lest he plunge down into the sewers as the ground gave way.

Before proceeding any further, Theron called up old holostills. Despite the ruin of Coronet City, certain features remained identifiable, and he’d be damned if he was going to go rooting through the wrong building.

He’d done his best to forget this place, after all.

As his implants matched key architectural features and the crumbling skyline, Theron closed his eyes to conjure long-shelved memories.

Yes, he had stood here before. This used to be the gymnasium. He’d spent countless hours there. It was the one place he could fly. It was the last place his body had been perfect.

Well, almost. He’d had an adventurous childhood. There was certainly a difference, however, between slicing his foot on a shell on the Gold Beaches and being shot in some Czerka factory on Telos IV. Theron impulsively ran his tongue over his new teeth. After Ziost, he estimated he had six original teeth left.

Funny how he thought of that in the place he cut his last molars.

That all said, Theron never had a particularly strong opinion about his body. His body was a tool, something he used to serve the Republic and work in the Strategic Information Service.

Just as his boot nudged a sign, covered over in dust, his implants chirped to confirm his location. Using a heavily gloved hand, he crouched to wipe the metal plate just enough to read the lasered words: CORONET CITY MILITARY ACADEMY GYMNA—

The rest of the sign was broken off, probably somewhere in this rubble. It confirmed everything else though, including his own recollections about this place.

As Theron tread carefully through the ruin, his focus was on the rubble under his feet and the map in his implants, augmented by the old memories that ran in his head like holos.

Those were simple tasks, however. Theron’s mind was far more active than that, much to his annoyance. He thought back…

His mind and body had been sharply honed from a young age. The discipline of a Jedi was more than mental. However, he noticed the first hint that something was wrong with him. Theron had to work so hard, and he had to be so much more fit he than the other younglings he occasionally encountered in his travels with Master Zho. Yes, he was strong and athletic and graceful. But Theron struggled. He fought gravity, as others danced with it.

Theron remembered her in particular. The girl who had bested him with such little effort was also the most compassionate of the bunch. She was going to be a great Jedi, he knew it. She barely bent her knees before she could launch high in the air, and she landed silently, as if invisible wings lowered her back to the dusty earth. Theron had to put everything he had into the launch, and the soil puffed up around him in the arid environment as his body displaced it.

She was poetry. He was gutter-speak.

Theron could defeat ill-disciplined younglings, but someone like her – someone who took this just as seriously as he did – outmatched him. He tired long before she did, and it was a mystery to him how her muscles did not ache, how her breath never managed to run out.

It was only in retrospect that Theron realized he had a crush on her. At the time, the warm feeling that had crept across his face whenever she spoke to him, the small flutter his tiny, preteen heart gave – that had been dismissed. Jedi didn’t fall in love. Jedi didn’t have selfish attachments.

Theron wanted to become a padawan on the off-chance he’d be paired with his mother as his master.

The dream changed – it had to – after Haashimut.

Zho left him without telling him he was as Force-null as his biological father likely had been -whoever he was.

Nobody knew who his biological father was.

His mother didn’t come for him. They couldn’t find her.

As he turned 14, Theron was lodged at Coronet City Military Academy. Here.

Theron turned. This was where the lift had been that went down to the basement, where the janitorial offices and the records facility had been. He peered over the edge of the shaft. No, he wasn’t going to risk it. Theron activated the magnetic picks on the toes of his boots, turned the retroboosters to standby, just in case, and he started the dusty, sweaty climb down. The heat that built up reminded him of one particular shame that came over him --

Theron was put on a brief crash course of all the subjects Jedi hasn’t necessarily prioritized in his education to this point.

He discovered his mother was imperfect and had apparently broken the Jedi code. At least once. Theron was evidence – a body of evidence.

He was embarrassed. He felt like he’d been fooled by everyone about his mother, about his abilities, about his life – everything.

The first bubbling of teenage fury rose up in him, and when the school registrar asked for his name, he did not supply “Theron Zho” as he so often had when traveling with his so-called ‘father.’

“My name is Theron Shan.”

Theron hadn’t known at the time that “Shan” was as common as Smith or Parr or K’tilhok in certain corners of the galaxy. He thought he was being defiant. He was one of nineteen Shans in his class at the Coronet City Military Academy. So much for that rebellion, that attempt at scandal that would surely bring her to confront him…to see him for the first time since he was six months old.

Theron always carried that last holo with him… the one of her with him and her. The anger died away when the news reached him that Satele Shan had rediscovered Tython. It wouldn’t be formally founded and populated for another few years, but she had done the impossible. To her credit, she had sent word to the governors of the Academy that she was gratified that Master Zho’s charge Theron had been safely placed in their care.

The business of Tython would be a long process that took time. She was going to be busy.

Theron continued to train his body and maintain the physical fitness he had, even though he was never going to have the opportunity to do a backflip, summon his lightsaber into his hand, and duel a Sith Lord atop of a ship hull or anything like that.

Theron also found out that the kind Jedi youngling had become a padawan. She was killed at the Coruscant temple. He didn’t want to remember her name anymore. It hurt too much, for he had realized that if he had been Force Sensitive, he wouldn’t be here on Corellia in so many ways.

That first Life Day on Corellia, Theron knew the conundrum of his heart being so warm and yet the outside world being so cold as other children went home on weekends and holidays, and he remained in the dormitory. His bed assignment was changed at the end of term, so nobody thought anything was amiss. Everyone’s bed assignment was changed between terms. He wasn’t thought to be any different than other child. His parents just got him late and returned him early, his peers thought. It was impossible that he stayed there for a month by himself.

But he did.

Theron always remembered the janitors that cared for the building and the one chef that remained to feed him and the residential staff. It wasn’t just a holdover from Jedi teachings about equality and respect. He mouthed their names as he passed the doorless thresholds that were once their offices: C’thik. Donya. Thileo. Danodeen. They cared for Theron. He cared about them the best he could.

Something inside Theron hurt any time he had an urge to express his feelings beyond gratitude. Many impulses to hug were suppressed. When he woke up from the formless terror that pursued him in the night, he did want to scream out, in the hopes someone heard him. But he pushed that down. He grew up, or at least he imitated the idea of what he thought was being a grown up.

Theron’s constant presence at the Academy came with the assumption of an unhappy home, so in the second term, it appeared some well-meaning mothers encouraged their sons to befriend him. He remembered some of them. They’d grown up in places like this too.

Theron didn’t remember the names of his … companions? Fellow inmates? all that well. They were good kids. They didn’t get Theron, who was so mature about some stuff but just so oblivious to other stuff, like girls and music and holos and virtual games.

The girls at the Academy were made of braver stuff than the boys were. Theron didn’t know what to make of them, for the most part, but they at least tried to strike up a conversation with him. They asked how he was. He failed, utterly, at small talk, so once their questions were answered, he moved on. The girls were brazen in coming to watch him in the gymnasium. Theron was already in SIS by the time he figured out they hadn’t been interested in the technical merits of his routine.

The boys (with one exception) never got too close to Theron. They were terrified of him after he knocked an upperclassman’s teeth down his throat for trying to shake down the class runt in Theron’s year for his datapad. They still hung out with him, but they watched him with the same fascination they had when they visited the zoo’s jaggalors. He was a creature so fierce they were never even tempted to tap on the glass, see how he was doing, what was going on inside.

The one exception’s name was Arlo, the runt in question, and the datapad was his comic book collection. The collection had been started by his grandfather and maintained by his father and uncle and passed down to the smallest Gran ever born in that family.

Theron thought it was the most wonderful thing to have a hand-me-down anything from anyone.

Arlo wasn’t bothered when Theron asked why he was being trained in the military arts; the Gran had strict career quotas, and everyone was expected to do their part. Arlo was not an obvious candidate for battlefield hero. “I’m in this to get into the intelligence service. SIS.”

That was the first time Theron ever heard of what would become the rest of his life.

In exchange for self-defense lessons, Theron became very knowledgeable about the last 75 years of comic books. It was still the only element of pop culture he kept up with. Theron kept it to himself; his dates never got it. He and Arlo plotted their schedules so that they could train together, study together, and have a free period on the day of the week when the comics hit the holostands. They took the tram to the nearest major holostand – the one near the academy didn’t have comics, possibly at the behest of the commandant. In their minds, nothing was going to stand in the way of them getting into SIS together and seeing the galaxy and fighting the Empire.

…Somewhere in the middle of that, as he stood in the basement, Theron realized he had still been just a child.

Well, this might have been a wasted trip. Theron stood in what remained of the records office. At the back of the room, there was a great kriffing hole that vented down into the sewer he’d been so anxious to avoid, and half the databanks had clearly collapsed into it. If they’d been swept away, then it was game over for Theron. Ugh. The flimsi work he’d have to file.

Then again, it was only half the databanks. He still had a 50/50 chance of success. Theron activated his implants and scanned for the power source. Aha, there. And it had a battery back-up. Theron waited for the full report on the battery’s health before he did anything. He needed to know how much time he had.

He wanted to be done with this place.

Once the battery passed its health screening, Theron sliced in with his implants and booted the entire system up with the clearance codes he’d been given by the current commandant; the one Theron had known was long gone.

Yes, he knew there was corruption. Yes, he knew critical files were missing. Yes, yes, yes, yes, please boot up now –

Would he like an index of available files?

Yes, yes, he would. It would tell him whether this was pointless –

Or not. It was not. The two sets of files he had been instructed to extract and wipe from this system were right there. The Empire hadn’t even realized it had trodden right over vital intel about the agent now known as Technoplague and the SIS Director.

Marcus Trant had been Coronet City Military Academy’s finest alumnus, rising high and fast before, during, and just after the Great Galactic War. His arrival on campus had turned heads. Not Theron’s. Theron remained focused on his study and his physical routine.

It was after Theron had stuck the landing on his floor routine that the man approached him. Theron remembered watching him with wariness until he introduced himself as the Director of SIS. He was seeking recruits for the agency’s early start program. Promising 16 and 17 year-olds could go. Since Theron was a ward of the state, it was entirely his choice; parental permission wasn’t required.

Theron’s first question was whether Arlo could go with him.

Arlo was ultimately sidelined from SIS due to a heart murmur. Even if he was just an analyst, SIS wanted him to be able to handle himself in a blaster fight, and they didn’t want to kill him while training him. That meant he went back home to become a religious scholar.

Theron went to SIS. Arlo gave him a copy of the comic collection, with his father’s permission.

Then the rest of Theron’s life had started.

Theron checked the files to ensure he’d copied everything over before wiping and reformatting those sectors of the database. For Trant, his files could be a wealth of raw data and inspiration; he could have drawn on his experience at the academy to create codenames passcodes, associations. He could have used innocuous childhood memories to create these items. Someone with enough data about Trant’s life could feasibly put the pieces together.

For Theron, it was all about his biometrics: his medical records, his yearbook holos, even his growth charts could be used to identify him in the field as a grown man. The name didn’t matter as much as the evidence of the body.

He was done here. Theron sent the final command to wipe that area of the database and reformat. Trant and Theron were no longer documented alumni here.

As Theron readied his jetpack for exfiltration (he was keeping it simple: up and out), his implants sorted the images attached to the files before sealing them. He saw something.

He paused the process to have a look at his 14-year-old self. He was 14 years and 5 weeks, actually. Zho had sent him to Haashimut 7 weeks before, just before his birthday.

…and he looked terrified. His life had been ripped apart, and he was flying without a safety net or a familiar face anywhere near him. Theron though he heard the whine of a holocam that would signal a great white flash --

Theron pushed back at the memory, as he always had, and he dismissed the holo, letting the sealing process finish. It was over. There was nothing he could do now. He was no longer a failed Jedi Youngling.

…it was all about context. Theron ignited the jetpack and began his ascent out of the ruin of the Academy.

He’d had a good childhood with Master Zho – if he could forget what happened next. In all honesty, nothing awful had happened at Coronet City Military Academy to make him hate the place. It had been his haven between being a Jedi and being an SIS agent. But it was being between lives that had made Theron so miserable: his past was irrelevant and his future was uncertain for almost three years. That was the context that made every moment there excruciating.

But that was done and over with. He was fine. He had his career. Arlo had his career and his ever-expanding comic collection. They still commed once in awhile.

As Theron landed at the spaceport, a message came through his implants from his personal Holonet box. Oh. Karrie.

Kriff, he’d forgotten to tell her –

Kriff. He was off to Makeb and he’d forgotten to tell the girlfriend he wasn’t even on Coruscant.

Well, if she was the girlfriend after that screw-up. He left it on ‘read.’ He’d try to comm her in transit. Theron really did like her. He was pretty sure he was in love with her.

Theron would deal with the personal stuff later. On to Makeb and the next mission.

Neither the Republic presence on the planet or the girlfriend endured the following year.

Author’s Note: I’ve had this sort of headcanon dump file for Theron, and I drew this out of it. I have a few more bits still in it. In terms of timeline, I imagine that after the Treaty of Coruscant was finalized, Satele disappeared to go find Tython for the better part of 18 months. It’s during this period -- as Theron is 13 going on 14 -- that Zho finally gives up on him and Theron leaves the Jedi. Satele finds Tython and finally gets word of Theron’s situation. I decided that “finding Tython” and the “founding of Tython” are two separate events; the Jedi didn’t just move in the second Satele popped up with the good news. So 3653-3651 is a transition period for the Republic, Satele, and Theron at the same time. It’s a new galaxy for the losers of the war.

@theronshanweek-official

#theron shan #theronshanweek2021 #swtor #swtor fan fiction

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queenaryastark · 3 years

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Actually, hear me out before you stop reading. I think it would be pretty neat if Arya WERE sent to kill Daenerys, but watched her and met her and saw how she treats others and sees how Daenerys ISNT her father and is a good queen / person and decides against it and joins her cause. I’ve read fics like that and they’re pretty neat! I think it would be interesting storytelling.

Whenever I go over the speculation of the FM sending Arya to Dany, I debate this exact thing. Sometimes I think someone might put out a hit on Dany leading to Arya being sent to kill her, as you do, while other times I feel that Arya’s time in the HOBAW is preparing her for something different than her instructors are claiming. Either way, I believe there’s a strong chance Arya and Dany’s stories will collide since they’re both in Essos and both their arcs are heavily influenced by Braavos.

Here’s what we have so far that could be foreshadowing their eventual colliding in some way:

Dany’s repeated call backs to her lost childhood in Braavos where Arya is currently living and training.

Dany is of Valyian descent and Braavos was founded by slaves who escaped the Valyians.

Despite the Targaryens being of Valyrian descent, Fire and Blood Vol I shows that they had a working relationship with Braavos.

Arya is training with the Faceless Men, who are teaching her about their origins in Valyia and how they brought about the Doom that Dany’s ancestor’s escaped.

The Braavosi are anti-slavery, which comes up in Arya’s chapters, while Dany is the head of an abolitionist movement in Essos.

The Targaryen descended Black Pearl makes a couple appearances and is described in depth in Arya’s chapters.

The Iron Bank of Braavos has the power to make and unmake monarchs. At the moment, they are willing to back Stannis and their negotiation with the Lannisters has just been ruined by Arya in the Mercy chapter.

And, of course, Arya’s famous line on seeing the dragon skulls for the second time while escaping from the Lannisters: “They seemed almost old friends.”

All of this seems to build up to Arya and Dany coming together with Braavos being involved.

An idealistic option is for the government of Braavos, the Iron Bank, and the Faceless Men decide to consider backing Dany’s claim to the Iron Throne since Stannis is a crap option and their relations with the Lannisters are ruined. They could decide that sending Arya as a spy to take her measure before making their official decision. But that might be too neat.

Your take on Arya being sent to kill Dany only to realize she is a good person and refuse could be foreshadowed by Arya’s experiences with the dragon skulls in AGOT.

First, when she sees them, Arya is afraid:

By the time she had reached eighty-seven, the room had begun to lighten as her eyes adjusted to the blackness. Slowly the shapes around her took on form. Huge empty eyes stared at her hungrily through the gloom, and dimly she saw the jagged shadows of long teeth. She had lost the count. She closed her eyes and bit her lip and sent the fear away. When she looked again, the monsters would be gone. Would never have been. She pretended that Syrio was beside her in the dark, whispering in her ear. Calm as still water, she told herself. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. She opened her eyes again. The monsters were still there, but the fear was gone. Arya got to her feet, moving warily. The heads were all around her. She touched one, curious, wondering if it was real. Her fingertips brushed a massive jaw. It felt real enough. The bone was smooth beneath her hand, cold and hard to the touch. She ran her fingers down a tooth, black and sharp, a dagger made of darkness. It made her shiver. "It's dead," she said aloud. "It's just a skull, it can't hurt me." Yet somehow the monster seemed to know she was there. She could feel its empty eyes watching her through the gloom, and there was something in that dim, cavernous room that did not love her. She edged away from the skull and backed into a second, larger than the first. For an instant she could feel its teeth digging into her shoulder, as if it wanted a bite of her flesh. Arya whirled, felt leather catch and tear as a huge fang nipped at her jerkin, and then she was running. Another skull loomed ahead, the biggest monster of all, but Arya did not even slow. She leapt over a ridge of black teeth as tall as swords, dashed through hungry jaws, and threw herself against the door. -- Arya III, AGOT

Throughout this initial encounter, Arya is fearful, wary, curious, and then terrified again. She knows the skulls are dead, yet she can’t help seeing lifelike aspects to them that are frightening. The dragon skulls appearing to have living qualities, something which appears in Tyrion and Ned’s chapters too, is likely foreshadowing for Dany waking the dead dragons from stone.

The next time Arya sees the skulls shows her viewing them more positively since they are connected with her way of escaping Lannister captivity:

This time the monsters did not frighten her. They seemed almost old friends. Arya held the candle over her head. With each step she took, the shadows moved against the walls, as if they were turning to watch her pass. "Dragons," she whispered. -- Arya IV, AGOT

The fear Arya felt in the first scene is completely gone here. Instead of being frightened by the skulls, she seeks out the room they’re in so she can escape her true enemies, the Lannisters. Referring to them as “almost old friends” could hint at a possible alliance with the Targaryens later in the series. In that way, these two encounters could foreshadow your theory that Arya and Dany will be pushed together as antagonists with Arya being sent to complete a hit on her only to see that Dany is a good person who doesn’t deserve to be executed. Since their interests would align in wanting to remove the Lannisters and Arya will no longer have a reason to go to the Wall when she hears about Jon’s murder, they could travel to Westeros together.

It’s also interesting to note that Arya goes by the skulls and takes the sewer exit they lead to twice so far. As is proven in Dany’s ASOS arc, a sewer can be used as an entrance as well as an exit. Given the rule of three, Arya could use this sewer again, possibly while working with an actual, living dragon in the form of Daenerys.

#arya stark #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf #meta #my meta

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carpsurprise · 3 years

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sorry for my absence but... i bring pirate!sam.... this is also posted on ao3, if you’d rather read there..... but yes this is gender neutral “farmer”.. not beta read bc ive been losing sleep over this... under a read more because it’s long as hell. and thank you to the discord for fueling me many late nights to write this!!

the teasing nature of the ocean, and those in tune with it:

word count: 7.8k

summary: after wishing to become one with the sea for as long as the mind had allowed it, the newest shipmate had taken longer than usual to become accustomed to the physical ailments of being at sea, soon learning that their mental state would become the worst affected. the only pirate that had given them any mind was sam, an immature yet charming pirate in the higher ranks. his closeness to them unfolds as his attempt for some type of distraction from his own loss of self at sea.

warnings: allusions to s//cide, drowning, and not beta read.

PART I, INTRODUCTION

It was only supposed to take a couple days to stop their seasickness, hearing from the few ship mates they had encountered in their bedridden, infant days onboard that the body would become acclimated in no time. Never underestimate the human body’s quickness to adapt! the captain cried out soon after allowing them their rest time before their expected labor. This was an amazing opportunity no one could pass up, no one like the newest recruit, who had dreamed of days at sea since childhood, and longed for the nights of open starscape and the wail of the wind at full speed.

Yet, even with this wonderful expectation, they lay bedridden in their hammock, deep below the wooden deck that creaked with each step. The ship would groan with each bob in the water, the sounds of horrible screeches that came from deep within the ship furthered their nausea. Even if they had a few moments of solace between sick spells, anything would be better than the quiet squeals of the wood beneath the water. Despite that notion, that repeated itself in their mind, the back of their head had allowed no movement. Their head would turn to vomit every so often, scrambling out of their bunk and to the wood pail beneath them. The only company to be had before nightfall was a woman with strange, blue hair, decorated with gold jewelry and piercings—and a bird that sat on her shoulder, he seemed to have an injured wing, but in their sickness it was hard to tell— who would bring a wet cloth to dab on their head every so often.

In their loneliness their acceptance aboard rang through their head alongside their migraine. Excited jitters fizzled through their body as jolts of pain replaced them, making it known to the newest mariner: the sea was not one to mess with. Yet, even in sickness, this was the opportunity they had dreamed of. Perfect scenarios replaced thoughts of pain, the wondrous look of joy wrinkling the captain’s face as he had met his newest recruit etching itself deep into their mind.

“Welcome aboard!” He grinned, shaking their hand with a firm grip. The stumbled, losing their footing with the slight movement of the ship and the strength of his hands, the sheer roughness against their palm scratching at the skin. “Gonna need to toughen up if you want to make it out here at sea!”

With a nervous laugh, they responded with his honorific, keeping their eyes off of the few gold teeth that lined his mouth. The crew had already begun their preparations to set sail. Shipmates ran to their posts as maps made their way to the captain’s quarters to begin navigation. Snapping themselves out of their dreamlike trance, they ran to their assigned post, readying for departure before their sickness had hit.

Hit, it had. The joly of the ships movement had thrown them off their feet, the nausea of first-day-anxieties and the never ending cycle of waves flooded from their stomach up straight to the back of their head. The sea had claimed another victim within an instant, but showed its mercy for the first and last time to them. They had finally regained consciousness where they lie now, eyes trained on the flimsy roped hammock above them, a leg draped over the side as they clutched their stomach between gasps. After one last sleep, they decided they would start their duties on the ship. No matter the cost of their health, their goal of becoming one with the sea would be achieved.

A full night of rocking, being woken every so often by the shipmates’ chatter in the dead of night, and the lingering pit in their stomach had made the attempt at rest useless. But, by sheer willpower, they had managed their feet to land securely on the floor by dawn. Their grip on their hammock lingered for a moment, bracing themselves for sickness. At long last, their connection to the physical land would be forgotten for a life at sea, with its eternity of waves and comforting wind.

PART II, THE TEASING NATURE OF THE OCEAN, AND THOSE IN TUNE WITH IT:

Finally able to enjoy the asylum of the sea, the comforting kiss of its mist and the heat of the sun’s rays, they had finally made their way out onto the boat, far from the confinement of the ship. After three sickening days aboard, they could finally muster to keep their head up. Throwing themselves against the rails of the ship carefully, they gazed over the side of the ship with a frown. Their reflection was not there, not like in a river or lake. A puff of air had escaped them, uselessly searching for any ounce of their own face. Chatter had ensued behind them, pulling them from their questioning looks to a faceless being and back to the people of the ship.

They were docked at some seaside town, mates running on and off the ramp of the ship as the town’s commotion sparked up. A few pirates they had recognized, some that stayed in their rest quarters, others that had walked past their bunk in frenzied states. Almost no one had introduced themselves, a kind face far in between indifferent ones. It wasn’t too big of a matter to them, just a bit odd from their days on the coast back home. But, this wouldn’t break them, or their pursuit of one's truest connection to the sea. Walking with haste to the side of the ship, they braced themselves against the wood rails, carefully tipping themselves to see the movement of water the best they could. It had seemed so inviting; the playful lap of water seeming almost childish in a strange way, beckoning them forward to indulge in its coolness.

The talking behind them had taken them out of their thoughts, passers by noting that there were only ten minutes more until departure. Their heart beat with nervous excitement, feeling that if everything in their life were to fall into place, now would be it. Helping with mundane tasks around the ship, traveling far across the horizon, and exploration of new lands untouched by others for decades sounded like heaven, the crash of waves against the ship and harbor echoing as a sort of applause for their accomplishment. It should have been the perfect sign that the wind was picking up, and that they were due to set sail.

The ship jolted against the waves, the wind whipping their hair from them and tearing at the skin. Without the painful headache pooling at the back of their skull, the ride of the waves would have made them feel nearly weightless. Their legs shook from the motion, a familiar feeling of unease settling in their stomach. Sea air had always calmed them as a kid, but the sudden jolts of the boat left a sharp pain of unease within them.

“Gotta get your sea legs sometime, dear!”

The teasing remark had come from above, unfamiliar kind eyes paired with a teasing smile from inside the crow’s nest. He grabbed at the rope blowing by the nest, sliding down and switching hands every so often in a futile attempt to avoid discomfort. The ship’s shaking hadn’t stopped, yet he had no issue. His feet planted firmly on the wood deck. His confidence radiated off of him, well accompanied by his bright smile.

Their legs had still felt as if they were going to give out, whether it be from the choppy movement or the bold quirk of his eyebrow. He had a confident air to him, mindless flipping a gold coin off of his thumb every couple seconds. “So you’re the newcomer the captain allowed onto the ship, huh? Guess I won’t say anything, if he thinks it’s the right thing to do.”

With little clue what the man had meant, and wanting to avoid any conflict with a man that had a sword tucked to his side, they had decided to ignore his last comment. Despite his words, his tone was happy and unbothered, while his expression was distant, but content. The commotion to their side had signaled that the anchors had been raised, and that they were due to set sail soon. He returned his attention to the newest shipmate in front of him, asking their name with visible interest.

Humming, he flipped his coin once more before putting it back into a bag tied to his belt. “Sam,” he introduced, “your fellow shipmate— one of the higher ranking ones, mind you.” He bowed with his words, clearly proud of his title. He readjusted the chains across his chest, flipping them inside and out before pulling his hand away. “Y’know I used to be just a cabin boy when I was younger, but my past captain told me I deserved better.”

“Oh,” they responded, “interested in becoming a captain of your own ship?”

“Not in a million years! He has no fun! He’s one of the better captains I’ve been with, but even then, I’d never do something so serious. I don’t want the fun sucked out of me. It’s so easy to lose every bit of yourself out here.”

“It couldn’t be that bad.”

He laughed, “Ya haven’t spent more than fifteen minutes on the main deck, dear, just wait it out. I hope you don’t end up like the others, it’d be a shame.”

For the second time in their short interaction, the newcomer was at a loss for words at his cryptic nature. At the sound of a battle cry-like sound, Sam had turned himself around, pulling on the ropes of the mast to raise the ship’s flag high atop the mast. Soon enough, their departure had started, signaling the truest start of their adventure. Talk had ensued behind them, catching the tail end of a conversation about the next two weeks at sea. Perhaps, with good luck, their sea legs would come with the waves and the moon’s cycle.

Mumbling to themselves, they returned to their post, eager to rid themselves of their headache. Their sea legs would come with time, they had hoped, but thinking that the best plan of action was to fulfill their duties, they had involved themselves in the art of a pirate’s life the best they could. A week of smooth sailing had passed, their body sore from its arduous work on deck. A few shipmates had become at the very least, acquaintances. Not many had opened up or given the newest addition the time of day— all but one pirate, who had seemed almost too elated by their presence.

There was a slight pressure at the top of their head, before the unwelcoming feeling of rope had begun against the body. The frayed cord had permeated through their clothes, sticking into the skin like thorns. Their head turned quickly, a muffled giggle giving away the culprit almost immediately. Sam stood, his knees bent and hands still gripping the edges of the fishnet, with a devilish grin decorating his face. Between the diamond shaped holes of the net, despite their vision somewhat covered, his rosy cheeks were still evident even from their distance.

His playful look persisted as he dropped the net dramatically, hopping down from his placement on the ship’s wooden cargo boxes. “Whoops, sorry, darling! Must’ve mistaken you for a mermaid. Thought I finally got my hands on one.”

With an exasperated huff, they grabbed the edge of the fishing net, pulling it back over their head and throwing it to their side. “Don’t you have anything else to do?”

Sam positioned himself near the stacks of cargo boxes, resting his chin lazily on his hand as he looked in all directions. The newest pirate mirrored his actions, met with nothing but blue, cloudless skies and a color matching ocean. With no land in sight, their eyes returned to Sam’s— interested and ready to respond, as always.

“Not really,” he replied slowly, looking around once again in an almost mocking manner. “Not much to do at sea, you should know that by now! I know it’s only been a little bit, but come on.”

After his reply, the ship shook, jolting itself after a clunking sound of metal echoed over the ocean. They had been thrown off their own footing once more, eliciting a loud laugh from Sam. His gaze was steady on the unsteady frame of his newest crewmate, still lazily perched against one of the many looted crates. He twirled his finger along the lining of metals up his ear, playing with the hanging chains as he allowed them to regain their composure before speaking again.

He nodded to them, then motioned lazily up to the open sky. “Just wait ‘til we hit a storm, darling. If you can’t stand on your own two feet now, just wait ‘til then,” he laughed, keeping an amused smirk stretched across his face. With a roll of their eyes they walked away, retreating back to the lower decks of the ship in pursuit of their blue-haired friend, and their friendly, injured parrot that gossiped with them.

PART III, THE STORM THAT FOLLOWED AFTER LANDING ON THE BEACH:

A quick side mission was at hand, a small island abandoned by its inhabitants and rumored to have treasure had made an attractive stop. The ship had anchored far from shore, splitting the ship’s crew into designated teams to make a quick, but successful mission before returning to sea for weeks. The captain had assigned them the simple task to forage for anything edible, afraid of running too low on rations in their extended time. They saluted him, thanking him for the opportunity before heading off.

The trip to the island had been painful, the soreness of their arms from days of pulling and heavy lifting had led the rowing to be searing up their biceps. In little time they had hit sandbars, jolting with the bottom of the dinghy as it collided with sporadic mounds of shells and sand. The leader of this mission, a young woman with purple hair tied up with a bow, cried out from their collisions, commanding that it was time to bring the boat up by hand. Readying themselves, the group tightened their belts and prepared to jump overboard.

“Ah, you do know how to swim, right?” Sam teased, shooting a boyish grin their way.

“Of course I know how to swim!” They cried back, jumping off the dinghy and into the water. The group had trudged through the knee deep water, cringing at the cold water filling their boots and wetting their clothes. Sam had laughed, pulling the boat up to the sand with him and a few fellow pirates, running up to meet the new pirate once they had secured it to the shore.

“You’d be surprised,” he added, moving his head to look down at their face. They shook their head in response, focused on the group of trees and brush settled on the island. The rest of the group had dispersed along the beach with maps in hand, talking amongst themselves before splitting up. It had gone unspoken that Sam had ended up paired with them, slightly irritating, but nothing the newest recruit couldn’t handle.

His smirk had made one of their eyes twitch, the cocky look in his eye making them bite back an annoyed sigh as he unsheathed his sword. He slashed away at the brush with a few grunts, standing back to admire his skill. His shipmate rolled their eyes at his proud smile, his demeanor annoying, but still upsettingly charming. The rest of the crew had branched off to find the rumored island treasure, while they were stuck foraging for anything edible. Their next stop, some foreign land across the Gem Sea, could take weeks or months, leaving the captain desperate to stock up.

Sam opened his mouth yet again, the newest pirate immediately tuning him out to focus their eyes on the ground. Few sights of berries, herbs, and dandelions covered in rough patches. Just as they had raised their head to tell their partner they gasped, craning their neck to follow Sam’s lithe body. He had, miraculously, climbed himself up a tree in no time and with little sound, already pawing at the hanging fruits. His reckless nature, the instability of his legs wrapped around the trunk and his shifting imbalance as he reached for fruits made them cry out in fear.

He looked down at them, calm as can be before shooting them a teasing wink. “Can’t be that worried about me, can you, dear?”

“Well,” they stuttered, eyes still glued to the shakiness of the tree from his weight. “It’d be a shame if you splattered on the ground.”

Shaking his head, he shimmied himself up further, the top of the trunk beginning to bend with his weight as he tossed down a few fruits to his partner. “Nah, I’m not afraid of this. There’s solid ground to land on, what more could ya ask for?”

They scrunched their eyebrows, looking up to him as if there were a more obvious choice. “Water?” They questioned, watching him shake his head once again with both hands grasped onto the rough bark of the tree.

Plucking the fruit from the top of the tree, Sam turned himself back down to throw it at his partner, watching them struggle to keep all of them in their hands. “No, no, no! I’d rather break my back than lose everything. There’s one thing I am afraid of, and it’s the ocean.”

“That makes no sense, Sam—” They interrupted themself, watching as he stood to full attention the best he could, his eyes obviously caught on something from his tree top view. Fearing it was another group of pirates, a dangerous animal, or anything else that could prove almost immediate death, they gripped the fruits closer to the chest, already repositioning them in preparation to flee. They couldn’t hear the stumped hum from Sam’s lips over the sound of the rustling leaves, but watched as he flawlessly dismounted from the tree tops with a grunt, his head still turned west.

Motioning them to follow behind him, Sam led the way deeper into the jungle, slashing away with his sword to clear the way for himself and his partner. He was mumbling on his way, a concentrated decoration of face covering his usual boyish and playful expressions. Without further words, the newcomer followed Sam’s trail, trusting his judgement and following at his heels. He did a wonderful job of clearing their walkway, looking back every few moments to make sure there were no branches in his partner’s face and warning of any roots or dips in the ground. In only a couple minutes the two had reached a clearing of sand, an odd formation of rocks and foreign symbols slashed into the surrounding trees.

“Holy shit!” He cried, dropping his sword and dropping to his knees around the clearing, immediately digging through the sand. “There has to be something in here.”

“But,” the newest pirate interjected, still messily holding their foraged goods in their arms, “the map said it would be on the east side of the island.” Carefully shifting their fruit, they pulled their compass out of their pocket just far enough to see the point of the arrow. “We’re in the west.”

He shrugged, an excited look overcoming his face. “Maps aren’t always right! We would’ve never found this if I wasn’t up in the trees, the rest of the party is still south!” He sounded giddy, but the newest issue of lugging around a treasure chest, just the two of them, and also carrying their forages at the same time gave a slight pang of aggravation to the newest pirate. Sam had instructed them to put the fruit down and help him, causing them to groan and drop to his opposite. They had dug with him, using their weapons in between bruising their hands.

He sighed as they dug. “Man, wish there was a way to tell the rest of the group the treasure’s here so we could get some help.”

“I can go run back and try to find them if you’d like,” they offered, already feeling their hands sore.

“Hell no! You’re gonna get lost, and I’m not leavin’ ya here either. Something’s gonna come and hurt ya, I gotta be here to protect ya.” He struggled out, focusing all of his strength onto the hands full of sand and dirt he pulled from the earth. They groaned inwardly, silently continuing at half his force, but still doing a demanding worth otherwise. There was little indication that much time had passed, the sun still stood high above them and shone with unbearable heat, adding the stickiness of humidity to the ocean breeze.

After a couple feet of sand thrown to the sides of the jungle, daylight had finally shone a glimmer of gold lining, attached to some wood corners submerged beneath the earth. Both had cried out in happiness, knowing that their efforts had not been for naught, and giving new drive to dig out the buried treasure. Once it had been taken out of the dirt, after extraneous work and gasps for strangled air, they both stood in the hole, suspending their bodies against the edge of the sand for support. They turned to each other, proud smiles upon their faces before Sam turned and broke the lock of the chest.

They let out a small gasp at his action, leading him to turn back and give them a lopsided grin. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he huffed, “throw the lock back in this hole, the captain won’t know it was ever locked.” Their chest still rose and fell in time with his, panting from the heat and physical work as he cracked open the chest. Both of their eyes widened at the assortments of beautiful jewels and gold coins, jewelry and rolled papers all assorted messily with traces of sand caked on them. One piece had got their eye, unknowingly bringing their shaking hand up to it before holding it between their fingers.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” they whispered in awe. Sam poked his head closer to them, eyeing up the pendant with them with a grin. The amulet held some weight to it, its bold cerulean color would knowingly attract attention from anyone who would find themselves near it. The turret shell was attached to a thin, gold chain, hanging at the bottom at gravity’s mercy. It was an odd pendant, but the beautiful blue of the shell mirrored that of the ocean in sunlight. Sam looked at the newcomer, without them knowing, grinning at their awed expression. “It’s so special,” they commented, “I mean, look at the rest of this jewelry, clearly belonging to royals or aristocrats… and it all looks the same. This is so different from the rest, looks like it came from the ocean itself.”

The wonderful aquamarine coloring mirrored the water of the island’s shore, just before hitting deep water. They had snapped themselves out of their fantasy, setting it back into the chest and closing it. “Let’s get this back to the group,” they said, placing their hands flat on their thighs before standing up. Sam followed, already beginning to drag the chest towards the direction they came. Turning their back from Sam for just a moment, they wrapped their foraged fruits and berries in a fishing net, turning back around to see Sam with a suspiciously innocent smile.

Deciding not to comment on what was likely another childish jest, they set the bag atop the chest and heaved the chest back to the beach. The treetops challenged their eyesight of the sky, but the island’s shift from bright to a darkening gray had given them all the information they needed. Sam walked backwards, as he said a gentleman like himself should, crying out in glee once they had finally hit where their dinghy was anchored, the group already together upon their arrival. They had interrupted their cries of lament while waiting for the two with an impending storm, but quickly shut themselves up to run over upon seeing the chest lugged between the two.

Upon seeing the open sky, and the choppy waters that they would soon be met with, the newest pirate’s stomach dropped. Within no time that fear was pushed over by others, too infatuated with the treasure they had nearly left. It was wildly easier to lug the chest with four others helping. They couldn’t keep their eyes off of the far, black skies and the ocean’s matching color, the white of breaking waves proving as the only contrast that could be possible.

The sands of time were nearing their end to return to the ship, the waves becoming rough with wind against the dinghy. It was already at the ocean’s mercy, moving with the waves as spouts of water overflowed onto the boat. Each member of the captain’s crew assigned to this mission struggled past the crash of waves to the boat, slinking in legs heavy with the weight of water. The current dragged at their clothes as if it had claws of its own, begging for company beneath the heaving waves. Their experience dealing with the ocean in their life had only proved to help little, feeling their feet yanked by watery hands as they toppled over into the boat.

Even though they had clambered onto the boat in time, their heartbeat had still rung in the center of their head. Sam had noticed, along with the rest of the crew. A friendly smile crossed his face as he rubbed their back, reassuring them that the ocean’s storms will bring calmness to both the mind and body. They scrunched their nose at his words in disgust. How each storm would become a test of survival was sickening, thinking that the inhumanness of its strength would only prove it’s danger to its inhabitants. Each war waged against would be futile. Yet, it had spared them once again.

The crew began rowing back, the newcomer pulling their own weight through the incessant bullets of pain down their arm, and the soreness of the back of their knees. They had felt a hole in their chest from their anxieties, working nearly the strength of two in desperation to return to the ship. Land was no longer an option, and they knew that all but one pirate would have no issue with abandoning them on the island. It was their hope, more than a fact, but the resolution had saddened them nonetheless. Though they had worked together in the moment, approaching the side of the ship to board once again, there was no true personable connection on the ship. The only connections the pirates had was between them and the sea, with little room for others in between.

Dark clouds dissipated into the air within hours, teasing the ship with danger before laughing in its face with smooth seas. The soft splashes of water against the hull of the ship sounded like gentle coos, as the wind blew giggles by their ears as it took the hair from their faces. The captain had stayed on high alert still, expressing his distrust of the sea with a firm click of his jaw. His rosy cheeks stayed the same, despite the hard expression of his furrowed brow in his standoff with the sea. He hobbled back to his quarters, cabin boys disappearing below deck as the captain’s crew followed his heels. Few had been left in the open air, cleaning or reorganizing looted crates from seaside towns.

“Oh, darling!” A voice had sung out, tapping the newest recruit on the shoulder before appearing on the opposite side of them. Sam had stepped in front of them, his back to the ship and his companion trapped just before the bowsprit’s beginning. They couldn’t dissect his expression, some odd combination of the slyness of a fox with the curiosity of a cat. “Or should I call you treasure?”

They rolled their eyes at his newest pet name, still asking him to call them by their given name with an exacerbated sigh. He mirrored the action of their eyes, joking about their mission removed from others and the time they spent foraging before coming across the wanted treasure chest. He had stepped closer to them, leading them to take a step back, their foot slipping off the edge of the bowsprit in anxious nature. Why Sam had cornered them to near death was beyond them, but no fellow pirate seemed to mind any bit of this unnerving interaction.

He cracked a smirk. “Got you this.”

They reached out their hand to his, letting him open and release the small item into their open palm. The small weight of a seashell had little pressure to their palm, but had their head raised with a questioning look in no time. His interested expression stayed, almost as if he were playing a joke. After asking why, he shrugged and mumbled, clearly amused by their confusion and, in turn, their own lack of amusement. Their expression had stayed, only faltering when Sam had turned himself around at the beckoning of another mate, where they quickly, but safely, shoved the seashell deep into their pocket to ensure it stayed. He turned back around with a distant smile. He brought his face close to the mariner’s, heat erupting over their cheeks and nose at his quick action.

“And I also grabbed something else for you!” He whispered, shuffling around his pockets before digging into the small cloth bag tied to his waist. Quietly crying out once he had felt it, he pulled his hand from his pouch, still concealing his gift. Expecting another seashell, or perhaps an already fired bullet at this point, his shipmate opened their hand once more.

This weight had been more than before. The texture had also been peculiar, but the slow movement of their head had proved to be more of the mind than the body upon seeing his gift. In their hand sat the gold and aquamarine pendant from the treasure chest, it’s cone shape fitting perfectly in between the lines of their hand. A quiet gasp had escaped on instinct just before clutching it to their chest and looking around nervously.

“Sam! You can’t steal from the chests yourself! The captain gets every bit of it!”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve been doin’ this longer than you— and you said you liked it. Besides, I don’t think anyone noticed it but us. It won’t be an issue, just keep it hidden,” he paused, throwing a look over his shoulder before returning back and winking, “It’ll be our secret, darling.”

Releasing their death-like grip on the pendant, they pulled their hand back to hold it between them and Sam’s chests, both admiring the beautiful blue shell of the pendant and the strange glow attached to it. Sam’s hushed giggles filled their senses, mingling with the intoxicating smell of sea air. A smile had crept onto the shipmate’s face at the beautiful piece of jewelry that was now in their possession, from a pirate with a heart the size of the ocean.

PART IV, A CONVERSATION UNDER SUNSET AND WITH THE CYCLE OF WAVES:

“You never seem to be anywhere else.”

Perhaps, it wasn’t the best greeting, but it was better than nothing. They kept their head held high as they spoke to him. Sunset had arrived the same time as always, akin to the never changing scape of water. The soft lull of the ship felt like a rocking crib fit for an infant, comforting for the mind, but hell on the body. That, paired with a fair breeze, had made the journey above the lower workings of the ship more bearable.

Sam shrugged, turning his attention back to the infinity of blue beneath the ship. “Can’t keep myself away from it.” A smile, genuine and kind, crossed his face, eyes flitting back and forth between his companion and the ocean. “It’s the ancient art of knowing the ocean as if it were yourself.”

Their eyebrows furrowed in thought, bating themselves with a breath. “How do you do it?”

“Good question— wish I could answer it for ya, dear. That might be a question more fit for the captain than me.”

With no verbal response from them, Sam returned his eyes back to the ocean, traveling the horizon in search of nothing. His attention directed elsewhere had allowed them to get a good look at his face, the scar over his left eye, and the bits of salt collected at the roots of his windswept hair. He must have caught them staring, a quick flicker of his eyes met theirs before he erupted into laughter, turning himself to them with the usual hint of mischief in them. The newcomer moved their eyes from his, feigning an aloof look that failed miserably in his face.

“How did you get that scar?”

He gave a short laugh, tilting his head to nearly touch their shoulder before popping back up. “I’m not the smartest,” he shrugged, resting his cheek on his palm and craning his neck to look at his newest interest at sea. Silence had ensued, leading him to point towards a real answer, rather than his usual avoidant dance around sore subjects. “Fishhook. I was a bit too close to my father when he was fishing. He was a soldier so I didn’t see him often, but anytime he was home he’d take me and my brother to the beach and fish.”

His face lit up for a moment. He straightened his back, moving his hands up to his chest where he pulled his already loose shirt further open exposing his chest and abdomen. Finding themselves flustered, the shipmate turned their head quickly, in both an attempt to hide themselves and to give Sam an ounce of respect. His laugh rang through their ears, syncing for just a moment with their quickened heartbeat.

“You can look, you can look,” he reassured, beginning once they had turned to his bare chest and abdomen, gasping at the scar gashed across him. It was akin to someone messily attempting to gut a fish, the scar still slightly raised over the skin, giving them a good idea of how long he had been cursed with it. “Got this in a fight in a saloon in some valley! Lots of drinkers there, might've gotten a bit too childish with one of them.”

Despite the scars he had shown them, his face was still happy. He hummed to himself, clearly forcing a more pleasant conversation— or mood, for that matter— upon them. Each of his hums was melodic, a clear indication that he had some type of musical talent gifted to him. Yet, once again, his gaze had returned to the infinity on all sides of them, moving himself with the waves. They listened to him for a few more minutes. Their curiosity was gnawing at them, eating away at their skin with the gusts of wind.

“A musician as well?”

Sam laughed, lulling his head around before shrugging with a smug grin. “I would say so, but that might be up to opinion. But, of course, I love music. It’s one of the greatest gifts! The ocean makes its own music just like I do.” The pirate’s silence to his response had allowed him some thought time, mumbling an old shanty to himself in their comforting stillness. Rhythmic like the waves, Sam continued, tapping his fingers on the wooden side of the ship with his quiet song, shutting his eyes with deep breaths.

They pursed their lips in thought, turning to him in a moment of silence. “Never heard that one before. Though, I’ve only been at sea for a little bit, so maybe I’m not the one to talk about it.”

He shook his head. “Nah, ‘s alright— learned it on one of my old captain’s ships.”

They nodded, resting their heavy head into their hands, crouching to lean their elbows against the railing of the ship with a deep sigh. Sam noticed, opening one eye to peek at their hidden expression. His head cocked to the side as his hand slid down the rope. “What draws you out here? You’re too headstrong, and I’m afraid it’s going to get you killed.”

Their hand slammed against a wooden crate, garnering attention from the few pirates that lingered beside them. “I want— I want to become one with the sea. I’ve always wanted to travel, and the ocean is the best way for it. I’ve always wanted to see the stars, to be far from home, and to see new things. I want to know the ocean—”

“You don’t,” he interrupted, his expression blank. It was the closest to a serious expression they had seen out of him, but despite this obvious warning, they continued on.

They shook their head. “I do! You don’t understand, Sam. You always talk like you know everything, you’ve latched onto me to do nothing but aggravate me.”

Sam stayed silent, watching the slight shake of their body and the way they consistently had to reposition their feet in tune with the rocking of the ship. Despite his happy tune, the mood had remained somber. He hadn’t spoken again, clearly understanding his mate’s feelings and having, at least, the maturity to know not to continue the conversation in teasing. It nearly drove them deeper into anger, finally realizing that Sam did, in fact, have the capacity to know the sea as one would know family they so desperately chased after. They were left miserable at sea, far from the expectations of the heavens among the waves.

PART V, THE SEA WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME:

Stuck two months at sea, the newcomer had sat out under the stars, admiring the tempting call of the murky water beneath them. What was once dreamt of had now become dread; eating away at their psyche. The ocean had never offered their reflection, only a distorted pit of nothing in return. In fact, they hadn’t seen their reflection since on land, safe in the warmth of a home and in the comfort of people. People that were smiling and warm, unlike those on the ship, who had each lost their humanity and souls to the crashing of waves and the unknown of the masses. At the very least, the rocking of the ship on safe seas had begun to lull them to sleep each night, the only action of love the ocean would give.

A friendly voice had rang out from behind them. “Mm, still not used to being at sea?”

“No,” they answered, keeping their gaze level with the horizon. Ocean wind had whipped past them, taking their hair from their face and pulling the ropes and sails of the ship with each gust.

“Just something you gotta live with,” he shrugged, walking up beside them and placing his hands along the wood railing. “It’s not too bad once ya get used to it, promise.”

His smile had tried its best to reassure, but left them with nothing but dread. Their eyes had lost the horizon, meeting just below the two, where the water met the side of the ship. The rough movement had made their stomach sink to their feet. Nothing was certain out at sea; nothing sacred, and nothing safe. Sam sighed, matching their gaze at the black water beneath them.

“You’ll get used to it,” he repeated.

They finally raised their gaze up to him. “How long have you been at sea?”

He shrugged, pushing himself from the rail and turning to rest his back against it. “Maybe four years or so? I don’t really know. There’s not much that goes on most of the time, so I’ve just sorta tuned everything out.”

“How can you possibly live like this?” Shaking their head, they returned their gaze back to the sea, and the hypnotic movement of black waves crashing against the hull of the ship. Each movement of the waves splattered against the side of the ship, dissipating and falling back into the water which it had come from. The wind whipped the waves against the side of the ship, a loud smack each time it collided unnaturally with the old wood.

The ship wasn’t natural, was the conclusion they had come to. The wood of it came from far away lands, unimaginable to them, but had not come from the sea. People weren’t supposed to be at sea. Like the trees that had been sacrificed for the ship, everything at odds with the great ocean was not meant to be there. The few times they had seen fish in the sunlight water, or a pod of dolphins that rode by their side in the morning, it had become clear: they were the only ones who belonged.

Sam had noticed their dead stare into the water, knowing what epiphany was unfolding in their psyche. With a sigh he threw his head back, looking up at the moon and surrounding stars. “Don’t think too hard about it,” he sighed again, bringing his head back down to look at their worried expression. He’d seen it with his fellow shipmates, and he had seen it in himself. “It’s going to kill you if you don’t learn to live with it.”

“I refuse. How could anyone enjoy this? We sit and look at nothing for days, weeks, on end. Then, we finally get to our destination, then we’re back on the water for another unknown amount of time?”

He nodded slowly. Before speaking, he walked over to the bottom of the mast, twirling the rope between his fingers. “This isn’t for everyone. Just hop off the ship next time we land on a beach, start a new life, do whatever.”

His words had stung them, mentally cursing themselves for thinking that he had some ounce of care for them. Perhaps it was how everyone was able to live at sea, cut all connections and ties to those that are not the ocean. How childish of them to think otherwise, and that Sam would have been any different. He could not fare against the ocean, certainly no stronger than them in a power of wits or will. They would have to stoop down to his level, full acceptance of death at any moment and that there is no true control when it comes to the great ocean.

It would only be a matter of time before they found themselves overboard, gasping for breath in their last moments once the sea decides their time abroad is over. “But there is no true safety!” They cried, turning themselves back around to see Sam’s confused expression. “Even if, even if, even if I decided to leave— which, despite your words, I don’t believe you would enjoy— I will never be safe from the sea! An earthquake that would trigger a tsunami, a hurricane, anything! I would never be able to escape it’s hauntings.”

“Of course I wouldn’t enjoy you leaving the ship. It’s sad to see anyone go,” he shrugged, clearly ignoring their last musings, “you were the only person on board that hadn’t lost their soul yet, of course it was fun to mess around with you.”

Their mouth was left open at his words and flippant attitude. “You’re speaking in the past tense,” they spoke, tone almost matching that of a warning.

He shrugged again, lulling his head from it’s transfixed gaze over the night ocean to them. “Isn’t it obvious yet?”

“I refuse,” they repeated.

Their attitude was clearly a front of denial, knowing deep down they have already become the worst of what they had once been. The ocean had thrown them to their extremes— the true mirror of the ocean’s reflection. Sam sat, hand lazily tapping a rhythm on his thigh as he watched the newcomer unfold before him, as he had watched plenty of times before. He sighed, knowing the outcome of this would be to render themself soulless, and lose the light behind their eyes, or to simply jump overboard and let the ocean have it’s way. A win-win for the sea, as Sam knew, and the newcomer had learned, the ocean never loses a game.

That’s what it is, the newcomer thought, nothing but a game of life and death for its own enjoyment. Each member of the ship, each pirate, or mariner, or fisher, that decided to take their chance from gambling their own life would inevitably find themselves face to face with nothing of themselves. With one last hit to the crate, clattering the treasures inside of it, they raised their head again and turned to Sam fervently, grasping at his arms in desperation.

“I never thought I would lose my soul, Sam!” They cried out, finally allowing themselves to cry. His face softened, shrugging their grip off of one of his arms and pulling them close to his chest. “There’s nothing out here to look forward to,” they choked out, allowing their hands to grip at the woven fabric of his shirt. He stayed silent for a few minutes, thinking of different things to say to them; something that had never worked with the others that he held and consoled over the same thing.

He sighed again, struggling to speak. “You just have to accept it.”

They sniffed, pushing themselves from his chest to look up at him. “How are you not like this? Why is it me? I’ve dreamt of this since I’ve been able to dream, and now that I’m hearing, I’ve just become a shell of myself. How are you still alive?”

Thinking of his answer, he looked over the sea as if for any hint of what to say. No discernible answer, but he had admired how different the sea can look within a moment’s difference. “Couldn’t tell ya. I go with the flow of the water, but— as long as you stay on ship, I will always make sure you’re safe.”

The call to the bottom of the ocean was tempting. Sam’s hand had moved from their back to cup the back of their head against his chest. Even if they had decided to wait it out towards morning, Sam would always have to live in fear that at a moment’s notice, the tide would take them from the ship and pull them under in the ocean’s horrifying mixture of mercy and murder. This sort of connection was exactly what he had always spoken against, knowing that once the ocean is aware of something precious, it will be ripped from its safety and holiness. Against his better judgement, he kept them in his hold, resting his cheek against the crown of their head as he looked out over the dismal water, knowing from experience what was bound to happen to his dearest pirate.

#stardew valley #sam stardew valley #sam #pirate au #ask to tag please

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t-o-m-hollands · 4 years

Text

Tom x You

Summery: Tom and his brothers have a pub. You, trying to avoid working on your new album, spend most of your time in there. Lots of flirting and bickering ensues.

Themes: Sort of frienemies to lovers, slow burn, mutual attraction but they are both to dumb to realise. General dumbness all around. Idiots in love.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Drinking and swearing. Smut in future chapters.

PART I of IV

***

At 8 years of age your father hands you a worn guitar and with the patience of a saint teaches you how to make it play the holiest of sounds. Every day you practise, until your fingertips has hardened and they move effortlessly over the strings.

At 10 years of age you write your first song. It’s a puerile little tune about a sweet boy with hair like honey and an opportunity lost. It’s repetitive and nonsensical but your mother hums the chorus for weeks after hearing it.

At 14 years of age you meet up with a record label and when signing the dotted line on the contract you feel a chill down your spine and your grandmother’s stories about the crossroad demon comes back to you verbatim. With determination you still put your name on the paper in a signature you’ve spent hours practising. Only days later you hear your voice on the radio for the very first time.

At 17 years of age there are headlines in magazines about you, photos of men they claim you’ve dated and interviews with people who claim to be a ‘close source’ to you, even though you’ve never met them, spilling lies on every page. You find out your closest friend has sold information about you to the tabloids for over a year.

At 19 years of age you go on a world tour, though the only parts of the world you see are airports, hotels and playing venues and then later at night: nightclubs. You travel the world, but you learn nothing about it.

At 22 years of age and your boyfriend breaks up with you for an actress. There isn’t a day that year that tabloids don’t ‘report’ on it. He spends most of the time telling the world how much happier he is in his new relationship, and you spend most of your time staring down into a bottle.

At 24 years of age you feel drained, dog-tired and worn out. On a regular basis there’s photos of you stumbling out of pubs, bars and restaurants all over the internet. Your record label is threatening a lawsuit and you haven’t talked to your manager in weeks. You have no friends and your family doesn’t know what to do with you.

Okay, so maybe being a successful singer isn’t all that it’s cut out to be. Especially not when the entirety of the internet is making fun of you.

And yes, maybe you’re in a flunk and haven’t written anything decent in months. And okay, maybe you haven’t even picked up a guitar in weeks. And maybe throwing away your phone in order not to have to face the record label was a bad idea. And maybe, hand on heart, the right solution to your problems is not to waste your days away in a well-hidden pub in a backstreet in London with the cutest pub owner you’ve ever seen, with biceps that makes you want to drool. A pub owner who has no interest in you and finds you annoying beyond belief.

Yet here you are,

again.

***

“It’s Tuesday” Tom informs you as he hands you cherry coke and a straw.

So, it goes like this. Tom is obsessed with time. He’s always informing you of either what day of the week it is, or the time of day. As if he’s trying to shame you into realising that 10 am on a Tuesday is not an acceptable time to order a dry martini.

“So?” You ask, feigning ignorance as you open the can. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that this is a coke and in fact completely free of alcohol. I mean in the good ol’ day they at least had the cutesy to put cocaine in there.”.

“Don’t worry” he says, scrubbing the surface of the already clean counter-top “there’s a shit load of other stuff that’ll destroy your insides in there”.

You try not to roll your eyes, honestly you do. You fail. “Oh no, is it sugar? Please, doctor say it isn’t sugar!” you wail dramatically.

“No, not just sugar” and you can tell he’s also trying not to roll his eyes at your exaggerated play acting. “You know, I saw this documentary once about what they put in coca cola and –”

“No, nope, no, no. Absolutely not” You shake your head vehemently as if that will stop his words. "I would literally rather hear you talk about goddamn golf for an hour than put me of one of life’s few great pleasures”.

This time he doesn’t manage to stop himself from rolling his eyes at you. “Oh, I think we both know you find more pleasures in life than coca cola”.

Before you can answer him something insanely witty the door to the office behind the bar opens and an anxious looking Harrison step out. “Tom, Sam says the fish delivery didn’t show up again so we’re out of cod and therefore fish ‘n chips.”

Tom rubs his face, looking worried. “Alright, I’ll call him up and see what happened.”

But Harrison still looks tense. “Also…” he trails off, losing courage.

“Also, what?” And Tom too sounds tense now.

“Well, Downey from the bank called, he says the invoice is way over due and he wants a meeting. I told him you’d call today”.

Tom keeps rubbing his forehead, as if to literally fight of a migraine, and his shoulders tense. “Yeah, yeah I’ll call him this afternoon”. Harrison nods and walks back into the kitchen

“You know, I cou –” but you don’t get to finish your sentence before he interrupts you. “Don’t” he says, voice sharp as a whip.

“But, it would just be a loan, honestly I – ”

“No, and I mean it.” And you judging by the tone of voice he uses and the stern look he gives you you’re well aware that he isn’t joking. It’s like his usually warm and kind eyes are nailing you down into your seat. “I’m not gonna borrow money from a customer, as you well know.”

The problem is that really wouldn’t be a big deal for you to offer him a loan or give it as a gift really. You love this pub. You love the people working here and the patrons and coming in for a drink or a meal or simply a chat and a laugh. It’s your safe haven. No one ever hardly ever bothers you here. No one asks you for a selfie or asks you about when more music is coming out. No one tugs at your sleeve or try to sneakily take a photo of you. Here, you are normal. And it would devastate you to see the Holland boys lose it all when you know you can help. You have more money than you know what to do with.

However, you know there’s no arguing with him when he’s got that look on his face so you don’t, just keep sipping on your cherry coke as your foot taps along to the song on the radio. From inside the kitchen you can hear the faint sound of the Holland twin's laughter.

Tom turns away from you to sort out the whiskey glasses on the counter behind him. But when picking up a glass he fumbles, and it falls out of his hand and lands right on his foot, though it fortunately doesn’t break.

“Ah, fucking bastard!” he shouts, grabbing hold of his injured foot.

“You shouldn’t swear in church, you know” ¨you say, as you finish your coke.

He looks at you indignantly, pouting like a child, “well, lucky for me, this is a pub.”

“You say potato, I say tomato, now make me a real drink.”

“For fucks sake, darlin’, you gotta eat something.”

***

So, it’s either late or early, depending how you look on it. On tube stations all across London early worker are already gathering on the platforms to take their commute to work. Not you. Not Tom either.

Now, Tom is an early riser and has been since childhood. His nanna used to say that he had energy enough for three children. Despite regular closing shifts at the pub he likes to be up at dawn. Says he likes to get an hour at the gym and a walk with Tessa in before he heads to the pub to make sure everything is in order. After having checked with Sam that everything is stocked for the day, he has his protein loaded breakfast while ordering supplies or read through whatever paper work he need to be on top off before opening up the pub for the day.

Tom hates having this routine disturbed.

So, it goes like this. Harry had been the bartender most of that night, since Tom had ‘other business to take care of’. Whenever Harry was bartender he’d usually spent more time drinking with you than he did serving up the other costumers. When Tom came back and saw the state of you, he’d sent you home, telling you that you’d had enough for one night and asking Harrison to walk you home. Then he’d giving Harry a proper telling off. You had dutifully walked with Harrison to your apartment, thanked him sweetly, and then as soon as you saw that he had passed the corner walked into another pub just across the street for more. It wasn’t as charming a place as The Hollands and their bartender sure wasn’t as handsome or as fun to annoy as the regular one at Hollands. But in a pinch, anything will do.

Upon closing hour however, as you made your way home, you’d discovered that your keys were missing. Being absolutely wasted this did not worry you in the slightest. You just strolled back on unsteady legs to The Hollands to see if you’d dropped them there. Tom, who had closed the pub for the night, was still in. From the windows you could see him going through stacks of paperwork in front of him, a frown on his face. Upon hearing you knocking on the window at 2 am he’d jumped out his chair to see what was going on. When seeing you three sheets to the wind, dressed in a thin dress on a cold summer’s night the frown on his face had gotten worse.

Now here you are, in his apartment, in the dead of the night, and he’s offering you a plate of tortellini. Tessa had been overjoyed to see you and after having been allowed to greet you she had then been sent to her place and out of the way of your drunk, stumbling feet.

“But I hate tortellini” you whine.

“Christ sake, Popstar, just eat the damn food”

“No, I hate it, Tom, I hate it so much, it makes me think of- of- ” you hiccup.

“Are you actually crying right now?”

“It makes me think of- of - cheese sauce and -”

“Sorry, but what now?”

“And – I – I – I hate cheese sauce”. You’re full on sobbing and he just stares at you in disbelief.

Then, somehow the world seems fall the wrong way around. It takes you a second to realize that you’ve slid down on the floor and that you’re staring up at the ceiling. Tom’s strong arm take a hold of you and he guides you to a sitting position, leaned up against the wall. With your face in his hands he stares at you in indignation but there’s something else there too. You’re drunk enough to dare to call it tenderness.

Suddenly you’re aware that you’re sobbing, but you can’t remember why that is.

“Fuck who knows” he responds and when you give out a sound that’s something halfway between a sob and a laugh he starts laughing too. “If I make you something else to eat, will you eat it then? You’ll feel better in the morning if you do”.

Your head feels heavy, so you lean it against his hand and nod. “No cheese sauce, please”.

He rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing too. “Sure, no cheese sauce for Pop Princess.”

“Oi!” You call out “You promised to never to call me that!” Pop Princess was the title the tabloids had given you early on in your career. He keeps smiling, but it’s a gentle smile, and trace the frown between your eyebrows with his finger, as if he’s trying to erase it.

“Will you please just sit here while I cook?”

You nod again, too tired to say anything. He gets up, and you can hear some pouring water and then he places a glass of water in your hand. “Drink” he orders, then he’s gone again, and you can hear the clattering of pots and pans as he starts cooking. You’re just staring into the wall, trying to make it stop spinning; limbs heavy with sleep and whiskey, a nice buzzing numbness in your head.

Then he’s in front of you again, looking at you with a frown “I thought I told you to drink that” and you look at the full glass clasped in your hands. “Seriously, you’ll feel better if you do”.

You roll your eyes “oh, please, Tommy. Remember who you’re speaking to. I’m the local drunk, there’s no need to lecture me in hangovers”. But you do as you’re told and chug down your drink and hand him the empty glass. “Good girl” he says and gets back to his cooking. Before long the delicious scent of food is spreading through the tiny, cramped kitchen.

You start humming a song you wrote years ago but never released, low enough so you think Tom won’t hear you over the sizzling pan. But he does.

“What’s that?” he asks, curiosity in his voice.

“Oh” you say, leaning your head back against the wall as you close your eyes in the hope that the world will stop spinning. “Just a song.”

Everything goes quiet for a while and you find yourself wondering if you’ve fallen asleep. But then you hear his voice. “Keep singing, please”.

It surprises you, the amount of tenderness in his words; such a gentle bequest. So, you do as you’re told. In a voice raspy from the whiskey but sweet from his kindness you sing.

“I’ve been holding my breath, I’ve been counting to ten,

Over something you said, I’ve been holding back tears

While you’re throwing back beers, I’m alone in bed

You know I, I’m afraid of change, Guess that’s why we stay the same,

So tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags, get on the road,

Find someone that loves you better than I do, darling, I know,

'Cause you remind me every day, I’m not enough, but I still stay”

You trial off and he keeps quiet too and goes silent again. Then he slides down beside you, a plate of pasta carbonara in his hands which he offers you along with a fork. “Eat” he orders gently. You do, and it tastes delicious.

“God, Tom, you could rival Sam in the kitchen”.

He snorts but you persist. “Seriously Tommy, I’d hire you as a private chef if I didn’t know you’d be an insufferable employee”.

He snorts again, but you can tell he’s amused. “Wow, thanks a lot”

“Seriously, you’d always complain about my lack of organization, or the fact that I keep all of my face masks in the refrigerator, or that I never have any food at home or that I don’t eat at regular hours or that I sometimes just forget to eat and just have a Red bull for dinner instead or that I – ”

“Jesus Christ” he interrupts you “who the fuck let you be an adult? What’s wrong with you!?”

You’re wolfing down your food, so it takes you a moment to answer. “Someone said my problem was ‘a mind-boggling lack of general discipline and a staggeringly low ability to organise’” you finally say.

“Who said that? I mean they’re not wrong”.

“You said that” you point out as you finish your plate of carbonara. “Also, this was scrumptious, and also, may I sleep here tonight?”

He looks at you in disbelief “Yeah, duh, I’m not kicking you out? I mean, I thought that was the general idea of this”.

He grabs a hold of your plate and takes your hand in his other as he guides you both up to a standing position. He places the plate among the other dirty pans in the sink and then lead you to his bathroom. Giving you a new toothbrush, he orders you to brush your teeth while he changes his sheets. He hands you a shirt to sleep in and when you’ve changed you argue for a good 10 minutes while about who’s to sleep on the couch before he puts his foot down and say he’ll ban you from his pub unless you take the bed instead of him. So, you do.

His bed soft and comfortable and smell of his detergent. From the living room you can hear Tessa’s deep breaths and the sound of Tom tossing around on the sofa. You wonder how uncomfortable he is.

“Tommy just come in here instead” you call out, voice drowsy.

“No, I told you, you take the bed”

You snort. As if you were going to give this bed up, no chance. Not now that you know how comfortable it is.

“Yeah, duh” you answer. “Wasn’t planning on taking the sofa, but the bed’s big enough for the two of us, innit?”

Dead silence from the living room. Even Tessa seems to have been struck silent.

“You sure?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I'm sure, for fuck’s sake Tommy, just come in here”.

You hear the sound of footsteps slowly making their way across the floor, then he’s in the doorway. Clad in a pair of black boxers and a black t-shirt, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as he avoids looking at you.

You pull down the covers and he lay down beside you, keeping his distance in the bed. You have your backs against each other, staring into separate walls and even through the whiskey you can tell this is awkward. You want to ask him to hold you, but you’re scared he doesn’t want it. Scared he doesn’t even want to lay beside you. You are after all just a costumer in his bar. A costumer you know he can’t afford to lose.

You don’t know how long you lay there in silence, his scent surrounding you, the soft sound of his breath lulling you into further relaxation but eventually you drift off to sleep.

When you wake, he’s gone. A note on his pillow tells you he’s gone to the gym, telling you to take anything you want for breakfast and just leave the keys at the pub later.

When you close the door behind you you can’t help but feel that something tender happened in there, something important; but you know he doesn’t feel the same.

***

It’s Monday night, as Tom has been so kind to remind you off, and you’re plastered.

Earlier the pub had been full to rim of football supporters shouting and singing and sharing pints before a big game, filling the entire place with an excited buzz. Now they’ve all gone off to cheer for their heroes on the field and only the patrons remain.

Harry is bartender tonight, and Tom has placed himself in the back of the pub, a stack of paper in front of him that he keeps leering at. With a drink in your hand and a happy-go-lucky attitude you seat yourself on the opposite side of his table, determent to cheer him up.

“’m gonna write a song about you.” You inform him, voice only somewhat slurry.

“Go on then.” He doesn’t look up at you, just jots something down on the form in front of him. He’s wearing glasses tonight and they make him look so handsome you want to scream in frustration.

“Well, what rhymes with Tom? Rum!”

“Oh, Christ, no. No, I’ve changed my mind.”

“Tom, he serves rum and tequila.” You sing. “Wait, what rhymes with tequila?”

“Please don’t”

“Heliophilia!”

“Okay, ’m literally begging you not to do this.” He’s looking at you now, his caramel eyes filled with both amusement and genuine dread. You don’t listen, no, you sing.

“Tom, he serves Rum and tequila,

he loves the sun, it’s called heliophilia

his pub needs fundin’, he lives in London”

“Wow. That is a hell of a forced rhyme, pop princess.”

“No, no wait!”

“Wait? I will literally pay you to stop”.

But then you start singing for real, in a voice so sultry that it makes him freeze mid motion, hand just about to turn the page over.

“Have you’ve seen my bartender

he’ll serve you whiskey, he’ll pour you rum

so sweet it’ll make you tender

but all the whiskey in Tennessee

couldn’t have that man agree

to ever share a drink with thee

no, all that sweetness’s just for me

cause babe, he’s my bartender

Yes, have you’ve seen my bartender

He’ll hand you wine, he’ll sell you gin

I think it’s a sign when he hands me my wine

When hand’s touching hand, skin touches skin”

Tom seem to be frozen in place when you stop, and over at the bar you hear Harry give a loud whistle. “Fucking hell, popstar” he cheers.

Tom still doesn’t say anything, just observes you, seemingly speechless. And maybe you’re imagining it, but he’s cheeks seem pinker than usual.

"Well, at least I didn’t rhyme rum with cum” you say, trying to get a reaction out of him. And then “I did think about doing it though” and you lift your glass to him as if in a toast before you down it.

He snorts, back to his normal self and stare down at the paper again.

“Now, honestly, Tom. What did that piece of paper ever do to you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at it like you want to set fire to it. You’d like me to do it for you?”

“No thanks, reckon he’d sue”.

“Who is he?” you lean over the table and closer to him and you swear you can practically see him ordering himself not to look down at your cleavage. “Is he god?” you whisper in mock horror. “Cause, I wouldn’t worry too much, Tommy. You see, God can’t sue. Well, someone in America tried to sue Satan once and they couldn’t cause they couldn’t hand him the papers. Turns out Satan hasn’t got an address. Reckon the same goes with God”

He rolls his eyes “oh, this guy definitely has got an address. He lives in Knightsbridge.” And then, in a voice unusually bitter he adds “posh twat”.

“Oy” you warn, jokingly, “those are my neighbourhoods'”.

A sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh escapes him “Oh please” he laughs “please, you might live in Primrose Hill now, but you’re not Knightsbridge posh. Sorry to disappoint, Pop Princess”.

You glare, but it’s all in good humour. “So, who is this not-God-but-rich-as-God man sending you paper?”

The humour disappears from his face. “Downey, from the bank”. Then he turns to the bar and shouts, “Harry, hand me a pint, ye?”

“And a whiskey for me, please” you request sweetly.

“No way, Harry, she’s cut off for the night. Tell Sam to make her something to eat” he orders his younger brother who rolls his eyes but obediently begin to head into to the kitchen.

“Not tort -” you begin shouting as an instruction.

“Not tortellini” he shouts at the same time. “And no cheese sauce either” he then adds.

You smile at him and this time you swear he’s blushing.

“Who’s Downey? You ask. And you know you’re prying, but you also know that Tom needs help with something and if there’s anything you can do to help, you will.

“A bank man who wants me to pay my loans back”. He answers eventually after a long silence, when he figures you’re not going to give up and talk about something else. Harry comes back and hands Tom a pint and then leaves to take care of a costumer at the bar.

“A bank man, who lives in Knightsbridge?” You ask, bemused.

Tom smiles “oh, believe you me, Downey’s not your average bank clerk.” Then, in a serious tone, “look, I know you want to help, but there’s nothing you can do, ye? So drop it”.

“But I-”

“Drop it. Seriously, pop princess, there’s nothing you can do, I’ll figure something out”. He doesn’t sound harsh and the way he looks at you is positively adoring. Then he does something unexcepted. He reaches over the table and pulls a loose string of hair behind your ear. It’s a soft and sweet gesture and you want to reach over and kiss him but before you can he removes his hand and seconds later Harry places a dish of steaming pasta carbonara in front of you. You smile and thank him and he makes his way back to the bar.

You eat in silence for a while as he continues to read through stashes of papers. You decide to leave the subject, for now at least.

“Yours is better, by the way”. He looks up at you, confused. “Your carbonara” you clarify. “I mean, Sam is an incredible chef and you’re lucky to have him, but yours is my favourite”.

His cheeks heat up, again.

***

R E A D P A R T T W O H E R E

#tom holland #tom holland headcanon #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x oc #tom holland x fem #tom holland x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n

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high-supernatural · 3 years

Text

Unbroken IV: Back to the Real World

- This is part 4 to a part (who knows) series love story about a girl and Kai Parker.

Summary of the Series: Vera (V) has a connection to Kai that hasn’t been explained. Since she was young she could project into his prison world and interact. Over the years she got stronger and eventually broke him out. Think Supernatural’s Apocalypse world x parallel universe travel x kai parker. The rest you’ll have to read about :):)

Kai Parker x Female Character

Summary: Vera and Kai go on an adventure and make it back to the other world.

Word Count: 1518

Warnings: Typical TVD & SPN themes, finger pricking, Kai stabs reader (consensually), looting stores.

Kai and Vera set on their way to an unknown location in a car Kai found.

"We should stop at places along the way to wherever we're going," Vera exclaimed.

"Yeah? Like where?" Kai asked.

"Well... We have an entire world to ourselves, nobody around, and fully stocked stores with nobody to monitor them... you see where I'm going with this?" Kai glanced at her, playing dumb.

Vera huffed, "C'mon, it might all be merchandise from the '90s, but jewelry is jewelry. If I have an opportunity to hoard expensive things and steal without consequence, I'm taking it," she explained.

"A thief after my own heart," Kai joked.

"Besides... who else could see the world's largest ball of twine without any other tourists in the area?" Vera joked back.

"Been there, done that.... you're not missing much,"

"Oh come on, have some fun with me," she joked again.

They drove until sundown and found a random house to crash at for the night.

The two sat at the dinner table in the house after Kai made dinner again.

"If we're really doing this, we have to make a promise to each other," Vera spoke.

"Name your price," Kai looked at her attentively.

Vera propped her left elbow on the table, "give me your right pinky," she said.

Kai looked at her like she was weird but obliged. She put a hand on the wrist he gave her and pulled out a small pocket knife and handed it to Kai, "this is how I and the other you made pacts, you cut my pinky, I cut yours, we interlock our fingers, let the blood drip, and our pact is sealed."

She held her hand out to Kai, watching him slice her finger slowly and attentively before taking the knife from him and returning the gesture, interlocking their pinky's after.

"Ok, repeat after me, when we get to the other side, we won't leave each other," they looked into each other's eyes.

Kai repeated, "when we get to the other side, we won't leave each other."

"We'll be there for each other,"

"We are all we have,"

"We learn about that world together,"

Blood from both of their pinkies dripped down each other's hands.

"We won't abandon each other, or try to kill each other, we stick together,"

"We stick together,"

"No matter what," she said

"No matter what," Kai said.

"What else?" she asked.

Kai thought for a minute, "my fight is your fight,"

"My fight is your fight too," she repeated.

"Nothing will separate us," he said.

"Nothing will separate us,"

"That's all," Kai ended.

"Now I kiss your hand and you kiss mine, same time," She leaned to kiss his hand as he kissed hers, still looking at each other they pulled away.

The next day they took their time driving the rest of the way to their destination, making stops at numerous stores to gather things they found they wanted to take back with them.

"Pull over into this store," Vera said pointing at a high-end-looking jewelry store.

They walked into the dark store with flashlights, "wow," Vera gasped, "I can't believe you never looted any of these stores," her eyes laid on a diamond necklace, "look at that!" She walked behind the counter to pick it up, stuffing it in her bag.

"I would have if I had anywhere to wear these things," Kai said looking around, "besides, do you know how hard this glass is to get into?" He asked.

"Not very hard if you have the right tools," Vera smirked holding a baseball bat she rigged with a glass breaker on the end. They both wandered around the store checking out the things they want when Vera walked up to Kai with a ring sizer in hand, "what size ring do you wear," she asked.

"I don't know, 8?" he questioned.

She placed the ring sizer around his pinky finger, "9 actually."

"Why?" He asked.

"Well, we made a pact, might as well seal it in diamonds," she smashed a cabinet open with her bat, "I pick yours, you pick mine?" she asked.

Kai took the bat from her hands to rummage through the counter with women's rings, coming back over to her, "this looks like you," he picked up her hand from her left side and slid a skinny black snake ring with a diamond coating over her pinky.

"This looks like you then," she returned the gesture with a black band that had diamonds around the sides.

Kai squinted at her, "you know me well, somehow," he said in mild suspicion, "well, grab what you want, let's get going so we can beat the sun," he said.

She filled her bag with anything she thought was pretty and they were on their way again.

The destination they arrived at was Portland, Oregon. Kai pulled the car up to a white house slowly, "we're here," he said and got out of the car.

"Where is here?" Vera asked.

"Portland. My childhood home," he smiled and gestured her inside.

She knew Kai's past, but he didn't know that yet. He still thought Vera was just a girl who could see into his world and came back for that reason and that reason only. She didn't intend on bringing it up.

Vera's gift of seeing people for who they are behind their facade also worked with humans like Kai. Behind the cockiness, the jokes, insults, his weird ways of flirting, and general meanness, she saw behind all of it, something else Kai didn't know about her.

When she looked at him deeply she saw a hurt kid. Somebody who was born different and rejected for it. Deeper she saw the isolation. She knew he was isolated for being different. She didn't see a sociopathic serial killer, she saw a hurt young man who wanted revenge for the rejection and isolation placed on him. He didn't frighten her.

They walked into Kai's house, "why'd you want to come here?" she asked.

"This is where it all started. I figured this is where it should end," he told her, "I never told you the story of how I got here, did I?"

All she said was, "no," she wanted to hear it from him.

He pulled a chair out for her and gestured for her to sit as he sat across from her.

"I was born into a coven, a family of witches," he started, "the Gemini coven." He looked away from her at the table by her arm. "They had a tradition that every twin merges on their 22nd birthday and becomes the leader, but I was different," he paused. "I was born a siphoner, I siphon magic from others, I don't technically have my own, they were afraid of me,"

Vera interrupted, "so they isolated you?" she asked.

He looked up, "how'd you know?"

"Wild guess," she lied.

"Yeah," he looked back down, "they isolated me on the day of the merge... so I killed them. Every last one of my family members, except my father and my twin... when we began the merge, other members of the coven showed and they locked me here," he downplayed.

"Okay," she said calmly looking at him.

He looked at her confused, "okay?"

"Yeah... okay," she smiled.

Kai squinted, "either you're just as insane or you didn't hear me... I killed my whole family," he said with infliction.

"I know what you said. The way I see it though is they treated you bad and you wanted revenge. That doesn't really make you the bad guy," Vera looked right at him to catch his reaction.

He didn't say anything, he got up from his chair and walked to the kitchen, "hungry?" he changed the subject.

She could see this made him uncomfortable, he wasn't used to somebody accepting him and not being afraid, but decided to leave it alone, for a while, at least.

The next day was the day they were planning on leaving. They walked into the field under the eclipse for extra measure.

"Okay, remember what to do?" she asked, "I'm going to put my backpacks on, die with the other world in mind, you hold onto me and hope for the best," she looked at him.

Vera handed him a knife she took from the kitchen, "all hands on deck babe, don't let go," she said giving him a new nickname.

Kai plunged the knife into her heart and she held onto his forearm falling to her knees coughing. Kai got down with her, pulling the knife back out, and closed his eyes for a second, opening them to find themselves in the same field with some differences.

He looked around and realized they made it.

Vera laid motionless in his kneeling lap as he tried waking her before laying her in the grass and walking around, feeling the sunshine, watching the new types of cars drive by, taking the victory in.

Vera woke minutes later coughing to find Kai standing by the road, stumbling to get up and walk over to him.

She said out of breath, "looks like we made it," and coughed, "where to now?" she gripped her heart, still recovering.

"I have some business to take care of," Kai looked around and back at her, "care to join?" They both smiled.

#kai parker #kai parker x reader #kai parker imagine #kai parker series #tvd #tvd fanfiction #tvd au #tvd series

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andorwhore · 3 years

Text

Saudade - IV of VII

Chapter IV of VII: Care

summary: A year in the life of a rebel with a cause and a rebel in search of one… chapter four: Lose has a tendency to bring people close, and that can be daunting.

author’s note: Who hasn’t updated since October? I guess it’s me, the resident asshole author. I took a very long and unexpected break from writing due to school and work, and I still haven’t written any new content unfortunately. But I thought it would be a shame to let this complete chapter sit around unpublished. So, I’m hoping that this will motivate me to finish up this story (and potentially add that new chapter I’ve been considering). And if I never get around to wrapping this fic up, at the very least this is the perfect chapter to leave it on.

pairing: Cassian Andor x OC word count: 11,465 (longest one yet babey) rating: T, eventual R warnings: is ~*~intimacy~*~ something that requires a warning lol

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter four

[ff.net] [ao3]

taglist: @justanotherblonde23

The Festival of Stars was a celebration Jai was quite familiar with, or at least as familiar as the average person could be. She didn't know the exact origin of the festival week, though she knew it had something to do with interstellar space travel; what she did know with certainty is that every year, the Ring of Kafrene became overloaded with travelers during the holiday, en route to destinations all across the galaxy. On Kafrene, the people took to celebrating it as well, though as Jai got older she realized it was a means of ripping off all the gullible tourists that made pit stops on the colony. Residents of Kafrene were smart to jump on the opportunity, Jai's friends and family included, and ironically enough, because of the locals' investment in playing travelers for fools, the festival in its own way became a part of what little culture Kafrene had.

Jai hadn't expected to hear anything about the festival on Yavin 4. Hell, she all but forgot about the holiday week, the last six months of her life having been all consumed by Alliance business. She first heard someone mention the Festival of Stars just as they were heading back to the base after a mission to a planet called Naator (this being yet another world Jai had no prior knowledge of). She was brought along on the mission as tech support, though Jai was fairly certain she wouldn't be needed.

She had ended up spending a whole day on Naator just sitting in the ship and waiting for her team to return. The most thrilling thing that happened to Jai was when some local animal spooked her as she did an engine check in the morning, and she nearly fried the creature with her blaster. Her team returned successful, and they were off of the planet just as quickly as they had arrived.

As they started on their few hours journey to return back to Yavin 4, one of the team members reminded everyone that the holiday was going on that week, and that they should make a pit stop to pick up a few things to celebrate. Jai listened with intrigue as the group excitedly discussed the festivity, curious to hear about it from the perspective of those that didn't grow up trying to find ways to profit off of the holiday.

Apparently, quite a number of the rebels celebrated it every year, along with the other two Fete Weeks. Jai, of course, didn't know about these other weeks - they had their own dumb holidays back on the Ring of Kafrene, and the Festival of Stars was the only one she knew of that was celebrated in all corners of the galaxy. Rebels, no matter what planet they came from, all seemed to love the holiday, saw it as an opportunity to relax and forget their responsibilities for a while.

Although the festival was traditionally celebrated over the course of five days, the Rebellion only had two evenings unofficially dedicated to it - after all, it wouldn't be very practical if they spent an entire week partying. The "unofficial" part, someone explained to Jai, was because the council of superiors didn't recognize it as any kind of reprieve from work - they were happy to allow their rebels to celebrate, and even happy to take part in the festivities if time allowed, but the Festival of Stars wasn't something marked on everyone's calendars as time off. In the Rebellion, there was no such thing as time off. If someone was lucky enough to have one of the two evenings free, then they were welcome to join in the party.

Jai's team were all planning to attend once they got back to Yavin 4, encouraging the slicer to join them - and Jai was never one to turn down a party.

The Naator mission team ended up going a little crazy during their pit stop on one of the planets in the nearest trading belt - apparently, Jai observed, the Festival of Stars was more like the Festival of Drinking among the rebels. They grabbed everything from spicebrew to malts to drinks that Jai had never even heard of; and, of course, she made sure they grabbed as much Merenzane Gold as they could manage. Jai could only wonder just how much alcohol there would be at base once the other rebels returned from their missions as well, all surely having the same idea as her team.

By the time they returned to Yavin 4, evening was slowly closing in, and the hangar seemed far more crowded than usual - it would seem the partying was far too big for the confines of the mess hall, as the rebels took to setting up out here instead. The Naator team was already buzzing with impatience as the gunship settled on the tarmac, everyone waiting to jump out and join the party that had just begun over on the west side of the hangar. Everyone grabbed up the boxes of alcohol scattered across the ship - Jai made sure she grabbed at least one of the crates of Merenzane.

As she stepped off of the ship, Jai felt a warmth swelling in her chest, hearing her teammates chattering excitedly and the carefree voices of their fellow rebels drifting towards them from the west side. Back home, Jai and her brothers loved the Festival of Stars, and they almost always managed to convince Tillian and Vinis to let them run off amongst the crowds each evening rather than have them work at Vinis' shop in the market (or have them take advantage of the tourists' guards being down). When the three of them were out together, watching the performances other locals put on, hearing the excited chatter of people on the streets, climbing up on rooftops to watch the crowd with interest and awe, they were unstoppable. They always ended those evenings on the roof of their home, staying up into the wee hours of the mornings to watch all of the excitement - up there, they felt as if they were on top of the entire world.

Those were simpler times, before Tillian passed, before Jai's brother ran off with some unscrupulous stranger, when they were still young and hopeful and without a care in the world. Jai missed those days and missed what her family used to be. The holiday didn't feel the same after they lost Tillian, and by the time her brother left, the festival was practically nonexistent to her - they could never go back to the dream of their childhood, and Jai had come to accept that. But as she walked through the hangar with her excited teammates, each with a bit of a skip in their steps, Jai felt as if this could start a new festival tradition for her, one that, though not the same as that of her past, would be just as good. This was the next chapter of her life, and with the next chapter came new things to love and be excited about.

Another half a dozen or so ships had pulled into the hangar after the Naator team, all landing on the opposite end of the hangar from where the enlivened rebels were setting up drinks and tables. Jai was about halfway to her destination when she looked back towards the new ships, but they were too far off for her to immediately identify any of them. Beside her, the team leader, Kinall, asked Jai if she felt steady enough to take another box of alcohol on top of the one she already had - Kinall had to head up to Command to report to her superior about the mission. Jai gave a histrionic sigh, but agreed to take the second crate, readjusting her grip on the box of Merenzane Gold before Kinall set the second box atop it. The captain spun around to head towards the turbolift, Jai watching her walk off while she ensured her grip was steady before continuing towards the party.

"I think you have a drinking problem." a voice teased noncommittally from somewhere behind Jai, causing a smile to pull across her face as she rolled her eyes. Turning around carefully so as not to drop anything, she spotted Cassian and K-2SO approaching her, looking as if they, too, had just returned from a mission. Cassian had a teasing smirk on his lips, and yet the expression didn't even remotely reach his eyes; and, though Kay was expressionless, he still somehow seemed eternally judgmental.

"My only drinking problem is that I haven't had enough yet to deal with you." Jai retorted, looking past Cassian at all the other rebels that had come back from their various missions, wondering briefly if Cassian had gone with a team or if his job had been solo.

Nearly everyone returned with something in hand, most of which Jai was sure had to be booze, though unsurprisingly, Cassian was empty handed.

For another moment, Jai watched the other rebels as most of them walked in her direction, though she noted the few that quickly made their way for the turbolift instead, heads down and expressions distraught. Must have been a sour mission that dampened their mood.

Jai looked between Cassian and the two crates she carried as they began to feel even heavier, "Help a girl out, would you?"

Cassian glanced with disinterest at the boxes in her arms, though Jai could now recognize the waggish glint on his face that, once again, didn't quite seem to reach his eyes, "You look like you've got a handle on it."

She gave him a small glare before turning her eyes up towards K-2SO, but before Jai could say anything, the droid spoke, "Don't assume I'll help you with it."

Jai scoffed, "Such gentlemen…"

She and Cassian met eyes again as he gave a tired, agreeing grin, stepping up to take the top box from her, Jai's arms immediately feeling relieved at the lightened load. As she turned back around for them to head toward the tables, she eyed Cassian curiously, noticing that his posture seemed exhausted and his face worn.

"What, didn't bring anything for the party?" The man looked back at her, his expression a little less amused than before. His lips seemed to press tightly together for a slight second. There was something on his mind, that much Jai could discern, but she was certain that Cassian would avoid mentioning it.

"I have no interest in parties."

Jai shouldn't have been at all surprised by the answer. Of course Cassian wasn't the party going type - he preferred his brooding to having a good time. Ever since their night of drinking two months back, Jai hadn't been able to get him to do so since. Sure, Cassian had a drink here or there that she knew of, but the two haven't since sat down and dedicated a couple of hours to simply drinking and chatting as freely and carelessly as they had back then. That evening caused a shift in their relationship, even if by this point they couldn't exactly remember all of that night.

They were friends now, even if Cassian refused to ever say so out loud. That didn't mean they saw each other everyday nor did they have the chances to make great efforts to spend time together, however, they could both feel it in the way they talked, the way they seemed to feel more at ease with one another, the way they simply seemed to fit together.

Jai had somehow convinced Cassian to spend meals with her and her other friends in the mess hall on a few rare occasions, and when she wasn't busy with something Jai wandered her way to Cassian's ship or up to the control room to take some time to chat with him if she knew he was around base. Neither had been back to the other's dorm, however - that evening months ago was a strange exception, and without saying so they both had a feeling that the next time that happened, it'd be very different from that time before.

Jai liked Cassian - most of the time, she was pretty sure she knew it was just as a friend, but every now and again she caught herself looking at him a certain way, looking at him with a warmth in her chest that she didn't feel often enough to be able to surely identify it. It didn't linger all too often, but when it did it wasn't easy to ignore; Jai could tell herself it was the kind of warmth one felt for a friend, but then she'd catch herself admiring him too closely or getting lost somewhere in her head if someone mentioned his name, and she knew there was no way this warmth was simply one of friendship.

It wasn't a crush - that word certainly felt too juvenile to describe whatever this was. Jai simply saw it as the part of her that got caught up in the "what ifs" - what if we met in a different way in a different place, what if we weren't in this rebellion, what if he wasn't so guarded and distant? The "what ifs" were casual and non committal - they weren't real wants or desires, Jai told herself. They were simple considerations that passed through her mind as if they were foolish impulses, like those pesky voices that asked "what if you just shocked yourself with one of your tools to see what would happen" or "what if you went and jumped out of a ship without taking any precautions?"

And this was a ship that Jai had no intention of jumping out of - it was better if it all just stayed up in her head. She didn't dare let herself wonder if Cassian ever had those random intrusive thoughts - he struck her as the kind of guy who simply didn't have the time for intrusive thoughts. Even when he wasn't busy, his mind was at work, and there was no room for useless thinking as far as she could tell.

So, the fact that Cassian didn't do parties was something Jai could have guessed about him - just like useless thoughts, Cassian didn't seem to have time for useless events either. Though, it was still disappointing to hear from him, because Jai saw Cassian as someone that was in desperate need of some lighthearted fun every now and again.

Jai hummed as they set the crates atop a table full of alcohol of all varieties, other rebels already swarming to grab some for themselves, "That's a shame, I really could use someone to help me drink all this Merenzane."

As she grinned at Cassian, Jai snagged a bottle of her favorite drink before they could all disappear. Cassian glanced at the bottle before his eyes flicked back up to meet Jai's for a moment with a raised brow; he looked behind himself at Kay as if he could get Cassian out of this party, but the damned droid had already retreated with disinterest.

"You'll have to find another drinking partner, Jai." He replied plainly… no, it wasn't plain, he sounded exhausted; he knew, though, that the woman almost surely wasn't going to accept his answer. Jai was persistent when she wanted to be, and something about Cassian always seemed to make her more tenacious than she usually was. Cassian discovered that, apparently, after making some passing comment to someone about Jai's persistence, she was never so stubborn with others, as his comment surprised the rebel he was talking to. She must have reserved all of that tiresome stubbornness for him and him alone. Upon discovering that, Cassian repeatedly had to stop himself from overthinking what that meant.

Cassian could tell from the look in Jai's eyes that she was about to attempt to persuade him to stay for a little while, and he could also see that she was hoping that she'd succeed. Giving her his own resolute look, Cassian turned his shoulder and started walking out of the crowd of other rebels.

"You know you can relax every now and again." Jai's voice chimed up from right alongside him; she sounded caring, as if she wasn't simply asking for his company, but asking for him to be at ease for once, "Maybe a party would be good for you."

"I think not." He glanced down at her. His tone nor his expression were either harsh or dismissive, but that weariness Jai spotted earlier seemed almost more present in his eyes, "I have to go debrief with Draven."

Jai couldn't argue with that particular point, knowing it to be true, though she was sure a debriefing couldn't take up much of his time. She sighed a little through her nose as she looked down at the Merenzane she was carrying. Something seemed to be bothering Cassian, or maybe this last mission was just so draining that he couldn't commit himself to socializing.

"Come back down for one drink?" She tried one final time, seeing the consideration on Cassian's face when she looked back toward him.

A part of Cassian wanted to say yes. Despite how awful he felt, and despite his complete lack of interest in the Festival of Stars, a part of him wanted to agree to a drink with some good company. He began to consider that maybe a drink is exactly what his drained heart needed right now, what his weathered mind could use. Though he wasn't keen on joining a pointless party, Cassian felt some kind of pull towards spending time with Jai, especially given the way she looked at him with such hopefulness. Whether that be because he was fond of her or because he knew he had something important to say to her, he wasn't sure.

After all these months, Jai had become a friend, though her tactics were relatively new ones to him - any time she was told "Cassian doesn't do this" or "Cassian doesn't like that," she blatantly did whatever those things were to challenge them, to test them and see if they were true or if simply no one else dared to try to get any closer to him.

Cassian would have expected himself to become annoyed by Jai's persistence, but despite himself he found that he respected it, found that he even came to genuinely like it - because he kept so many people at arm's length, he was refreshed by Jai's resolve to get to know him, to be his friend and to see him open up. Sure, Jai's disregard for his space could occasionally be a pain in his ass, but more often than not it turned out to be exactly what Cassian needed in a companion, in a friend, in… well, he didn't want to consider what she could be beyond a friend.

Jai raised one brow as a grin spread across her lips - Cassian's silent consideration was a promising reaction, she had come to learn. The silence meant he was interested in her offer, at least to some degree, he just simply didn't want to admit so. As he recognized the look on Jai's face, Cassian sighed with an indignant roll of his eyes.

He lifted his index finger between them for emphasis, "One drink."

Jai's smile grew wider as she motioned with her head towards the turbolift, hoping her smile would help lift some of that obvious stress off of his shoulders, "Go take care of your debriefing, captain."

The trace of a sad smile pulled at Cassian's face as he turned away from the woman to make his retreat. Jai watched him go with a content expression, eyeing her friend closely until finally the doors of the lift closed, only catching at the very last second that there appeared to be some kind of a sadness in his eyes.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Jai had a feeling Cassian was going to flake on her.

Captain Kinall from Jai's mission already returned to the hangar, and the woman had gone up to command only a few minutes before Cassian. She'd been back long enough to finish one drink, and Jai found herself wondering if Cassian's debriefing had run over, or if he changed his mind and went back to his dorm without telling her.

She shouldn't be upset at him. It felt childish, this anxiety that bubbled in Jai's chest as she considered why Cassian didn't show. If he didn't want to join her for a drink, then so be it - she shouldn't let herself get upset over that, it was far too out of character.

But a small, nagging part of Jai was, at the very least, disappointed - despite how uneventful their conversations could be sometimes, she nonetheless was looking forward to getting some time with Cassian tonight. She always looked forward to even the briefest of minutes she got to see him.

Jai sat at one of the tables dragged out for the party, Abe and Miona across from her, and beside her another doctor named Pek. For what felt like the hundredth time, Miona was encouraging Abe to talk to another rebel that he fancied, and Pek was telling Miona and Jai to stop pestering him about it.

Of all the twi'leks Jai had met through the years, Abe was by far the most peculiar - the twi'leks back on Kafrene always seemed bold, fearless, and without any hesitation, but Abe was constantly getting caught up in his own head, always questioning and calculating everything before coming to any decision. It's what Jai found charming about him; the fact that he shared that quality with her younger brother is what drew her to Abe in the first place.

"Jai," Miona's voice stressed, drawing her friend from her daze - stupidly, Jai had been staring at the turbolift and once more got caught up wondering where Cassian was. Jai quickly collected herself, looking around the table, "Tell Abe he just needs to go talk to Chiri."

Jai could see Pek and Abe both roll their eyes, and the slicer gave a half-assed grin, "Abe, tonight is kind of the perfect night to go for it, what could go wrong?"

"I'm not going to make an idiot of myself trying to flirt with anyone." Abe argued nervously, looking tired to be having this conversation yet again.

Jai shrugged noncommittally, lifting her glass to her lips, "Then stop ogling her every time you see her - she might start to notice you."

Miona laughed good-naturedly, setting her hand on Abe's forearm as reassurance.

"Leave him alone, you guys." Pek rolled her eyes at them, giving Jai a little jab with her elbow, "We've had this conversation a thousand times already."

Jai gave her friend a nudge back, the corner of her mouth pulled up slightly, "Fine, fine, I promise no more talking about Chiri."

"You don't make promises." Miona scoffed around the rim of her glass.

Jai paused before nodding in agreement, raising her glass, "You got me there."

Jai's eyes drifted back toward the turbolift, and she mentally reprimanded herself for it - she shouldn't let Cassian trouble her. It was a stupid thing to keep focusing on; she was here with her friends, so why let one man's disinterested agreement to make an appearance linger in her thoughts?

A minute later, the turbolift doors opened, and dumbly Jai perked up a little, only to be immediately let down when she saw it wasn't Cassian. She hoped the others didn't notice her.

She sighed a little through her nose, knocking back the rest of the Merenzane in her glass in one swift swig before she started chewing on the inside of her lip, her brows pulled into a slight glare as she started down at her empty glass.

This was stupid. Why did she get herself excited for Cassian in the first place? They were friends, but they weren't that close. And yet, Jai felt a distinct fondness, a feeling of closeness despite knowing they weren't that. It was that draw she felt to him, the one stirred up when she started thinking "what if" again - it was the things in her head overriding what was going on in reality. She just needed to relax and have another drink, and the rebel captain would be forgotten for the remainder of the evening.

And yet… Jai felt some distinct pull to the man this evening, something she couldn't shake. It had to have been that look in his eyes earlier - Cassian looked exhausted despite putting up at least a decent front of impassivity, he looked downcast despite trying to make jokes to keep Jai off his scent. Maybe she should have read his body language better - he was probably so drained from whatever his latest job was, both emotionally and physically, that there was no way he could try to take part in socializing tonight.

'I don't think he's okay.' The thought suddenly struck Jai, though she tried to dismiss it as being her own anxiety just creating extra worry. Cassian was probably as fine as one could be after a rough mission, he just didn't care about this party. But then again, he seemed more off than usual earlier, like he was not entirely there despite trying to pretend he was.

Jai came back to reality again, looking around the table at her friends, wondering if they had noticed just how long she'd been silent. Miona seemed to give her a look of at least recognition that she had zoned out, but it wasn't a knowing expression as if she could figure out what was on Jai's mind. Jai sighed a little, glancing at her glass again before pushing up from the table without entirely thinking about it.

"I need another drink." The group's eyes drew toward her, and Abe lifted his own glass and shook it a little.

"Grab another for me, too?"

Jai nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure she'd be back to the table any time soon; but she didn't want them being suspicious about her disappearance, at least not from the get-go. As her friends returned to their discussion, Jai glanced back towards the turbolift as she started walking away - she knew she had herself convinced that something wasn't right, and now there was no shaking that though. Her legs carried her toward one of the tables full of drinks, but as she glanced down at it, she had no interest in refilling her glass.

Jai sighed - it looked like she was going to search for the rebel captain after all.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Cassian wasn't sure when he had zoned out or how long he had been sitting still as a statue on the edge of his bed, but a knock at his door drew him out of his daze. As he blinked rapidly a few times, the knocking sounded again - how long had someone been at his door? Cassian's eyes drifted toward it, staring weakly - he was too exhausted to deal with anyone right now, and there wasn't anything that could be that important right now.

"Cassian." A voice sounded from the other side, causing his brows to perk and his back to straighten in recognition - Jai. She came looking for him, much to his own surprise.

When he agreed to return to the hangar, he was still on the fence about whether or not he'd even show, about whether or not he wanted to tell Jai what was on his mind. When he returned to his room to clean up after his meeting with Draven, Cassian knew he didn't have the emotional energy to put up with a crowd, even if it were just for a few minutes. He figured Jai would be content with her friends and forget all about asking him to show up, but evidently his assumption was false.

Cassian pushed his elbows off of his bare knees, staring at the door again as he sighed, deciding whether or not he even wanted to get up. Jai's knocking had stopped - did she give up? Despite himself, Cassian felt a certain disappointment, imagining Jai sighing on the opposite side of his door and walking away in defeat - maybe he wanted to talk to her, maybe he wanted some company. No, he wasn't the type that ever wanted someone around, especially not when he felt like shit as he was feeling tonight. Yet, something in him wanted to let Jai in.

Cassian rose to his feet while pushing his damp hair off of his forehead, hurrying to his small closet to dig out a pair of sweatpants, which he stumbled his legs into as he made for the door. As one hand finished pulling them up, the other snatched his discarded jacket from where he'd dropped it onto the floor.

He stuck his head out the door, seeing that Jai had, in fact, begun to retreat down the hall. For a moment, he simply stared at the back of her head, wondering what exactly he wanted - should he let her go, or should he call out to her? Why did he even go to his door to begin with? And why did he feel this craving for company somewhere in his chest, a craving for Jai's company?

"Jai?" His voice was quieter than he expected, and Cassian wondered if the slicer even heard him. But she paused and turned back, a small grin on her face as her eyes fell on the man that was halfway out in the hall. Upon spotting his damn hair and semi-bare chest, Jai looked Cassian up and down while he finished jerking the jacket over his shoulders; she quirked a brow slightly before looking back at his face while approaching.

"I thought you were gonna stand me up." She teased, making a joke out of the very real disappointment that she had been feeling earlier. As she paused in front of him, though, Jai noticed the conflict in Cassian's expression that had been there all night.

"… I thought about it." He admitted while looking into his room, silently leading Jai back inside. Just like before, she looked around the space, noticing this time though that there was a trail of discarded clothes leading towards the refresher. Her eyes turned back up toward Cassian, who stood between his bed and his closet, his head turned in consideration, as if deciding whether to face her or turn away, whether to remain on his feet or sit down. Despite the man giving no real clues, Jai knew there was something off about Cassian tonight, she just couldn't put her finger on why that was.

The two were quiet for a nearly uncomfortable length of time, Cassian's back still turned to her as they both stood dumbly in the middle of the room. So, Jai thought, she had been right to come looking for him, though she felt bad for her immature worry over why he didn't show.

"So, I take it you don't want that drink tonight." Jai finally said in a somewhat serious tone, though the answer was already obvious. She moved to take a seat on the couch, eyes still watching Cassian attentively as he finally turned to face her. He didn't have to say anything, Jai saw in his expression the confirmation she needed - it wasn't a good night. He was no longer putting up the front he had on down in the hangar as the two stared at each other for another long beat, Cassian hoping that he simply looked tired rather than distraught. But the observant shine in Jai's eyes made it clear to Cassian that he had been figured out.

Jai bit the inside of her cheek, wondering what she should say next - she never was one for serious conversations, especially when she knew the topic was something unideal. She especially wasn't prepared to have one with Cassian, and she wondered why the hell the man let her into his room - he wasn't the type who'd want to share an upsetting conversation with just anyone. Should she just go and leave him be?

"What happened?" Jai heard herself ask without thinking, her brow furrowed in worry. Another long silence stretched out between them; Cassian stared into Jai's eyes for a moment, but eventually looked down at his bare feet, hands resting on his hips as he let out a small sigh.

"It's nothing." He said, his tone nearly convincing - it would have convinced someone else to drop the subject, but Jai could see that this wasn't nothing, and she was never one to immediately give up, especially not with Cassian. Jai nodded while looking away, though she didn't accept his answer. Her eyes fell on the trail of clothes again as she considered.

"Look, I'm shit at this, but… do you need to talk about it?" She turned her gaze back toward Cassian, who was motionless as his tired eyes continued to look at her with reservation. Cassian knew he needed to tell her. Sure, Jai would have heard about this eventually, he already knew the information would make its rounds tomorrow - she should just wait till then. But something about it still nagged at him, something that felt as if it were important for him to discuss it with her now before it was too late. He had to be the one to tell her. it wouldn't be right if she heard it from anyone else, but he didn't know how he'd do it.

Finally, he shook his head slowly, his jaw tight as practiced authority briefly lit his eyes, though it only lingered for a moment. Jai in return gave a disheartened nod, pushing herself back up to her feet as her eyes continued to search Cassian's doleful face, her own worry evident in her expression.

As she took one defeated step towards the door, though, Cassian found himself taking a step forward as well, causing Jai to pause and look back at him. For a moment, Cassian sucked in his lips as he studied the woman's expression. There was yet again another long silence between them as they stared into each other's eyes unblinking.

Finally, Cassian took a deep breath, his voice quiet, "It's Gar."

Immediately, Jai's eyes widened with worry, nearly gasping as she inhaled through her nose - once she started to realize how dire Cassian's mood was, she feared that this was something she wouldn't want to hear, and the dread of that suddenly weighed heavily in her stomach.

If Gar was… Jai didn't even want to think the word. If he was, then that would be the first Rebellion casualty that would leave a mark on her heart. Jai knew others had passed in her six months as a rebel technician, but none of them she knew - though Jai tried to be at the very least friendly with each person that crossed her path, she knew only a sliver of the people on Yavin 4.

She wasn't like Cassian - she didn't feel connected to every single person here, she didn't feel weighed down every time another rebel didn't return home, she didn't let those losses linger. So many had been lost and Jai simply accepted it while moving on, knowing it came with the territory and finding it hard to feel anything when she didn't even know the person.

But Gar? A man who had been a boss and a mentor to her, who had been nearly a brotherly figure as of recent? She almost didn't want to hear what Cassian would say next.

Jai didn't even feel her feet move beneath her as she closed the distance between her and Cassian, pausing only a few inches in front of him as her wide eyes stared up into his. Those dark eyes were practically begging him to not utter what she feared, begging him to say he was just pulling her leg. But Cassian's downcast expression didn't change as he stared back at her.

"We got separated," Cassian started, his voice a dismal monotone, "The Empire got to him and Halu before we could."

Jai's next breath came out shaky, her wide eyes dropping to stare at Cassian's chest, afraid to look into his eyes for fear of losing her composure. Her mouth hung open slightly as she tried to process the information, but she could feel herself trembling as the grief started to creep in. Her hands began to wring at her sides, eyes slowly beginning to water. But tears didn't fall as she tried to blink them away - no, even in her worst moments, Jai had always been good about holding them back, about reeling herself in before she became a complete mess. The last time she cried in front of anyone was the day Tillian died. And just like what happened that day, what happened to Gar was completely out of Jai's control, and that silent mantra is what kept her even slightly stable as she stood here now, even if she knew that stability was only temporary.

Jai found herself warily looking up into Cassian's face again, a part of her desperate to reach out to him, but she continued to stand there stiffly, feeling her body ache suddenly as if she'd just run a marathon, exhausted and ready to collapse.

Cassian, though still obviously feeling that deep disappointment, had had at least some time to accept what happened - the ship ride back to Yavin 4 gave him and his team some time to mourn. As a captain, he had to be the grounding strength for everyone else whenever missions went awry, and having to do that through the years helped him develop his own means of coping with distress. But staring down at Jai as she tried to process the information, dealing with the emotions of a loss one-on-one rather than with a team, threatened to turn his exhaustion back into grief.

Silently, Cassian reached out to set a light hand on Jai's wrist, his pinky barely resting in her palm, but his touch caused her to start in surprise and jerk back from him. Her eyes widened a little as she met his stare, taking in another deep, shuttered breath as she tried to calm herself, holding her arm in her other hand as if Cassian's delicate touch had burned her. Slowly, she turned away and dropped down to sit on Cassian's bed as if she couldn't hold herself up any longer, her shoulders sagging and her head hanging lowly to hide her face from Cassian.

Jai never liked to be touched when she was emotional, ever since she was a kid she shied from it - if someone ever tried to offer her comfort, it often opened up the floodgates, and the last thing she wanted was to be blubbering in anyone's arms. Before she could even think about letting someone comfort her or talk to her about what she was feeling, Jai first had to deal with the pain herself, and if that meant running from the comfort of others, then so be it. And despite that part of her that wanted to reach out, that wanted to cling to the person nearest to her, Jai couldn't bring herself to do it - being so raw and vulnerable in front of anyone else terrified her.

Cassian stared at Jai knowingly, studying her pained expression as he felt his own fatigue from the day rising up again. He hesitated to move, even if it was to walk to his couch or to the seat in his kitchen - he didn't want to startle Jai again. So, once more, he stood stock-still, watching and waiting patiently.

A few long minutes passed in thick silence before Jai suddenly stood and darted into Cassian's refresher with barely any time for him to process that she had jumped up. His concerned eyes lingered on the closed door briefly before he finally started moving again, his knees feeling stiff as he walked to his kitchenette for a glass of water. He sighed as he chugged it down, having not realized how dry his mouth was beginning to feel.

He couldn't have anticipated that he'd feel so awful having to tell Jai what happened - Cassian had dealt with loss through the years, and had dealt with telling others about loss more times than he could count. Though it never necessarily got any easier, Cassian had grown accustomed to being the bearer of bad news, to seeing his fellow rebels mourn. And yet, something about this last time hurt more than it should have, something in Jai's eyes stung unexpectedly when she pulled away from him.

Jai had done something to him, though Cassian couldn't quite say what that was. Some time between their last night alone together and this one, Cassian started to feel something unfamiliar for the woman, and that something made it so much harder to see her broken and despairing, retreating from his touch and hiding on the opposite side of the door from him. Cassian was surprised to find that he wished he could be right there by Jai's side and consoling her as she mourned.

Despite himself, Cassian hated that he had to tell Jai, though he also couldn't have allowed anyone else to tell her. It had to be him, that much he knew, but that only made it somehow hurt more when he watched her face crumble.

Cassian refilled his glass and shuffled back towards his bed, taking a long sip of water once he sat down. His eyes drifted back towards the refresher door as he set the cup aside, feeling a pull to rise back to his feet and check on Jai. But he knew better than to try - he had to leave her be. For all he cared, Jai could keep herself locked up in his refresher all damn night, and he still wouldn't disturb her.

Once Cassian had finished his second glass of water, he looked down at the jacket he had quickly thrown on when Jai knocked at his door, slowly pulling it off of himself and dropping it in the pile of dirty clothes he stripped off earlier, wanting to simply lie back, let out a deep sigh, and close his eyes for a while. But as his gaze lingered on the pile that sat just before the refresher door, he tiredly pushed himself to his feet, knowing he shouldn't leave it there for Jai to accidentally trip over on her way out. He quickly hid all his dirty clothes away and retrieved a fresh tank top, hearing the door open behind him just as he had pulled it over his head.

Cassian turned to look at Jai as he pulled the shirt down his torso, noticing immediately that she wasn't looking at his face but rather at his chest, even if for a split second. Though there were bags under her tired eyes, Jai looked a little more refreshed - he could tell she had been crying and that she tried to clean herself up to hide the evidence of it. Her face and hairline were damp from splashing water onto her skin, and her eyes even had a different quality to them now. Through their tiredness, her eyes looked a little brighter and clearer - maybe she was trying to shove away any pain she was feeling. But her energy, too, had shifted, and Cassian felt a little less rigid than before - he was reminded that this wasn't the first loss Jai had dealt with, and it looked as if she had found a way of coping with the pain life threw at her.

The two stared at one another once more, studying the other's expression thoughtfully. Jai gave Cassian a weak, cagey smile, one that made the sadness in her eyes a touch more obvious - he suspected the look was to reassure herself rather than him. She let out a slight sigh and finally stepped back into the room, slowly approaching Cassian, once more coming to a pause only about a foot in front of him. She looked down while licking her dry lips, her eyes darting back and forth as if she were searching for the words that clearly wanted to leave her mouth.

Her eyes finally met his again through her lashes, "… Thanks for telling me." Her voice was quiet, and Cassian's brows rose a little at the words, "I wouldn't want to hear it from anyone else."

Cassian felt an unexpected stutter in his chest before he spoke slowly, his tone as quiet as hers, "I wouldn't have wanted anyone else to tell you."

Jai gave a slight nod in understanding as she looked down again, her eyes falling onto one of Cassian's hands as his thumb slid across the pads of his fingers edgily. She reached out and grabbed his hand firmly, drawing Cassian's surprised eyes down to their point of contact as well. Neither of them moved for a few long moments until finally Cassian gave Jai's fingers a reassuring squeeze. A faint sad smile ghosted across her lips again as she looked back up at his face, studying his features fondly, and despite how emotional they both were, Cassian nonetheless felt a warmth stir in his chest thanks to the look Jai was giving him.

"Draven wants me to tell your department tomorrow." Cassian started as his eyes returned to linger on their joined hands, "Chase is going to take over as supervisor."

Jai nodded, pushing down the lump that dared to rise in her throat again, "Chase'll be great, Gar trained her well."

Cassian turned his warm eyes back up to Jai's face, surveying her expression carefully as he thought, "Do you want to take tomorrow off?"

"No," she gave him a quick, reassuring smile and a shake of her head, and Cassian wasn't sure if he was imagining it or if Jai did move a touch closer, "I'll be better if I keep busy. I don't need you treating me any different than the rest of the hangar techs."

Her words weren't accusatory but thankful and appreciative that Cassian even asked her the question - if Jai needed evidence that Cassian had any interest in her, that was it. Cassian showing that kind of care to her eliminated any doubt Jai had regarding their friendship.

Jai squeezed Cassian's hand before slowly pulling away, her fingers gliding across his almost as if she didn't want to let go. Cassian's fingers clenched slightly, finding that he suddenly missed her touch. Jai took a single step back, sighing as she looked around the room while in thought.

"I should go." Her tone nearly contradicted her words, as if she disdained to even say them. But she was drained from the news about Gar, and she was certain that Cassian was as well - they both could use some good rest. She took another couple of steps before turning on her heel, and once more Cassian found himself taking a step forward.

"You could stay." Jai's eyes turned back to meet his, a questioning look in them. Cassian's expression was softer than she'd ever seen it, "Maybe we could both use the company."

A contented smile spread across Jai's lips, a warmth rising in her chest that helped to ease some of the pain that had been weighing on her just minutes prior.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Cassian awoke to the sound of blankets ruffling and Jai breathing unevenly. He wasn’t sure what time it was or what time the two had finally fallen asleep, but without checking the clock he was almost certain it was very early morning. Cassian had been a light sleeper almost his entire life, so although Jai’s movements probably would not have disturbed most people, she was just loud enough for his ears to prick up and notice.

Though the room was nearly pitch black, when he turned his head Cassian could tell Jai was still on the couch where he had left her, having not heard her rise from it. He insisted, once he started to see how tired Jai was, that she take his bed, but she just as adamantly argued that his cramped little couch would be fine, seeing as she was shorter so it would be less uncomfortable for her. Though Cassian tried to argue, he knew Jai wouldn’t budge, so at the very least he gave her his good blanket, hoping it would be some comfort to her.

For a minute, he simply lied still listening -- after Jai’s initial movement, which must have been her sitting up and rearranging, she hardly made a sound. If it weren’t for her uneven breathing, Cassian would have suspected that she had fallen back asleep; but those uneven breaths were shaky, as if the loss of Gar was coming right back up and threatening to wear so deeply at her mind that she couldn’t sleep again.

Cassian debated whether or not to say something, whether or not he should sit up and ask if she wanted to talk, wanted some kind of comfort. Maybe she had a nightmare that roused her, and maybe she’d simply want to be left alone; but maybe this time she’d want to talk to him.

As he heard Jai shift around again, as if fighting to find a comfortable position but to no avail, Cassian finally spoke up, his voice thick with sleep, “Jai.”

He heard the slightest of surprised noises escape her, and if he were looking Cassian was sure the startled look on Jai’s face might be mildly comical.

“I’m sorry,” Jai whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Cassian propped himself onto his elbows to look in her direction, though because of the darkness he still could only just make out Jai’s silhouette, “I’m a light sleeper. You alright?”

“Fine…” Her tone wasn’t entirely convincing, but at least she didn’t sound as sad as Cassian feared she would -- she just sounded tired, “Just woke up suddenly. Must’ve been something in my dream, I guess.”

Cassian could see the way Jai slumped down a little, again making a feeble attempt at getting comfortable, “Or maybe your body’s protesting against the couch.”

Jai let out a huffed laugh, rolling her eyes, “My back does suddenly feel like it’s aged a couple of decades.”

Cassian sat upright, and he could feel Jai’s eyes trying to make out his silhouette in the darkness as well. As he grinned at Jai’s response, he stared in her general direction for a couple of moments, “Let’s trade.”

“You think your back will manage any better on this thing?” Her voice sounded humored by the suggestion, “Stay put, Andor.”

Cassian nearly laughed as he started to push himself out of the bed, retrieving his glass from the bedside table while shuffling towards the kitchen, which supplied the one small bit of light into the room from an emergency light that sat on the wall above the bar between the kitchen and the rest of the living space.

“I don’t think I’ll be falling asleep again too soon.” He said while refilling his cup. Turning back to the room, he could make Jai out a little better now that he was closer, and he held the glass in her direction, “Thirsty?”

Without answering, Jai lifted herself off the couch and padded over towards Cassian, circling the bar to retrieve the glass from his outstretched hand while leaning her hip against the counter. Cassian mirrored her position, though he rested some of his weight on his palm atop the bar as well as he stared into her face. Cassian could now make out her features just a little thanks to the faint light and their proximity to one another -- the outlines of her nose and lips, the slight glint of the light reflecting in her eyes. He looked down at her throat as he heard her swallow back nearly the entire glass of water.

Jai felt Cassian watching her far too closely, and yet she didn’t feel as uncomfortable under his gaze as she normally would have. As she set the cup carefully on the counter, she, too, stared up at him, trying to make out as much of his face as possible in the minimal lighting. Silence lingered between them as they stood there, neither having anything to say.

Though he could see her arm move from where it was crossed with the other, Cassian still jumped just slightly when he felt Jai’s hand slide over his, her thumb faintly rubbing circles on the outside of his wrist. He glanced down at their connected hands before finding the glint of her eyes again.

“Thank you, again, Cass.” Just like the first time, the gentle delivery of the unexpected nickname caused a shiver to work it’s way up Cassian’s spine. He hoped Jai didn’t notice.

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” He answered in a similarly quiet tone, tilting his head down slightly; he couldn’t help but feel guilty about what happened to Gar. The expert technician rarely went into the field anymore, but Cassian allowed him to go on this mission because the man showed interest. If Cassian had just told him no, Gar would still be here. Jai had no reason to thank him a second time, let alone the first time from earlier in the evening.

All of Cassian’s attention briefly focused on where Jai’s thumb still brushed delicately against his skin -- how was it possible that the touch simultaneously calmed him and made his heart beat just a little louder in his ears?

Jai shrugged, attempting to speak jocularly, “You didn’t give me shit about crying in your ‘fresher and you let me stay here -- that’s worth some thanks.”

Cassian couldn’t help the small step forward he took, moving in even closer to Jai than he already was -- something about the dismissiveness of her earlier upset bothered him, “Your feelings are not a joke, Jai.”

The seriousness of his tone took Jai by surprise, causing her to look up at him curiously, though Cassian couldn’t quite make out the expression in the darkness. He could tell her eyes were burning into him, and he stared right back with just as much weight. He found his mind focusing back on her hand atop his -- Jai’s thumb had already stopped moving, but it felt as if her grip tightened just slightly. In that same moment, Cassian became acutely aware of how close he had moved to her, how he felt an almost static energy bouncing between them. Without her saying so, Cassian knew Jai felt it as well.

Jai lightly exhaled through her nose, her next words taking Cassian by surprise, “If someone asked me six months ago if I’d ever care about you, Cassian, I would have laughed in their face.”

Jai could see the faint light bounce off of Cassian’s teeth as he smiled unexpectedly at the remark, causing a grin to pull across her own lips. Cassian considered her for just a moment with fondness, “If someone had asked me, I would have done the same thing.”

The admissions caused them both to laugh smally, but it also felt like another spark of static surged between them. They stared at each other for another brief beat before Jai dropped her gaze to the darkness between them, feeling her heart beating far too heavily against her chest. Little did she know that Cassian’s heart was pounding just as quickly.

Did he understand the full weight of the meaning in her confession? Did she? Jai was surprised by her own admission, by the way her heart drummed in her ears, by this sudden need to lean into the man before her. The pull she felt towards Cassian seemed so much more palpable then it had been before, as if she could no longer keep it at bay; Jai knew she was doomed to succumb to that unfamiliar fluttery sensation in her stomach.

She called on her courage that felt as if it were trying to evade her, her voice coming out quieter and even hesitant as she looked up through her lashes, though thanks to the dark Cassian didn’t notice, “… I probably care about you more than I should.”

A weight felt as if it dropped in Cassian’s stomach, the confession seeming to echo between his ears as his heart drummed off-rhythm against his rib cage. His eyes widened in surprise and he stared intensely and unblinkingly at Jai, feeling his free hand twitch with some unfamiliar need to reach towards her, as if he still had to search for something to clarify what her words meant.

He realized then exactly what it was that had been building up inside of him, what these nerves were that only seemed to pop up when Jai was around. Cassian had had an understanding of what he was beginning to feel towards Jai, but in the past he was able to suppress it and shove it aside, to pretend it was unimportant, that it would pass. With the woman in question standing here mere inches before him, owning up to her own feelings, his weren’t quite as easy to ignore.

Cassian dipped his head, hoping it would draw Jai to look back up towards him as he leaned a little closer in search of her gaze. He understood exactly what Jai had meant, and yet he wanted to ask her, to hear the explanation exactly as she meant it to be understood. He wanted to hear it straight from her lips.

Jai continued to stare up at Cassian through her lashes, her stomach knotting when he moved in closer to her. If either of them moved any further, she would be leaning into him, her forehead pressed to his cheek, losing all traces of distance between their bodies. Despite trying to keep herself together, Jai’s breath came out in a waver that she tried to control, and she knew there was no way Cassian could have missed it.

In a brief moment of confidence, Jai slid her hand from it’s spot atop Cassian’s, fingertips slowly gliding over his forearm and securing a grip on his bicep. In the same second that she gave his upper arm a slight squeeze, as if to assure herself that he was really right there in front of her and that this conversation was really happening, Cassian’s hand steadily reached up and found a secure hold at the nape of her neck, his fingers twisting delicately in her dark locks and pulling her head back. For a beat, they breathed in unison, a shared look of yearning in their eyes as Cassian briefly pressed his forehead to Jai’s, giving them both one last moment to consider what was about to happen.

And then their lips met frantically, noses bumping and teeth nearly clashing together, neither certain who moved first as their need for one another took charge. Cassian’s lips were rough against her own, but the sharp taste of him drew a sigh from Jai’s throat, her free hand moving to grip the front of his t-shirt, pulling herself even closer as if he was her oxygen supply. Cassian’s tongue licked across her lower lip in a frenzied response, the heat of her body seeming to engulf him as she drew him nearer, her other hand jumping up to securely rest against his cheek.

Cassian’s arm wrapped around Jai’s narrow waist desperately, his palm pressing her flush against him while the fingers in her hair tightening their grip, twisting a little. An eager sound rumbled in his chest as he slipped his tongue between her lips, tangling with her own heatedly, feeling Jai grab at him with urgency, the scratch of her nails along his torso stirring a second moan from his throat.

As their kiss grew deeper, each feeling drunk off of the other, Cassian pressed forward until he had Jai’s back pinned against the bar, his hands snaking down her body with groping fingers that needed to feel every inch of her, his lips not straying from hers for even a second. When he found a secure grip on her ass, Cassian swiftly lifted Jai up onto the counter, causing a slight moan to escape her as he pressed himself against the warmth between her legs.

Jai’s fingers threaded messily into Cassian’s hair, nails scratching against his scalp as he finally pulled his mouth from hers, Jai gasping for air as he hardly paused for breath before starting to leave open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck, his teeth scraping hungrily against warm skin. He bit down lightly on the side of Jai’s neck, causing her to gasp and arch her back, the press of her breasts against his chest encouraging Cassian to nibble at her skin again before sucking it between his lips to leave a faint bruise. Jai let out another clipped moan as Cassian’s wandering hands squeezed her ass and pressed her forward against him as he gave a firm roll of his hips. His own shuddered groan muffled against Jai’s collarbone, his breath fiery hot on her skin.

Cassian worked his way back up to Jai’s mouth, nipping at her skin before finally crashing onto Jai’s waiting lips again. One of his hands trailed up her side, giving extra care to press firmly against her breast before continuing up to settle against her cheek, desperate to somehow pull her closer than she already was. Cassian pressed forward hungrily as Jai slipped her slick tongue back into his mouth with a smile pulling at her lips, leaning back under him until she finally let her weight fall onto her elbow. Cassian braced himself on his forearm as he continued to urge Jai down onto her back, the two moaning in unison as he gave another slow roll of his hips against her. As Jai lay flat on the counter, Cassian’s hand pulled away from her cheek, the delicate trailing of his fingers causing a shiver to travel up Jai’s spine as his hand found its way to her own. Jai desperately deepened the kiss as they laced their fingers together, slowly moving their joined hands above Jai’s head.

Their hands bumped into something that they didn’t spare a second thought for until it suddenly crashed down onto the floor, causing Jai to jolt up with a gasp, bumping into Cassian’s forehead before he could pull back from her.

“Shit.” He hissed in surprise, the hand that had been laced with Jai’s now pressed to his forehead. He continued to linger over Jai, the both of them trying to collect themselves and catch their breath, the air red hot between them. They met eyes, their breath mingling, and gently Cassian lowered his forehead to rest against Jai’s delicately, his hand finding a new resting place at the base of her neck.

Despite herself, a pure laugh sprang out of Jai, her amused smile wide as she closed her eyes, nearly embarrassed, “We broke your glass.”

A beaming smile crossed Cassian’s lips as well as he laughed, his nose brushing against Jai’s as he answered breathily, his accent thicker, “Doesn’t matter.”

He leaned forward to brush his lips against Jai’s briefly, pulling back far enough to look into her eyes again, his chest still heaving against hers. Slowly, he pushed himself up, his hands finding a resting place atop Jai’s thighs, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into the fabric of the sweatpants he let her borrow. For a moment longer, Jai stayed on her back, her hands sliding their way up Cassian’s forearms, fingertips pressing firmly into his skin as an eased smile tugged at her lips.

“Come here.” Cassian’s gentle yet commanding tone caused Jai’s middle to tighten with need, just the timbre of his voice alone causing her to let out a yearning sigh. Her hands secured around Cassian’s biceps again and used him as leverage to pull herself up, bringing her nose within centimeters of his as she sat up.

Cassian sighed contentedly, his breath brushing against Jai’s skin as he thought for a few long moments; he couldn’t find the words for any of his thoughts, so instead he pressed his lips tenderly to hers, one of his hands rising to cup her cheek affectionately. Once more, they pressed their foreheads together, mindlessly grazing their fingers along one another’s skin as they tried to collect themselves.

The longer Jai sat here and considered her current position, the more unexpected yet warming it became -- here she was, wrapped around Cassian Andor and feeling so completely at peace enveloped in his touch. She had considered in the past what this would be like, to be close to him and out of breath, to feel his lips against hers, to feel a heat twisting in her abdomen, but those daydreams were nothing like the reality. She had thought they would always remain daydreams, thoughts that passed her by not to be taken too seriously. Getting close to Cassian like this didn’t seem possible, and yet somehow here she was, high on his touch, drunk on his passionate eyes. Cassian, the man who didn’t like to get too close to anyone, whose best friend was a droid, who six months ago had vowed to distrust her… and he was standing here between her legs, his hold on her possessive and in want of more.

She wouldn’t say lucky was the right word, but Jai certainly felt satisfied as she and Cassian remained wrapped around one another.

Cassian finally took a step back from her, his fingers gliding along the top of Jai’s thighs and making her shiver. Her eyes had to readjust to the lack of lighting in the room, but she was sure she could see Cassian grinning fondly at her response to his touch.

His hands found hers as he took another step back, whispering, “Come on,” as he helped Jai hop down from the counter, the broken glass that had fallen to the floor somewhere completely forgotten -- he didn’t care enough to deal with it right now, he’d come back to it in the morning.

Cassian’s fingers lazily tangled with one of Jai’s hands, his eyes straining to find the glass shards on the floor so that neither of them stepped on something sharp. He carefully led Jai out of the kitchen, pausing in his cramped living space with the bed just a step behind him to look back at Jai with a tired smirk. Despite how close they were earlier, she felt her cheeks heat up, feeling the power of his gaze though she could no longer see it in the near-darkness. Cassian lightly tugged on Jai’s hand until she stepped closer, and she could feel Cassian’s free hand just hovering over her face until finally he set it on the base of her neck.

Cassian’s past fears and concerns about Jai crossed his mind as he held her in a comfortable and intimate silence -- he recalled their evening of drinking, when she first managed to send some kind of electric spark through him, when she first made him question the feelings going on inside of him. He had been so afraid to consider them and acknowledge them, because he knew what they meant -- he wanted to get close to someone, get close to her, despite all of his precautions through the years to avoid ever wanting that.

He realized that night two months ago that Jai would be trouble for him, but a completely different kind of trouble than what he had originally projected when they met. She was persistent with him, familiar with him, always making efforts with him -- no one had ever shown that exact combination of traits to him before. Jai had been throwing him for a loop for months now, and somehow she managed to wiggle her way into his heart, somehow slipping past all the emotional safeguards he built up through the years.

Cassian used to be afraid of this feeling. In many ways he still was. And yet, once his lips were on Jai’s, that fear dissolved away, at least temporarily. He wanted -- needed -- to be close to her, yet something in him continued to fear what would happen if he got too close. It was a habit that held him back, the habit of keeping people at arm’s length. But Jai… as much as it scared him, Jai made him want to break the habit and start a new one.

If anyone asked Cassian prior to this evening if he found himself attracted to Jai Tillian, he would have fervently denied it to the point of suspicion.

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Care [kair]

noun

a cause or object of concern; serious attention

provision of what is needed for the well-being or protection of a person

verb

to be concerned; have thought or regard; to have a special preference

to wish; desire; like

#cassian andor #cassian andor x original character #cassian andor x oc #cassian andor x reader #diego luna #rogue one #star wars #star wars fic #rogue one fic #rouge one fanfiction #ca #fics #fics*#saudade

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

Text

Not Today IV

A/N: Funnily enough, I was really struggling with what to write in this chapter. Then, it hit me, and... it got long enough I decided to make it into two separate chapters. Finally getting some more plot building here, and this little feast arc will be wrapped up next week! Until then, I hope you enjoy! Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

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True to his word, Alfred had a feast called to be hosted for Aethelind’s guests, and they were rather stunned to hear about the feast being held in their honor. They also were sure this was Aethelind’s work, a show of good faith and good things to come. And Ubbe certainly had no plans of turning down free food.

Sounds of celebration poured out of the feasting hall, and Aethelind grinned widely as she sat, quietly talking with Torvi. The feast was in full swing by now, Vikings socializing with Saxons, something that brought peace to the Princess’s soul as she watched the crowd. Her eyes had focused on Lagertha, speaking in an almost conspiratorial way to the Bishop Heahmund. She smirked slightly, and then returned her attention to the woman at her side.

“And… you are one of these shieldmaidens, yes?” she was asking the older blonde, and Torvi smiled and nodded.

“I am,” she confirmed. “Though, I wasn’t always.” When Aethelind turned a curious gaze to her, she decided to elaborate. “My second husband tried to make me kill Björn.” The Princess’s eyes widened drastically at that, and Torvi chuckled. “I didn’t, obviously. Instead, I killed my husband. That led to me joining the raid on Paris, and… Lagertha trained me from there.”

“You killed your husband?” Aethelind questioned, as if that were the only thing that had caught her attention.

“My second husband,” Torvi confirmed. “Erlendur. He was the son of King Horik, who-”

"Who once helped King Ragnar raid Wessex,” Aethelind finished, and chuckled. “I had no idea you were no stranger to being married to royalty, before Ubbe.”

Torvi laughed softly at what Aethelind said, and said, “Oh, I have always been married to royalty. First, Jarl Borg, then Erlendur, Björn, and now Ubbe.”

Aethelind gaped in a way she knew her mother would have scolded her for, and asked, “Four husbands? Torvi!” This led the Viking woman to giggle, and she put her hand on Aethelind’s hand familiarly.

“Two of them died,” she defended. “Björn is the only one that… we simply did not work.”

“‘Two of them died’,” Aethelind repeated playfully. “I was under the impression you just confessed to the murder of one?”

Torvi nodded, still laughing, and answered, “Yes, but that does mean he died.”

Aethelind gave a small shake of her head, and kept giggling at what Torvi had said. “You are too much,” she teased. As the two began to regain theirselves, Aethelind asked her, “Now, what exactly is a Jarl? Is that… sort of similar to a Lord?”

“Essentially,” Torvi answered her. She began to explain the hierarchy of the Viking royalty, and as she did so, Ubbe found himself chuckling and watching the pair.

Alfred looked up from his meal as he heard this, and tilted his head slightly. “What is it?” he questioned. No one had said anything to Ubbe, so he wasn’t quite sure what the Viking was laughing at.

“Your sister and my wife,” he answered Alfred. “It seems they are getting along very well. I cannot be sure what they are talking about, but they keep laughing together.”

Alfred’s eyes turned from his plate to his sister and Torvi, who were now laughing once again, and he made a slightly considering face. “I suppose I cannot be… too surprised by this. I have always found her to be more similar to our biological father than I am.”

“Your biological father?” Ubbe asked, looking to Alfred.

“Yes, the priest, Athelstan.”

Ubbe’s eyes lit up with recognition at the name, his brows lifting slightly. “Athelstan?” he said, looking back to Aethelind again. “I didn’t know you were his children. I knew him in my youth.” A small chuckle, and he added, “I led the search for the man who killed him, on my father’s orders.”

Now it was Alfred’s turn to look slightly stunned, and he even blinked a few times as he processed this. “You- you were not very young when he died then, were you?” he asked.

“No,” Ubbe confirmed. “No more than… eight winters could have passed, since my birth. But when Floki ran, it would have been about ten.”

“My grandfather sent me to Rome at three years old,” Alfred commented. “It looks as if we were both doing things we might have been… more prepared for at an older age, during our youth.”

“Apparently so,” Ubbe agreed. “Though, I would be lying if I said I was unprepared for such a task at that age. Viking children are prepared for much more than it seems your children are.”

Alfred sighed and shook his head a little. “I wish I could argue that, but I was being taught things in books at ten years old, while you were leading searches for an escaped criminal at that age.” He looked to Aethelind, and smiled a little. “My sister might have been happier to grow up in your world, I think.”

“How so?” Ubbe asked curiously. His eyes turned to Aethelind, who had moved from Torvi to speak to his brother, Björn. He seemed to be quite amused with her, leaning against the wall and watching her animated expressions. Ubbe smirked a little.

“Look at her and your brother,” Alfred pointed out. “Doesn’t she already seem happier, with you all here?”

Ubbe shrugged, even though the thoughts of what had been said of her and Ivar circulated through his mind. “I wouldn’t know.”

The sound of her laughter reached them at their table, and Ubbe noticed the way Alfred smiled. He couldn’t be sure if Alfred was happy to see his sister with the oldest Ragnarsson, or concerned.

“No, you can’t mean that,” she was currently saying to him. “Not one wound? Nowhere? Not even a scratch?”

“Nothing indeed,” Björn confirmed for her. “It is why I am called ‘Ironside’.”

“So explain to me then, how your brothers are Ragnarssons, but you are Ironside? Should they not instead call you Björn Ragnarsson, the Ironsided?”

This caused Björn to chuckle slightly. Her confusion was somehow very endearing, the way her voice shifted and brows drew together as she tried to figure out the name worked. The Viking chose not to let her suffer with that confusion for too long, and clarified, “I am called Ironside, just as my father was called Ragnar Lothbrok.”

“So, your name was never Björn Ragnarsson?” she questioned, and he nodded.

“It was.”

Her lips pressed together in a frustrated way, and her expression fell flat. He chuckled again. “Now you’re teasing me,” she insisted.

“I am not teasing!” Björn said defensively, even lifting his hands as if in surrender. “It is the truth! I am Björn Ironside, and also Björn Ragnarsson. An earned name can become how you are known, instead of the name you were given at your birth. It is the beginning of your own legacy. I am set apart as my own man by this name, and not simply part of my father’s legacy.”

She couldn’t help herself in saying, “And so, Ivar the Boneless…?”

Björn was clearly not quite sure how to react to this. Of course, he knew what her question was- was that name some part of a legacy he had already made for himself? Or, was it a title given to him simply because his legs did not work? But at the same time, it was a subtle way of asking about him, seeing what he had been up to. If nothing else, it confirmed for Björn that the Princess still cared for the man.

“He was first called that because of his legs,” he ended up explaining. “But now, he has turned that name he was given into a name which… he hopes will be remembered for ages to come. It has become his legacy, and likely, it will be a powerful one at that.”

"But not more powerful than ‘Ironside’,” Aethelind teased, and Björn cracked a grin.

"I should hope not,” he agreed. She giggled lightly at that, and smiled up at him.

“Then make it so, Björn Ironside. If it is what you wish. You seem to be a great man. I don’t doubt you can do what you set your face toward. Though, I still wish there were more I could do to help you in this battle.”

Björn looked at her curiously, tilting his head and pressing his lips tightly together. “Why are you so interested in turning against Ivar?” he asked her. “He was your friend in childhood. Why turn against him now? We cannot have become better friends to you now than he was to you then?”

Aethelind sighed, and leaned against the wall as she considered what he said. “In truth?” she questioned, looking to him with the silent question of if she could speak freely to him or not. He nodded. “I am not interested in turning on him. A peaceful resolution is what I am interested in, where there can be peace among your family again. He may have been my childhood friend, Björn, but he was your brother.” Her hand rested against his arm, and he found her eyes to be perfectly sincere when they met his.

Alfred choked on his drink as he and Ubbe saw the interaction between their siblings.

“All I want,” she continued, though they could not hear her, “is to see your family reconciled.”

“Even if that means standing against Ivar?” he questioned.

“I hope it does not come to that.”

Her mind was working quickly, trying to come up with some way she could make sure it didn’t, near ready to pray for a solution, when Björn spoke again. “If it were possible to speak to Ivar, then I would…” The Viking paused, unsure of what to add to his statement, before shaking his head. “He cannot be reasoned with. Speaking to him would do no good.”

Björn, try as he might, could not have foreseen the response Aethelind would have to his words. He believed it was a worthless cause, talking to Ivar, but to her, he’d provided exactly the thought she’d needed. “Unless the wrong person has been trying all along,” she said, a thoughtful look entering her eye.

“The wrong person?” Björn asked. “How could… who else is there to try?”

When she grinned at him, his eyes widened, and brows creased in shock. “No. You cannot mean…?”

"I do,” she confirmed. “Send me to speak with your brother. Maybe he’ll believe I would still be on his side, and he’ll trust me and my judgement. After all, you and Ubbe spoke as if he were still fond of me. Is that true or isn’t it?”

“By his standards, it is true, but if he would listen to reason, he would have already heard it. His desire to rule Kattegat is not only because he wishes to be King, but because he wants revenge on my mother. Do you not remember-”

“I do,” Aethelind interrupted. “But we are taught against such pursuits here. Surely, I could convince him to let it go? I know the good that comes from forgiveness. I can show him.”

Björn would have scoffed, had he not cared if he offended the Princess. “You would have to convince your brother to send you,” he reminded her. “Without his permission, you will not make it beyond the docks. If he asks me what I believe, then I will not voice my support in this endeavor. You are safe here, Princess. You should remain here.”

Aethelind gave a slight huff, and her hand dropped as she moved to cross her arms. “Then I’ll talk to the rest of your party. Surely one of you will support me.” She thought perhaps Torvi would, maybe Lagertha. If she could get two supporters out of the Vikings, then maybe her brother would listen. And if Lagertha agreed, then she could likely gain Heahmund’s support as well.

The Princess wasn’t blind. She could see easily through the way the two looked at each other, spoke in their hushed tones. And… Well, Heahmund was no longer a Bishop, she figured. With that the case, then he was free to love Lagertha. She couldn’t fault him for finding happiness in a romantic love, when his ability to find it in giving spiritual love to the kingdom of Wessex had been taken. Not by any fault of his, of course, but he had been gone. They’d needed a new Bishop.

Well, Aethelind decided that had all worked out the way it was meant.

She turned to find any one of the Vikings who would be available, and soon noticed her brother talking to a beautiful young woman with long, dark hair and fair skin. His betrothed, then, Princess Elsewith. This meant Ubbe was no longer in conversation with the young King, and so Aethelind soon found he was talking to Torvi. Perfect. She began her walk toward the couple, a warm smile on her face as she approached.

“How are you two enjoying the feast?” she greeted, and Torvi smiled brightly in response.

“It is wonderful,” she answered. “Ubbe and I were just saying how excellent the food is.”

“Yes, we are very impressed with… whoever prepared all this,” Ubbe agreed. “It was done well.”

“Good,” Aethelind said, nodding slightly. “Perhaps the two of you would like to join me for a drink? I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“With us?” Ubbe questioned. “Very well.”

Torvi and Ubbe followed Aethelind as she went toward one of the tables, finding a pitcher of wine and filling their three goblets. Ubbe noted with interest how she didn’t call for a servant to refill their cups, simply doing so herself. Was that common in England? he wondered.

Once they all had some wine, Aethelind led them over to a place they could sit alone, comfortably, and discuss what she’d wanted to. Torvi and Ubbe watched her expectantly, and she smiled. “I have had a thought,” she began. “A plan, perhaps, that may help your plight in Kattegat.”

Ubbe’s brows lifted as he heard this, and Torvi’s eyes widened. “A plan?” he asked. “What sort of plan?”

“None of you want to fight Ivar, and he’s your brother anyhow, it wouldn’t be right,” Aethelind began. “So… someone needs to talk to him. I have it from Björn that this has been tried, that he cannot be reasoned with, but I wonder… Would he listen to someone who wasn’t one of you? Someone who has no stake in this except perhaps bias toward him, even?”

“What are you suggesting?” Torvi asked skeptically. She was beginning to suspect where Aethelind was going with this, and the idea was unsettling to her already.

“I am suggesting… an old childhood friend,” Aethelind replied with a small, playful smirk. “Someone he continued to think of even once he was home.”

"No.” Ubbe’s response was nearly shocking to Aethelind, but she still turned to look at the son of Ragnar. “No, you also have it from all of us that Ivar has changed drastically since he was young.”

“Do we ever change?” Aethelind questioned. “Or do we just think we do?” Ubbe and Torvi looked at her with slight confusion on their faces, unsure now of what she meant by that. But, before they could ask for clarification, she gave it. “You, Ubbe, said that, ‘he is buried beneath years of anger, and pain, and hatred,’ didn’t you? If he really is still there? If that’s true, then why shouldn’t I try and… bring that back out? You told me he was always cruel, but if that were true, then why would he have behaved so… differently with me? Doesn’t it make sense that, if he wasn’t then, he may not be now?”

“You are putting a lot into these uncertainties,” Ubbe said. “You have no way of knowing if Ivar will be cruel to you if you go to Kattegat. If he is, then the worst-case scenario is that he would kill you. Best is that he simply will not listen, and turns you away. And if he is not cruel, there is still no guarantee he will listen to you. Your life is too great a risk to base off nothing more than a ‘what-if’, Princess.”

"I agree with my husband,” Torvi said. “We cannot risk you. If I knew better that you could defend yourself, then perhaps… But for now? I’m sorry, but we just… we don’t have enough information, and Ivar has always been unpredictable as it is.”

“Then it stands to reason that he might just listen after all.”

Torvi and Ubbe were getting rather tired of being so bewildered by her all the time. What could she mean now?

“You predict that at best, he won’t listen, and at worst, he would kill me. But… he is unpredictable, you say. So it stands to reason that he would again be unpredictable, and at worst, listen to me. At best, he may agree to find peace. And Torvi, if you trained me… I could defend myself, and the worst-case would be far less likely to actually be a threat.”

Ubbe looked to Torvi, his brows creasing thoughtfully as he watched his wife carefully consider Aethelind’s words. Her argument did make sense, in a rather twisted up sort of way. She didn’t want to say it, but the logic rather reminded her of Ivar himself. It sounded like exactly how he’d have sold one of his daft plans- the sort that tended to work, she thought begrudgingly- to his brothers. Perhaps this English Princess had the exact same sort of mad genius that Ivar did. If that were so…

“Very well,” she said, with a sigh. “With your King’s permission, and the agreement of the rest of us, and satisfaction that you can defend yourself… I will agree.”

Ubbe’s eyes widened. He’d had a similar train of thought to hers, concerning how Aethelind had defended her argument, but to hear Torvi agree…

“And I suppose I will support my wife,” he said. The words seemed to surprise him, even as they left his mouth. “Her terms seem… reasonable.”

Aethelind grinned happily at their agreement to her plan. “Excellent,” she said. “Björn has already spoken his disapproval of this plan, but I think if I can convince your Queen, the Bishop- who I suppose will agree with her- and my brother, especially with these terms, then he might come around.”

Torvi grimaced at hearing Björn was already against the idea. “Well… That, or we may have to go with the majority,” she conceded.

“Is he that stubborn?” Aethelind asked with a soft chuckle, and Torvi nodded in a slow way that agreed enthusiastically. “Well, a majority will do, then. Excuse me, I have to find Queen Lagertha and speak with her about this, before Björn does and convinces her against it.”

She glanced out into the people, and found Björn speaking with Elsewith and Alfred, now. The sight made her grimace. “Hopefully, he wouldn’t speak of this in front of my brother’s intended…”

“I doubt it,” Ubbe assured her. “It is too private a thing for him to share with any who are uninvolved. If she weren’t there, he might tell your brother, but… He won’t say anything with her there, I don’t imagine.”

Aethelind let out a small breath of relief, and nodded, smiling once more. “Thank you,” she said. “Well, pardon me, and enjoy the feast, and I cannot thank you enough for discussing this with me.” She briefly kissed Torvi on the cheek, a show of her gratitude for the new ideas concerning her plan. And then, she walked away, leaving a wide eyed Torvi and Ubbe- neither of whom had expected that- behind.

Now, she approached Lagertha and Bishop Heahmund, who were still in deep conversation, which made her hesitant to interrupt. But the matter was important, and she figured both Heahmund and Lagertha would be involved, and therefore, Björn likely would feel comfortable speaking to them both on the subject. She needed to get their approval before he gained their dissent.

As she approached, Lagertha offered her a kind smile, and stepped back just a bit from Heahmund. The Princess held back a knowing smirk.

“Queen Lagertha,” she greeted, giving a small curtsy to the shieldmaiden, and turned to Heahmund. “Your Grace. How is the feast treating you both? Well, I hope?”

“Very well,” Lagertha answered. “We could not be more grateful for your hospitality and generosity.”

“You are most welcome to it, Your Highness,” she said with a smile. “We’re happy to have you here. And Bishop Heahmund, it is a joy to see you returned in good health, by God’s good grace.” She put a hand on his arm, a small sign of sincerity.

“Thank you, Princess,” he replied with a smile. “I can only think it must be your prayers, and the prayers of your people, which moved Him to spare me.” Aethelind grinned, and nodded slightly.

“It must have been,” she agreed. “And we thank Him for it. And for your health as well, Queen Lagertha.” She turned to her, and mirrored the placement of her right hand on Heahmund with her left on Lagertha. “You have been through quite an ordeal. It is good to see you have survived, and survived well, it seems.”

“Thank you,” she said. “The gods have certainly been merciful. It is said that I and my allies have lost their favor, but… We are alive, and with good allies. I cannot believe it is so.”

Aethelind smiled, and nodded to that. “Neither can I,” she agreed. “And, on that front, I have had an idea that I have discussed with Prince Ubbe and his wife, Torvi. One that- with mild alteration- they have come to support. It is a plan to begin working toward the restoration of Kattegat to you.”

Lagertha’s eyes widened and her brows lifted in shock. “You have come up with a plan?” she questioned. “A plan to take Kattegat back?” She hadn’t expected the girl to have any military expertise, and yet she found the fact she did to be something of a comfort. Militarily experienced women were rare in England, and so it was calming to her to discover that Aethelind was one such woman.

“Yes,” the Princess confirmed. “This is still contingent on two circumstances, of course, and those circumstances are that Torvi train me to defend myself. Though, thinking now, I can’t help but think you would also be an excellent asset in this, if my grandfather’s stories held any truth- and I fully believe they do. And, that I have majority approval from yourselves, and my brother.”

Lagertha’s brows now drew together suspiciously. What could Aethelind be thinking that would require her and Torvi to train her..? “And what is this plan of yours, Princess?” she asked.

“With training and approval, I would like to go to Kattegat, and meet with Ivar, myself.”

Now Lagertha’s eyes widened, but it was Heahmund who spoke. “You cannot mean this, Princess,” he said. “I have worked at this man’s side… He is ruthless, and wicked, and he will-”

"-Not harm me, I don’t expect,” Aethelind interrupted. “Would you agree that Ivar is unpredictable, Bishop Heahmund?”

Lagertha watched Heahmund as he seemed to be given pause by Aethelind’s question, his eyes focusing on some invisible place, and his mouth hanging slightly open. He blinked a few times, then closed his mouth, and nodded. “I would, Your Highness,” he finally agreed.

“Then if it is predictable that, at best, he might simply not hear me out, and at worst, he may try to kill me- an option made less likely by Torvi and, should she agree, Lagertha’s training- then the unpredictable option would be that he, at worst, will not hear me, and at best, listens. And if he is unpredictable as you say…”

“Then he may hear you out,” Lagertha finished.

“Exactly.”

Heahmund gave a short laugh, one that held no mirth, but that Lagertha recognized as realization. He was coming to agree with Aethelind already. “That’s just mad enough that… with him, it might work,” he said.

“Then you will support me?” Aethelind questioned, her eyes hopeful. He nodded.

“I will,” he said. “My vote… hasn’t been asked for, but I will offer my support in any way I can.”

Aethelind smiled a little, and gave his arm a grateful squeeze. “You know Alfred has always appreciated your council, Bishop Heahmund,” she assured him. “It may just be your voice that convinces him.”

“If your voice cannot, then I doubt any can. Especially considering I doubt your mother will support this.”

The Princess grimaced slightly. “No… I don’t think she will,” she agreed. “But I will have the support of each Viking- save for Björn, I imagine, and hopefully… including yourself, Your Highness.” She turned back to Lagertha briefly as she said this, before returning her attention to Heahmund. “If I can gain Alfred’s approval of this plan, as I gained his approval in allowing me to open my villa to our guests, then… She won’t like it, but I will journey to Kattegat without her permission. I would simply like to have her blessing, is all.”

“You go for a righteous cause, Princess,” Heahmund said. “We will do all we can to ensure you go with the blessing of God.” He didn’t say it explicitly, but she could tell what he meant.

The approval and blessing of her mother, Queen Judith, would mean little, if the Lord Himself were on her side.

“I believe you are right, Your Grace,” she said with a warm smile. “Thank you.” Aethelind took a deep breath, and turned her attentions once more to Lagertha. “And… that leaves you, before I attempt to sway Björn once more, and then my brother. Will you support me, and this plan?”

Lagertha sighed softly, looking into Aethelind’s young face. The Princess was clearly less experienced with war than the Viking had believed at first. She was speaking of going to talk to one of the most dangerous men in their world, a man who Lagertha knew would have little interest in peace. If Aethelind was going to sway him, she would have to do something powerful in order to do so. Something… very clever. She’d have to gain his full trust before even mentioning peace to him. But, this plan, though only the bare bones of it were had at the moment… could perhaps be made into something that would work. She nodded.

“I will want a stronger plan,” she said, “and a new vote when the time comes to send you, so we all are assured that you are as ready as you can be, but… For what you have now, I will support you. And, I will help train you, if you receive your brother’s approval. With myself, Heahmund, Torvi, and Ubbe… This does give you majority from us, so that and your training is settled.”

“Yes,” Aethelind agreed, and grinned. “Thank you for your support, both of you.” She moved so she could speak more directly to both the Queen and the Bishop at once. “I do wish to have Björn’s support in this venture, so I will give him the updated plan, before I speak with my brother about it. Though, I will do so with or without Björn’s approval. Torvi has insinuated that he may be very difficult to convince, so… I don’t hold out too much hope.”

“My son is fond of a good plan, one he believes will work,” Lagertha said. “And, I believe he will see how like Ivar you think.” Aethelind’s eyes widened. “That, in and of itself, has increased my confidence.”

“Might I ask why that is?” Aethelind asked curiously. “Don’t you think that may make Ivar keen to what I’m attempting to do?”

“On the contrary,” Lagertha countered. “It means it may work exactly as we hope it will on him.”

A smile split Aethelind’s face, and she nodded. “Then I hope and pray it will, Your Highness.” She turned to Heahmund, and with a slightly less enthusiastic expression, added, “We all must.”

“And we all will,” he assured her. “But you have business, now. Go to Björn and your brother, convince them as you have us and the others. Then, we’ll see about training you.”

Aethelind’s smile returned in full force, and she nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Bishop Heahmund, I will.” She gave both their arms a small squeeze, and then said, “Enjoy the feast,” before turning and walking away.

“What do you think?” Lagertha asked Heahmund, stepping back in with a look of concern on her face as she watched the Princess go.

Heahmund sighed as he considered carefully his words, also watching Aethelind’s retreating figure. “Her plan is a good one,” he said slowly. “But if it is approved…” He sighed, and gave a small shake of his head. “I will pray to God daily for her safety, and her survival.”

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