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kindnessisweakness2 · 3 years

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DELUSIONAL - PART 13!

Delaney sighed as the male nurse continued to put her broken hand in its cast. Her heart felt on cloud 9 but her head was on overdrive. It felt amazing to finally hear Jax tell her he felt the same. But hearing the words shes always wanted to didnt just magically fix everything. “You’re all done! Dont get it wet for atleast 4 weeks and we will have you come back in for an X-ray. If its healed good there will be no need to re cast it.” Nodding her head Delaney made her way out of the room, thankful she could finally get out of the hospital. Making her way towards the entrance of St. Thomas, her eyes fell on a frustrated looking Jax and a hopeful looking Tara. “There you are! All done Darlin’?” Jax’s face lit up as she made her way over to him and Delaney couldnt help but smile at how cute he was. But what Delaney didnt miss however was Tara’s face drop and judgement flood her eyes. “Yeah finally! Cant wait to get home and order pizza!” Delaney giggled as he threw his arm around her and pulled her close. The surprise must have shown clearly on her face as Jax winked at her and kissed her forehead. Turning back to Tara, Jax grinned at her. “Sorry about not being able to give you a ride home. My girls hungry.” Tara’s eyes widened and her cheeks tinged pink. “O-oh its ok. Maybe we can catch up another time? Over dinner?” Delaney raised her eyebrows. Bitch has no class. Jax sighed as he looked down to Delaney who was clearly becoming irritated. He was about to speak but she beat him to it. “Oh sorry we’re abit busy these next few days.” Delaney grinned at the ignorant doctor as she gripped Jax’s Kutte tightly. “Really? Cant spare an hour for dinner Jax? You need to eat right!” Tara laughed as she continued to beg him. “He wont be able to leave the bed, Turns out we have ALOT of catching up to do ourselves!” Tara went crimson as Jax struggled to hold back his laugh. Brushing some lint from Tara’s white doctors coat, Delaney smiled mischievously. “Oh but dont worry doc, he will DEFINITELY be eating!” And with that Delaney and Jax left the Red faced woman and made their way laughing out of St Thomas.

True to his word, within the hour, Delaney was sat comfortably at the bar with a large pepperoni pizza and Jax by her side. She had showered and was now in Cookie Monster Pajama pants and one of Jax’s Black hoodies. Her long black hair was wet and pulled in to a messy bun on the top of her head and curly tendrils fell around her face framing it. Jax had never seen her so beautiful and for the first time in days she finally felt relaxed. The Tell tale sound of rumbling harleys filled the Teller Morrow lot and Delaney would be lying if she said she wasnt nervous to see the rest of the club. The last time they saw her she was pretty much naked and had killed a man. Well if you would consider Kevin a man that is. Just the thought of his name made her stomach flip and bile fill her throat. Sensing she was Getting trapped in her own thoughts and her Anxiety was rising Jax leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Its ok. Whatever you’re thinking. No one will look at you differently.” Delaney didn't have time to reply before the rest of the club and Gemma came bursting through the clubhouse doors. Gemma was all over her in seconds, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'm so glad your safe! I don't know what I would've done if anything happened to you." Delaney winced as she lifted her casted hand to hug Gemma back. "We have so much to talk about." Delaney nodded reluctantly. She knew this was coming. Jax would want to know why Gemma and Unser lied about Alex leaving. Gemma would stop at nothing until she knew everything about the baby that she lost. And the rest of the club would not stop until they got their hands on Alex.

"Not right now mom. She needs rest." Jax stood as he spoke and pulled Delaney into his side Gently. Delaney smiled at the rest of the guys as Jax lead her back towards his dorm. Gemma smiled widely at Clay as the rest of the guys settled around the bar for a night of drinking.

"The Prince has finally found his princess." Gemma grinned as clay kissed her cheek and started to lead her towards the car park. "Come on. The King wants to take his Queen home."

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Here you go guys! I'm so sorry it's taken so long! Been going through some personal things! As always feedback and advice always welcome! Let me know what you think! Part 14 will follow shortly!

Love to you all, stay safe! 🍀

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biscoffbiscuits · 7 years

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My Favorite Enjoltaire Fics

okay so here is a list of some of the best exr fics ive read recently, i couldnt find one of the other ones that i read and really liked, but luckily i downloaded it so ive just copied and pasted it after the links.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/6250753/chapters/14322088

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7148828/chapters/16231367

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5968180/chapters/13715665

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5267744/chapters/12155150

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7701052

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5813974

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7655686/chapters/17431708

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1278421

@cronch-onbathbombs this is for you i hope this will keep you busy for a while

________________________________

it won’t end the same

It starts the way it always does.

Enjolras likes to credit himself on his ability to remain calm in the face of resistance. His friends will tell you that his pride and temper make him lack such ability at all. He doesn't quite understand where they're coming from.

Unless it's got to do with Grantaire.

Grantaire, the sarcastic and impatient member of their crew, who is the only person who can easily draw out the brash, impulsive, angry side of Enjolras.

He does this every meeting.

Objectively, Enjolras knows that Grantaire argues with him because someone has got to. He knows Grantaire brings up points that force him to better his argument. Objectively, Grantaire is the perfect addition to les Amis. But Enjolras hates the objective.

He supposes it would be easier to ignore Grantaire if it weren't for the fact Enjolras is nearly positive he's never seen a more beautiful soul. He's heard people refer to Grantaire as 'unconventionally attractive, so to say'. He's never understood that. The more accurate description would be infuriatingly attractive. And he acts as though he doesn't know it, which is perhaps the worst part.

To summarize, Enjolras wants to despise Grantaire. He wants to ask him why he even bothers coming to the meetings if he's got nothing to support. He wants to hate the cynic; how frightened he is at the notion that he might actually be starting to fall for him instead.

It had been a typical meeting for les Amis. The only difference was the Enjolras came in, already high strung from every other inconvenience that had happened that day—his bus broke down, his coffee got spilled, inconsiderate assholes made him late for his own meeting. He was already tense, which didn’t make anything else easier.

“So, our proud leader finally decided to show up?” retorts Grantaire. He’s got a wicked glint in his eye, one only his friends are able to identify as teasing. To anyone else, it would look like scorn. Enjolras recognizes the jesting lilt in his tone and still, still it cuts too close. He turns on his heel instantly.

“And what’s it to you?” Enjolras snaps back. “As if you’d actually care if I didn’t make it. You’d be glad for the night off, I’m sure!”

Grantaire raises an eyebrow. “A night off from what, exactly, Apollo?”

The nickname brings about a flare of white-hot anger than Enjolras can’t justify. It’s not the first time Grantaire has used it on him; hell, Grantaire isn’t even the first person to draw similarities. It never ceases to frustrate Enjolras, regardless of who says it.

Even if he has a slightly obnoxious crush on the person throwing about the nickname.

His own feelings for Grantaire just seem to make him tenser. Nothing makes sense, and he comes to this meeting already on edge only to be taunted by the one person who never ceases to confuse the hell out of him. Seems entirely too plausible.

“Arguing with every damn phrase out of my mouth, for one,” Enjolras finally responds, scathing. He can tell it strikes a chord with everyone in the room; all of his friends shift uncomfortably as their eyes shift between Grantaire and Enjolras. “Since apparently nothing I say merits your approval.”

Grantaire scowls and turns his gaze downwards. “You’re right. I would like a night off from arguing with you,” Grantaire says after a beat. “By all means, continue your meeting. I’ll mind my own business here in the back, same as always, but I’ll be sure to keep my mouth shut this time.”

Something in the way he says it makes Enjolras tense up. It affects him for the rest of the meeting. True to his word, Grantaire sits in the back and sourly drinks out of his glass and doesn’t look at Enjolras. It’s unsettling, and Enjolras is frustrated. The last thing he’d needed was to have the time reserved to be spent with his friends engaged in an argument. Yet, for the entire meeting, all he wants is one scathing remark even just to feel normal again. Damn Grantaire, and damn his ability to constantly through Enjolras off track.

Enjolras thought he’d understood confusion when he’d first realized he had feelings for Grantaire. How constantly frustrated he is that he keeps running into more things to confound him.

Courfeyrac seems to pick up on his tense mood, if the way he slowly starts to take over the meeting is any indication. Enjolras must be doing worse than he’d thought, too; everyone else seems to relax a fraction when Enjolras finally takes a seat. Jehan reassuringly reaches out and twines their fingers through Enjolras’s. It helps, a bit.

He’s still frustrated.

Eventually Courfeyrac can’t even continue to keep the group entertained any longer, so he loudly announces that they’ll be moving the meeting to his flat where copious amounts of alcohol can be consumed. Everybody cheers at that and begins collecting their things to leave—Enjolras stays in his seat.

Courfeyrac comes by and squeezes Enjolras’s shoulder, drawing his attention away from his thoughts. “Whatever’s on your mind, you’ve got to let it go,” Courfeyrac advises quietly. “For what it’s worth, this isn’t doing either of you any good.”

Enjolras stiffens. “I don’t know what you mean,” he mutters. Courfeyrac gives him an unamused look and glances dramatically at Grantaire who—to Enjolras’s surprise—also hasn’t moved from his seat. Enjolras sulks. “I’ve just had a long day, Courf, I’ll be fine.”

Courfeyrac kisses his forehead. “You’re lying through your teeth but because we’re best friends, I’ll let it go,” he sings. “Text me if you’re coming tonight.”

Enjolras watches silently as Courfeyrac leaves. He’s among the last to shuffle out, alongside Joly who’d stayed to chat amicably with Grantaire. Enjolras closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You’re not going to Courfeyrac’s?” asks Grantaire. Enjolras peers at him with one eye opened.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “I haven’t decided yet,” Enjolras finally says. Grantaire looks away, retreats back into his glass. Another rush of anger curls up in Enjolras’s belly. “Why do you even come?”

Grantaire’s brows raise dramatically, nearly disappearing underneath tendrils of curls on his forehead. “Excuse me?”

Enjolras gestures broadly. “The meetings,” he says sharply. “Why do you even bother coming? You never seem to enjoy yourself. Courfeyrac almost always invites people over to his flat afterwards, and everyone knows you’d rather spend your entire evening there than here. So why do you even bother coming to these meetings?”

Grantaire’s lips form a thin line. “I know where my alliances lie,” he replies, after a beat. “You may not see them, but I do.”

“Do you even support these causes?” Enjolras asks. His voice is starting to raise, frustration nearly bleeding out of every pore. “Do the things we fight for here even mean anything to you? Or are you just doing it because your friends do? What do you even stand for?”

Grantaire’s sharp intake of breath is enough to make Enjolras falter. Grantaire has risen from his chair, now; he stares angrily at Enjolras with his hands clenched into fists. “What do I stand for?” he says. “Why, for you, o’ great Apollo.”

Enjolras flinches. “Stop calling me that,” he snaps.

“Why?” The glint in Grantaire’s eyes is malicious, teasing, angry—complex and unfairly beautiful. Enjolras bites down another sharp remark. “What complaint could you possibly have about being compared to a god of sun?”

Enjolras doesn’t get a chance to reply.

“Then again, anything I say or do, you’d manage to find a complaint about,” Grantaire mutters. Enjolras rises then, too. His hands grip the back of their chair he’d been sitting in, too tight.

“Is that all you think I do?” Enjolras retorts. “Find ways to argue with you? Spend my days making lists of every scathing remark I’ve ever wanted to say? Do you think I spend my hours preparing to argue with you? That’s all I’m good for, I’m sure.”

Grantaire snorts. “You don't need preparation,” he bites back. “That’s why we argue. We’re both too quick-witted for our own good. Besides the point, even if that isn’t how you spend your time, you sure do spend the majority of our time together fighting me every damn chance you get.”

“And whose fault is that?” Enjolras demands. “You’re the one who comes in here time after time with countless rebuttals to my claims.”

Grantaire’s nostrils flare. They both know Enjolras is stretching the truth—as if there isn’t a single person who doesn’t know why Grantaire pushes them the way he does. He’s helping, even if Enjolras is too proud and angry to admit it.

“If I don’t, who will?” Grantaire argues. “If I don’t come to the meetings and demand better, stronger answers from you, who will?”

“Do you even like coming to the meetings?” Enjolras throws back. “You always sit in the back, you join your friends occasionally. Do you even like being here?”

“Honestly?” Grantaire laughs. He sounds far too amused, a forced kind of laughter peeling through the air. He doesn’t follow with another response, and it just frustrates Enjolras more. Instead he just gestures at large to the room.

“This isn’t the only place to spend time with your friends!” Enjolras tells him. “Again, Courfeyrac always invites people over after these meetings are done! I’m sure you spend time with them outside of this meeting. Better to spend your nights away from here when you don’t care at all about the ideals we’re presenting.”

“It’s not the ideals I care about, it’s the company,” Grantaire shoots back. “You think I come because your little gang is trying to make a change? You aren’t the only group out there, pal. The world is a shitshow that isn’t going to change, but god forbid I spend time with my friends in a place we all enjoy. I don’t come for your ideals, Apollo.”

“Why bother coming, then?” Enjolras shouts. “Why waste your time at meetings when you believe in nothing?”

“As if you don’t know,” Grantaire spits back. With a joly, Enjolras realizes Grantaire’s eyes are wide, terrified—a sharp contrast to the sharp bite of his tongue. “As if you’re really that blind.”

Enjolras recoils, stunned. “Excuse me?”

Grantaire scoffs. “Don’t act like you don’t know,” he sneers. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? My god, everyone else has been able to piece it together. Don’t tell me you’ve been blinded by your own brightness, Apollo. How can you not see? You, the radiant sun; and I, poor Icarus.”

“Stop saying that,” Enjolras snaps. “I’m not a sun!”

“And you still don’t get it!” Grantaire roars back. “I wear my heart on my sleeve and you’re a damn fool who is too selfish to see it! You’re my goddamn sun, don’t you understand that? You’re so far gone on fighting the fight and winning your own battles that you’ve neglected to notice that I’m the damn fool who’d follow you into any battle—”

Enjolras surges forward. He’s overestimated the distance between them and he slams into Grantaire harder than he’d meant to. “Don’t tell me where my alliances lie!” he shouts. “You haven’t any clue. You think you know me but you don’t!”

Grantaire shoves at his chest. “That’s the point,” he sneers. “How foolish of me, to be willing to follow you wherever you may go when I know that I’ve got no true idea which direction your heart is pointing.”

“Why do you care about my heart?”

“You goddamn idiot,” Grantaire hisses. He reaches out and grabs onto Enjolras’s shirt, tugging him closer. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

Enjolras doesn’t give him the chance.

Messily, he kisses Grantaire. His hands move of their own accord, finding their way into Grantaire’s hair and twining in the curls. Grantaire gasps, beautifully, deliciously—his own hands move from grasping Enjolras’s shirt to tugging on his hips. Enjolras bites at Grantaire’s bottom lip at the same time that Grantaire grinds up, and they both let out a sharp breath at the sensation.

Grantaire kisses like he argues, teasing and forceful and with purpose. Enjolras cannot get enough, can’t pull Grantaire any closer though he tries, tugging on Grantaire’s hair. Brashly, Grantaire runs his tongue along Enjolras’s lip, and in a particularly tactful move deepens the kiss when Enjolras gasps again. His hands have moved from Enjolras’s hips to his ass, to his thighs—he surprises Enjolras when he moves to lift Enjolras up, wrapping his legs around Grantaire’s waist. They’re too far, too far it seems as Grantaire moves them, but eventually in between kisses Enjolras feels the table behind him. He barely has time to prepare himself before Grantaire is laying him down on it and moving to hover above him.

The warm weight of Grantaire, the feeling of his soft hair in Enjolras’s fingers, the persistent hardness pressing against Enjolras’s thigh; it’s almost too much, unreal. Grantaire is still making quick work of tearing Enjolras apart with his lips and tongue, and Enjolras can’t really complain. They’ve grown accustom to ripping into each other with their words. Enjolras quite likes this turn of events.

“You goddamn idiot,” Grantaire repeats, panting, as he trails kisses along Enjolras’s collarbone. Enjolras hisses when Grantaire latches onto a particularly tender spot, and his hips buck up against Grantaire on their own accord. “It took a fucking fight for you to finally realize?”

“You can’t stop arguing with me, fuck,” Enjolras whines, “for—oh, god—one goddamn second, can you? I guess—jesus christ—I should have—”

“Shut up,” Grantaire growls. The noise vibrates straight through Enjolras, and he shivers. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Make me,” Enjolras challenges. Grantaire complies without further instruction. Enjolras shifts so that Grantaire is settled in between his legs, Enjolras’s knees bracketed on either side of his hips. He finds purchase grabbing onto Grantaire’s shirt. It doesn’t take him long to realize that whatever way he tugs, Grantaire follows easily enough. Grantaire kisses him desperately; their lips and tongues move against each other in the most beautiful of dances. It’s a bit messy, teeth knocking together and both men being a bit too overeager from time to time. But they find their rhythm—Grantaire takes control of the kisses, heated and languid and everything in between, and Enjolras uses everything else in his disposal to drive Grantaire insane. He moves his hips against Grantaire, both groaning at the friction. He trails his hands up Grantaire’s sides, scratches across his back, drags the blunt edges of his nails across Grantaire’s chest. Every move he makes causes Grantaire to gasp a little heavier. Every trick Enjolras pulls, Grantaire matches—he kisses deep, he sucks and nips at a spot on Enjolras’s neck, he tugs on the loose curls at the nape of Enjolras’s neck.

Even in kissing, they find themselves fighting, matching each other’s dirty tricks with tricks of their own. It’s a different kind of arguing, one that Enjolras hadn’t expected but is desperately hoping to continue. So long of fighting with Grantaire when they could have been doing this. He almost laughs at the thought.

“If this,” he pants, “is how we are going to argue from now on…”

Grantaire slides Enjolras’s shirt up languidly and traces his tongue across his nipple. Enjolras gasps, forgets what he meant to say. “Don’t tell me you’ve found another thing to complain about,” he says wickedly. His breath is hot where it dances along Enjolras’s chest.

“Shut up,” Enjolras gasps out.

Grantaire does just that.

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

Courfeyrac frowns at his phone in dismay. It’s been over an hour and he still hasn’t heard from Enjolras. Something was wrong, at the Musain today. It didn’t take a genius to figure out, even if Courfeyrac did consider himself a genius when it came to all things Enjolras. They’d been best friends for as long as he can remember; he definitely earned his title of expert.

To: enj

[9:02] if you’re not coming its rly not a big deal but ?? lmk?? like i just need to know you're okay………

When he doesn’t get an immediate response, he stands dramatically. Well, he sways as he stands, a little bit tipsy from the alcohol he’s already had. Combeferre reaches out to steady him and looks up at him through heavy, lidded eyes. “Where’re you going,” he mutters, and he’s a bit more drunk than Courfeyrac.

“Something’s wrong,” Courfeyrac insists. “I can feel it in my best-friend-senses. Enj had a bad day and he hasn’t texted me. What if he’s moping somewhere and I’m just letting him while I’m off getting drunk? I’m a horrible best friend.”

“You’re a paranoid drunk,” Combeferre says easily. “Enjolras is fine, I’m sure. Sit back down, enjoy yourself.”

“Will you come with me to the Musain?” Courfeyrac begs. “Please, what if he’s still there, all mopey and sad because his two best friends didn’t come rescue him? He stays there so late, all the time, because he’s weird. I bet he’s still there. We have to rescue him.”

Combeferre sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re drunk,” he says, and Courfeyrac happily takes his hands to help him stand.

“And you’re getting lucky tonight,” he says decidedly. Combeferre grins and smacks Courfeyrac’s ass as he starts to walk away.

They take a cab to the Musain, despite the fact that it isn’t that far of a walk. Courfeyrac knows he’s probably too far drunk to handle a walk, especially when most people have retreated to their beds. He's a loud drunk after all. Combeferre holds his hand in the cab and Courfeyrac’s thoughts keep turning back to things he’d like to do to Combeferre right now. He has to snap himself out of it at least seven times on the five minute drive.

Courfeyrac keeps their hands intertwined when they finally reach the Musain, and he’s barreling into the door with Combeferre trailing behind him without a second thought. For a moment, they hesitate on the first floor. Above, they can hear faint voices.

“He’s not alone?” Courfeyrac says, confused. “Oh my god, Grantaire wasn’t at my flat either. They probably got in another fight, they’re fighting up there!”

Combeferre is staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. Courfeyrac has the fleeting thought that maybe they were too drunk to come at all. He regrets thinking he was only tipsy moments ago. “I…don’t think they’re fighting,” Combeferre solemnly replies. The corner of his mouth is twitching upwards.

Courfeyrac frowns at him. “You don’t think—”

He’s cut off by the distinctive sounds of a crash from upstairs, glass shattering and loud curses muffled by the floor in between them. “Or maybe they were fighting,” Combeferre groans, swearing under his breath. Courfeyrac grabs his hand again and drags him up the stairs hurriedly. He doesn’t even hesitate before barging through the door.

“Enjolras!” he’s already saying. The rest of his sentence dies in his throat when he takes in the scene before him. “Oh. Not fighting. We’re—going to go. Um.”

Combeferre is cackling as Courfeyrac yet again drags him, this time away from the room. Courfeyrac might accidentally slam the door behind him; he can’t quite tell over Combeferre’s guffaws. “Definitely not fighting,” he snickers.

Courfeyrac, usually charmed by his boyfriend’s behavior when drunk, shakes his head and joins in with giggles of his own. “Since they were both half-dressed and wrecked-looking, I’m going to have to agree with you,” he laughs. Combeferre nearly falls over in his laughter.

“And you thought something was wrong!” he cackles.

#enjolras loves grantaire pass it on #enjoltaire #exr #english teacher #enjolras #grantaire #e #r #les mis #les miserables #les amis #courferre #courfeyrac #combeferre #ao3 #archive of our own #fanfic #bestofthebest

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themclovenlegacy · 6 years

Text

So I haven’t wrote fanfics in years, so sorry if it isn’t what you’re wanting when you read this.

This is kind of the story about that time when they were discovered on Nar Shaddaa before they were sent to the academy, so some things may not even make sense since I know very little about the ins and outs of that planet. Please bare(bear?) with me.

“Ouch,” Oddosal quietly yelp as Shaynasa worked on closing the wound on his arm. They were hidden behind several large carts that blocked an alcove. They discovered the area when they first arrived in the Corellian Sector, after escaping their master and removing their collars. There was just enough space to squeeze in and hide from this men searching for them.

“Keep it down you big idiot, it doesn't even hurt,” Shay said as she concentrated on the slowly closing wound, “it’s your own felt that you got bit by one of those hounds. If you hadn’t shocked it to death, it would have taken your arm. Luckily you’re just gonna have a pretty lame scar instead.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one fighting to provide for this family. I should leave you here in fend for yourself then,” he snarled as she finished up on his arm.

She silently inspected her work for a moment, remaining calm before quickly jabbing him in the side with her finger and letting loose a small shock of her own. He jerked back and knocked his head into the archway wall behind him before cursing in pain. She let out a faint huffing laugh as he grumbled at her.

“First, you couldn't survive with me. You’re smart, but you get in to too many fights to last long without my charm and wit to guide you. Second, we were provided for at the refugee camp we were hiding in, you’re the one who wanted to leave.”

He frowned and looked away from her.

“We left because there were to many people who were eyeing you the wrong way. It was only a matter of time before one of them tried something or sold us out to the Black Suns. The only reason they didn’t know we were slaves was because that nerf herder didn’t like visible markings, he wanted to look like he actually paid his workers and you were his wife’s precious little girl,” he scoffed at the thought.

Shay rolled her eyes before trying to poke him in the cheek next. He grabbed her hand before it could make contact.

“I’m not some weak flower, you know. I was one of their only healers in that camp, they wouldn't have risked losing me or incurring your wrath. Beside, a good shock to people with wandering hands normally did the trick well.”

He straightened up, “Wandering…”

Before he could finish that sentence, a loud screeching could be heard as they watched, shocked, as the container was dragged away from them. Oddosal grabbed Shay by the arm and pushed her into the alcove behind him and stood up, defensively.

Standing in the now open space was a human man. He was dressed in dark blue and purple robes and had some kind of mask covering the bottom half of his face. His eyes were a burning orange and his stare burned as he crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze shifted between the two before settling on Shaynasa hidden in the shadows.

“When my Lord said he sensed powerful force users and sent me to find you, I didn't think I’d find two rats hiding in a hole,” his eye stared at Odd briefly at that statement before shifting back to Shay, “though I guess the girl could be of some use. Her face is pretty enough.” his rasped out, the mask clearly cause the distorted tone.

“Shut your mouth,” Odd growled at the man. Shay couldnt take her eyes off the mysterious man. She could see the flow of power coming off him. She could tell that he was a strong as Oddosal, but clearly far more skilled. She reach up and gripped Odd’s shirt and pulled herself up.

“I think we need to leave,” she whispered behind him. They both watched him warily as the man continued to speak.

“What the matter rats? Cat got your tongue? Have I gotten under your skin? My, My. She must be special to you. Don’t worry I’ll take real good care of her for you,” He smirked as he watch Odd grind his teeth in a snarl.

He shrugged at the sound, his grin turning slimy, “But where are my manners. I’m Abe.”

Shay gripped Odd’s sleeve and tugged it to the side as his balled his fist up. She slowly pushed them away before the doorway and shifted themselves down the wall, Odd’s eyes never leaving the man and always remaining between her and this Abe man.

“Where are you going?” The man suddenly pulled his weapon from his belt and ignited it. They jerked back as the weapon glowed a bright red, one work filled their minds. Sith.

“My Lord sent me to find you. He didn't say I couldn’t play first. If you survive long enough maybe you’ll make it to Korriban to train. If not…” he leap at them suddenly. Odd quickly grabbed Shay, tucked and rolled before the strike landed where they previous stood.

Odd quickly pushed Shay back a few paces, before dodging another strike, the man grinned maniacally at him. They continued this unfair fight for several minutes before Odd landed a hit on the Abe’s open side after a he made a wide swing.

Abe grunted and stumbled back. He frowned as Odd returned to a defensive stance.

“You’re not the first guy I’ve fought with a weapon the has reach while I had nothing but my hands.”

Abe narrowed his eyes before smiling, “How’s this for reach?” He suddenly waved his hand to the side. Odd saw the air shifted before he felt his feet swept from under him. Odd landed on his back hard, dazing him. When he could focus again, Abe was standing over him, chuckling.

“It's too bad. You may have had some potential,” before raising his weapon and striking down.

Suddenly, a purple film appeared and stopped the attack in its tracks, reflecting the impact of the attack back on the man. Both sets of eyes, shifted to Shay, who was holding her hands out in front of her. Faint purple tendrils poured out her fingers as she panted.

Abe stared in surprise before walking up to tap the shield, its walls unyielding. He smirked, “Well aren't you full of surprises? You can already use the force to create a shield.” his smile widen. “The only thing is…,” he began walking towards her. Odd began struggling but discovered he couldn't move very much, only being able to get up on his knees and turn, “until you remove it, the shielded person can’t move from their spot,” He smirked over his shoulder at Odd.

Shay gasped as she struggled to release her hold on Oddosal. Abe smiled as he approached her. He reached up and held her face in a tight grip, fear filling her eyes before slapping it away. He chuckled before lifting his hand to touch her again.

“Don’t worry little mouse, I don’t bi…”

Suddenly Abe gasped and his face fill with pain as electricity filled his body, making him drop his weapon. Shay quickly grabbed it and nearly leaped away from him. When it stopped, Abe dropped to one knee, panting as blood left his mouth from when he bite his tongue in shock.

He turned around to see Odd standing there panting, blue light flickering around his hands and arms. Abe growled and stood up, “you’ll pay for th…” his words cut off with a small ball of lightning to the face, though this time his force shield absorbing it.

“You talk too much,” Odd pants from all the power he put into that first shock,” and you just assume people’s weaknesses and let your guard down. That will get you killed.”

“Why you little…,” The man rasped out as he extended his hand, preparing to just choke Odd to death.

“He’s right, you know.”

They all startled as a fourth voice spoke up. They all turned the newcomer. He was dress similarly to the other man but instead of being human, his skin was red and gold jewelry adored his face. His eyes were crimson as he stared on, eyes shifting between everyone before land on his apprentice.

“My lord,” Abe kneeled before him, head bowed deeply.

He tilted his head at him. “ My dear apprentice, have you not learned anything from my training. You not only allowed yourself to be hit, but also allowed yourself to be bloodied and bested by two untrained slaves.”

His apprentice sagged in shame. His lord sighed.

“Come to me my dear.”

As the man walked back to his master, Odd shifted his way over to Shaynasa. She patted his arm slightly and started filling him with healing energy, knowing a shock like that nearly always tires him.

Once the two men reunite, the red one wipes the blood off the other face, causing him to blush and turn his head away. After staring at him for a moment more, he turns and faces Odd and Shay.

“Hello, I’m Lord Shall. So you are the two I’ve been sensing since I arrived in this sector a week prior. You do quite well hiding from me. Whatever it was that cause you to release such power before must have been a wonder, even though you are both slaves.”

“We are not slaves,” Odd shouted at him while Shay jabbed him in the side. They both received a laugh.

“Do not try to fool me, boy. You have slave written in the very force that surrounds you, though her,” he gestures toward Shay,” I’m not quite sure about. You’re skin is too dark to be from here, somewhere with a lot of sun. Raised normal maybe then into a slave. No probably servent, not aggressive enough like your friend. Doesn’t matter. The point is you both are quite strong in the force so I’m taking you to Korriban for Sith training. You’ll prove your worth there or die trying,” he finished.

“What if we don’t want to?” Oddosal snapped. Shay watch them warily as the two men stared at each other. Suddenly she yelped as the saber in her hand was yanked from her and into the red ones hand and ignited.

“You either come with us peacefully. I give my word that nothing will harm you, especially him,” his head shifted in his partners direction. Abe just grunted and rolled his eyes. “I don't like to share. Or I kill you here where you stand. I am not an untrained and impatient apprentice. I will kill you before you knew I was there,” his eyes suddenly turned cold and empty of all amusement.

They both were shocked as his suddenly change in demeanor. They looked at each other before turning back to them.

“So it’s either follow you and possibly die trying to become Sith or stay and die by a SIth anyway.”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess we can't say no then. Just keep your word and keep that hot pocket and anyone else away from her.”

The amusement was back, “You have my word. Now come, we are leaving. While you were playing, I was making sure I could leave with you. Hutts can be so picky at times.”

Odd and Shay were both filled with dread as they followed behind them. Odd looked at Shay before putting on a strong face at her wary expression.

“Wait, I have one more thing that I have to do,” Odd said as Shay and the Sith turned towards him curiously. Quick as can be for someone of his size, he throw a small bolt at Abe’s backside, shocking him and causing his hair to stand up.

“That's for touching her without permission.”

Everyone was quiet before Lord Shall laughed loudly as his apprentice grimace. Odd smirked as Shaynasa shook her head, both of them feeling a bit better about their new path.

#odd-verse #oc: oddosal #oc: shaynasa #swtor kotfe #swtor kotet #my swtor #swtor #pre-class story #sith inquisitor #sith assassin #sith sorcerer #sith

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