Tumgik
#I listened to 'Disobedient' on repeat while drawing this heLP-
emoani · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
n/a: sorry for the delay, but here we are with the third chapter
chapter three
A while has passed since you last saw the man in his armor. You no longer knew how to count how many days. In fact, I was already used to it when Vader went on missions. It wasn't like he could spend all day walking hand in hand with you, he had an empire to take care of.
And longing wasn't really the reason you were now walking through the ship's corridors looking for information. Well, not only that!
Vader didn't talk much about Darth Sidious, it's not like he needed to talk much. The reports were horrible and you hated him a lot, firstly for having forced your father to sell you to him as a slave (but Vader took pity and took you as his wife), and secondly because you knew how Sidious tortured your husband emotionally and physically. And now once again this appears to have happened. Vader was somewhere injured "learning a lesson".
- Can I help you, ma'am? - You hear the robotic voice of a droid and turn around.
- Yes, of course. Give me information about Lord Vader.
- What types of information exactly?
- Why isn't he here yet? - you asks a little impatiently. - Oh yeah. It seems that Lord Vader, because of his disobedience was severely punished.
Your heart hurts with worry, and your breathing becomes unregulated. Vader's health was already limited after Mustafar. These types of "lessons" could just take your husband away from you forever!
- Where is he? Is he really hurt? What did he do?
You ask everything at once, and you don't even notice that he is raising his voice and drawing the attention of everyone who passes by. The droid simply tells you to follow him. He takes you to a small meeting room. When the droid told you everything that had happened, you listened attentively, just nodding your head and repeating that you wanted to see him.
But the information given was that he, Vader, didn't want to see you. He still wasn't ready to let you stay by his side during such a sensitive moment. You tried to understand, but you still felt upset. Even more so because of the other information that was given to him. "He was in the company of a former servant of his late wife."
(...)
You sighed irritably, staring at your own reflection, combing your hair before going to the specific room for meals. You didn't like eating there, and preferred to eat in your room. It's not like it was very different from that huge, empty room where you ate most of the time alone. If you had to listen to someone from the Empire kissing your ass today... You could kill that person.
But it wasn't a stupid room that was making you angry, it was the fact that you knew who Vader spent the last few days with. Did you ask yourself: How similar were they? Does he have some kind of relationship with this woman? Was she a lover? Or were you the lover?
Now will you be exchanged for her? His thoughts were interrupted by the click of his bedroom door opening.
You didn't even realize it took so long for a droid to come get you. You liked that one in particular because he was more chatty and it wasn't like you could trust many humans!
- We're here, ma'am - he announces and opens the door. You thank him and enter that boring, white and undecorated room.
There was a lot of food on the table, which was a waste because you didn't have an appetite. Your stomach churned with emotions as you stopped thinking about that waste of food and looked at the room itself.
Then you saw it. The Sith himself, Darth Vader was sitting there in a chair on the other side of the table, motionless in all that armor.
- Hello wife - He greets you in his modulated voice, as if nothing had happened.
You continue standing in the same place, and you are shocked at how he could come and say just that after having left you so worried. So many tears you shed. This man is a...
- I can hear your thoughts, I wish I remembered - Vader says without any emotion.
- And I would appreciate it if you didn't - You answer him seriously and sit down, preferring to look at the table than at the man you were missing.
- I thought you would have a different reaction when you saw me - Vader observes after a while, as you remain silent.
He really must have been finding it strange, you were usually very happy when Vader showed up to accompany you to your meals. You thought the gesture was beautiful, because he couldn't literally eat with you, but he offered his company and you talked a lot during those moments. But not now, you couldn't understand your own emotions. You missed him every day, and now that he was there... you was upset! Why was he with that woman? That bitch ...
- ENOUGH - Vader slams his fist on the table, you close your eyes because of the noise - Never refer to any of Padmé's servants that way again!
- AND I ALREADY TOLD YOU NOT TO INVADE MY THOUGHTS! - You scream back, more hurt by it all.
Vader stands up and starts walking towards you, his breathing getting louder. You get up too and face him without fear.
- What's happening with you? Why are you acting like this? - He asks.
- I have the right to act like this when my husband almost dies and I discover that he was in the company of a woman from his past!
You don't give him any more opportunity to say anything. He just turns and leaves that room, leaving him alone and reflecting on his words.
You had lost your hunger.
76 notes · View notes
ryuichirou · 25 days
Note
hm how about TW bottoms reactions to their top not pulling out on time
Now that’s a good question, even though whenever I draw anything on a spicier side, it’s like I completely forget that sometimes people pull out. I thought that I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything interesting because of that, but thankfully the characters are fun enough for miracles to happen lol
Alright, so…
Riddle – if it’s Trey, Riddle’s just going to whimper helplessly, maybe even get concerned or a bit scared if this is the first time, but it’s all good, because Trey will take care of him anyway. If it’s Floyd, Riddle is going to go ballistic lol In a very hypocritical Riddle manner, despite the fact that he kind of enjoyed feeling Floyd juice running down his legs, Floyd will get off-with-your-head’ed for that.
Deuce – he kind of likes it when his lover does it inside; he only asks not to do it when it’s too late at night + he has club activities that day, because it takes too long to clean and doesn’t feel right when he runs after that. So if Ace doesn’t pull out when he was asked to do it, Deuce is going to yell at him and maybe even punch or kick him. Surprisingly, if it’s Jack who did it, Deuce wouldn’t have such strong reaction, because he knows that Jack didn’t mean to… (rude, Ace didn’t mean to do it either!!)
Leona – he might say “hey” and look annoyed, but he doesn’t mind it actually. Sometimes he scoffs and says “good job, you know you’ll have to clean it yourself right?” and pretends to fall asleep while Ruggie thinks about whether it was worth it or not…
Jamil – he is disappointed but not surprised. He knows that Kalim prefers it that way. He also knows that if he wants Kalim to pull out, he must either do it himself (by jumping off the dick right before Kalim cums, thank god Jamil can always tell when it’s going to happen) or asking Kalim to do it somewhere else in a sexy way. The latter option is too embarrassing, but the first option upsets Kalim… Jamil can’t use Snake Whisper either, because that defeats the purpose of having sex with Kalim: if he doesn’t remember it well, he wants to repeat the process. So for the majority of time Jamil just asks Kalim not to cum inside, and Kalim says “sure thing”… and does it anyway because he forgot :(
Vil – he is also disappointed but not surprised, but a little bit less than Jamil. When Vil asks Rook not to do it inside, a lot of times Rook is nice enough to comply with his wishes. But this is actually a strategic decision for Rook: if he never listens to Vil, Vil is going to come up with a way to stop Rook from cumming altogether or just refuse to have sex with him lol So the compromise is that Rook listens to Vil when he asks him not to… except sometimes he doesn’t and cums inside anyway.  Vil just never knows when to expect it. So if it happens, he would actually feel a wave of pleasure through his entire body, but then sigh and scold Rook. Although sometimes it’s a very playful flirty scolding, because surprise surprise Rook’s disobedience is hot. And sometimes it’s similar to a “go sleep on a couch, you animal” thing…
Epel – he would get all blushy and warm inside at first, still a bit high on his own arousal and ecstatic about how perverted, rebellious and adult this whole thing is… but then he’ll realise how difficult it’s going to be to clean this out + how he can’t move at all without spilling it everywhere, so he’ll start panicking a little lol It’s okay, Epel, you’ll get used to it.
Idia – he is not the master of his own destiny, the concept of asking not to cum inside and his lover complying is kind of foreign to him. Out of all the tops, there is barely anyone who would do it, even Ortho is kind of a menace when it comes to this lol Ortho’s logic is “if I help niisan clean himself afterwards, it’s all good, right?”, so this is how it happens. To Idia, sex is exhausting either way… but still, if he asked his lover to pull out, and still ended up with a cream pie, he’s going to complain about it and switch between mumbling about certain someone being bad at holding back his urges, and mumbling about how he should create a machine that would clean his butt for him.
Silver – he isn’t used to his top pulling out in general, so he wouldn’t react at all. In fact, he would instead react if he was to pull out… he would blink with such confusion lol But then again, maybe his lover wanted to cum on his body or face instead, in that case he would understand… both Lilia and Sebek are someone who’d prefer to do it inside so lol
Malleus – in a way similar to Silver, but he is at least aware that sometimes his lover would pull out: maybe it’s because Malleus is a prince, maybe it’s because Malleus is a dragon fae and he should be more cautious about things that enter his body (ahem), but all that is irrelevant: if his lover was to pull out, Malleus would get upset and sulky, because he was really looking forward to the sensation of getting filled! Now you’ve ruined the whole thing, Lilia. Redo it immediately. Redo… him.
48 notes · View notes
annwrites · 2 years
Text
The next morning I wake up to sounds of the camp stirring to life. Everyone packing up their things, relieving themselves, talking about which way we should head next. I stand and shake my blanket out, not that it does much good. After sleeping on the ground with it night after night it's become filthy. I desperately miss showers, washing machines, plumbing in general. After I've rolled up and placed my blanket back in my bag I walk over to Harley, whose back is turned to me as he rolls up his sleeping bag as well.
"Good morning," I say sweetly, very much hoping he's not still mad about last night.
He pauses for just a moment before he finishes his task at-hand and then stands, turning back to me with a cold expression across his features. Ok, still mad then.
"I'm sorry about—"
"Quiet."
I shut my mouth and he steps closer to me.
"Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again. That shit you pulled last night..." He pauses for a moment and I clasp my hands together to try and keep them from shaking.
"I'm sorry."
He shakes his head while exhaling angrily. "Every time I turn around it's "I'm sorry" this or "I'm sorry" that. We ain't even known each other twenty-fours hours yet and how many times you already had to apologize? Wouldn't have to keep doing it if you'd just fuckin' behave and do as you're told like you goddamn promised to. I ain't gonna keep tolerating this disobedience. So I am going to tell you just one more time: Do. As. You're. Fuckin'. Told. And this is the last time I'm sayin' it because I don't care for havin' to repeat myself."
So, he's certainly not a morning person. But part of me fails to see how he has a right to be angry. He said it himself last night when we were alone together: he was put in an impossible position when he found me. But if he'd just pretended to be asleep—had allowed me to get back my two weapons—I would've been long gone by now. So why force me to stay? I want to say this, want to argue, because at the end of the day, I don't truly belong to him. And I make the stupid decision to do so.
"You could've let me go. Last night, you could've pretended to be asleep, could've let me get my things together and leave. I would've been long gone by now—no longer your responsibility. But you didn't do that. Why?"
I can tell he's now fuming, but I couldn't help myself. I wasn't trying to argue, truly. I just couldn't make sense of why that wasn't the route he chose to go. I simply want an answer.
The camp had gone quiet now, some of them watching us, the rest just listening, waiting for him to give a reply. He glances around at them, clearly not enjoying a spectacle being made out of him. I have a feeling that in the context of this group—maybe of his personality in general—he's always been more of a "strong, silent" type.
He looks back down to me and I crane my neck up to meet his livid gaze. "I don't answer to you. Now drop it."
He turns back around to his pack and slides it on his back. Refusing to take that as an answer—because clearly I have a death-wish—I push just a little further. "And if I refuse to?"
He swiftly turns back around to me and I stumble while trying to take a step back. He grabs my wrist, steadying me, then leans in close. "Listen here, Little-Miss-Smart-ass, you don't get mouthy with me. I've had it up to fuckin' here with that mouth. For the rest of the day, unless it's an emergency, you don't get to talk. That understood?"
I cross my arms across my chest and repeat the same thing from earlier. "And if I refuse?"
He stuffs his hand in his pocket and I flinch away, worried he's either about to pull a gun out or hit me and his expression suddenly softens at my reaction.
"Goddamn, bitch been with us less than a day and already she's got you pussy-whipped."
I cringe when I hear Len's loud reply and fill with dread when Harley throws his bag to the ground and heads over to him. He draws back and punches him directly in the face. Len stumbles back, falls on the ground, then quickly recovers. His nose starts gushing blood and when he reaches up to touch it and his hand comes away covered in the red substance, I think he sees the same color. Because he swings back just as hard at Harley, and then they go tumbling to the ground.
A few good punches are thrown on each side and I stand there dumb-founded, unsure what to even do with myself. This is my fault. Why can't I just do as Harley has asked me time and again since yesterday? Just behave. It isn't hard to do and it's not like he's asked me for much else so far.
After a few more seconds of their testosterone-fueled brawl, Joe finally tells some of the guys to pull them off of each other. Even with three men holding him back, Len still tries lunging forward yet again, yelling "Let me fuckin' at 'im!" in the process.
Harley just stands stoic, silently glaring him down.
Eventually, Joe speaks. "Now that is enough! The only reason I just let that happen is because it needed to. That's the problem with leading a group full of fuckin' men, ya'll think with the wrong goddamn head. Len," he turns to him, "I warned you yesterday about that mouth of yours more than once. You got some punches in, you both drew blood, now let it go. I will not say it again. You know what happens if I have to."
He turns to Harley. "And Harley, I know you didn't initiate this. He did by opening his big mouth, but you got even. So I expect this conflict to now be considered resolved."
He replies. "Yes, sir."
Finally, he looks to me. "And Elena, honey, I know it's going to take awhile to adjust to your new living situation—I can appreciate that fact, but I am tired of listening to the backtalk to our man Harley here. I explained the rules to you yesterday as well as Harley—who did so numerous times himself—to which you told me you understood and would respect them. Yet you continue with the insolence, which I only have so much patience for. I consider myself a patient man too, but my fuse is running a bit short just now. So, please, for the sake of us all, do as you're told without any lip and I think we'll get along just fine.
"Harley has been decent to you so far. He hasn't hurt you, hasn't forced himself on you, was even so kind so as to hunt you down dinner last night and defend your honor more than once. And you haven't been so kind in your repaying him. I will say it just one more time and that's it. Because if you disobey again, there will be no more apologizing on your part. You are a grown-up young lady who knows better: do as Harley tells you or else. Do I make myself clear?"
I just know my face is as red as a tomato and I feel like a small child who was just scolded for having their hand in the cookie jar. I feel mortified.
I nod in return.
"I'm sorry, Elena, but nodding ain't going to cut it this time. I need to hear you acknowledge it." He keeps his eyes on me, his body leaned in my direction with both hands on his hips and a brow raised in anticipation of my reply.
"Y-yes, sir, I understand. You made yourself clear."
"Made myself clear on...?" He asks with a curious shake of his head.
I know he's drawing this out to humiliate me, but nevertheless I cooperate. "Obeying Harley and doing as he says from now on. I'll try my best, I promise."
"No, you are not going to "try", you are going to simply do, as the rules you've been told multiple times demand. Isn't that right?" He states with a sense of finality, letting me know this conversation is through.
"Yes, sir, I'll do as he tells me. No more arguing about it. I'll—" I pause for a moment, feeling like I have vinegar in my mouth at what I have to say next. "I'll be good from now on, I promise."
"I fully intend to hold you to that promise. And don't think for a moment that I'll forget or ignore to do so."
I nod fervently, letting him know I don't believe for a second that he will.
He claps his hands together. "Good. Now you patch up your man Harley there and Len..."
I quickly turn toward Harley, now blushing at Joe calling him "my man", and don't bother listening to whatever Joe has to say to Len, who is clearly becoming this group's antagonist.
Harley is still quite clearly angry with me and I don't bother apologizing, knowing it won't do any good right now. Not that I haven't already overused the sentiment since yesterday evening, as he and Joe both made obvious. I surely made quick work of doing so.
I silently take Harley by the hand and lead him over to a tree stump. "Sit."
He doesn't do as I say. Perhaps he's trying to be ironic; give me a taste of my own medicine.
"Please," I say as kindly as I can manage.
Finally, he does and I crouch down to my backpack. "I have a first-aid kit. Not much is left inside, but I think I have some Band-Aids and maybe some peroxide."
I manage to find the small kit and when I open it I find a handful of Band-Aids within, and a near-empty mini bottle of antiseptic. There are a few other odds and ends, but nothing more that'll help me with the cut above his eye. I silently wish I at least had a few cotton balls, but decide an item of my clothing will have to do instead.
Once I've found a clean shirt, I stand and when I look at him his brows are furrowed.
He nods toward the shirt. "What's that for?"
"I have to have something to apply the peroxide with. If I just pour it on it'll get in your eye, plus I need to wipe the blood away, so..." I go to unscrew the cap, but he speaks again.
"Stop."
"Wh—" I cut myself short when I see him pull a shirt out of his own bag.
He goes to hand it to me, but I shake my head. "I don't want to get blood on your shirt."
"What'd we just have a big ol' fight about?"
I don't backtalk this time. I put my own shirt back away in my bag and take the one he's holding out to me instead. "I just...this is all my fault. I don't want to ruin one of your shirts instead. It's ok, really, I can use mine if you want?"
He shakes his head. "Think I have blood on all the rest of my clothing anyway, so doesn't really matter."
"Ok."
Once I've saturated a corner of the shirt in the solution, I go to press it into the cut, but pause. "This may sting."
"I'll survive."
I nod and press it against the wound and he sucks in a sharp breath. I cringe in return, knowing just how much it hurts when first applied.
"I know it hurts, I'm sorry."
We're silent for a few moments before I decide to tell a little story to try and distract him. "I used to be a fairly outdoorsy kid when I was younger. I was always coming in with skinned knees and it was almost a daily occurrence of mom sitting me on the bathroom counter, then pouring this stuff over the scrapes. I hated it more than anything, but always found the way it bubbled up to be fascinating for some reason, so I just tried to pay attention to that instead. And despite all that pain, it never stopped me from playing so hard that I had to go through it all over again the next day, if not later that same one.
"I miss that, being a child—now more than ever. Being carefree. I guess it's a good thing we can't see the future or we'd never get out of bed." When I finish talking I wonder why I bothered telling him any of that—I'm sure he didn't care to hear any of it.
When I look down to see if he was even listening at all, his eyes are already on mine, making me blush.
"Took you for more of an indoorsy type."
I give a small smile at that. "I wasn't when I was a kid. That came later when technology became more mainstream." I don't bother with boring him by listing off my favorite video games from when I was ten, knowing he wouldn't know a single one anyway.
"Hm," is all I get in reply. Not a man of many words, this one. Not unless he's angry, at least.
I pull the shirt away, then pour what little of the peroxide I have left onto it and press it back to the wound just one more time, wishing I had something more to properly clean it with.
"Fuck," he suddenly grips the back of one of my thighs and I gently place my hand against his right cheek to keep him steady as I continue to treat the cut above his eye.
When I pull the shirt away I gently blow against the wound, remembering it's what my mom used to do to make me feel better when it hurt. After a few seconds of doing so, I stop and freeze when I see the way he's looking at me. I can't explain the expression, but it makes me nervous. I remember I'm still caressing his cheek and let my hand fall back down to my side, embarrassed at having touched him so intimately.
I drop the empty bottle in my bag—still refusing to litter even now—and pull the Band-Aid out of my pocket.
He leans back for a moment and I pause just as I'm about to apply it.
"That ain't got no damn Hello Kitty on it, does it?"
I can't help the smile that forms on my face. "You know who Hello Kitty is?"
He just continues to stare, waiting for an answer. I shake my head with a giggle, somehow finding his question ridiculous. Well, not the question itself. Just that this older, hardened manly-man knows about the existence of a little white cat who wears a bow in her hair and is a beloved children's cartoon character, primarily for little girls. Something about that makes my chest feel warm.
I shake my head and turn the Band-Aid around so he can see the non-adhesive side of it. "Nope, just boring beige. Doesn't even have any exciting dinosaurs on it. Or Neosporin..."
He chuckles. "Don't know if I'd care much for that option, either—the dinosaurs, I mean. As for the Neosporin, I'm sure I'll be fine."
Once the Band-Aid has been firmly applied, I gently graze my fingers along the bruise that's beginning to form on one of his cheek bones. "Wish I had an ice pack for that." I look down to his bloodied knuckles and gently lay my palm over top of them. "And these."
He stands. "I'll be alright. Not the first scrap I've been in, nor the worst. And I'm sure it won't be the last, either. Even if I am too old to be getting into fist-fights at my age."
I gently poke him in his middle. "You're not that old."
He leans down to retrieve his pack and gives a small shake of his head. "You must really be trying to butter me up now."
0 notes
ruby-static · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
While listening to “Disobedient” from the SU movie, I maaaay or may not have come up with a weird little design for an older (perhaps teenage/young adult?) Webby. Still her usual Webby self, just with a sick outfit.
937 notes · View notes
helloalycia · 3 years
Text
The Wrong Lifetime – Nine // Wanda Maximoff
chapter eight | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter ten
author’s note: a bit late with the update today, my bad. I’m just very exhausted lol. Hope you like it though! bit beefy, just how i like it 😂
Tumblr media
I should have realised Wanda would be a handful after literally grabbing my arse less than a metre away from her fiancé.
The final straw came when we were sat together at a table, talking to a guest who wanted to know more about the wedding plans. Y/B/N had left Wanda alone for the remainder of the evening for God knows what reason, so I was left to babysit her and make sure she didn't do anything stupid. Of course, drunk Wanda was also disobedient as well as truthful and clingy.
As the woman we were sat opposite was talking about her own wedding – the first of three, apparently – Wanda's hand kept playing with mine under the table. I shot her a serious look before slapping it away gently. That wasn't enough though, as several times after, she continued to play with my fingers and intertwine hers in mine.
Not wanting to draw attention, I pushed Wanda's hand under her thigh with hopes she'd keep it there and stop fussing. I didn't think she was even listening to the woman and the story of her wedding dress debacle, as she was leaning on the palm of her hand and watching with boredom.
At one point, just when I thought Wanda was finally behaving, I felt her hand rest on my thigh, creeping up dangerously higher. Clenching my jaw to contain both the arousal and frustration I was feeling, I flicked my foot against hers before stuffing her hand under her thigh again. Glancing at her, she was smiling innocently in my direction.
"I'm sorry, are you okay?" the woman stopped mid-talk, looking to Wanda.
Wanda straightened up in her seat, flashing the woman a bright smile. "Yes. But if I may ask–"
"Oh, no..." I mumbled, already internally facepalming.
"–don't you think my almost sister-in-law is very pretty?"
My head snapped to hers as I attempted to disguise my panic with a nervous smile. The woman looked between us, waiting patiently for Wanda to continue.
"Good looks runs in the family it seems," Wanda said, stretching her hand out to caress my cheek, but I immediately caught it before she could, chuckling awkwardly.
The woman found Wanda's behaviour funny as she nodded in agreement. "The Y/L/Ns are a very good looking family indeed. Especially your fiancé, dear. What a handsome man he is."
Wanda hummed in agreement, but her eyes were only focused on me. Under any other circumstances, I would have appreciated how cute she was and been touched at her words, but now wasn't that time.
"My lovely almost sister-in-law is particularly drunk tonight I'm afraid," I spoke truthfully to the woman, offering an apologetic smile. "I should make sure she's okay."
"Of course," the woman said, nodding. "It was nice speaking to you both."
I smiled in response for both of us before leading Wanda away from the table and to an emptier-looking part of the room. Spinning around, I gave her a disapproving look.
"You can't say that," I said quietly, shaking my head. "Not here. Not now."
She licked her lips, wearing an enchanting smile, unbothered by our surroundings. "I can't help it. I'm so in love with you and you look irresistible tonight, milaya (darling)."
I sighed, my neck growing warm as she watched me with adoration. "Okay, I think it's time to call it a night."
"No, I want to stay," she whined, but I ignored her and turned around to think about how we could leave.
Once again, I felt her hand squeeze my butt and when I turned around to scold her, I saw my brother over her shoulder, approaching us. I forced a smile on my lips and glanced at her with a glare. She grinned in response before joining my side and facing my brother with me.
"Hey, how are you?" he asked when he stopped by us.
"Good," I answered for us both, afraid Wanda would say something suspicious.
He nodded, smiling a little. "Thanks for keeping Wanda company tonight."
Using that as my opportunity, I said, "Yeah, about that. She's kind of drunk, so I think I'm going to take her home."
"Oh," he said with realisation. "I don't mind taking it from here."
I pursed my lips, desperately trying to think of a reason to stay with her. Thankfully, I didn't have to.
"How scandalous of you to want to me somewhere after hours with nobody else around," Wanda poked fun, attempting to make him feel uncomfortable. It worked.
"Oh, no– I didn't mean it like that," he said quickly, flushing at her insinuation. "Never mind." Looking to me, he added, "You should take her home and make sure she's okay. Maybe stay with her until her family gets home so you don't have to head home yourself."
I nodded, ignoring the proud smile on Wanda's lips. "Okay, see you later."
As I led Wanda outside the house and towards the carriages parked outside, I gave her a grateful look.
"Good thinking back there."
She chuckled. "He's so easy to manipulate."
"Not nice," I said, but couldn't stop the amused smile from playing on my lips.
The two of us got in the back of the carriage after I gave the driver her address and settled in. Wanda was quick to tilt my head towards her and connect our lips, but I pulled back quickly, making her frown.
"You've been very frustrating this evening," I said with a warning tone. "We get home and you get to bed. That's it."
"Well, that hardly seems fair," she said with a shake of her head. "I believe I behaved."
I tried not to laugh. "In what world, love?"
She smiled widely, eyes darting to my lips. "Some alternate universe."
"Smooth," I played along, before facing forward. "Sober up, dear. The ride isn't long."
When we reached her house, it was a struggle getting her to her bedroom, but it was an even bigger struggle getting her dressed. I managed to get her dress off, but she kept trying to kiss me as I tried to put her nightgown on. Between fits of laughter, she pushed my hands away and made me step back.
Hands on my hips, I stared down at her with a ghost of a smile on my lips. "Are you done? You can't just sleep in your bra and knickers."
She laughed, sat on the edge of her bed and looking up at me with tired eyes. "One kiss and I'll let you dress me."
"Definitely no." I shook my head. "We both know what happens after one kiss."
"When will there ever be an opportunity where we're alone together in my home?" she tried to make a point, but her accent was especially heavy, entwined with her drunkenness and making it harder to believe her logic.
I rested my hands on her shoulders and leaned my forehead on hers, staring into her eyes with amusement. "My beautiful love, you are drunk. We will not have sex when you're drunk."
Her hands tugged me closer by the waist as she smiled up at me. "But I know what I want. And I'm certain it's you."
"Not now," I repeated, removing her hands from my waist.
She pouted and I chuckled before kissing it away. Her tantrum seemed to tire her out as I was able to get her dressed after that, managing to tuck her under the covers.
"Stay with me," she mumbled, fingers clawing the air as a gesture for me to join her.
Nobody would be back for a while, I realised, and nobody was home.
"Fine," I gave in quickly, before kicking off my shoes and jumping into the bed beside her.
She grinned, snuggling into my side and breathing out contently. "Ya tak sil'no tebya lyublyu (I love you so much)."
I kissed the top of her head, holding her close and hoping she couldn't hear the rate of my heartbeat pick up. "I love you, too, Wanda."
We stayed like that, in each other's arms, until I sadly had to get up and leave her. She was asleep by the time her family returned, her face relaxed and without the constraints of reality. I smiled to myself, feeling overwhelmed with how much I was in love with her. I was lucky to have met her, I knew that much, but I was also unlucky to have met her under our circumstances.
As usual, I couldn't help but wonder what could have happened if we weren't in the wrong lifetime...
I kissed her once more, whispering an 'I love you' to her, before leaving the room and wondering if one day I might be able to stay under the covers with her, cuddling until I fell asleep, too.
"It won't take long, I just need to give him this," Wanda said nonchalantly, referring to the notebooks in her hand. "Then we can grab lunch."
I nodded and the two of us walked down the street until we located the Maximoff Publishing House. I'd been here a few times when visiting my brother and it always gave me a fuzzy warm feeling, my brain formulating daydreams where I could be published, too. But that's all they were – daydreams.
Wanda held the door open for me as I walked in and I gave her an appreciative smile before she followed after. She led the way to her brother's office at the back of the building and we passed several desks – editors, authors and other employees alike – before reaching it. Through the window, Wanda and I could see Pietro sat behind his desk, pen working away at some papers.
"Piet," Wanda called, knocking on the door.
He looked up and grinned, instantly motioning for us to come inside. I followed after Wanda and closed the door behind us before stopping in front of his desk.
"Y/N, I'm so glad you came!" he exclaimed, standing up and stretching out his hands ecstatically. "I didn't think you would if I'm being honest."
I tilted my head, bemused. "Er... pardon?"
"Piet, she doesn't–" Wanda started, making me look to her. She cut herself off with a sigh, massaging the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. "Oh, God."
"I'm not sure what's happening here," I said with an awkward chuckle, before taking the notebooks from Wanda's hand and dropping them on Pietro's desk, "but these are for you. Wanda said you left them at home."
He chuckled, pushing the notebooks to the side, before reaching into his top drawer and throwing some pages before me. "These are genius, Y/N."
My brows creased together with confusion as I lifted the pages, looking through them to see what had got him all happy. As my eyes skimmed the writing, my heart dropped. This was my writing.
"H-how did you get this?" I stammered, looking up at him.
His eyes flickered to Wanda and I immediately put the pieces together, my gaze falling to her. She smiled bashfully before avoiding my eyes. She'd given him my work without telling me? And she'd tricked me into coming here for this?
"I want to sign you," he stated, clasping his hands together. "Your work is amazing, arguably better than you brother's. You really undersold! And the fact that these are just excerpts means your actual completed work is even better. And I want it here at Maximoff Publishing."
My palms were sweaty as I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn't know what. He wanted to sign me? Like, properly sign me?
"Y/N?" Wanda prompted, making me look her way. She watched with encouraging eyes, nodding to her brother.
I swallowed hard and looked to Pietro. "I'll have to think about it."
My family's reaction would not be kind, I knew that now. All my life I'd been hearing about how it was unladylike and unattractive for a woman to be a writer, how I should just leave the writing to Y/B/N. He was the writer and I needed to get over it because nobody would want to publish me. Yet, here we were.
"Y/N, what are you saying?" Wanda asked, resting a hand on my forearm to get my attention. "You've talked about being published for ages."
I was beginning to regret mentioning that silly fantasy to Wanda. If I'd known she was going to give my work to her brother, I never would have said anything.
"It's fine, Wan, she just needs time to mull it over," Pietro said dismissively, before smiling at me. "I do hope you'll decide soon though."
I forced a small smile his way before turning to leave. When I reached the empty hallway, Wanda was quick to run after me, tugging me backwards so I would face her.
"Why did you do that?" I asked instantly, frowning, feeling betrayed. "What made you think I wanted this?"
Her fingers touched mine gently as she looked between my eyes. "You've told me you wanted this. I know you want this."
I shook my head, letting go of her hand and stepping back. "I can't believe you took my work and gave it to him without asking. You shouldn't have done this, Wanda. You're making waves and–"
"You deserve this," she proclaimed sternly, silencing me. Her eyes were fiery as she stared hard. "You deserve to get the credit, too. Not just your brother. It's about damn time, Y/N."
My lips pressed together firmly as I held her stare, though she was winning as she told me everything I'd wanted to hear. Just once, somebody believed in me, but I was so used to hearing otherwise that it felt foreign.
"Pietro wants to help," she said, expression softening. "He recognises talent and you have it. Maybe I should have asked before giving him your work, maybe I shouldn't have. But I know that it was the only way to push you. You're so content accepting what other people want that you don't chase what you deserve."
Her passion and belief for my work warmed my heart to the core and I was certain that I'd never been more in love with her than I was now. She didn't have to care, but she did. For once, somebody did.
"Nobody will like this," I muttered, half-convinced but still worried about the drawbacks. "It could destroy your brother's career. It could backfire."
Wanda shook her head, stepping forward and resting a hand on my neck, thumb stroking the skin comfortingly. "He wouldn't take the risk if he didn't believe in you."
I placed my hand over hers, taking it between mine as I squeezed it gently, gratefully. I didn't know what else to say, since she'd countered all of my arguments. Everything apart from my family's reaction, which she couldn't control.
"I did this for you," she murmured, before wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me in for a hug. "For you to finally get what you deserve. So that you can make your own money and nobody can take it from you."
She paused as I returned her hug, though I was pondering her words, not knowing she felt that way. It sounded like she'd given this some thought. More than she was letting on.
"Especially if you get married," she added after consideration, and I pulled away, ready to say otherwise, but she closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, I know you don't like talking about it, but it needs to be said." She opened her eyes and I realised they were glassy with unshed tears. "I need you to be okay when it happens. I don't–" She sucked up a breath, smiling to relieve the tension, though it was full of pain. "I don't want some man owning you."
"Any money I make will belong to him anyway," I said, knowing she knew the world we lived in.
A downhearted chuckle escaped her lips. "You wouldn't allow that, Y/N, we both know that."
She wasn't wrong. But the thought of even being married to somebody that wasn't her made my heart crumble in my chest.
"Just think about it, okay?" she asked pleadingly. "Promise me you'll think about it? Properly?"
I nodded, reassuring her with a sad smile. "I will. I promise." She sighed with relief, tense shoulders relaxing. I continued quietly, "Thank you, Wanda. For all of this. For everything."
She nodded, before laughing to distract from the tear that slipped from her eye. I felt bad, but there was nothing I could do. She was so concerned about my future without her and it pained me to see. We never talked about it – an unspoken agreement – because it was too difficult to accept.
"Come on," she said, changing the subject. "Let's go get that lunch we came here for."
I hadn't made up my mind about the publishing deal, but I was starting to veer towards a 'yes'.
A few days passed since Pietro made the offer and I hadn't told anybody of it. Only Wanda knew and she hadn't brought it up since, clearly not wanting to pressure me into a decision which I appreciated. It made me realise that I really wanted this for myself. I deserved this for myself, even if I'd been taught otherwise.
It was those few days later when the Maximoffs came over for dinner and it was the first time I'd seen Pietro since he made me the offer. When he greeted me at the door, he smiled brightly.
"I assume you haven't made a decision," he noted.
"You assumed correctly," I said with amusement, though I could tell he really wanted to know.
"Very well," he said with a shrug. "I guess I'll just have to change your mind."
I quirked a brow, wondering what he meant by that, but he simply walked past me and into the living room. Wanda smiled at me next, squeezing my hand and greeting me with a hug.
"You okay?" she asked lowly, a hint of concern in her eyes.
"I'm good," I promised. "Are you?"
"Yes," she said with a small smile. Just like her brother, I could tell she wanted to know what I was thinking.
After our two families conversed in the living room for a while, dinner was served by our servants and we all took to the table to continue our chatter.
"So, Pietro," my father started, looking across the table to him. "How is business going at the publishing house?"
I should have known what he would do when he glanced at me with mischievous eyes.
"It's going great," he answered my father respectfully. "We've actually sought out a new author to add to the list of names we represent."
My eyes widened when I realised what he was doing.
"Oh, really?" my dad asked with surprise. "Who is he?"
Pietro looked in my direction and I forgot how to breathe. "It's actually your daughter, sir."
All eyes fell to me as I locked my gaze on the cutlery beside my plate.
"Y/N? You want to sign Y/N?" asked my dad for clarification.
"I do," he said with a grin, and my face was heating up the longer this conversation went on. "Wanda saw her work and thought I'd be interested. I am. I think she'd make a great fit at our publishing house. And if she has a manuscript to show us, then I'd love to publish it."
"You did this?" Y/B/N asked Wanda with raised brows, jealousy intertwined in his voice.
"Yes, I did," she answered, unaffected by his irritation. "She's really talented."
I risked glancing up, smiling at Wanda appreciatively. She nodded in response, the corner of her mouth lifting adorably, making my heart flutter.
"She really is," Pietro agreed, before looking to my dad who still seemed taken aback. "She probably got that from you. Writing seems to run in the family."
My dad looked at me across the table, his eyes softening. All of our conversations flashed to mind where he claimed he was discouraging me for my own benefit. But now, everything he'd thought wouldn't happen was. Would he still be against the idea?
"D'you really think she'd sell?" he finally spoke, looking to Pietro, and I couldn't contain the smile from my lips.
"Yeah, don't women struggle with their first book?" my brother asked, and when I examined his expression, I saw the distaste.
"I actually think she'd do really well...," Pietro began to explain, before going into a long rant about numbers and sales and past examples.
As he spoke, my brother got progressively more frustrated and I frowned, wondering why he couldn't be supportive like our parents were being. Did he want to be the only author in our family that bad? Or was he just afraid that I wouldn't help him with his own books anymore?
"Thank you for explaining all of that," my dad said once he was done. He smiled, impressed, looking to me. "I actually love the idea."
I felt lightweight when he said that. Things were actually starting to look up for me. My dad was actually supporting my passion and it was all I'd wanted to hear since I was a kid. Trying to hide my elation behind a smile, I took a sip of water. 
"Maybe Pietro is just trying to sweeten Y/N up so he can propose," Y/B/N suddenly said, making me choke on my water.
Looking to him with disbelief, he had a friendly smile on his lips, but I saw right through it.
"Y/B/N," Wanda scolded beside him. "Don't joke about that."
"Yeah, I can assure you that's not the case," Pietro added with a chuckle, unfazed by my brother's bitterness.
"I know that," I said reassuringly, before glaring at my brother. "You don't need to dignify him with a response, Pietro."
Changing the subject, my mother spoke up with a laugh. "Well, I think this is delightful. Y/N has always loved to write and I used to think it wasn't an appropriate future for a young woman, but if you are saying it could be, then I'm fully supportive of the idea."
I smiled at her, unable to believe she'd actually said that. She was the last person I thought would approve.
"Pietro has a good eye with these things," Oleg pointed out. "If he thinks it'll be successful, it will be."
My parents began to talk about how writing was something I'd loved for a long time, but I wasn't really listening because I felt overwhelmed with happiness. Pietro caught my eye, winking playfully, and I hoped he knew how grateful I was at what he'd done. Under the table, Wanda's fingers laced through mine and I didn't let go. Giving her a sideways glance, I thanked her with my eyes. She smiled widely and I tried very hard not to kiss her.
"...it's not the conventional route, but Y/N deserves it," my dad said, and I perked up with realisation.
"Maybe Wanda could break the conventional, too," I said, wanting to repay the brunette beside me.
"What do you mean?" she asked with furrowed brows.
I gave her a smile of disbelief. "Wanda, your art. It's stunning. Everything you create could easily sell for hundreds of pounds."
Her lips parted with surprise as she struggled to find words.
"That's not a bad idea, you know," Iryna said with thought. "Especially if Y/N's signing goes to plan."
Oleg groaned playfully, looking to my father. "This is happening so quickly... our girls are growing up, Y/D/N."
My dad chuckled alongside him as I stroked the top of Wanda's hand with my thumb. She squeezed it gently and I smiled to myself.
"You'll make tons of money," I said with certainty. "Your work is incredible, Wanda."
"I'll make enough money to support the both of us," Y/B/N said, doing a terrible job at hiding his frustration.
I looked over Wanda and to him with a hard stare and fake smile. "It's not even about the money to be honest. Maybe it's just about Wanda doing something she loves."
He nodded in agreement, though his eyes glared daggers at me. "I agree. And I won't stop her. But there's no need to sell her work. She can still practice her craft as usual. Heck, I'll even get her a studio."
I quirked a brow challengingly. "And what if she wants to sell it?"
Y/B/N clenched his jaw behind a forced smile. I ignored the warning look Wanda gave me in my peripheral and didn't dare look away from my brother's gaze. This was a side to him that I definitely didn't like.
My mum suddenly laughed to clear the air, but it was nervous and concerned. "Ah, sibling rivalry. Such playful nonsense."
"I believe the dessert is coming out now," my dad added, stealing the Maximoffs' attention away from my brother and I. "We're having soufflé."
With a final glare to my brother, I returned to eating. Any chatter of Wanda and I's potential careers ceased and my parents attempted to make the rest of the meal worthwhile.
As much as I wanted to be excited at the possibility of accepting Pietro's deal, especially since I had my parents' support, I couldn't help but think about what just happened with my brother. What was his problem?
When the meal ended, we all had some tea in the living room before bringing the evening to a close. At the door, we said our goodbyes to the Maximoffs and I was sure to thank Pietro.
"You didn't have to do that back there," I said as we shook hands, "but thank you. I think I know my answer now."
"Anything for my sister's best friend," he said with his signature charming smile. "And I hope it's what I think it is. Though, I suppose you won't tell me now."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Not now."
"Soon, I hope." He nodded conclusively. "Have a good evening, Y/N."
Wanda shoved him out the way before I could respond before pulling me in for a hug. Pietro didn't seem offended as he gave me a knowing look over her shoulder. I stared back inquisitively, but got distracted when Wanda broke the hug, finding my eyes.
"You okay after what happened?" she asked gently, eyes subtly gesturing to my brother who was bidding her parents a goodbye.
"I'm okay," I reassured her with a smile. "Thanks for tonight."
She returned my smile. "Thank you. I think my parents actually took me seriously for a change."
"It's the least I could do," I told her, fully aware of everything she'd done for me.
Her smile widened, eyes flickering to my lips conspicuously. I shoved her gently, knowing what she was thinking and reminding her that we were in front of both of our families right now. She rolled her eyes playfully before stepping back.
"Such a handful," I mumbled jokingly.
When they left, the first thing Y/B/N did was storm off to his study. My parents exchanged glances before looking to me.
"Be nice," my mum warned.
"We'll see," I muttered under my breath, looking in the direction he'd gone.
Oh, was he about to get a piece of my mind.
313 notes · View notes
lord-explosion-baku · 4 years
Text
Videotapes
Hizashi x reader
Summary: Hizashi picks up a fan to bring back to his place to make a special little home movie ;)
Warnings: s m u t, swearing, Hizashi gets a little rough, and uhhh... a bit of yandere at the end... 
A/N: I hadn’t ever written Present Mic sm*t before, so i decided to give it a go. I couldn’t help but make him a little crazy at the end there. I am who I am.
“Damn baby, how are you so wet already? Is it cuz you like bein’ the star of the show or is it cuz you like me?”
You blushed and quirked your head to the side, letting your hair fall over your shoulder while you bit your lip. Such a bashful little thing. And when you looked directly at the camera to whisper, “maybe I just like you,” Hizashi’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. 
Goddamn you were so cute—perfect for the camera. Hizashi was going to make you his masterpiece. 
Hizashi brought his hand to your cheek and his ringed thumb, still wet from petting your pretty pussy, brushed gingerly across your lips. You eyed him with eager trepidation. 
“Show me how much you like me, hon,” he said, adjusting the camera so it framed that gorgeous face perfectly. “Kiss the ring.”
You pressed your plush lips against the ring on his thumb, then slowly moved toward the tip, kissing it before Hizashi pushed it into your warm, inviting mouth. He crooned, “that’s a good girl. Open your mouth more, give the camera a show, yeah?” 
You did as you were told, showing off your tongue before you closed your mouth around his thumb. You hummed as you sucked it from the base to the tip, repeating the motion several times, knowing that you were teasing the voice hero with that deceivingly innocent gaze. You closed your eyes and swirled your hot tongue around his digit, acting as if his thumb was a sweet treat—something you wanted to savor. As hot as Hizashi thought it was, he couldn’t help but think that you got it all wrong; you were the sweet treat that he was raring to devour. 
“Fuck,” Hizashi hissed, pulling his hand away from your mouth only to grasp a fistful of your hair. He felt himself throbbing against his tightening, leather pants. If he didn’t fuck you soon, he was sure to explode. He crushed his lips into your mouth, pleased to see just how willing you were to part your pretty lips so that he could snake his tongue between your teeth to deepen the kiss. He pushed you back into the bed and let the camera scan over your bare body. A hand reached down to paw at your beautiful breasts, his middle and index finger to pinching your hardening nipples while he squeezed harshly. He whispered lovingly at you while your nails scaled his arms, offering him delightful tickles that got the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up. You were so soft, so good, so compliant and ready to be used. He gave your breast a light smack! and the cute little yelp you gave back was music to his ears. 
While he propped his elbow on the bed, Hizashi filmed himself kissing you down your quivering body. He enjoyed your zealous sighs, noting when and where he should be paying closer attention to when your breath hitched or you’d give out a surprised giggle. Your fingers massaged the top of his silky, yellow head while he ran his hand up your cushiony thighs so he could push them apart, granting easy access to your all-too-ready entrance. 
Hizashi passed you the handheld camera. “Keep that on your face, babydoll. I wanna see how hot I made you feel later down the line, kay?” 
“Mhmm,” you hummed, smiling at the camera lens. You blew it a little kiss and Hizashi felt his insides dissolve into liquids. You were just too damn adorable. 
With both of his hands now free, Hizashi had them on either side of your thighs. He relished the soft squish they gave whenever he pressed against them while he kissed at your pelvic bone. Your thighs were just too damn good that he couldn’t feel right leavin’ them neglected, so he kissed them, delicately at first, but as you hummed and sighed, egging him on, he started to get a little rougher, using his teeth to graze across the softest part of your flesh before biting down, suckling long enough to leave his lovely mark. You cursed under your breath and Hizashi looked up to see both of your hands raised over your head with the camera still pointing at your gorgeous face. Good girl. 
Hizashi licked a stripe up your wet pussy and let the real show begin. He lavished you with skilled tenacity, drawing maps across your skin with his pierced tongue, exploring your depths, fawning over your taste. “You’re so sweet, angelface. I could be down here all damn day.”
Hizashi got more excited when you started to moan—such a beautiful sound he never wanted to let come to an end. He suckled fiercely at your juicy entrance before he got to rolling his piercing around your blown-up bud. Your body shook. Greedily, you raised your ass to chase his mouth around and Hizashi had to buckle down on his hold of your thighs to keep you in place. 
“Mic,” you mewled, trying and failing to grind up against him. Your pussy was so flushed and he could tell you were getting close. “feelssogoood.” 
“Call me Hizashi, sweetheart,” he murmured into you, teasing you more with the reverberations of his low, lust-filled voice. “Think you can do that for me?” 
“Mmmmm ‘zashi…” 
Hizashi peered up over his tinted glasses to see you toying with your breasts, the camera pointing down at him. 
“Naughty girl,” he purred, prodding fingers sliding through your glistening folds. “I thought I told you to keep that camera on you.”
Your lips tugged up into a coy grin. “Couldn’t help it. You’re too handsome when you’re between my thighs…” 
“‘s that right?” Hizashi’s fingers pushed into your cunt and you groaned loudly. He curled into you, finding your g-spot immediately. Your free hand slammed into his bed and grasped violently at his sheets—jesus what a sensitive baby girl you were! “Turn the camera around, mama. I wanna see you.” 
Hizashi went back to eating you out with determined integrity. His tongue moved at a rapid pace while his fingers tucked against your walls over and over until he had you whimpering. Finally your back arched and you let out a long, pitiful moan and Hizashi felt your pussy spasm and flutter around his fingers. When he looked up, he saw that the camera was left abandoned on his bed and both of your hands were in your forehead. 
“Baby-girl,” he scolded, kissing your throbbing pussy. He moved up to pull your hands away from your face and frowned when you didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “Tell me you caught your big finish on film, mama. Tell me I get to see your solo later on.” 
Face flushing, you bit your lip. “Sorry.” 
Hizashi scoffed and pushed his slick-covered fingers into your ready mouth. “No, you’re not.” 
You shook your head and sucked your juices off his fingers. Hizashi pulsed against your thigh. 
“I thought you wanted to be my good girl,” he cooed, rubbing his index fingers against your damp bottom lip. He grabbed the camera and got off the bed. “C’mere.” 
You followed, eager and ready to be given more commands. He told you to get on your knees, and you did. The camera pointed down on you, waiting for you to comply without having to hear another one of Hizashi’s orders. Catching on, you undid his clanking, leather belt, pulled down his pants, and let his dick, dripping with pre-cum, spring loose. You took it into your soft hands. 
“Show that you can still be a good listener,” Hizashi told you. “Suck it—nice and slow baby.”
You licked up his shaft, once again making a good show out of it. You took your time coating him in your saliva with sloppy, languid kisses, paying close attention to the head of his sensitive cock. Your tongue rolled around him before you finally took him into your mouth. Your head bobbed down teasingly slow—so slow that Hizashi could help but grab your head and force you down further into his cock. 
“If you’re not gonna play nice, then I’m not gonna play nice, baby. That’s our deal.” 
You whimpered around him, but didn’t back down from the challenge. Instead, you chose to grab a sturdy hold of his hips to have a bit of control over him. He let go of his vice-grip on your head, but continued to play with your hair while he thrusted into your mouth. 
You were almost as skilled at giving head as he was; with practiced technique and the addition of you running your tongue along that thick vein he had running underneath his shaft, you had his balls tightening in no-time. 
“That’s—ahhh, fuck, that’s good sweetheart. That’s enough,” he assured, not wanting to spill out until the grand finale, but you didn’t let up. You grasped onto the base of his shaft and started pumping, ready to take him—all of him in. Hizashi didn’t know if you liked getting him riled up or if you were just over-excited, he was gonna fuck the living daylights out of you either way. To be fair, he liked that you could be a little naughty, but he wasn’t gonna let you run his whole show. 
Hizashi cursed and grabbed your head, pulling you off of his cock before it was too late. A string of saliva trailed from your lips to the tip of his shaft and he had the camera zoom in on it. 
“Beautiful,” he praised, lightly smacking your cheeks. “You almost had me there, hon. Just what kinda stunt are you tryna pull?” 
“No stunts,” you shot out in mock-humility, “I only wanna make you feel good.” 
“Oh yeah? Cuz to me it looks like you quite enjoy acting like a disobedient little bitch.” 
Hizashi watched your cheeks flush. Still, you didn’t miss a beat. “If you’re not gonna play nice, then I’m not gonna play nice, baby.” 
So. Fucking. Cute. Hizashi had to give it to you; he was not expecting the bratty ‘tude. The change in your temperament was riveting—enticing in a way that made him want to absolutely ruin you—to show you who the hero was in his little homemade movie. 
Hizashi brought himself down on you quickly. It took a moment to wrestle you to his bedroom floor, longer than it would have if he hadn’t been holding a camera, but he had you out in front of him with your ass pressed against his throbbing cock, staring into his floor-length mirror nonetheless. He had his hands woven into your hair—obviously the easiest way to control you, so he learned—and had you staring at your beautifully flustered expression in your reflection. 
Hizashi filmed himself sliding his cock against your sopping wet cunt, not yet entering you, but teasing you just enough to have you mewling for him to do so. The camera caught the torment on your face; he liked it and he was proud to know that he’d have it saved forever. 
“If you’re gonna act like a bitch, you’re gonna get fucked like a bitch. Got that?” He asked while his free hand slid down the curve of your sides. Your brows knitted together and you nodded. Hizashi’s tongue slid across his teeth as the head of his cock pressed into your entrance. He watched as your mouth fell open when he slid into you and—ohh fuck, god damn did you feel great. 
“So tight, babe,” Hizashi grunted, easing out of your constructive pussy. He thrusted back in and it wasn’t any easier to take the second time—even your fucking insides were perfect. “Didn’t think to warn me?” 
Your answer was a lengthy croon as if you hadn’t heard what he’d said. You weren’t so snarky when you were stuffed full of his cock, were ya? Hizashi thrusted into you and you yipped at the snap of his hips. So responsive. He smirked at you in the mirror and pulled you back by your hair so he could lean over and brush his lips across your neck. You shuddered when he whispered, “your ass is all mine, solid?” 
Hizashi did not start off at a charitable pace—no, he started drilling into you immediately. He was relentless in his endeavor to show you what was what. You were a noisy little thing, responding to every groove with a definitive plea, a sensual moan, a cracked out warble for more of him. He couldn’t stop grabbing your ass—it was perfect for the camera to see you fall back on his dick, to capture just how well you took him. He wanted to savor your sexy little peach. To him, this was a monumental fuck—top of the shelf, refined debauchery. Hizashi thanked the gods for modern technology and for you—the sweet little piece that you were. 
Hizashi pushed your head down as he mounted you tighter against him. He felt your squishy walls tighten around his pulsating member and let out a labored groan, fighting the urge to paint your walls in his hot, white seed. He wanted to claim you, to own you, to keep you here in his bedroom for whenever he needed to relieve himself. He baffled himself with the idea of starting a family full of rugrats with you. Holy shit, he felt like he could fall in love by just how well you fit around him. 
“Oh my god—oh my god, ‘Zashi, I’m-!” Your nails dug into his shag carpet as you panted and let out the cutest, broken squeal. Hizashi made sure to zoom in on your reflected face that was lost to euphoria this time around. It was fucking worth it. 
Hizashi gave out a raspy chuckle, only to be caught off-guard by the excruciating massage your rockin’ pussy was giving his dick. He let you ride out your climax for as long as he could before he had to pull out. He had to. If he didn’t, it would’ve ruined the movie. 
“Turn for me, sweetheart,” he urged, grunting as he pumped harshly at his cock. You did. “Open that slutty, little mouth.” 
Hizashi placed himself between your lips and let loose, blowing his hot load into your mouth. You hummed and Hizashi commanded you not to spit. 
“Show it to me, ma. Show me how much you love my cum.” 
You stuck your tongue out, displaying the proof of his love to the camera. 
“That’s so fucking hot, babe.” Hizashi caressed your burning cheeks. Hot. Hot. Hot. “Now swallow.” 
You gulped and grinned widely at him. “You taste so good,” you purred, eager to be praised. 
Hizashi pet your head, trailed a finger down to your jaw, to your chin, and tipped you up into a kiss. 
“Such a good listener,” he said and he turned the camera off. 
~
This might be getting a little excessive, but Hizashi popped the CD back into the computer and hit play. He watched that sweet girl strip for him for the seventh time that evening and it never failed to get him hard. 
“Damn, ma,” he muttered while watching you eagerly wiggle around his bed. He checked his phone to see that you still hadn’t responded to his text he’d sent three hours ago. You hadn’t spoken to him at all since this exchange and it burned him to think that the two of you could have had such a world-warping experience and you didn’t think to send him so much as a smiley face back when he told you he missed you. 
Hizashi began stroking himself with one hand, listening to that seraphic voice say, “maybe I just like you,” while flipping around on his phone to check your social media accounts with the other. 
He couldn’t find you. 
“What the fuck?” 
Hizashi checked again. Three more times. Nothing. 
Hizashi growled. This won’t do at all. You blocked him? Unbelievable. 
He was getting angry. He didn’t stop touching himself though. That woman on the screen was too hard to deny. He came fast and this time on his laptop when the camera was just on your face. He heard your moans from when he was going down on you. It was too easy to get him there when all he had to do was listen to you. 
He couldn’t help but think that maybe if he had come inside of you—a maddeningly dark feeling loomed over his shoulders. 
Hizashi had assets. He could find out where you lived. As a pro hero it wasn’t hard to track someone down—say they were up to no good and had to be watched. Closely. He could confront you—see what all this was about. He was pretty sure he took care of you; you came twice for God’s sake! He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 
I’ll look into it, he promised himself, wiping off his computer screen. I’ll look into it as soon as I’m done watching this video. 
TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix@smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy@sarcastictextstuck@kpanime @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow@wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn@im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai@eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello 
1K notes · View notes
commie-eschatology · 3 years
Text
Annulment at Ostwick
Summary: Trevelyan kills her mentor, Senior Enchanter Lydia, as the mage rebellion begins.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/29683359. Shoutout @5lazarus for the “this is systemic, not personal line” lol. tw/cw: somewhat graphic depiction of violence near the end. 
Judging by the commotion outside her chambers, Senior Enchanter Lydia of the Ostwick Circle imagines it will not be much longer. The rebels, once her students, have nearly broken through the barrier; she holds no illusions about what will happen afterwards. She seals her final letter to Vivienne and hands it to her ravens. The world has gone mad, she only hopes her dear friend avoids the same fate as herself.
This rebellion has been brewing for a long time, since even before what happened in Kirkwall. For years, she has tried to avert this suicidal course of action. With Vivienne’s help, she even got the Ostwick Circle to formally declare neutrality after Fiona’s stunt at the White Spire. Lydia knows the Circle is imperfect, that is not a controversial observation, but what chance do her people have against the entire Templar Order? She knows how this rebellion will inevitably end, with witch hunts, mass executions, and the widespread use of the Rite of Tranquility. When her people are eventually forced back into the Circle, she’s certain all political rights they have earned will be revoked; eight hundred years of careful advocacy swept away by the rash actions of a few miscreants.
She hears the barrier outside her chamber break. Lydia stays sitting at her desk, quickly adjusting her hair and posture. One can never truly be ready for death, but she goes through her mental checklist one last time. She’s sent instructions to Vivienne and made her peace with the Maker. She sends a quick prayer to the heavens one more time just to be sure. Trevelyan steps through the door, armed with a staff. Lydia sees other students behind her, guarding the door.
“Hello Enchanter Trevelyan,” she greets, trying to keep her voice neutral. There was a time she called her protege by her first name, but so much has changed since she fell in with the rebels. Growing apart from Tara is just one more casualty of this madness.
Both say nothing at first. Lydia looks up at her protege and feels like she should say something wise, provide some parting words of advice for her daughter by choice. Instead she just says, “well this is a state of affairs.”
“Indeed. Now get up,” Trevelyan orders, staff at the ready. Lydia slowly raises her hands above her head and stands. She looks up at her once protege and thinks of that terrified child brought to this very office, all those years ago. Tara has grown so much since, Lydia isn’t sure if she should be proud or disappointed.
A week ago, with Vivienne’s help, she had forced a neutrality vote through the Ostwick Circle. It was her hope that this victory would protect Tara and the others, even as the rest of Thedas fell into chaos.  She had expected a response from the Liberati, but not something as appalling as this. Apparently, the Maker does have a sense of irony. She knows anger at her Creator is a sin, but she hopes He’ll understand in this case.
Tara raises the staff, its crystal glowing with mana. It won’t be long now. She cannot detect any regret on her protege’s face, just rage and determination. One might expect that she would feel the slightest bit of sadness at murdering the woman who raised her, Lydia thinks. But bitterness is also a sin, she reminds herself, and she’s quickly running out of time to make penance.
Their last fight after the vote had been particularly tempestuous, even by their standards. Trevelyan had shouted endless slogans at her, “the people united will never be defeated!” and other trite nonsense that she should be intelligent enough to reject. “The slogan retired, will never be repeated!” had been her response, she can’t help but be a little proud of that line. It is such a tragedy that their relationship has devolved into shouting platitudes. She knows Tara, her brilliant protégé, is smarter than this, and wishes she wouldn’t throw her entire future away on a suicidal crusade. There is, however, nothing more she can do now.
To her surprise, the blast from Trevelyan’s staff hasn’t come yet. Lydia cautiously takes a step forward, hands still in the air, Tara flinches backwards. Perhaps there is some regret, Lydia thinks with some relief, at least she did not completely fail as a mother.
“For whatever it’s worth, I am glad it’s you,” she says. Lydia has always found deathbed reconciliations trite, but what choice does she have?
“Now that’s manipulative,” Tara accuses.
“You believe I’m being manipulative? Tara, you came here to murder me.”
“You made this rebellion necessary. We have nothing , not even the college of enchanters anymore. You’d rather us be trapped in a fucking prison forever, like good little mages. I... we will not grovel to our oppressors any longer. Our people have no choice but to fight for the same freedom as anyone else.” More platitudes, she hopes they’re comforting to her.
“ I made this rebellion necessary? So it follows my own murder is my fault then?” Lydia scoffs, “and you accuse me of being manipulative.”
Tara lowers her staff and runs her hand through her hair, a nervous tick she knows well. Lydia is almost tempted to try something but what good would that do? “I’ve been trapped here, in this fucking tower, my entire life. What other choice do I…” her voice breaks, “we are far past the point of reconciliation. For non-violent civil disobedience, or whatever you loyalists tell us to try over and over again. Your neutrality vote saw to that.”
Trevelyan paces back and forth as her speech reaches its crescendo She gestures to sounds of fighting outside the door, “We will break the Circle or die trying. Our people have no other choice.”
“I have no desire to relitigate our many political debates,” Lydia is so tired of wasting her breath, can no longer listen to the cliche platitudes anymore. “I am sorry it has come to this.” It feels as if they are just reciting the same lines back and forth, as they have for years.
“It didn’t have to be like this.” Tara says, Lydia sees her eyes swell with tears, “if you had just listened, if you hadn’t…” She wipes the tears from her face. “Fuck,” she says.
Lydia steps forward cautiously into her space, slowly she wraps her arms around her adopted daughter. Tara freezes in response, but then cautiously responds in kind. It’s awkward and stilted at first, Lydia isn’t sure where exactly they stand. Deathbed reconciliations may be trite, but it’s better than nothing at all she supposes.
Tara leans further into her embrace. “I should note that this is systemic, not personal,” she says.
Lydia laughs, despite everything. “Good to know.” Tara wraps her arms more tightly around her, but holds onto her staff. Lydia is proud of her survival instincts, how she has learned to never let her guard down. She likes to think Tara will survive outside the Circle, won’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere, but she knows the danger she faces. She’ll be an apostate, hunted her entire life. It’s a terrifying thought.
Lydia holds Tara just a bit closer, while she still can. She’s given birth to two children in her life, both taken by the templars. She knows more than any the importance of chosen family. It’d be a lie to say she has no regrets, who wouldn’t when your adopted daughter is your murderer? She reminds herself to push down the bitterness, and try to dwell on the good memories, before the end.
“This is so melodramatic,” Tara sniffles into her shoulder.
“You are melodramatic, love. Just lean into it.” Tara laughs through her tears. Neither says a word for a time. Eventually, Tara slowly draws back, and once more readies her staff. Lydia holds her head high, she’s always aspired to die with dignity.
“Clan Lavellan in Wycome took in apostate refugees from Kirkwall. You may wish to seek them out,” she says. Those elves have a tendency to meddle, to use the rebel mages as proxies in their own heathen war against the Chantry. She can only hope they will, at least, keep her daughter safe.
“I know,” says Tara, “who do you think gave us our weapons?” The thought of Dalish elves supplying weapons into the Circle is appalling, Lydia curses herself for missing that. She knew Tara to be conspiring with Liberati and perhaps even the Mage Underground, but not with elven terrorists like the Lavellan clan. If the elves and rebel apostates are both working towards a common goal, Lydia fears this rebellion is far beyond the threat she anticipated. She looks at Trevelyan and wonders what else she does not know.
Tara’s face is wet from tears, her eyes are red and swollen, and there’s a raw cut near her right eye, she imagines from a templar blade. The rage of an apostate radiates from her very being. Lydia begins to fear not just for Tara’s safety, but what she might do once she is free.
“For the rebellion,” she says.  The blast of fire hits her in the chest, and knocks her back into the desk. Her back slams into the wood, splinters embed themselves in skin, and she falls gracelessly onto the floor. Her whole body burns, and she sees embers on her robes. But she still is, as far as she can tell, alive.
“Shit,” Tara says, as the fire drains from her staff, “templar smiting. Fuck, uh,” she begins to frantically look around the office. Lydia can hear fighting outside. “Do you, uh, have a knife?” she asks earnestly.
“How did you fuck this up?” Lydia snaps, “You come here to murder me and you can’t even, fuck,” she yells in pain as the burning grows more intense. “Just hurry…”
Before she can finish, Lydia screams in pain, as she feels the impact of Tara’s staff against her head. Her vision goes blurry, the thoughts become disjoined, her world shrinks into nothingness.
5 notes · View notes
miss-tc-nova · 4 years
Text
A SOLDIER’s Memories - Cloud Strife x Fem!Reader Pt 4
AAAAH! I’ve been working on this for a couple weeks writing and deleting and rearranging and editing and aaaahhh! 
Part 4: SOLDIER’s Honor
                It’s been five years since I lost everything important to me, since I lost my reason for living, and since my promotion to SOLDIER First Class. Now I’m just a glorified dog doing as the master says. Since the disappearance of the top SOLDIERs, I’ve become Shinra’s scapegoat figurehead for the program. They raise me up to symbolize peace and protection and even female empowerment as the first female SOLDIER, encouraging others to join because “even a slum rat can become a hero.” I’m the ultimate underdog who rose to the top, but they’ll never breathe a word of the true story.
                Some pests have been attacking our reactors. This AVALANCHE group is quickly climbing the list of those to that need to be eliminated. What bothers me most is that there are rumors that a rogue First Class SOLDIER is among them, but with so few of us, I can’t think of a single one that’s gone missing without cause.
                The Sector 1 reactor has just been destroyed. Pulling a cloak over my uniform, I plan to do a little investigation. The rebels are supposedly hiding out somewhere in the slums. If I can stop them, I can prevent some serious Shinra retaliation and prevent innocent lives being ruined; at least that’s what the little cat-bot begged of me. With the hood up to hide my face, I take my leave.
                I start at Sector 8, planning to intercept the rebels or work my way back through the sectors in search of them. Shouts and gunfire catch my attention. Bolting in that direction, I find a single man standing among a heap of fallen Shinra officers. The rumors appear to be true: he’s clad in a First Class uniform.
                “I suppose it was to be expected that standard infantrymen wouldn’t stand up to you.” I announce my presence, drawing my favored weapon and revealing my title.
                The man whirls on me, wielding a strikingly familiar sword. Before I can question him, I catch sight of his face and I black out for a second.
                The man grimaces but quickly regains control. His entire body tenses, grip tightening on the hilt. “It’s been a long time. Maybe you can put up a fight.”
                “You…” I utter in disbelief. “They told me you were dead.”
                “Guess they lied.”
                There’s something different about him. Then I see the glow in his eyes; he’s been exposed to mako. The blood drains from my face when I remember that SOLDIERs are monsters born from mako. He adjusts his weapon and I take a step back.
                “I don’t remember you being a coward,” he says. “But maybe they don’t hold standards for us First Class like they used to.”
                “Us?” I repeat, stunned.
                His chin rises in defiance. “That’s right. Ex-SOLDIER. First Class. Same as you, remember.”
                This is nothing like the man I remember; he’s dark and confrontational. Whatever they did to him, they ruined the Cloud that I had fallen in love with. Not only that, but he seems to think he was SOLDIER. My thoughts race as I try to understand what I’ve fallen into.
                “What’s wrong with you? Did you blow up the reactor?” I snarl, frustration and hysteria building. His silence is answer enough. “What the hell were you thinking?!”
                His weapon rises, prepared to strike. “Are you going to fight or not?”
                “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but it’s over.”
                “Sounds like a fight then.”
                Shinra infantry have standard sword training, but tend to have higher proficiencies in firearms; Cloud was no exception. However, mako exposure enhances a person’s physical abilities, including muscle mass; it doesn’t exactly make up for skill though. So while I’m impressed he can even wield the Buster Sword, he’s probably barely a match for even a Third Class SOLDIER. He’s easy to dodge and clearly has yet to build the real muscle to fight with such a heavy weapon for long.
                I divert his sword again, but can hear more yelling in the distance; more troops are on their way. I could put a stop to Cloud’s nonsense right now; take him to the ground and drag him back with me. The problem is what Shinra will do with him when I do. The company is very iffy about its employees, let alone when they leave, but Cloud is not only acting as if he were SOLDIER but he’s also threatening every life here in Midgar. Shinra would destroy him. If I take him back with me now, they’ll kill him for sure.
                Once again, I prevent him from tearing into me. “Listen to me, whatever AVALANCHE is doing, it needs to stop.”
                “I don’t take orders from you.”
                “I’m not playing around! You need to get out of here and stop terrorizing Midgar!”
                Cloud prepares to launch another attempted onslaught, but my reinforcements are just around the corner.
                My weapons drop and Cloud’s brows knit together. I take one last chance to take in his face, to truly process that this is Cloud Strife, and then I pull my hood back up and stride away in a back alley. Before I get out of range, I pause.
                If I get caught here, I’m in deep trouble. But if he gets caught…
                Turning back, I see he’s surrounded. He hasn’t built the stamina to fight with the Buster Sword so the troop surrounding him now has a fair chance of taking him down. He backs away from them and I watch on, fighting with myself about what I’ll do if he’s caught. It’s his greatest fortune that a train passes beneath us, which he takes to make his getaway.
                The Shinra employees disperse and, for a moment, I stare at the spot where I found him, where I discovered that my lost love is still alive.
                Spinning on heel, I storm down the alley. Tears muddle my vision but I continue. Every step is agony; I want to chase him down, throw him against a wall, and scream and cry and demand answers. There’s not a trace of those old feelings—feelings that I’m still suffering over. I’ve been left behind to mourn the past while he’s masquerading as a SOLDIER. I spent years in a self-loathing hell and he just turns up out of nowhere like we’ve never met before. I’m furious and enraged and…sad.
                “Ah, there you are, lassie.” A crowned, bi-pedal feline hops from a ladder. “I was comin’ to warn you that they spotted the terrorists…” At my feet, the cat peers up at me, suddenly not as eager as he was before. “Are you alright?”
                “Did you know?” I manage to get out in a dark tone. Amongst my tsunami of emotions, it’s amazing I can speak to him so evenly. He takes a step back. “Did you know it was him?!” Before he can scurry away, I snatch him up and hold him against the wall by his neck. “Answer me! Or I swear I’ll scrap you for parts and use your pelt to shine my boots!” When he stammers, I scream, “DID YOU KNOW WHO HE WAS?!”
                He frantically waves his hands. “No! I don’t know who they are! All I know is that they call themselves AVALANCHE and that there was a SOLDIER among them!”
                “Don’t toy with me!” I snarl.
                “I swear! I haven’t even seen their faces!” For a robot, he’s pretty genuine. I don’t know if he’s telling me the truth or not, but I won’t get any information out of him like this.
                I attempt to control my sigh, trying to release the anger but hold in the sadness. My fingers uncurl, letting my informant fall to his feet. Mildly ashamed of myself, I turn away from him.
                “So…You know these people?” he asks with caution in his voice.
                “I know the SOLDIER,” I mutter bitterly.
                “Then perhaps there’s a way to negotiate with them. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
                I shake my head. “There’s nothing between us. He’ll try to cut me down if I get in his way.” Each word comes with spurs—painful to say.
                “Come on. I need you to try. There’s talks of how Shinra’s gonna deal with these terrorists and hundreds, maybe thousands, of casualties could happen!” he begs. It’s the same line he got me with last time.
                I don’t know this cat; I don’t know who he works for, who’s controlling him, or what he wants. I came to investigate the reactor bombing because it was in my best interest as well. He says he’s trying to prevent the loss of human life, but he’s got some sort of line in Shinra; he’s got to with information like this. That being said, if there’s even a trace of a connection between him and Shinra, I could be signing my own death warrant.
                “You realize that I’m a Shinra employee, right?” I snap. “Why should I help you? Why the hell would you ask a First Class SOLDIER to try and prevent whatever the hell the top dogs are up to?”
                His ears droop a bit as if I’ve just crushed his hopes with my bare hands. “Because you seemed to be the only SOLDIER with any honor left.”
                Memories of my best friend ranting and stomping about proclaiming the honor of SOLDIER as the most important thing a SOLDIER could have blinks in my brain like a faulty light at the end of a dark road. Guilt is now swimming among the debris of my sanity. It provokes the grief and antagonizes the resentment.
                “You think SOLDIERs have honor?” I retort, the prevalent anger rolling off me. “Well you’re fucking wrong!” He hurries up the ladder, out of my reach. “We’re just mutts doing as the master says before he puts a bullet in our brains for being disobedient! He says heel, we do; he says, roll over, we do; he says kill! We! Do! Doesn’t matter who or when or why!” I shake a fist at him. “Where’s the honor in that?! Huh?! So don’t you fucking try to sweet-talk me into another one of your damn intervention schemes because the last thing I need is to explain that a talking, robot cat convinced me to ruin Shinra’s plans while there’s a fucking gun against my head! Got it! I don’t wanna be part of your little hero game! It’s not gonna turn out in your favor! So leave me out of it!”
                Wanting to get out of this situation, to forget everything, I continue storming down the alley.
                “W-Wait! You’re the only one who can help me!” he calls out.
                “Didn’t you hear me?! Fuck off!” I shout, leaving the cat behind.
                At the Shinra compound, I end up locked in my room where everything and anything is a tool in a vain attempt to relieve this agony. 
24 notes · View notes
entering-mymind · 4 years
Text
Chapter 5 - The Gunslinger
This is the fifth episode of the series where I have inserted my OC character (Mando’s daughter) into the Disneyplus television show. With her addition I believe this helps the viewers understand the choices Mando makes in the series. Would love to hear feedback! I do not own these characters and the story and dialogue goes to the respected credit of the screenwriters and creators of the show.
“Turn right, dive, dive, spin now!” young Mando spewed out maneuvers in a panic while her father tensely piloted the Razor Crest away from the perusing bounty hunter.
“Hand over the child, Mando,” the hunter demanded when he had the Razor Crest locked in his scope and fired rapidly.
A huge blast rocked the ship as Mando tried to keep it steady, firmly gripping the wheel, hoping not to lose control.
“The left engine is hit!” she exclaimed.
“I can see that,” Mando tried to stay calm but found it difficult with his over reacting daughter detailing every casualty.
“I might let all of you live,” the hunter said deciding their fate.
Several alarms continued sounding through the cockpit loudly, with this the child whimpered in fear while young Mando kept repeating, “We’re gonna die.”
Mando switched over power, giving the left engine some time to cool when he took his daughter’s advice, “Hold on,” he twisted the wheel making the Razor Crest spin wildly hoping to get out of the hunter’s scope, “Come on,” Mando said to himself unable to believe he had not shaken this guy.
“The accelerator is leaking and we’re losing fuel!” young Mando continued informing horrific details about the ship’s condition.
“Mando, I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” the bounty hunter suddenly became cocky because he was locked in for the kill, but Mando had one last ace up his sleeve.
In an instant, Mando braked mid-air and reversed the thrusters, wielding them backwards to get behind their attacker. With this quick maneuver, the Razor Crest took out the right engine of their assailant whose trajectory continued forward, now giving the Crest the drop.
“That’s my line,” Mando informed when he had the hunter’s ship now in his scope, taking the shot and blowing their attacker to space dust.
“Whoa I haven’t seen you fly like that in ages,” young Mando exclaimed, “Good thing everyone kept their cool,” she said trying to get control of all the issues manifesting in the Crest, “Nothing’s working,” she said banging the controls when the ship powered down, “I did not do that.”
Freely the Razor Crest floated through space, silent and stagnant. The child giggled and cooed while young Mando laid her head on the console feeling defeated and frustrated with the child’s inability to know the severity they were in.
“Hey, relax,” Mando told his daughter as he got up and pressed the emergency backup power.
Slowly coming to life, the console beeped, screens illuminated, and the engines powered up, while they drifted towards a desert planet. Mando clicked a few controls when an operator came over the comms.
“This is Mos Eisley tower. We are tracking you. Head for bay three-five, over.”
“Copy that, locked in for three-five,” Mando repeated.
With a trail of smoke spiraling from its engine, the Razor Crest hiccupped and sputtered all the way down to the bay. Landing safely, Mando lowered the hatch in order to discuss business with the mechanic when he was met by three pit droids instead. Immediately he fired a warning shot at the droid’s feet sending them in a panic and automatically retracting into themselves.
“Hey!” a loud woman’s voice screamed, “Hey!” Peli Motto emerged from her quarters angered as the three pit droids unfurled and scampered away, “You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it,” Peli said while thrusting her tablet at him.
“Just keep them away from my ship,” Mando demanded while pointing his finger at the bothersome droids.
“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea, do you?” Peli sarcastically said, “Let’s look at your ship.”
Peli began her analysis, banging on certain parts, inspecting others while making horrendous expressions.
“Oof! Look at that,” she pulled out a scanner, “Ugh, you got a lot of carbon scorin building up top,” she walked closer to the ship getting a better glance, “Yeah, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a shootout.”
“And that you’d be right,” young Mando appeared out of nowhere putting a real fright in Peli.
“Geez, where’d you come from?” Peli put a hand up to her chest catching her breath.
“Obviously from the ship,” young Mando pointed confused on the mechanics question.
“Just didn’t expect anyone else on board, that’s all,” Peli clarified.
“I’m sure that’s what my Papi envisions all the time, but he can’t get rid of me that easily, it’s not like I’ll be receiving my independence anytime soon,” young Mando playfully bantered but her father wasn’t having it.
Without a word he raised his arm and pointed vigorously for her to get back in the ship.
“Looks like I’m being ordered to go back inside, let me know if you need any assistance. It’s not like I’m doing anything with my life,” young Mando said to Peli as she meandered her way slowly inside the vessel.
“Okay,” Peli looked on in confusion but went right into a thorough inspection, “Let me get a diagnostic, I will need a special tool for that one. Yeah I’m gonna have to rotate that. You got a fuel leak. Look at that, this is a mess. How did you even land? That’s gonna set you back,” Peli walked up to Mando.
“I’ve got 500 Imperial credits,” Mando handed them to her.
“That’s all you got? Well, what do you guys think,” Peli asked her pit droids when they chattered back,” That should at least cover the hangar.”
“I’ll get you your money,” Mando promised.
“Hmm. I’ve heard that before.”
“Just remember…”
“Yeah, no droids. I heard yah. You don’t have to say it twice. Geez,” Peli stated in annoyance, but kept her tone low so the Mandalarian didn’t hear as he boarded his ship.
                                                     *   *   *
“What was that back there?” Mando stood over his daughter who sat in her workspace.
“What was what?” she ignored his question full fledgy knowing what he meant.
“What’s gotten into you? Where is this disobedient attitude coming from?”
“Oh I don’t know maybe it’s the second time I’ve been abruptly uprooted from a stable home life, or could it be that you denied me my independence something all Mandalorians achieve, or maybe its because I’m a ticking detonator set to go off at any given moment without warning. Take your pick. I have no control over my life or even over myself, do you know how terrifying this is? I could have killed Winta, Omera, Cara, the child, you! So many times I could have killed you,” young Mando put her helmet in her hands hiding her sorrow.
Mando bent down to her level reassuring her instead of her accomplishment, “Did you ever think on how you saved them,” Mando tried to draw her out of hiding, “We were pretty much beaten when that AT-ST didn’t fall into the trap. There was no way in beating it without multiple casualties, until you, you saved the village,” Mando moved her hands so he could look upon her.
“I sometimes feel like I don’t know who I am,” she honestly said.
“You’re my daughter but mostly you are you, so just be you.”
“Are you sure, even with my snarky humor?”
“My life would be a bore without it,” Mando heard his daughter chuckle which was music to his ears.
Once he knew she was feeling better Mando rose figuring out his next play, he knew he had to find a job in order to pay for the Razor Crest’s repairs, but it was prudent to stay off the grid.
“Listen, I have to go find some work,” he started.
“Say no more Papi I know the drill, stay on board.”
“Yes and I will need you…”
“To watch the kid, already covered.”
“Okay, good,” Mando couldn’t believe how quickly she turned around, but was happy with the result.
Mando wasted no time and left the hangar to find any kind of work, he knew his best bet would be to hit the cantina, practically, where all the shady deals went down.
                                                        *   *   *
Young Mando kept focus on her painting, finishing up the last few strokes and then she set it aside to dry. She began collecting her newly favorite pieces to stick in her satchel when she witnessed the child take hold of an opened jar of paint. In curiosity he wanted to make a pretty picture also when he spilled the pigment all over her recent finished piece.
“NO!” she screamed crawling over and snatching the now empty jar out of the child’s hands, “Look what you did, you ruined my painting, oh geez,” she saw the pigments serpentine along the ship’s surface, “Dad is going to kill me for getting paint all over the floor.”
She noticed the child about to stick its little hands in the mess and create an even bigger one. She quickly picked him up and placed him on the opposite end just so she could start cleaning up in frustration. The child looked on upset, he waddled back towards young Mando in order to help but she came off a bit hostile.
“No, you did enough damage, now go and sit down,” she pointed towards their sleeping quarters instructing him to comply when he hung his head in sadness and let her be.
                                                     *   *   *
“I’m in,” Peli told her three pit droids when they were playing a card game called Sabacc, “And I am gonna raise you three bolts and a motivator,” when everyone heard some commotion coming from inside the ship.
“Hey, you alright in there?” Peli questioned but then something small walking down the hatch caught her attention. Gradually she moved closer analyzing the little creature as it held up its arms to be held.
“Oh alright,” Peli cautiously picked up the child, “How many others are on his ship?” The pit droid started squawking when she replied flustered, “How do I know what it is? Give me a second. Where’s that other Mandalorian? Umm excuse me, I think you lost something,” Peli shouted in the ship but was greeted by a determined young Mando.
She threw a satchel over herself while chipping away dried paint that was stuck to her gloves, “Or more so that you found something. I have a proposition for you. If you look after the little one while I quickly venture my way into town then I will help update your pit droids,” she purposed.
“What’s wrong with my droids?”
“Nothing, its just I have the latest upload for service droids stored in my gauntlet, how I acquired it doesn’t need to be disclosed, and I thought it would be a great boost for your business. All the latest starships, cruisers, speeders, freighters schematics automatically uploaded to their system instructing them on how to fix the ships efficiently and quickly. It’s a win-win for both of us,” young Mando opened a small compartment in her gauntlet and showcased the chip.
“Now just because my father hates droids doesn’t mean I do, so if you allow me to sneak out, do my business and then sneak back in before he gets back then it’s a done deal. What do you say?” young Mando held out her hand to finalize the proposition.
Peli pondered for a while but then positioned the child to her hip in order to free a hand and shook.
“Excellent,” young Mando was about to exit from the front when Peli stopped her.
“That’s your first mistake to getting caught, use the back door,” Peli escorted her to a hidden entrance, “I’ll leave it unlocked.”
“Thanks,” young Mando tilted her head in appreciation and made her way towards the town where she hoped she could finally sell some of her artwork and make a name for herself.
Peli returned her attention back on the little creature as it continued cooing happily it was receiving some attention.
“I am going to look after you until the Mandalorian gets back, do you like that bright eyes? Yeah we’ll have some fun,” Peli stroked its forehead and bounced it gently before she got back to her card game with the droids.
                                                         *   *   *
It didn’t take long until Mando reached the extremely dead cantina, only a few attendees occupied the seats as Mando approached the bar.
“Hey droid,” Mando addressed the bartender, “I’m a hunter. I’m lookin’ for some work.”
“Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine,” the droid informed.
“I’m not looking for Guild work,” he clarified.
“I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation,” the droid finished.
“Think again, tin can,” a voice spoke from a corner booth as Mando turned around to inspect, “If you’re looking for work, have a seat, my friend,” the baby faced young man acted tough, feet on the table like he owned the joint.
“Name’s Toro, Toro Calican. Come on relax,” he offered the seat opposite of him and ignited a puck, “Picked up this bounty puck before I left the Mid Rim,” Toro went straight into business, “Fennec Shand, an assassin. Heard she’s been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employees in lockdown.”
“I know the name,” Mando said snidely.
“I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she’s headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job,” Toro seemed very confident.
“Well good luck with that,” Mando rose to leave.
“Wait, wait, wait, hey. I thought you needed work?”
“How long have you been with the Guild?” Mando questioned suspiciously.
“Long enough,” Toro most likely lied.
“Clearly not. Fennac Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts. If you go after her, you won’t make it past sunrise,” Mando said truthfully while turning to leave.
“This is my first job. You can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild. I can’t do it alone,” Toro honestly said.
Mando pondered and then came to a conclusion, “Meet me at hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring two speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob,” Mando outstretched his hand for it when Toro smashed it to bits. Mando glared at the newbie with scorn but Toro quickly rectified his actions.
“Don’t worry, got it all memorized,” he pointed to his head.
“Half an hour,” Mando reminded and exited the cantina as Toro exclaimed one last statement.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me now, partner,” Toro smiled pleased with his outcome.
                                                       *   *   *
The marketplace wasn’t booming as young Mando would have liked, not to many vendors occupying the streets, which would make it harder to sell her works. She approached several shops but none seemed interested. Even with her exaggerated truth of being a respected artist, which was hard to swallow coming from a bounty hunter Mandalorian.
Young Mando knew she was running out of time plus she didn’t want to come up empty handed, she had to show something for her works. She spotted one last store ready to repeat her pitch. Upon entry she was met by a Mirialan who was ready to do business.
“Hello young traveler, what may I help you with,” the female shopkeeper said in a friendly tone.
“Actually what can I do to help enhance your sales,” young Mando approached the check out counter and began displaying her works, spreading them out so the shopkeeper could gaze upon their beauty.
“Imagine having these works of art lining your store. These are one of a kind, a rarity from a very popular artist from the Core World, just from her name alone will draw flocks of new customers who will line up at your door,” young Mando hoped she was using her artistic words to paint a different kind of image.
“Oh really and why would a famous Core artist want their works sold in the Outer Rim?” the shopkeeper questioned with a raised eyebrow.
“Merely so everyone in the galaxy can lose themselves within the piece, taking themselves away from the daily grind and image themselves within the serene scenery,” young Mando lifted up one of her paintings showcasing the way the brushstrokes created movement, how the colors ignited the viewers gaze in awe, and how the realism allowed the viewer to imagine being immersed in the landscape as they could hear the sounds of waterfalls and distant birds.
“Nice try,” the shopkeeper had seen plenty of hustlers in her days and shooed the Mandalorian off with the wave of her green hand.
“Oh sure,” she sighed heavily, “Well thank you for your time,” young Mando collected her pieces and proceeded to exit when the Mirialan stopped her.
“Hey kid, wait,” in surprise the shopkeeper had never seen a Mandalorian this passive or creative for that matter, the bounty hunter wasn’t forceful or rude instead she showed enthusiasm, politeness, but mostly pride in her work.
“It seems like you travel a lot in your profession and unfortunately I can not. I haven’t been to my home world of Mirial in decades and miss it very much. Do you have a representation of my planet within your collection?” the shopkeeper asked.
Eagerly young Mando dug deep in her bag rummaging through and finding her customers request, luckily four years ago she was able to accompany her father on a job and was able to remember the lush landscape of the shopkeepers home world.
“You’re in luck, I have one left,” young Mando said businesslike but quickly dropped the act noticing the Mirialan was taking pity on her, “Sorry old habits die hard, that will be seventy credits please,” Mando truly believed her works were worth that much but no one would pay for an amateurs talent.
“How about twenty?” the shopkeeper bargained.
“Well what do you know twenty credits is my friends and family special, it’s a good thing we became such quick friends.”
“It is.”
The two made their transaction as young Mando practically skipped out of the shop pleased with herself on finally selling her first piece of art. Time was fleeting and young Mando knew her father would be heading back to the hangar any time, she cut a few corners while making her way down some shady corridors catching a strangers eye.
Too excited to pay attention to her surroundings, young Mando kept patting the twenty credits in her pocket ecstatic she had achieved a sale. She kept pondering over when her possible next sale could be and began envisioning other works she would execute.
In this dream like state, young Mando never picked up on the tale she acquired, who was ready to ambush her, ready to abduct her. Closer and closer the spurs clanked on her assailants shoes, practically warning her himself but she was to self-involved.
The moment had come, no one would see, no one would hear and she would be gone in three…two…
“Where have you been,” Peli shouted down the street pin pointing the young Mandalorian who had just stepped out from the shadows.
“Sorry, took longer then planned,” young Mando jogged the rest of the way reading the urgency in Peli’s voice.
“He’s just getting back, now get inside before we both get in trouble,” when Peli clutched onto the child while shoving young Mando through the back doorway, unaware of the danger that lurked right around the corner.
                                                      *   *   *
Mando returned to his ship, checking up on his daughter and the child before he left with Toro, he wanted to give his daughter the rundown but she wasn’t by her art space or anywhere on the ship, neither was the child. Panic inflicted Mando when he saw Peli holding onto the child while heading for her quarters.
“Hey!” Mando shouted and startled Peli who jumped and awoke the child.
“Where is she?” Mando angrily asked a passing droid but it recoiled into itself.
“Quiet, oh it’s okay. You woke it up,” Peli said while walking towards Mando, “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get it to sleep?”
“How did you acquire him, where’s my daughter?”
“I’m here,” she said in the far corner finishing updating the last pit droid.
“I specifically told you to watch him,” he pointed his finger scolding her.
“Yeah, I know but Peli needed help with her droids so I offered my services. Since my attention would be occupied I couldn’t let the little womp rat run amuck so Peli said she would watch him for me, no harm done,” young Mando said while cleaning off some access grease from her gloves, which had been left by the messy droids.
Mando just glared at his daughter unable to fully believe her story. Peli sensing the tension escalating she pulled Mando’s attention to his ship.
“I started the repair on the fuel leak,” Peli said while fiddling with a machine, “There you go. I had a couple setbacks I want to talk to you about. You know, I didn’t use any droids, as requested, so it took me a lot longer than I expected.”
Mando went on the ship to gather some items he would need for his upcoming job as Peli still talked, “But I figured you were good for the money since you have extra mouths to feed.”
“Thank you for taking on my daughter’s responsibility,” Mando said as he walked off.
“Hey, I resent that,” young Mando stormed after her father blocking his path, “You know I use to do more than just babysit the kid and your ship. Can you blame me for being restless, wanting to help, go on jobs with you instead of me keep getting sidelined,” young Mando expressed.
“Oh, I guess I was right. You got a job didn’t you?” Peli interjected.
“Are you finished?” Mando said to his daughter and ignored Peli.
“Am I ever?” young Mando said tilting her head annoyed.
Mando stepped to the side and walked passed her as both woman followed him outside and stated their cases simultaneously.
“You know, it’s costing me a lot of money to keep these droids even powered up,” Peli informed.
“You know I don’t appreciate being ignored so I’ll keep running my mouth until I drive you into insanity,” young Mando declared when someone else joined in the conversation.
“Hey, Mando, what do you think? Not too shabby, huh?” Toro said proudly showcasing the two speeder bikes he acquired.
“And where’d you pick up this amateur?” young Mando said not hiding her distain.
“Amateur? Who you calling an amateur?” Toro puffed out his chest insulted by her comment.
“I call them like I see them,” she said to Toro and then addressed her father, “Really, you pass me off for this,” she pointed at Toro analyzing the rookie mistakes he had already made.
Young Mando noticed Toro had no gear with him such as water or perishable foods. He had no protection from the intense two suns that hung in the sky, and most importantly he had no comms to radio in case he became stranded out in the desert.
“It appears he’s tired of working with a twelve year old and wants to upgrade to a professional,” Toro approached her trying to make himself look bigger, but he only stood a few inches over her.
“A professional? Failure reeks all over you. I can’t even stand being in your presence,” young Mando scrunched up her face but knew Toro couldn’t see.
The two continued their squabble as Mando leaned against the speeder, arms crossed and watched their debate escalate.
“I don’t have to answer to a child, you don’t scare me sweetie,” Toro belittled.
“And this is why you’re an amateur because you’re so focused on my mouth instead of where my hands are,” young Mando informed.
Suddenly Toro’s face contorted when he felt the end of her blaster poke in his belly and the tip of her Vibroblade prickle the skin of his neck. Peli inched closer to Mando wondering why he was allowing this.
“Aren’t you gonna stop her?” Peli questioned.
“Let’s see where this goes,” Mando said practically swelling with pride for his daughter.
Realizing the Mandalorian wasn’t going to do anything Peli stepped in while still cradling the child, “Alright, I can’t have someone’s blood stain the entrance to my shop, bad for business.”
Young Mando kept her position as Toro stood still actually afraid of what she could do to him.
“You’re right Peli, it would be a shame to kill this amateur before he actually learned something in this profession,” young Mando removed her blaster and blade, she stepped back watching Toro rub his neck in distain while Mando shook his head playfully.
Toro turned to Peli and thanked her for her hospitality while noticing the strange child in her arms. In anger, Toro mounted his speeder as Mando finished securing his gear in the back when young Mando saw him off.
“Have fun Papi,” she spoke as sarcastic as she could.
Mando just tilted his head and then mounted his own speeder following Toro who sped off in embarrassment.
                                                       *   *   *
The two rode through the Tatooine desert, hovering above the sand, and making their way towards the target when Mando signaled to halt.
“What’s going on?” Toro questioned.
“Look. Up ahead,” Mando pointed out something in the distance.
Toro dismounted his speeder and took out his binocs and spoke under his breath, “Who’s an amateur now?” he was proud of himself and tried not to let the comments from the child Mandalorian get to him.
Toro walked a few feet and peered through the lens to see two Banthas and Tusken Raiders, “I heard the locals talking about this filth,” Toro stated harshly not taking other cultures into consideration.
“Tuskens think they’re the locals. Everyone else is just trespassing,” Mando informed.
Toro scoffed at Mando’s statement and continued to insult, “Well whatever the filth call themselves they best keep their distance.”
“Yeah? Why don’t you tell them yourself?” Mando said as two Tusken Raiders snuck up on Toro ready to attack.
Jumping back a few feet, Toro was ready to draw his blaster but Mando knew how to deal with Tuskens, “Relax,” Mando insured Toro when he began to sign language to one of the Raiders.
“What are you doing?” Toro asked confused.
“Negotiating,” Mando finished signing as the Raider signed back.
“What’s going on?” Toro had no clue what was unfolding before him and if Mando wasn’t there to help who knew the situation Toro would have been in.
“We need passage across their land,” Mando watched the Tusken finish signing when Mando outstretched his hand, “Let me see the binocs.”
“Why?”
Mando only had to give a look at Toro when he surrendered it.
“Hey! What?” Toro stammered in anger as Mando gave the Raider the binocs, “Those were brand new.”
“Yeah? They were,” when Mando hopped on his speeder and drove off.
The two continued their journey riding through the desert as Mando signaled to stop. Mando hopped off commanding Toro to get down. Confused on what to do Toro followed Mando as they laid on a sand dune scanning the perimeter.
“All right, tell me what you see?” Mando quizzed Toro really seeing for himself how skilled this kid was.
“Dewback. Looks like the rider is still attached,” getting the answer correct Toro and Mando saw a large creature dragging a deceased body, “Is that her? Is that the target?”
“I don’t know. I’ll go. You cover me,” Mando drew his blaster, “Stay down,” he instructed when he made his way towards the Dewback.
In caution Mando tried to settle down the creature so it wouldn’t run off so he could get a look at the body. From afar Toro peaked over the sand dune to get a clarification of the situation.
“Well is it her? Is she dead?” he shouted.
“It’s another bounty hunter,” Mando informed.
“Hey, I hope you don’t plan on keeping all that stuff for yourself because I kind of packed light and if need be I might have to borrow some supplies from you,” Toro kind of realized now why the young Mandalorian thought he was an amateur, since he didn’t prepare for the journey quite well, “Can I at least have that blaster?”
But Mando wasn’t listening instead he found a tracking fob beep rapidly on the deceased hunters belt when Mando peered up and realized his exposure.
“Get down!” Mando exclaimed as he got shot in the armor, scaring off the Dewback.
Mando ran for cover but got hit again in the back from a long-range shot as Toro questioned on what happened.
“Sniper bolt. Only a MK-modified rifle could make that shot,” Mando explained.
“Are you alright?” Toro casually asked.
“Yeah. Hit me in the Beskar, and at that range Beskar held up.”
“Wait, I don’t wear any Beskar,” it dawned on Toro.
“Nope,” Mando said.
“Well, so what do we do?”
“You see where that shot came from?”
“Yeah, it came from the ridge,” Toro pointed in the distance to a long chain of mountains.
“Okay, we’re gonna wait until dark,” Mando was formulating a plan.
“Well, what if she escapes?”
“She’s got the high ground. She’ll wait for us to make the first move. I’m gonna rest. You take the first watch and stay low,” Mando instructed as he made way to the speeders and left Toro perched on the dune.
                                                       *   *    *
Day turned to night, Toro knew now was as any good of time to attack, “All right, suns are down. Time to ride, Mando,” he peered behind getting a look at the sleeping Mandalorian.
“Come on, wake up,” Toro approached Mando who propped himself against one of the speeders with his legs outstretched, “Look at you, asleep on the job, old man. Huh and I’m seen as the amateur, pathetic brat.”
Toro chuckled to himself and began drawing his blaster as if in a showdown with Mando. Pleased with himself, Toro pulled his blaster several times believing his antics weren’t being viewed when Mando turned his head.
“Are you done?” Mando said annoyed.
Embarrassed Toro put his blaster away and scratched his head hoping Mando didn’t hear him call the other Mandalorian a pathetic brat, “Yeah. I was just, you know, waking you up. Come on,” Toro tried not to look at him but Mando drew near.
“And don’t call my daughter names, it’s not nice.”
“Yeah, sure thing,” Toro put his hands up in surrender not wanting to pick a fight.
“Now get on the bike,” Mando began to reveal his plan, “Ride as fast as you can, towards those rocks.”
“That’s your plan,” Toro scolded, “She’ll snipe us right off the bikes.”
The two of them mounted their speeders when Mando threw an item at him, “It’s a flash charge. We alternate shots, it’ll blind any scope temporarily. Combine that with our speed and we got a chance.”
“A chance?” Toro was starting to believe that this Mandalorian wasn’t all what he was cracked up to be.
“Hey, you wanted this. Get ready,” Mando reminded.
They both revived up their bikes and flew at high speed towards the ravine.
                                                        *   *   *
Fennac Shand was at the ready, she had the two assailants in her scope, but was getting repeatedly blinded by flash charges being propelled in the sky, not giving up she fired blinded and missed her targets. Luckily one flash charge faltered and allowed her to knock the Mandalorian off his speeder, but he was able to fire one last flash charge in order to get his partner to safety.
Fennac allowed the charge to settle when she had the Mandalorian back in her scope and took the shot knocking him off his feet. She kept him in her sights just about to take him out permanently when a voice spoke behind her.
“Not so fast, Fennac,” Toro had his blaster drawn on his target pleased he had the upper hand when he never expected her to fight back.
Quickly Fennac flung a small blade making Toro step back in surprise, giving her a window to attack. The two became intertwined in a hand-to-hand combat as Fennec was over powering Toro easily.
She got him in an arm lock just about to break it when Mando made his presence known, “Nice distraction,” Mando said to Toro as he slightly was making fun of Toro’s rookie mistakes.
Fennac put her hands up in surrender knowing her time was up while Toro massaged his bruised arm and ego.
“Yeah, good work, partner,” Toro tried to make it seem like he had everything under control.
“Cuff yourself,” Mando threw Fennac some binders when he reminded Toro to go find his blaster.
Following orders Toro left as Fennac started to speak, “A Mandalorian. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of your kind. Ever been to Tolarian? How about recently to Nevarro? I heard things didn’t go so well there, but it looks like you got off easy on Nevarro.”
Mando just stared at her silently, understanding how she heard about the situation on Nevarro but how was she aware about Tolarian? He knew he had not been marked.
“You don’t have to worry about getting to Tolarian, Coruscant, Nevarro, or anywhere else, once we turn you in. You know, I really should thank you. You’re my ticket into the Guild,” Toro said to Fennac enthused but she just responded with a dry ‘you’re welcome’ as Mando lead her away.
The three walked down the mountain towards Mando and Toro’s form of transportation when Fennac stated the obvious, “Uh-oh. Looks like one of us has to walk.”
“Or we could drag you,” Mando pushed her hard to the ground showing his authority.
Toro and Mando walked a few feet away in order to discuss their situation.
“All right, so what is the plan?” Toro asked unable to come up with any of his own.
“I need you to go find that Dewback we saw.”
“And leave you here with my bounty and my ride?” Toro pointed out, “Yeah, I don’t think so, Mando. Your daughter might think I’m an amateur but don’t take me for a fool.”
Realizing Toro wouldn’t bite Mando scanned the desert for a thermal reading and spotted the Dewback miles away, “Okay, I’ll do it. Watch her, and don’t let her get near the bike. She’s no good to us dead,” Mando ended when he headed out into the desert on foot.
                                                         * *  *
The suns were beginning to rise, Toro sat relaxed on his bike, his feet kicked up while watching the bored Fennac sit in the sand when she began to talk, “ Oh, it’s been a while. Oh, look the suns are coming up,” she made small talk but Toro wasn’t having it.
“Quiet.”
“Look, there’s still time to make my rendezvous in Mos Espa. Take me to it and I can pay you double the price on my head,” she offered.
“I don’t care about the money,” Toro blatantly said.
“Oh so the Mandalorian keeps all the money for himself.”
“Only because I let him.”
“Doesn’t seem that way,” she scoffed, “I mean, it seems like he’s calling all the shots.”
“Shows what you know. I hired Mando, this is my job,” Toro was getting frustrated, “Bringin’ you in will make me a full member of the Bounty Hunter’s Guild.”
“You already have something the Guild values far more than me,” she planted the seed, “You just don’t see it.”
“What?”
“The Mandalorian. His armor alone is worth more then my bounty.”
“I already told you, I don’t care about the money,” Toro reminded but realized there were two Mandalorians with two sets of armor.
“Then think what it would do for your reputation,” this got Toro’s attention, “The word is two Mandalorians shot up the Guild on Nevarro, they took some high value target and went rogue.”
“That Mandalorian?” Toro pondered, “And the one back at the hangar?”
“Like I said, you don’t see many. You bring the Guild those traitors, and they’ll welcome you with open arms. Your name will be legendary,” Fennac hoped she sealed the deal.
Toro was perplexed, he didn’t know what to do, “How can we be sure Mando and his daughter are the ones?”
“Word is, they still have the target with them. Some say it’s a child.”
Just as she said those words Toro remembered the woman mechanic holding onto a small child like creature, the only confirmation he needed.
“Look, if you’re afraid to take them on, fear not. I can help you with that. Take some advice kid. You wanna be a bounty hunter? Make the best deal for yourself and survive,” Fennac could see she had won him over.
Toro put his blaster away as the two walked towards each other, Fennac held up her hands so Toro could unbind her. They stood face to face, analyzing each other before Toro point blank shot Fennac.
“That’s good advice,” Toro spoke as Fennac dropped to the sand, “But if I took those binders off of you I’d be a dead man,” he knelt in front of her displaying his authority, “And if the two Mandalorians are worth more than you are, well…who wouldn’t want to be a legend? Thanks for the tip,” Toro left her body right where it fell and instead sped off to put his formulating plan into action.
                                                       *   *   *
“Can you take the kid for a bit, if I’m ever going to finish your dad’s repairs by hand with out my droids I am going to have to work,” Peli said handing the child over to young Mando.
“Sure thing,” young Mando took the child with her into the ship and put him in his sleeping quarters, hoping he would fall asleep.
Luckily the kid stayed put while young Mando waited up for her father. She decided now would be any good of time to rebraid her hair, it was getting to long for the style she preferred and would have to come up with a new one to hold her thick hair back. Removing her helmet, young Mando released her locks, peered into her tiny mirror, and used her fingers as a comb. She sectioned off a portion of her hair, braided it and wrapped it in the back of her head, securing it with multiple hair accessories.
She began to repeat her previous action when she heard approaching footsteps. Quickly she put her helmet back on and tucked her remaining loose hair up into it. Hearing the footsteps draw closer these didn’t sound like her father’s, his was quiet practically soundless, only attuned ears – like hers – could distinguish his, no these were someone else’s.
In apprehension young Mando had her hand on her blaster as she peered around the corner to find the amateur partner, her father teamed up with, roaming the ship.
“Hey what are you doing here? Where’s my dad?” young Mando questioned with her hand still on her blaster.
“Here you are,” Toro began, “Your dad wants you to help us with our bounty, she’s a real handful.”
“Isn’t that why he has you, to do the grunt work, my father only gives me the pristine duties.”
“Like what babysitting,” Toro fired back while slowly approaching her.
“Bravo, you actually came back with an insult, but the real insult is you because I’ve been in the Guild since I was fifteen, how old are you?” young Mando started to chuckle seeing this guy as not a threat at all.
“Wow you got me good,” Toro waved his finger at her as he stood face to face, “But if I have learned anything from today it would be from you.”
“Really? And what did your thick skull actually obtain?”
“It’s just you’re so focused on my mouth instead of watching my hand.”
Young Mando peered down but noticed his right hand was empty.
“Made you look,” as his left hand was in his pocket hiding a stun gun.
Before she even realized the sneak attack, Toro got off one shot immediately sending a blue electric shock from the barrel directly into young Mando’s body. The shock intensified because of her armor, which was unable to absorb any of the energy, and instead sent it through her structure. Immediately young Mando seized up and fell unconscious to the ground, while she faintly heard Toro tie her up and slip her grappling hook around her neck.
                                                         * *  *
Mando tamed the Dewback easily as these creatures were use to riders, he trekked his way to the ravine where Toro waited only to find Fennac’s dead body. Mando sighed in frustration not knowing where Toro went and why he killed their bounty. Not seeing any other option, Mando rode back to town and straight to the hangar where he saw Toro’s bike. Not wanting to take any risks Mando drew his blaster wary of what may unfold.
Slowly Mando walked in when he noticed no one around apart from the three pit droids who were hiding in Peli’s quarters, he continued towards his ship when he heard Toro’s voice echo from inside the Crest.
“Took you long enough, Mando,” from the darkness four images emerged as they walked out onto the platform.
Peli pushed young Mando – who was strung up by her neck ready to be hanged – to the edge of the ship’s platform because Toro had his blaster dug in Peli’s back while he held onto the child.
“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh, partner?”
Furious, Mando pointed his weapon directly at Toro ready to take the shot but young Mando stood on her tiptoes, struggling not to go any further because with one more push she would hang.
“Drop your blaster and raise’em,” Toro instructed of Mando.
Seeing no other option Mando did what he was told when young Mando shouted through gritted teeth, “Don’t do it!”
Toro was impressed that she had more guts than he thought because death literally was staring her in the face, but she didn’t seem to be bothered in the least.
“Quiet!” Toro said inching her forward making her tighten her neck further trying to lessen the tension.
Young Mando felt like a ballerina, dancing on the tips of her toes, but the finale could be her last.
“Cuff him,” Toro demanded of Peli when he shoved her with his blaster.
Peli made her way towards the Mandalorian and noticed him, discretely, double tap the tip of his blaster in the sand before he let it go, finding this odd she followed Toro’s demands when he continued talking.
“You both are Guild traitors, Mando and his annoying brat,” Toro poked her with the end of his blaster nudging her to certain death with a chuckle, “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape,” Toro pointed to the child in his arm.
Peli made her way behind Mando, binders in her hands when she understood the double tap he did with his blaster, it was a warning for his daughter to shut her eyes.
“You’re smarter than you look,” Peli whispered pretending to bind Mando’s hands as he hide a flash charge behind his head.
“Fennac was right. Bringing you two in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it will make me legendary,” Toro held his blaster directly at Mando ready to make his kill but Mando struck first.
He ignited the flash charge temporarily blinding Toro when he began firing recklessly any which way, but repeatedly missed Mando. Understanding the situation he was about to be put in, Toro slide young Mando off her feet and used her as a human shield.
She withered like a fish on a hook but Toro stayed firmly behind her, knowing her Beskar armor would take the blow so then he could line up the perfect shot to kill Mando.
Time was of the essence, Mando had to think quickly before his daughter lost consciousness and then her life. He saw his window of opportunity and took it. Rapidly he fired the wire above cutting young Mando loose and sending her plummeting to the ground. With this exposure Mando took a few shots to the chest but nothing his Beskar armor couldn’t handle. Once Toro’s shield was taken out of play, he believed he still had the high ground but was quickly taken out with one shot.
Both Mando and Peli ran towards young Mando hoping she was okay as she coughed and simultaneously gasped for air. Mando cut her loose and removed the wire around her neck looking her over for any signs of serious injuries. She waved him off and squeezed out two words, “The kid.”
Peli immediately ran towards Toro’s still body while Mando warned her to stay back.
“Gotta get it,” she said in worry as Mando turned Toro’s dead body over, revealing no child in his arms, “Where is it?”
The two of them searched when they heard a cooing behind some boxes. The child peered around with a smile on its face waiting to be discovered.
“There you are,” Peli said in joy while the child raised its arms to be held,” Are you hiding from us? Huh? Look at you,” Peli picked him up bouncing him in her arms, “That’s all right. I know. That was really loud for your big old ears, wasn’t it? It’s okay,” Peli stroked the child’s head as it joyfully babbled and cooed.
Mando inspected Toro’s body before looting a small satchel off of him. Mando went to his daughter and helped her up.
“I’m okay…really,” she said in a strained voice.
He nodded his head knowing he couldn’t coddle her and went to collect the child.
“Be careful with him,” Peli said handing him over to Mando,” So, I take it you didn’t get paid?” she said awkwardly.
Mando reached for the satchel he took from Toro and released the overflow of credits in her hands.
“That cover me?” Mando asked.
“Yeah. Yes, this is gonna cover you?” she said in shock watching the three of them board the Razor Crest, “All right, pit droids! Let’s drag this otta here!”
The pit droids squeaked not knowing how to dispose of a body when she responded, “I don’t know, drag it to Beggar’s Canyon.”
The engines fired up nicely, all issues with the Razor Crest seemed fixed as Mando took it to the skies, unaware of the mysterious being – who tailed his daughter from before – was inspecting Fennac Shand’s body in the desert.
6 notes · View notes
unlockthelore · 4 years
Text
Beginnings
After the fight with Yatsude, returning Maya to her home could be considered child’s play. She awoke fairly quickly and stumbled to her doorstep into the waiting arms of her parents who asked her where she’d been and what happened. Watching from the shadows, Hiei lingering above him on a higher branch of the tree they’d been crouched in, Kurama smiled bitterly as Maya mentioned that she couldn’t remember.
That it all felt like a dream.
Relief swept through him with a cold chill. His secret was kept but one of the closest relationships that he might have had during his human captivity was lost. Even when he won, he’d lost something precious in the end. Hiei’s gaze lingered on his back as they waited for Maya and her parents to return home, looking out for any of Yatsude’s spies and cronies that might have been itching for revenge.
Once the danger passed and the clock was ticking well past midnight, Kurama decided it was time to call it a night and leapt to the rooftop, hesitating when he saw the dim glow of Maya’s room light.
The window slid open and she peered out of it, her shadow cast across the yard, stretching long as she sat there. He wondered briefly what she might have been thinking of and cruel as it was, he wondered if it was him, or the faint imprint that might still be in her mind.
“Go.”
Hiei’s voice grounded him as much as it startled and Kurama’s head whipped around to find the fire demon standing at his side quietly. While he’d been focused on Maya’s shadow, Hiei was staring straight ahead at the city’s skyline, a breeze rippling through his hair and his cloak billowed behind him.
Crimson eyes drifting to meet Kurama’s and his gaze was unreadable but the firmness in his tone brooked no disobedience. Kurama clenched his jaw and thought to argue. Who was he to tell him what to do?
But the rational part of his mind told him that Hiei was right. Lingering like this, they were bound to get caught. If not by a passing human or Maya’s family, then a demon who would likely have wanted to test its abilities against their own.
Kurama closed his eyes and the tie that connected him to Maya within his mind severed as he left her to his memories and looked onward. Leaping from rooftop to tree boughs and power lines, it was easier to distance himself from the pain physically than it was emotionally.
The part of him that remained one with the Youko chided his human captivity for sentimentality. Maya was a means to an end, a loose one that would have brought him more trouble than joy with her disappearance, but such callous thinking left his stomach turning.
Resting on the power line outside of his window, Kurama leapt to the window sill and slid it open, climbing inside. His plants slithered from beneath his bed and their hiding places along his desk and behind his bookcase to greet him. Their warmth and presence wrapping around him in an embrace and he smiled as the vines brushed against his cheek, nuzzling his face against them. The window slid shut with a soft click and Kurama tensed, glancing over his shoulder at Hiei, lingering by the wall with his arms folded across his chest as if he belonged there.
“You left your window open,” Hiei said flatly, his eyes shut and forefinger tapping against his bicep. “Are you that dazed or careless?”
His plants writhed at the insult and waited for the command to strike the fire demon. Though for all the danger that he might have been in, Hiei was undeterred and stared at him defiantly. Annoyance pricked beneath Kurama’s skin and he folded his arms, not minding the vine that wound around his arm and brushed against his cheek comfortingly.
“Why are you still here?”
“You left your window open,” Hiei repeated, resting his head against the wall. “Was that not an invitation?”
Kurama frowned. He wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. In a way, he had brought the fire demon into his domain and gave him the opportunity to leave without striking him down. And he could have closed the window after he’d entered.
“What will you do now?” Hiei asked, his steely gaze boring into Kurama’s being as if he could glean all of his secrets simply from looking. Kurama was briefly reminded of the Jagan Eye embedded within the fire demon’s forehead and narrowed his eyes at his headband. There was no tug path is mind, no faint violet glow beneath the cloth. Hiei was genuinely asking him a question.
“I thought you said that I talked too much.”
“Hn.”
Deciding this was his victory as Hiei lapsed into silence, Kurama went to take off his uniform and prepare for bed. The day left him more exhausted than he wanted to recognize and the weariness in his bones was catching up to him. Hiei could do what he liked but if he incited violence in Kurama’s domain, his plants were given the order to dispose of him without hesitation.
Grateful as he was for the fire demon’s assistance against Yatsude, Hiei was pushing his luck. A trait that Kurama found both annoying and admirable.
“What are you going to do now?”
Hiei’s voice eased him from his thoughts and Kurama looked at him curiously. In the time that he’d known Hiei, which wasn’t much to go off of, he was a person of little words and even fewer concerns. Yet he looked at him imploringly, listening with a patience reminding Kurama of a simmering flame. If he said the wrong thing then it might burst into an inferno, if he said the coldest thing he could think of then the embers might die out. Wistfully, he sighed. Inciting a fight with Hiei wasn’t what he wanted but he didn’t have time to play games with him either.
“I’m going to bed.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
Halfheartedly glaring at Hiei, Kurama arched a brow and motioned for him to go on. The fire demon looking him over quietly then meeting his gaze unflinchingly.
“Kitajima Maya no longer remembers you, you’ve amassed more enemies in the night than you have in a few, and you revealed not only your name but your base to a stranger — what will you do?”
Kurama cocked his head to one side. A bold claim. “Are you saying that you’re a threat, Hiei?”
His tone, while light and questioning, was backed by a steely thread bidding him to choose his words very carefully. Grateful as he might have been for his involvement in the fight, gratitude only went so far.
“Do you want me to be?”
Kurama blinked slowly. “… What?”
“You’re powerful, a talkative bastard who may or may not be what he claims, but you’re capable enough to defend an entire territory on your own and maintain your human guise,” Hiei pointed out, shrugging as he trailed off. Kurama was certain that he was staring at him. He couldn’t believe his ears. Was Hiei complimenting him? “I wouldn’t want to fight against you.”
“Then what are you proposing…?”
There had to be something leading up to this. From what he could tell, Hiei didn’t do or say anything without there being a reason. While Kurama waited with bated breath, he could practically imagine the cogs turning in Hiei’s mind as he weighed his words. Pushing away from the wall and walking closer to him, they stood a few centimeters in front of one another and Hiei unfolded his arms.
“An arrangement of convenience.”
Kurama blinked slowly. “… Go on.”
“The attacks will only grow bolder and if lesser demons understand that the humans who interact with you are a weakness to lure you, then it is only a matter of time before they come for ones closest,” Hiei’s gaze flicked to the door and the implication made Kurama’s blood run cold.
The audacity of the claim was enough for him to think of striking him but his rational mind won out. He knew that Hiei was right. Maya was simply the first and one of the few people that were closest to him and he felt eyes on him all the time, not only from his classmates, but others who were appraising him.
Looking for a weakpoint, anything to use to serve their goal. If they were watching him now, watching his home, then Shiori was in danger as well.
“You can’t defend them and yourself at the same time, not forever.” Despite the bluntness in Hiei’s words, there was something softer and the harshness had ebbed away. “And if there are any other spiritually aware students in your school, they’re bound to find out what you are if you’re careless.”
Kurama stiffened his upper lip and curled his fingers into fists. The gentle brushing motions against his cheek by his vines halted as they reacted to his anger, turning toward Hiei and rising around him, poised to strike at a moment’s notice.
“I’m not careless.”
“Even an impenetrable shield can be chipped away if the right force is used.”
“… So you’re saying that I should have a sword to weather the blows,” Kurama says, and he delights in how Hiei falls silent but the determination in his eyes doesn’t show demure awkwardness. He’s building toward something and Kurama isn’t quite sure how he feels. “And where, pray tell, would I find this mighty blade?”
“Don’t patronize me, fox.”
They stared at one another. Neither willing to budge or give ground. A stalemate with charged silence filled with the sound of the house’s creaking as it settled, the gentle singing of cicadas and crickets chirping, their own breaths quieted among the string of softer noises likely kinder than the thoughts racing through their minds.
“Then a system of exchange,” Kurama offered, walking past him to the window and drawing the curtain enough that only the lock and clasp could be seen.
Hiei followed him with his eyes as he brushed past, going to his dresser to find clothes to change into for the night.
“Lend me your blade and I will give you shelter,” Kurama extended a finger and glanced at Hiei. “Though do not forget that this is my home and my domain, any slight—“
“Will end in death.” Hiei scoffed, looking away from him. “Maybe you are a demon.”
Insult as that might have been, Kurama couldn’t help but smile to himself once he turned his head away. Human he might have been in body, his soul hadn’t changed in some ways, and what he could hold onto — he was grateful for. Though some of it sickened him.
“As for information?” Hiei pressed on and Kurama glanced at him.
Remembering Yatsude’s words of the Ice Maiden and the utterance of the name ‘Yukina’ during Hiei’s sleep, Kurama couldn’t deny that he was curious of the fire demon’s story and just what he was doing in the Ningenkai and why he worried over an Ice Maiden of all things. Although, he hardly believed Hiei would give him those answers without something in return.
“A question for a question, truthful answers only, and no passing.”
Hiei’s jaw clenched and Kurama stared at him patiently. It was the only way that he would get his answers and Kurama thought the exchange was beneficial for them both if not detrimental to their pride. Finally, as if conceding, Hiei nodded and Kurama smiled softly. Blunt and harsh as he might have been, he had a good head on his shoulders.
“Then we have an agreement,” Kurama said, bundling his clothes beneath his arm as he left the room, smiling at the gaze boring into his back. “I look forward to working with you, Hiei.”
10 notes · View notes
destinychose-a · 5 years
Text
NOVA — KINGDOM HEARTS OC.
Tumblr media
FULL MUSE PAGE HERE! ( Please read for a full understanding of her personality! )
BASICS.
NAME:  Nova NICKNAME:  ‘Queen Chaos’, Novie GENDER:  Female ( she/her ) AGE:  Unknown, looks to be in her mid-teens BIRTHDATE:  26th July ( or, so she decided ) BIRTHPLACE:  Unknown, thought to be Daybreak Town HEIGHT:  149cm ( 4′11″ ) OCCUPATION:  Keyblade Wielder AFFILIATION:  Master Ava, Vulpes Union ORIENTATION:  Demiromantic, Demisexual
MEDICAL RECORD.
MENTAL: Kleptomania, depression PHYSICAL: Physically fit, save for an ongoing issue with her right wrist PHOBIAS: Thalassaphobia, autophobia DIET: Generally all over the place, unhealthy at the best of times. Nova has a raging sweet tooth and tends to prefer having a dessert over a proper meal. Ava has attempted to curb it and encourage better eating habits, but as with most habits, it’s proven difficult to break.
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.
EYES:  Green ( D30 ), often bright and sparkling with mischief. Her eyes are her most expressive feature: when her words lie, her eyes often reveal the truth.
HAIR:  Pale, cotton candy pink. Waist-length, forming natural loose curls. Always swept up into a high side ponytail, secured in place with a ribbon that has several tiny bells attached. Uneven bangs which frame her face and frequently fall into her eyes. Often unkempt and only brushed when absolutely necessary, so it isn’t unsurprising to find twigs and many other kinds of lint trapped in her tresses.
FACE/COMPLEXION:  Youthful-looking features, with a small nose and a small mouth, lips often chapped. Bordering on unhealthily pale, skin almost appearing translucent under direct sunlight, no matter how much time is spent outside. Cheekbones and nose covered with pronounced freckles. Heavy shadows exist under her eyes, no matter how much sleep is had.
BUILD:  Ectomorph body type. Petite and slender— some would even dare to say ‘delicate’. However, due to years of hard training, her body is deceptively strong in spite of her small stature and is extremely flexible.
PERSONALITY.
MYERS-BRIGGS: ESTP-T TEMPERAMENT: Choleric-Sanguine ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral-Good ENNEAGRAM: 8 VIRTUE: Diligence DEADLY SIN: Greed
LIKES: Sweet foods, stealing things she doesn’t really need, spending time with Ava, pestering the other Firsts, watching the sunrise from somewhere up high, napping on roofs. DISLIKES: The Dandelions, people telling her what to do, being restricted or restrained, not making it to the top spot on the weekly Lux rankings, water.
POSITIVE TRAITS:  adaptable ⋄ ambitious ⋄ assertive ⋄ capable ⋄ clever ⋄ confident ⋄ courageous ⋄ curious ⋄ dedicated ⋄ determined ⋄ energetic ⋄ enthusiastic ⋄ expressive ⋄ flexible ⋄ hard-working ⋄ independent ⋄ intelligent ⋄ loyal ⋄ observant ⋄ outspoken ⋄ passionate ⋄ persistent ⋄ playful ⋄ protective ⋄ realistic ⋄ resourceful ⋄ shrewd ⋄ skilful ⋄ sociable ⋄ spontaneous
NEGATIVE TRAITS:  abrasive ⋄ ambitious ⋄ argumentative ⋄ boisterous ⋄ careless ⋄ casual ⋄ childish ⋄ competitive ⋄ compulsive ⋄ contradictory ⋄ cynical ⋄ demanding ⋄ devious ⋄ disobedient ⋄ disruptive ⋄ envious ⋄ erratic ⋄ forceful ⋄ greedy ⋄ hasty ⋄ haughty ⋄ impatient ⋄ imprudent ⋄ impulsive ⋄ insecure ⋄ insensitive ⋄ insincere ⋄ irresponsible ⋄ irritable ⋄ mannerless ⋄ meddlesome ⋄ naïve ⋄ opinionated ⋄ possessive ⋄ proud ⋄ sarcastic ⋄ self-conscious ⋄ self-critical ⋄ self-indulgent ⋄ selfish ⋄ tactless
STORY.
❛   Think of this as your last test from me! Or maybe, your first test as a Union Leader! If you want to lead the wielders so badly, you need to be able to convince them to join and work for you, be able to keep them at your side through thick and thin, help them out with their problems as they help you with yours.
So, to get you started, I’ve picked out your first recruit! Don’t mind her abrasive personality — she doesn’t bite. At least, I think. Just make sure you keep an eye on anything in your pockets, or else you might find things go missing...
Anyway! Good luck convincing her to stick around, Ava!  ❜
Whether born from Kingdom Hearts itself or a creature summoned by the Master of Masters, no one is sure. All that’s known is that from the moment she came into being, she knew exactly what she wanted and how best to get it.
She ignored Ava and her attempts to converse with her, brushed off her pleas to lend her strength to the Vulpes Union, rolled her eyes at her repeated requests for cooperation.
Instead, she posed a single question of her own:  ❛  What’s in it for me?  ❜
Ava, at a loss, could only offer an honest response,  ❛  Nothing. But at least you won’t have to be alone.  ❜
Something in the girl’s haughty expression shifted. She turned to face Ava, green eyes narrowed into an unwavering stare as she began to speak,  ❛  I’m the strength you wish you had. Where you hesitate or silence yourself for the benefit of others, I won’t. I’m the ambition you keep hidden, your darkest thoughts, your every fear, your greed — I’m everything you’re not. Knowing that, can you still accept me?  ❜
It was clear that the girl expected rejection. Guarded, aggressive, going on the offensive to shield herself from pain...
How could Ava not accept her?
For the first time since they met, the girl smiled and cocked her head to the side.  ❛  So, heart-of-mine… What will you call me?  ❜
It took Ava a while to finally give her a name, though not for lack of trying. The girl refused to settle for just any old name, demanding something different each time Ava’s choice displeased her. After several exhausting hours, the girl suddenly ceased her objections. With no more than a satisfied nod, she accepted the name ‘ Nova ’ and became the first to join the Vulpes Union.
In the following months, many wielders flocked to Vulpes, drawn by Master Ava’s renowned kindness. The weak, the strong, the dutiful, the unmotivated, the crowd followers — regardless of skill, all were accepted. It didn’t take long for Vulpes to become the most populated Union and shoot to the top of the weekly Lux rankings. Nova revelled in it all.
Loathe to be restricted to a single party, Nova quickly settled into the habit of drifting, moving from one party to the next without ever truly joining. It became her goal to meet every single Keyblade Wielder within her Union and assist them, albeit in a brash manner that often caused upset with the more wilful wielders. Despite being the first member of the Vulpes Union, she did not command respect amongst her peers, as so few were aware of her true skills beyond her abrasive personality. Behind her back, many even started to call her the ‘Queen Chaos’, intending for it to be an insult. However, the moment Nova caught wind of it, she proudly adopted it as a nickname out of spite.
While she cared little for what others thought of her, Nova hated that she wasn’t listened to. Begrudgingly, she turned to Ava for help, who gently suggested that she should try to appeal to them in her own way, just like she had once done with Nova.
It was a suggestion Nova ran with.
Impulsively, she entered herself into a series of PVP matches, goading her Union’s strongest wielders into facing her. If it was her skills they doubted, it would be her skills that she’d appeal to them with. The competition proved brutal, and while she didn’t win every match she entered ( with many ending in extremely close defeats or draws ), her unexpected prowess with both magic and the Keyblade garnered awe and respect from those around her.
Things steadily began to change after that. Nova continued her self-imposed mission to meet every single Keyblade Wielder within the Vulpes Union and was readily accepted by all she came into contact with. However, the more people she met, the more she began to notice the struggles of the newer, lesser skilled wielders.
An urge, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, came over her. Despite herself, she wanted to help them, in ways she knew that Ava wished she could, but couldn’t. And so, she began to discreetly guide the newest members of the Vulpes Union to party leaders she knew she could trust, who would surely help them hone their skills and grow into strong Keyblade Wielders.
If ever asked, Nova would claim that her actions were born out of a desire to strengthen her Union and continue their reign at the top of the rankings, rather than to help the individuals themselves.
She keeps a close eye on the wielders of her Union, often leaving them items in their rooms ( from potions, Keyblade upgrade materials, to pretty trinkets she steals from Kage’s hoard ) as a means of encouragement. While she remains abrasive and difficult to get along with, it’s plain to see that she values every single member of her Union, regardless of the reasoning.
Despite this, Nova tends to keep to herself, preferring to watch from afar. It’s rare to see her around her fellow Union members, but rumours say she can often be found in Master Ava’s company...
If by some misfortune you happen to bump into her, watch your pockets, lest you wish to lose something valuable. She’s terribly mischievous, after all.
7 notes · View notes
fireintheforest · 5 years
Text
Busted
The Den kitchen was relatively calm, as calm as kitchens can be, before the storm of cooking, cleaning, preparing, boiling and brewing necessary for the nightly shows. That explained the cooks moving around the kitchen and how nobody batted an eyelash when Saufinril and Muraz entered the kitchen, engrossed as they were in their jobs. Saufinril kept looking ahead, purposefully ignoring the orsimer that talked nonstop behind him.
"Saufinril, come on, I-really, are you not going to listen to me? That's your punishment? You're going to ignore me? It’s already been a day, are you really going to pretend like you can’t hear me?" Muraz asked. Saufinril just keeps walking, not even looking at him, until a hand grabbed both him and the unsuspecting Muraz and pulled them aside.
“What the-”
“Gentlemen”. Lillandril’s voice was tight and clipped, and automatically made Saufinril close his eyes in resignation when he identified the voice, “A word.” He steered then towards the nearest open door, leading into a well stocked pantry full of shelves of cheeses, cured meats, etc."Ohhh hey b-ok" Muraz walked along while Saufinril went in complete silence. Lillandril pushed the pair of them into the pantry, pausing only long enough to glare at a nearby cook who had begun wandering in their direction before joining them. Then he firmly pulled the door shut, folded his arms and looked at the pair.
Saufinril put his hands behind his back and averted his gaze. Muraz, however, scratched his arm and said, "Um, good morning, boss. Lovely seeing you, you look great. Did you do something to your hair? New clothes?"
Sau just whispered a "Muraz, shut up"
Lillandril darted his eyes to Muraz and glared for a solid, unblinking minute. “Ah, yes. Our young entertainer. Remind one, are you Magula’s grandson, or great grandson, or...?
"Uhm, that was- yeah she's my mother's great grandmother so you could say-yeah it's long but we're related." Muraz answered.
Saufinril just slowly closed his eyes again. He just wanted to disappear.
“Ah, one sees. So it was, perhaps, maybe three generations ago that any hint of her acumen abandoned your family in favour of sheer idiocy and utter mediocrity?” Lillandril asked
Muraz looked at Saufinril, whose eyes were still closed, before looking back at Lillandril and replying while sounding uncertain, "I'm...not sure how to answer that."
Saufinril, again, just whispered "Then don't, for the love of fuck, don't."
"Everything ok, sir?" Muraz inquired
"Muraz..."
“You tell one, Muraz. You are - or at least claim to be - a passably intelligent sapient. So you tell one. Is. Everything. Ok?”
"...I'm tempted to say yes, sir, but that's just because you see more of this businesd than I do. So you know things I ignore. So my alright is not your alright." Saufinril looked like he wants to slap Muraz right now, but otherwise remained silent. Lillandril made an unimpressed noise, shifting his gaze to Saufinril. “Perhaps you’d like to help your friend? Seeing as he lacks the ability to read a mood - which may explain his lacklustre performances of late. That and an ability far less than his ego would have him believe.”
Muraz opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Saufinril, who knew well what Muraz had been about to do.
"It's about yesterday, us both leaving The Den for a long while." Saufinril replied. Muraz cleared his throat. "In my defense," he said, "I had to run errands. I don't know why-"Before he could continue, Saufinril turned and gave Muraz a mad look.
"-and I asked him to come with me." Muraz added quickly, at Saufinril's glare. Lillandril continued his dead eye stare for a moment, switching between the pair of them. “And why would that be a problem? Saufinril?”
Muraz stopped looking at Saufinril, Saufinril looked away from the orsimer.
"One shouldn't have left The Den, especially because one has chores to finish here. And not run into Thalmor." Was the young Altmer’s answer.
“And why should you not have left here?” Lillandril asked, “Why were you to avoid the Thalmor? What possible reason could one have, hm, to be somewhat irked by your latest misadventure?”
“To not endanger The Den, or the people that depend of it, or you, or Rialas, or oneself."
"Lillandril, sir, with all due respect, we were gone just for some hours." Muraz said
"Muraz just quiet down." Saufinril whispered, eyeing his friend and hoping he’d take the hint.
“Just a few hours. Hm. And yet in those hours, you managed to disobey one, find yet another brawl, risk the attention of the Thalmor, and show a total disregard for the last conversation we had. Quite the display, no?”
Saufinril dared to defend himself in a small voice: "One didn't exactly engage in a fight, serah-"
"I pestered him to come with me. He didn't want to, he told me he couldn't. I kept insisting until he did." Muraz’s interruption made Saufinril stop in his tracks and exhale. Any chance for this to go smoother had just died with that. Lillandril snapped his eyes to Muraz. When he spoke, his voice was raised and contained a bite of anger. “You pestered him. You insisted. As if you absolve him of any responsibility. You have also intruded into a matter that does not concern you. Allow one to make it clear: one cares little and less for you. You are here only so one can make it abundantly clear to you quite how badly you sit in one’s displeasure. When one tells somebody - one’s ward and charge, no less - to remain in the Den, one expects that to happen. One does not expect to be ignored and undermined by a selfish, spiteful, conceited little toad such as yourself. You are nothing to one; you are a performer, one of a thousand, forgettable, needy, desperate. Your arrogance and self assurances are misplaced. Were it not for the fondness one holds for your distant forebear, you would be lucky to be allowed to beg outside the door of this place. You are feckless, lazy, entitled, and above all else, a bad influence. The last thing you wanted to do was to draw one’s attention to you, because you simply lack any quality that can withstand it. You are inconsequential. Trivial. Forgettable. Nothing. And you are exceedingly lucky that one is telling you this rather than simply having you thrown into the night. Do you understand?”
Muraz nodded with complete seriousness and even a dash of fear visible. Saufinril himself bit his lower lip, silent and unmoving. Lillandril allowed the quiet to linger just long enough to be uncomfortable before pointing a finger at Muraz. “Consider yourself lucky you are only being sent to the kitchens for a month. In that time, you will not set foot on the stage - or indeed, in any public areas. You will spend the month scrubbing, and cleaning, and cutting, and boiling, and any other menial tasks the chefs have for you. You will be in the kitchen, ready to work, at dawn each morning, and you will not finish until you are told you may leave. And you will thank one every day of that month, because your forebear would have tanned the hide from your back and thrown your bloody form into the night.”
"Un-understood. Yes, yes sir" Muraz’s voice revealed more of the fear he had.
“Good. Now get out.”
No need to say that twice. Muraz turned and left without even looking at his Altmer companion. Saufinril stayed in silence, gaze still averted from Lillandril, who stared at Saufinril, not saying anything, content to simply wait. There was the barely concealed sound of gossiping whispers from outside, in the kitchen. After a while, Saufinril cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I really thought it was going to be an hour at most and that nothing would happen. Should've figured I was wrong about that."
Lillandril waited a moment and then sighed. “Quite what one is to do with you, one despairs. You are not as easily cowed as your feckless friend, for one. Neither can one rightly say you could have known this would have occurred.”
"Still, your orders were clear and I chose to follow him. Anything you see fit for me, I'll follow. Strictly this time."
“In truth? It matters less about punishment than it does security. Once, the Thalmor may ignore a troublemaker - and yes, that is how you will be seen. Yet a familiar face being seen again? Tis reason to look more closely. As we discussed, such scrutiny bodes I’ll for you and one both.”
"I know." He waited a second, then finally looked at Lillandril, curiosity unable to be contained in his green eyes, "How did you know about this, serah?"
Lillandril offered a small, conspiratorial smile. “How does one know about anything? One has means.”
"That is scary." Saufinril took a hand through his hair, exhaling. "It...might not be because of punishment, and I understand. I should've stayed inside, and- I don't want my words to get cheapened by apologizing and then doing it again, serah, but I really am sorry. It should've been quick and I'd be back here but nonetheless history repeated itself and...I'm sorry."
Lillandril nodded slowly. “That, at least is something. The fact remains that it would be safer were you no longer in the city for a time. And that it behooves one to be seen, at least, to punish disobedience.”
"So...I'm to go back to Cyrodiil?"
“No.” Lillandril reached into his pocket and drew out a key, which he extended to Saufinril. Saufinril took it, looked at it over and then looked back at Lillandril as he asked, "...is one banished to the cupboard for the rest of the month or..."
“Don’t tempt one. But no. That is the key to one’s home in Lynpar Marsh - that is, the town that birthed one’s flame hairs succubus, and where his family yet lives.”
Saufinril looked up at Lillandril, some puzzlement seeping through in his facial expression, "Lynpar Marsh?" That far away??
“Tis remote enough to be safe from Thalmor eyes, while serving as exile too. And as coincidence should have it, one’s bee brained brother in law has been waiting for one to send him a shipment of goods from Hammerfell he requested - which arrived here but a few days ago.”
He didn’t have much room to protest when he’d dug this grave. Saufinril gave the smallest of sighs, then nodded. "Lynpar Marsh it is. What kind of shipment?"
“Imports from Hammerfell. One scarce recalls, ‘twas some nonsense about bees and the health of the hive. One barely listened. Oh, yes. While one recalls. Should you set off tomorrow - which you will - you should reach the Marsh in time fir the harvest seasons. All kinds of swamp insects and plants and the like will need to be collected, preserved, dried, so forth abd so on. It seems something you should help with, no?”
Yeah, the message was clear. Saufinril nodded. "Yes, serah. One will. Insects, huh?"
“Insects. Fish. Water plants. Arachnids. Alligators. Various eggs. So forth and so on. Do try to avoid getting swamp mud on the rugs. Importing replacements is costly abd a bother.”
"Noted. Why water plants? One thought the Pact kept people from using them."
“It’s a matter of debate. You’re best not asking about it.”
"Alright. One leaves tomorrow, then." Saufinril looked at Lillandril, "Is one free to go?"
Lillandril offered a soft smile before moving to the side, allowing access to the door. “You are. And please - if your friend asks, One was terrifying and you are being banished from one’s sight because one can’t stand the sight of you. It will not do him any harm to live with a dose of fear for a bit.”
Saufinril returned a small smile, "Noted. You're furious, one is in exile. That'd be more than enough with him."
“Maybe add some dramatics? Glowing fingers with drawn magic, a manic gleam in one’s eyes, various threats involving a Daedroth?”
"Fear for one's life, begging, voice of thunder, all that?"
“Exactly. One does have a reputation to maintain.”
"Alright, yes. One can do that. Should one add the cupboard as a jail one narrowly escaped from?"
“Please. It adds menace. Gravitas.”
"Will do. Thanks, serah." Shouldn’t be hard to keep this reputation, what with what Muraz saw mere minutes ago and the fact that Lillandril had fought more monsters and thieves in one month than Saufinril had in all his years of travelling. He went to open the door, but stopped, then turned to Lillandril again, "Seriously, how do you find out about these things? Muraz and one didn't argue that loud yesterday. Or at least as far as one knows."
Lillandril smiled more broadly and folded his arms again, raising a brow at Saufinril. “Are you surprised? Not as much as one was to discover about your liaison with that strapping Nordic chap, round the back of the Temple of Dibella, no less.”
Oh, that was low. And also had left Saufinril’s memory. Saufinril opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. And pressed his lips. Nope, nothing he could say could erase that fateful day. Lillandril continued to smirk, adding in an eyebrow wiggle for good measure. “Or that business with that Imperial cartel trying to secure certain jungle products for their drinks...”
"That was empty flirting, it never went beyond anything, despite appearances. Or rumors. Or anything anyone saw."
“Uhuh. So that wasn’t you clinging to the bottom of the cart that left the city after dark during the Festival...”
It was him. "No. One is a virgin and Danario said nobody would see us in the- oh you mean the cart with the, the time one- one can’t confirm or deny that was one." Yet there was a small smirk from Saufinril’s side. It is obvious how much of a blatant lie this was, “Anyways, like one said- one is a virgin. And an honest, law-abiding one too.”
Lillandril laughed, waving a hand at Sau. “Go, begone, foul liar, before Sanguine himself appears to claim you.”
Saufinril gave him a grin before getting out. At once, he changed his face to a solemn, terrified one when he reached a spot where Muraz could see him, going immediately to get the tables ready for the opening of The Den.
6 notes · View notes
quietcatastrophe · 6 years
Text
To Begin Again- Chapter 6
I’ll keep this brief by simply saying thank you to everyone who has supported the journey of this story. This chapter is a pretty emotional glimpse into Jamie’s past, and I needed to make sure I did him justice. I know I’m the absolute worst about regular updates, but I’m grateful for your patience, and for everyone who has messaged to send encouragement. This chapter it dedicated to you guys! 
Edit: I’m my rush to post yesterday, I forgot to mention my extraordinary beta @mo-nighean-rouge who polishes this tale to a shine for you all. She’s definitely the best, and I’m so grateful to her for coming on this ride with me!
Previously: 1 2 3 4 5
         Jamie’s never been a particularly great traveler—prone to feelings of nausea and vertigo, especially if he’s not the one in the driver’s seat. But there’s something about the train that he’s always found soothing. There’s a steady dependability to the tracks, the course never really changing, and the clip of the scenery as it passes by the large windows makes him feel less trapped. It also reminds him of his childhood, tagging along with his father when he performed inspections. He still remembers the swell of importance he felt when his Da placed a much too large helmet on his head, and a lurid orange ScotsRail safety vest over his shoulders.
But for every happy memory, every fond recollection, there are the shadows of others that are more bittersweet. When he first thought of bringing Claire to Lallybroch, he imagined them making this trip together—sitting maybe a little too close to each other as he regaled her with stories about the Scottish countryside—but he finds himself lost in the spiral of his thoughts. He hasn’t told her much about his past—too concerned with her present, unwilling to drag her down with the demons that he’s mostly left behind. He can tell that she’s observed the change in his mood though, notices the surreptitious glances she sends him when she thinks he’s looking out the window. He’s not hiding from her, exactly, but he’s never been comfortable with his own vulnerability. He sees her reflection in the window, can see the way she wrestles with her own thoughts as they dance across her face. She is without guile—totally unable to hide the things she’s feeling or thinking— and he envies her in a way. He’s lived within the walls of his self-imposed fortress for so long, it’s hard to remember what it’s like to have someone to confide in.
“Are you alright, Jamie? You look a little bit lost.” Her fingers twist together in her lap, and he can’t resist reaching out with his own hand to calm their motion.
“I’m alright, Sassenach. I just get a wee bit melancholy when I think of going home. It’s nothing to trouble yerself over.” He sends her a smile that’s meant to placate, but he can tell it misses the mark. Maybe that fortress is not as strong as it once was.
“Jamie, you don’t have to share anything with me if you don’t wish to, but you don’t need to hide from me either. I wouldn’t be a particularly good friend if I only ever unloaded my burdens on you, and never gave you the opportunity to do the same.” She pauses briefly, her eyes imploring him to trust in her, the way she’s trusted in him. “Besides, you’re not the only one who can be a verra good listener.” She leans closer, bumps her shoulder into his, a teasing smile shining at him. He doesn’t want to add any more stress to her life—doesn’t want her to feel like she needs to be sorry for him. But he’s never been able to open up about his past, hasn’t ever talked about those years to anyone outside of his own family.
Looking into her eyes, he sees nothing but her honest concern for him. It’s not pity—not exactly, anyway— but rather the sense that their tragedies might mirror one another. It is the difference between sympathy and empathy, thinking and knowing. He thought he was better at hiding it, better at keeping it tucked away, but perhaps in this instance he’s found the one person who might truly understand the way he feels. He already knows he can trust Claire, a fact that makes everything else seem a little less scary. Decision made, he tightens his grip on her hands and draws in a fortifying breath.
“I was a verra lucky lad growing up. I had two parents that loved each other fully, and we bairns were never wanting for anything. We werena rich by any means, but our needs were well met. My mamwas an artist, a painter mostly, and her work was well-respected. My dawas an engineer on these rail lines.” He gestures to the car around them, and she smiles softly at him, encouraging him to continue.
“Our troubles didna start until we were a bit older. My Mam, she was in a car accident. It uh..she wasna...It didna take her right away.” He inhales a shaking breath, remembering the day his mother was brought to the hospital. “She was alive, but she never regained consciousness. They said she had a traumatic brain injury, and other internal bleeding.”
He feels his stomach start to turn as he recalls the details of that day. “It wasn’t until they started prepping her for surgery that they found…they realized she was pregnant. It was early on they said, she may not have even known herself. She was 38, but it had been twelve years since I was born, so I dinna even think they thought it was still possible.” He hears the interruption in Claire’s breathing, feels the way she shifts and curls into herself, a subconscious attempt to protect and shield the bairn growing within her.   
He swipes at the tears that have begun to fall, unable to lift his gaze from the laces of his shoes. His hand is displaced as he feels Claire slide closer to him, looping her arm through his, and leaning her head against his shoulder. She squeezes his arm gently, and it’s enough to bring his eyes back to meet hers. They’re flooding with moisture just like his own, but rather than feeling drowned by her tears, he feels buoyed. They’re swimming in the sea of tragedy together. It’s enough to give him the strength to continue.
“My Da...he started to drink after. And no’ just drink like a Scotsman, mind ye. He was drunk from dawn until whenever he finally passed out from too much drink. We were all grown enough to know he had a problem, even when he was still trying to hide it from us,” He pauses to wipe away a few more tears that have escaped. Claire rests steadfastly against his side.
“Eventually, it got so bad that he couldna keep his job. That’s when Murtagh came to stay with us. But the damage was already well done by then. Willie was 18, and getting ready to leave for university in America. He was so ashamed of Da, I dinna think they spoke but in anger those few months. Jenny was 16, and already dating Ian at the time. She all but moved into his house once things got worse, shared a bedroom with Ian’s sister.” He tries to remember to make himself breathe-in through the nose, out from the mouth-repeating in his head.
“They say everyone deals with grief differently. My da dealt with it by drinking until he couldna remember. My brother got as far away from us as he could go. My sister ran away to another family, one that was whole and healthy. And then there was me.” It’s always been the hardest part for him—remembering the sudden isolation, the bitter loneliness—knowing with sudden and cruel certainty that there was nobody in the would he could depend on but himself. He drapes his palms over his bent knees, his knuckles flexing with tension.
“I considered myself a man already at twelve, ye ken? For a while I thought I could manage things when everyone else couldn’t. I thought I could be strong enough for everybody else. But time went on, and I was all alone. I got angry, Sassenach.” He looks to her, finding her eyes swollen with tears, but also smoldering with an anger of their own.
“I was angry at my mam, for leaving us. It was no’ right or fair of me, but things had been fine before she was gone. She left us alone, and we all fell apart without her. I was mad at my brother and sister, for leaving me behind. They had the means to escape and they used them, but I was still a boy, no matter what I thought about it. I was mad at my Da the most though. He couldna take care of himself, let alone mind me. By the time Murtagh came, I was different.” Her expression softens, and from anyone else it would feel too much like pity. But he knows that she truly understands. Knows that she’s also spent too much time alone and angry at everyone that left.
“I canna pretend I was an angel before it all, but after… I shut everyone out. If they were going to abandon me, I’d do the same. I was disobedient and reckless. Just a rude little bugger. Poor Murtagh threatened to skelp me on an almost daily basis, but I didna care.” He remembers these days a little more wistfully as his angry independence days. Making his own choices, taking charge, doing whatever he liked… it was his Peter Pan year.
“But as I got older, things only got worse. I made friends with the wrong crowd, started sneaking out and then just leaving for days at a time. I fancied myself a wee renegade ye see, acted as if I was invincible. I didna think Da even knew most of the times I’d run off. I always expected that I’d get back, and he’d be waiting for me in the dooryard with his arms crossed, ready to knock some sense back into me,” he attempts a weak smile, but feels the corners of his lips turn down instead. “He didna have any sense to spare then, though. Then it was Murtagh waiting for me, threatening to nail my ear to the barn door if I’d run off again, and dragging me by my ear so hard I thought he might actually do it.” He does manage a smile this time, one that she mirrors, thinking of his godfather, and all of the layers he hides beneath his surly exterior.
“It went on like that for a few years. We were existing, but no’ really living. My Da kept drinking himself into oblivion, and I kept running amok. I started high school with a criminal record.” He can’t help but look at her face, the need to see her reaction, to know how she feels, is overwhelming. “I had a wee...trespassing habit. I got more than my fair share of warnings, mind ye, but I didna heed them. I had no care for consequences.” Her gaze is assessing, but she doesn’t pull away from him, as he feared she might.
“For my sixteenth birthday, some of my mates...procured me a motorcycle. I didna ask any questions, but I knew that they didn’t come by it through honest means. I felt freer on that bike than I had ever felt in my life, Sassenach. Like none of my problems could keep up with me, if I just kept pushing the throttle. I could go anywhere I wanted, no one could stop me. Or so I thought, anyway,” he shifts in his seat, angling his knees toward her, bringing them face to face.
“I only had the bike about three weeks before I wrecked it. I loved to ride in the rain, even though it was dangerous. Maybe even because it was dangerous. I’d been running some hills, flying over the crests, making a great muddy mess of things. I’d started making my way home, still going way too fast, of course. I could see the lights from the village as I came down the last bend, but instead of banking the turn, I lost control on the loose gravel.” Her hand comes to rest on his knee, and he slides his palm over hers.
“I was thrown off the bike, and sailed quite a ways through the air before I met the dirt. Next thing I remember is waking up in hospital, stuck on my belly, no’ able to feel much of anything. I had only been wearing a t-shirt to ride, and when I was tossed, I landed on my back and slid across the road. I must’ve passed out from the pain, because I still canna recall being found, or the ride to the hospital. I was alone when I woke the first time, and I was sure I was dead. Everything was so white and still, and I couldna make my body move. When the doctor came in to see me, he told me I was lucky,” he shakes his head, able to see the truth in those words now, but at the time he thought the man was mad.
“I couldna possibly understand how anyone could think me lucky. Sure, I wasna dead, but I think part of me then would have welcomed death. My mind hadna been right for a long time, but then for my body to give out too...I think I almost wished for it.” He’s never said these words aloud before. Never let them breach the darkest corners of his thoughts, and it is both cathartic and terrifying to declare his demons.
“The accident was a wakeup call for all of us. When I woke the next morning, my Da was in the chair next to my bed. It was the first time I’d seen him stone sober in three and a half years. He kept telling me was how sorry he was, and that he was going to get better. That he was going to be our father again. I dinna ken how to believe in him anymore, but it did mean a lot that he was there with me. He was the one to call Willie and Jenny to let them know what had happened. Jenny was at the hospital less than an hour later. Willie came back to Scotland for the first time since leaving for school. We didna remember how to be near each other, how to be a family, but I think we all recognized that maybe we’d been given a second chance.” He hasn’t thought about those first few days in so long, the tentative rebuilding of his family something he prefers to leave soundly in the past. It had been unbearably awkward at first— they felt apprehensive around each other, unsure of how and if they still fit together — and Jamie had been in and out of lucidity due to the pain medication.  
“And now? Have you had that second chance?” She asks, the hope in her voice is unmistakable.
“Aye, Mo Nighean Donn, we have. There are more good memories now than bad ones, which is why I’m so keen on taking ye. I think it’ll do ye some good to be away from all your troubles. And now that I’ve shared with ye all of my darkness, I’d like verra much to show you the light. Just like you’ve shown it to me, Sorcha.
Claire lifts their joined hands to her lips, placing a lingering kiss to the back of his hand. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me.” Her grip tightens, and he wiggles his fingers until they interlace with hers.
“Are ye no’ scared of me then? Of my past? I’d understand if ye dinna want to be friends with someone like me.” his whole body sinks, his eyes downcast, the thought of her walking out of his life hitting him like a fist to the gut.  
“Someone like you? James Fraser, please look at me!” she demands, her palm coming to rest on his cheek. “I can’t think of anyone that I like better than you, Jamie. You’re my best friend. Knowing about your past? It’s just another piece of what formed you in to the brilliant man you are today. If you can accept the baggage that I come with…” the hand not resting on his face moves to her belly. “If you can accept me as I am, knowing all you know about my past, then please know I can do the same for you. Readily, happily. And I’m so honored, really, that you chose me of all people, to share your story with. I’ve never felt...never known anyone like you before, Jamie. I’ve never been able to talk to someone the way I’ve talked to you, or related to someone as easily. I didn’t think I was ever going to be happy again, and then all of a sudden, there you were. I never saw you coming, really. But I’m so glad you did.”
He knows that it’s a risk— maybe too big of a risk— but he can’t seem to stop himself. He can’t seem to connect to his thoughts, reeling as they are, as his lips press gently to hers. He’s so overwhelmed with gratitude for her. To have met someone who understands him, who appreciates him just as he is, even knowing the shadows of his past...it’s more than he’s ever hoped for. He eases back a moment later, the contact brief yet poignant. He can see some of the longing he feels mirrored back to him as their eyes meet. Her brows are still raised just slightly, expressing her surprise at his sudden gesture. But he’s happy to note that she also looks more than a little pleased, the corners of her lips turned up in a coy smile.
“I’m glad I did as well, Sassenach.” She slides closer to his side, resting her head on his shoulder. It’s not close enough, so he brings his arm around her shoulders, tucking her head below his chin. They still have about an hour left before they arrive in Inverness, and he’d like nothing more than to spend that hour holding the woman he loves. And as Claire snuggles further into his chest, he thinks that she’ll be amenable to the idea as well.  
392 notes · View notes
greencrusader13 · 5 years
Text
All Were Innocent Once: Chapter 5 - A Brother’s Destiny
Another chapter delivered on schedule. Enjoy! Also I’m linking a poll here that would help give me guidance for the next few chapters. Please vote on it if you have the time.
Poll: http://www.strawpoll.me/17443434     
FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13118981/1/All-Were-Innocent-Once
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043032?view_full_work=true
Cirak wasn’t sure at what point he’d awoken. Consciousness had returned without his permission, let alone his expectation of ever emerging from the dark once he’d closed his eyes again. He should’ve been dead, but he wasn’t. That realization dawned no sooner than he’d realized that his eyes were in fact open.
A makeshift tent of fabric hung loosely overhead, attached at its midpoint to something Cirak couldn’t make out from the interior. Rolling his head to the right he made saw a wooden basin beside his pillow filled with a shallow pool of darkened water. A piece of fragmented metal lay within.
He sat up, groaning before taking note of his missing shirt and the linen bindings around his ribs. Red-brown stains were barely visible where he’d been pierced, and when Cirak stripped the bandages he found that no scar marked his body. There was no evidence that he’d been injured at all, not even lingering pain. He traced where the mark should’ve been; the spot wasn’t even tender.
To his left he found his father’s blaster, now scrubbed clean of the blood Cirak had left printed on its grip. He made a cursory check of the weapon, finding no sabotage or tampering whatsoever. A full clip was still loaded. Cirak sighed, allowing himself to relax somewhat as his fingers traced the frame. Tyar was here and, even better, he hadn’t fired a single shot.
He didn’t listen to me either, Cirak thought, suddenly frowning. I told him to leave.
Still, despite his annoyance, Cirak couldn’t stop himself from feeling considerable relief at his brother’s disobedience. They were both alive after all. If his brother hadn’t found genuine help then he never would’ve woken in the first place.
After spotting his shirt in the tent’s corner, Cirak put it on and got to his feet. His legs felt weak, and they shook uncontrollably, but he willed himself to remain upright. He slid the blaster into his front pants pocket. Tyar had to be nearby, but if he wasn’t, Cirak wasn’t about to go looking unarmed.
He pushed the tent flap outward and shambled through. They’d been moved outside the abandoned building of their impact, around the corner and into a cul-de-sac with buildings of similar disrepair. The speeder, though still heavily damaged, had somehow been moved from underneath the rubble and now lay dormant at the end of the street. Were it not for the surrounding area, Cirak would’ve doubted that they were anywhere near where they’d crashed.
To his relief he found his brother not far from where he’d emerged. The child sat on a discarded refrigerator lying sideways among piles of refuse, his back facing him. Another figure sat with him, robed and speaking to Tyar in low tones. A fire burned in an emptied fuel drum in front of them, and they looked little more than silhouettes against its heat. Whatever she was saying seemed to fill Tyar with excitement. A grin stretched from ear-to-ear on his face, and he nodded along with the figure’s words, enraptured.
Then Tyar lifted his hand, palm facing upwards. To Cirak’s astonishment the fuel drum lifted inches off the ground, where it hung suspended in the air. No wires held it up that Cirak could see, and it couldn’t have been a trick of the light. All the while Tyar giggled at the sight. Cirak couldn’t find what was so funny about it. If anything it was terrifying.
“Tyar?”
The fuel drum fell back down to the ground hard, a plume of flame sending sparks outward upon impact. Tyar turned, his eyes wide, and leapt from his seat towards Cirak. His brother’s face pressed into his stomach as Tyar wrapped him in a hug, one that would’ve sent them both tumbling to the ground had Cirak not already expected it. He patted his brother on the head, sighing and closing his eyes once more. They were both okay. Somehow, they were both okay.
Ahead of them the figure (whom Cirak could now identify as a human woman, if not at least human-like) rose to her feet and stepped towards them, her hands folded in front of her, watchful. Cirak eyed her carefully. Something felt off about her, even though she was most likely the one who’d saved his life in the first place. The wind itself seemed as though it billowed through her and not around her, an empty, hollow spot in the void of Nar Shaddaa that would’ve been indistinguishable had she not made herself known.
“I guess I should be saying thanks,” Cirak said, nodding to her. He held Tyar closer and angled his body towards the woman.
“None are necessary,” she replied, her voice raspy and nearly inaudible.
“Still, you saved my hide in addition to my kid brother’s, probably. That’s worth something in my book. Can I at least get your name?”
“My name is unimportant. There are other things we-”
Tyar stepped back, his eyes so wide that Cirak could see the skyscrapers’ lights within them. “She’s a Jedi! She has a lightsaber and it’s green and it goes hrrum…hrrum…” Tyar pantomimed as though swinging a blade cutting through the air while humming for effect.
He’d heard of Jedi before, muttered usually in conjunction with utterances of the Sith. From what he understood of them they were supposedly great warriors of the Republic unparalleled in the sophistications of combat. A single well-trained Jedi could take out an entire squadron of soldiers, and they themselves were nigh unkillable.
The woman before him did not match what he’d heard of the Jedi. She did not appear as though a dauntless warrior. Beneath her baggy robes her arms were nothing more than thin sticks affixed to her body. Though heavily obscured by the shadows, her face bore evident wrinkles brought on from many long years in the galaxy. There was no way that she could’ve fought for the Republic; she probably couldn’t handle a Jawa.
“That’s neat kid,” Cirak said. She’d probably just spun a story for him to pass the time. He still didn’t know how long he’d been out, or-
“It is alright to have doubts young one,” the woman said, “But your distrust is misplaced.”
Cirak reeled in shock. “How did you…?” All his instincts blared to him that this woman was a danger, yet he resisted reaching for the blaster at his side.
“She’s a Jedi,” Tyar repeated, no less blunt than a hammer.
The woman – the Jedi – bowed her head slightly in Tyar’s direction. “Go ahead and sit by the fire Tyar Kiht, and practice what we talked about. I would like to speak to your brother for a moment.”
Tyar looked up Cirak and waited. After a moment’s pause he nodded his approval, and Tyar bounded back towards the fire. As Cirak watched, the fuel drum started shaking again as though seized by tremors, then slowly resumed its levitation from before Cirak had interrupted.
“How is he doing that?”
“All things are possible through the Force. Tyar has a remarkable sensitivity to it, but he still has much to learn.”
“The Force? What’s the Force?”
“The Force is what binds all things in the universe, living or otherwise. It’s what-”
“Lady,” Cirak interrupted, “If I wanted the cryptic answer I would’ve asked for a blasted pamphlet. What. Is. It?”
“I have explained it as best as I can,” the Jedi said. “Others have made attempts to give a more concrete explanation, but it is never a satisfactory one. The best that I can put it is that your brother has a gift. He is in touch with things in this life that most others are not. The Force is how I healed your wound, which would’ve been otherwise fatal. One day Tyar may be able to help others like that as well.”
Cirak looked away from her back to Tyar, who was still using this Force…thing. It didn’t seem possible. Not Tyar, not the kid who still laughed along with holotoons on early mornings or cried in fear from supposed monsters under the bed. It wasn’t possible that his kid brother could be like the Jedi, and yet he couldn’t deny what his own eyes saw.
“Many months ago, I felt the Force calling me here while I was in meditation. During my duration here I’ve waited, meditated more, but found no answer beyond the Force willing me here. I did not understand why at the time, but I believe I came to Nar Shaddaa to find your brother.
“We have a temple on Coruscant,” she continued. “Tyar can receive training there alongside others. One day he could become a Jedi.”
“What about me? Do I have this sensitivity thing like he does? Would I be able to get training too?”
“I could not sense it within you while you were unconscious. As I said before, it is a rare gift.”
Cirak shrugged in exasperation. “So what does that mean?”
A mournful expression crossed the Jedi’s face. “You would remain here, and I would take Tyar to Coruscant.”
“What? Why can’t I go with him?” Cirak asked indignantly.
“I could not in good conscience take you from the planet of your birth and place you alone on one foreign. I do not even have the resources to ensure a place of stability for you. The Republic is at the height of war with the Empire currently; you’d find the streets of Coruscant no safer than here.”
“But I wouldn’t be alone. If Tyar is going to be at this temple of yours, then I’d stick close to him.”
“Unfortunately, you cannot do that,” the Jedi continued, “Attachments are forbidden by the Jedi Code, including familial attachments. It is why we usually adopt children into the Order while they’re young, sometimes no older than infants: to prevent them from forming such bonds that might conflict with their training. Tyar is already older than we’d like, but not beyond the point of disqualification.”
Cirak glared at her, half-ready to draw his blaster if need be. “Then no way. I’m not letting you take him,” he growled.
“Cirak-”
“No! I’m not going to let you take my kid brother and turn him into some sort of child soldier for your blasted cult.”
“Calm yourself,” she said, her tone adopting a sudden firmness, but one bereft of anger. “It is true that we are at war, but we do not loose children upon our enemies. Jedi are keepers of the peace, not the stones we sling at our enemies. I have in fact known many Jedi who have never taken a life, and whom have instead worked as a leader in communities in pursuit of peace. Others are scholars and teachers. Tyar would not be forced into a life of violence, I can promise you that.
“Take a deep breath, and calm your emotions. I cannot rip your brother from your arms and take him against either or your wills. To do so would be an act of immense cruelty. But to keep him here, refuse him a chance at a better life, is that a kindness? He won’t lack for food or shelter at the temple, and he’ll be around others like him. Does that not sound better than the streets of Nar Shaddaa?”
“We can get by.”
“He has the chance to do more than just get by. He has a greater destiny than what you envision for him.”
Cirak inhaled slowly, and then lowered his eyes before closing them altogether. “He’s all I’ve got left,” he said, his voice cracking. Perhaps he hoped that his words would move her to rescind her offer to take Tyar, removing Cirak’s choice from the table. Maybe he hoped it would steel his conviction to keep his brother by his side. Maybe he just needed to hear himself say it.
It didn’t change that she was right. He couldn’t provide for Tyar here, and he was at greater risk of harm than he would be under the tutelage of the Jedi Order. This was an opportunity for Tyar to do more than just get by. With anyone else he could’ve allowed himself to be selfish enough to put his own wants first, but not Tyar’s.
“When will you take him?”
“It would be best to leave for Coruscant as soon as possible, for both your sakes.”
Cirak gritted his teeth at her response. He’d hoped for at least a day, if not a few, so that he could warm up to the idea and prepare the goodbyes he never got to have with his father. Everything had happened too quickly. Dad’s death had only been evident to him what felt like hours ago. Now he was losing Tyar as well.
“I want to talk to him first,” Cirak said, nodding in Tyar’s direction, “and if he refuses to go, then that’s it. Your whole offer is done.”
The Jedi nodded and stepped aside for Cirak to pass. As he approached Tyar he saw that his brother had grown tired of playing with the fuel drum and had moved on to folding a leaflet he’d found among the garbage. Cirak took a seat next to him, watching his little brother work as he creased lines and turned the paper over again, repeating the process. Upon completion Tyar held up his handiwork.
“Is that a starship?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who taught you how to make that.”
“I guess.” Tyar shrugged. “Dad sometimes makes them with me too.”
“Yeah, he did.”
Cirak paused, staring into the open flames. Its heat felt dim against his skin, and he hadn’t realized how cold he felt until he felt its warmth. Beside him Tyar began rotating the paper fighter through the air.
“Put that down for a second kid.”
Tyar frowned but complied.
“I was talking with…uh…her, and, the thing is…” Cirak bit his lower lip. He could phrase it in such a way that Tyar would never want to go. Lying was not off the table either. With a sigh Cirak internally rejected both those options and forced himself to continue. “Thing is, kid, she wants to take you to be a Jedi.”
Tyar’s red eyes grew wide, the excitement within them dwarfing all other signs of joy on his face. “Really? I get to be a Jedi?”
Cirak let out a restrained chuckle despite himself. “Well only if you want to. She won’t force you to go if you aren’t willing.”
“Will I get a lightsaber?”
“I don’t know. Probably?”
“I want a purple one.”
“I don’t think they let you pick by favorite color kid.”
“Aww,” Tyar groaned, though his smile remained. Though Cirak could not bring himself to look down at his brother, he could feel his discerning stare weighing heavily upon him. “Are you gonna get trained too?”
Cirak shook his head. “Nah, just you. You’d be going without me.”
“What? No,” Tyar whined. “No, I want you to come too.”
His brother’s words tore at his heart. “I know kid, and I wish I could, but-”
“It’s not fair.” Beside him the paper fighter crumpled, crushed by unseen hands.
“No, I know it’s not, and it isn’t, but that’s just how it is.”
“I don’t want to go without you.”
It was all Cirak had wanted to hear, and had the deal been anything else he would’ve told the Jedi to stuff her offer. He wasn’t even entirely sure that option wasn’t off the table, that his own wants wouldn’t supersede what was best for his brother. But that’s what it came down to: what was best for Tyar. If he had been prepared to die for him, then Cirak had to be ready to lose him altogether.
Cirak placed his hands on Tyar’s shoulders, turning his brother towards him. Tyar fought his grip, but when struggle proved futile he met Cirak’s eyes. “Listen to me kid. You’re meant for so much more than – than this.” He gestured to the decrepit streets around them. “You’re going to be a Jedi. You’re going to help people and save the galaxy. You are special.”
Tyar wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “But what about you?”
“I’ll be okay,” Cirak said. “Kihts always get by, remember?”
“Yeah.” His brother’s gaze fell away once more, drifting back over to the shadows cast by dancing flames. “I’ll miss you.”
“Don’t Tyar. This isn’t goodbye for good. We’re going to meet again someday,” Cirak said. The words felt empty, and he wasn’t sure if he entirely believed them. Before he could say anything else Tyar had him in his grip again, the hug tighter than he’d ever received. Cirak sighed and embraced his brother back. He was so small. “You’re going to be okay kid.”
From the corner of his eye Cirak saw the Jedi approaching again, and he gently pushed Tyar away. His brother resisted, somewhat, but then let go altogether. The Jedi offered her hand, and Cirak watched as Tyar took her in his own. “It is time.”
Cirak, unable to bring himself to watch them leave, instead turned his focus back to the fire. “Good luck kid.”
“Cee?”
He choked down the lump in his throat. “Hey lady, promise that my brother’s going to be safe with you. Promise me that you’re going to take care of him.”
Silence followed his words, and for a moment Cirak thought he was too late. Then, “I promise we will do all that we can. May the Force be with you.”
Cirak frowned, keeping his gaze firmly on the ground, fighting back the urge to rise, chase the Jedi down, and take his brother somewhere far away. He closed his eyes, cementing the image of Tyar in his mind, trying to make his soft black hair and tight grip forever ingrained into his memory. A flurry of emotions overwhelmed him, and he turned to seize one final glance at his brother.
But they were already gone, and for the first time in his life Cirak was completely alone.
6 notes · View notes
jooheonspinky · 5 years
Text
The Spirit Board
Tumblr media
Character: Changkyun and Female Reader, ft Minhyuk
Word Count: 1.7K Genre: Halloween Thriller Synopsis: When Y/N finds an old spirit board while cleaning out her attic, will she still believe that spirits aren’t real?
Image Credit: @OfficialMonstaX
   “Come on,” she grabbed her best friend’s wrist yanking him forward before he had even fully stepped into the house. “I want to show you what I found!” She slammed the door, locking it before tugging her friend down the hall to her room.    “Can I get a minute to catch up?” he fussed. “You’re dragging me like some disobedient child!”    “Aish, Minhyuk, so dramatic!”    Releasing his hand, she rushed into the bedroom, plopping onto the bed. She tapped the tips of her fingers on her knees, waiting impatiently for him to finally join her.    “So, what is so urgent that you needed me here ASAP?” he asked as he dropped his messenger bag onto the computer chair. “This better be good.”    “Well, I was cleaning out the attic. My parents want to store some stuff up there so I needed to make space,” she started. “Anyway, I moved a box at the very end of the room and this board fell over.”    She pointed to the object on the bed. Both eyed the wooden board with its intricately carved details. There were celestial designs mimicking the moons and stars. The letters, numbers and symbols that had been shaped with such care had been filled in with an indigo ink. The planchette was also made out of wood and had a magnifying glass, surprisingly with only a few scratches.    “Oh hellll naw!” Minhyuk exclaimed as he jumped back eyes wide. “Y/N, do you even know what that is?”    “Yes, it’s a spirit board.”    “Exactly! A home-freaking-made Ouija board!” He shivered. “That is NOT a toy and we should NOT be touching it.”    “Oh, stop. It’s just a piece of wood with letters on it,” she brushed off his warnings. “Play with me. Let’s see what the hype is about. I’m sure it won’t move. This stuff isn’t real anyway.”    “I don’t…” Minhyuk’s eyes flicked from her, then the board, then her again. The skeptical look on his face that was laced with terror brought a laugh forth from Y/N.    “Come on, don’t be a baby,” she taunted.    “I swear to God, if ANYTHING comes out I’m sending that thing to haunt your ass!”    Minhyuk sat down, legs crisscrossed applesauce, at the opposite side of the board. Rubbing her hands together mischievously, Y/N straightened the board and placed the planchette in the middle.    “Ok, so we both have to put two fingers on this thing here and ask a question,” Y/N instructed. “Anything specific you want to know?”    “What spell did Y/N use to get me to do this?” he deadpanned.    “No, think of a serious question!” she whined.    Barely audible, Minhyuk murmured, “I was being serious.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine. How about we start with who made the board ‘cause I can’t really think over the terror in my mind.”    Y/N scoffed, though she was not surprised at Minhyuk’s behavior. Placing their index fingers and middle fingers on the pointer, she closed her eyes. She could hear Minhyuk take a deep breath and let it out slowly as if he were trying to calm himself down.    “Hello, spirits,” Y/N began as she opened her eyes. “We come in peace.” She couldn’t help but snicker, earning her a glare from Minhyuk. Clearing her throat, she continued. “I found this board today and would like to know who created it.”    The two were silent as they peered down at their fingers and the planchette beneath. Just as Y/N was about to call bull, the pointer began to move, the movements jerky.    “Ar-are you moving it?” Minhyuk stammered.    Y/N shook her head watching Minhyuk’s Adam’s Apple bob furiously in his throat as he swallowed a few times.    “Stop screwing around. I know you’re trying to scare me,” Y/N laughed.    “I swear,” he whispered as the pointer continued to move.    “I…” they both read in unison. “M…”    The pointer slid down to the center.    “I M?” Y/N repeated allowed. “What does that even mean?”    “Initials maybe? For the creator of the board?”    The pointer shifted swiftly over the letters N-A-M-E then went back to the center.    “Oh, looks like that’s it’s actual name. Different,” Y/N mused. “Well, nice to meet you, I.M. My name is Y/N and this is-“    “Don’t you dare tell it my name!” Minhyuk whisper-shouted harshly. “Don’t you dare!”    “Oh come on, it’s friendly,” Y/N insisted.    Minhyuk refused to budge. “I said no. Once it knows your name it can have power over you. Haven’t you watched a scary movie lately?”    “Alright alright, sheesh. Don’t get your undies all in a twist!” Returning their attention to the board, she asked, “How old are you?”    The pointer moved down towards the numbers with no hesitation. Again, they read them allowed together.    “336,” Minhyuk’s eyes widened. “Wow.”    “Can you tell us how you died?” Y/N inquired.    Minhyuk whimpered, “Are you sure you should ask that?”    She ignored him, totally intrigued with the spirit communicating with them. She had never believed in spirits or much less that she could actually speak to one. This was turning out to be a pretty cool discovery.    The planchette began to glide smoothly over the letters and numbers again.    “S-H-O-T-4-M-R-D-R,” they repeated slowly.    “What does that…”    Minhyuk cut her off, “Oh shit! He said ‘Shot for murder’. He killed someone. He’s evil. We need to shut this down now!”    The pointer began creating figure eight’s faster and faster until they could not keep up with it. Y/N screamed, pulling her fingers away.    “What the hell!” she exclaimed as the planchette immediately stopped moving.    “What did you do?” Minhyuk jumped up frantically. “You can’t break away without closing the session. We didn’t say good-bye first. I gotta get outta here. I need to go.”    Minhyuk snatched up his bag and rushed towards the front door.    “Hey, wait!” Y/N called out behind him. “Where are you going?”    “I’m going home and I’m going to light some white candles and pray and hope that we didn’t just let an invisible murderer loose.”    “Minhyuk, it’s just a game,” Y/N insisted.    “Yeah,” he scoffed. “Right.”    He slammed the door behind him leaving a shocked Y/N standing in the foyer alone.
***
   It wasn’t until three nights later that she started to feel like she was being watched. She’d been sleeping and a sudden overwhelming feeling of dread over took her, waking Y/N from her slumber. Out of the corner of her eye she swore a black shadow stood near her closet watching her. The shadow was darker then the darkness in her room. Shifting to face her closet directly she no longer saw it and blamed Minhyuk for transferring his fears to her. He was definitely influencing her thoughts.    The next few nights noises could be heard throughout the house. Scraping sounds, like nails raking across her walls and doors opening and closing on their own. The lights would flicker on and off for no apparent reason.    Her parents were supposed to be arriving in a week and she was counting down the days to where she would not have to sleep alone. She was having a hard time sleeping. Minhyuk had refused to step foot in her home ever since using the spirit board and she couldn’t blame him. Not anymore.    When she began to hear a man’s voice she could no longer brush it off as any natural house noises. She knew then, that on the night she and Minhyuk had used the Ouiji board, they had released something into her house.    “Y/N…”    She was walking down the hallway when she heard her name. It was just the quietest of whispers, but even then she could hear the deep timber of a male’s voice.    “Who’s there?”    She couldn’t keep the tremor from her voice as she froze in place.    “Have you forgotten me so quickly?” the disembodied voice queried. “You break my heart, Y/N,” he tsked.    “I.M?” she wondered aloud as she looked up and down the hall.    “It is I,” he chuckled.    Trying to steady her fraying nerves, she took a deep breath before asking, “What are you doing here?”    There was a heavy sigh. “I’m so lonely. It’s so lonely here.”    She couldn’t help continuing the interaction though every cell in her body told her to run as far away from there as she could.    “Where are you?”    The space began to grow cooler. She felt a slick shiver of fear wrack her body as she peered down the hall towards her bedroom. There, where the light didn’t quite reach, she could see a silhouette that appeared to be drawing closer and closer.    “Purgatory.”    She gasped, “Purgatory?!”    “Yessss.”    He was nearer now. His voice so close and bringing with him a frigid air. No longer a shadow, she could now make out a young man. Quite handsome, though he exuded danger causing warning bells to tickle at her mind. She felt goosebumps prickle along her flesh as he smiled wickedly at her with glowing red eyes.    “What the hell are you?!” The fear crept back into her voice.    “I am what I am.”    She wasn’t aware of stepping back, trying to get away from him, until her back hit the wall. The terror that was beginning to consume her made it hard to speak.    “Wha-what do you want?”    She saw the board and the planchette clutter to the floor, momentarily distracting her.    “It’s quite simple dear,” he murmured. “I want you!”    His hand flew out, snatching her wrist before she could turn and flee. Though she knew no one would hear her, she screamed until only thick black darkness surrounded her.
***
   Minhyuk curls up in his bed, staring despairingly at a picture of himself and Y/N as the audio from the news channel his mother is listening to finds its way into his room.    “...no new information in the disappearance of Y/N Y/L/N who has been missing now for three weeks. The police have confirmed there was no sign of forced entry and are not ruling out the possibility that she may have run away. Her friend, Lee Minhyuk, stands by his statement. He alleges that Y/N had confessed that she suspected she was being followed and that the stalking began after they used a Ouiji board. He claims a demon was released that night and is the cause of her disappearance. He is currently seeking psychiatric help and is not a suspect. If you have any information on this case, you are asked to contact the local police at...”
Thank you so much for reading! Happy Halloween!
15 notes · View notes
childofthemoon86 · 6 years
Text
@francisandtheworldweek Day 2: Victorian era
Third time’s the Charm
Pairing: (pre)FrUk, implied past Frain Characters: France, fem England, America, Canada, fem Spain (mentioned) Rating: k+ Word count: 3520 Cross posted on FF.net Summary: Life hasn’t always been easy for Francis, but when he finds himself forced to hire a new governess to care for his boys while he works, things may just be about to get a whole lot more complicated. Note: Based on the same au as this post I did for FrUk week. 
Sometimes, life is easy. The day goes by like a good summers breeze, everything flows neatly together like an uninterrupted stream. Other times, life is oh so hard. You feel like the weight of the world is pressing down on you, judging you. Even the simplest of things become herculean tasks, and one wrong move is all it takes to be drowned by the rapids. Francis suspects today is going to be one of those days. “Alfred get dressed! Our guest will be here any minute!” He scolds the boy again, that’s three times this morning now. He watches the boy huffily stomp back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him, before returning his attention to the mirror, making last minute adjustments to his cravat and waistcoat. There, now at least he looks presentable, if only the boys were so easy to manage. He spots the boy’s door open again, and this time Alfred finally emerges wearing the clothes Francis had set out for him. Behind him, Matthew slowly trails out. “Matthew, come here mon chou.” Francis smiles as his son makes his way over. With one hand he directs the boy to stand with his back to him, and with the other, he grabs a comb from the desk, quickly getting to work sorting the boy’s bedhead. “I don’t get why we have to get all dressed up.” Alfred complains from the side, before Francis pulls him over and gets to work on his hair too. “Because,” Francis reminds, frowning slightly as he concentrates “it’s important that we all make a good impression.” Finally satisfied, Francis let’s the boys go for the moment, with strict instructions not to get dirty before the guest arrives. While they disappear off into the house, Francis heads for the parlour, checking everything is in order on the way. Really, he knows it’s not strictly necessary for the house to be in perfect order, or for the boys to be so tidy, but he really does want to make a good impression. Of course, he hasn’t exactly told the boys just who is coming, but he suspects Alfred knows. Or at least he hopes that’s why the boy’s been acting out so much lately. Ever since his dear wife died of scarlet fever nearly two years ago, he had been relying on Isabella, their governess to care for them. She had been a good friend, a really good friend and comfort after his loss. Or so he thought, until he found out she was pregnant with another man’s child. As much as it pained him, he had to send her away. For the sake of his boys, he couldn’t be seen to have a governess maintaining relations with another, let alone one who is pregnant. He still hopes she’ll be okay… But now, after three weeks alone and work demands at the factory picking up, he has no choice but to hire a new governess. He was careful in his selection. They had to be smart, good at taking care of such a large house and two young children, and above all else, they must understand their boundaries. Francis won’t be burned again, he’s suffered enough pain. So here he is, anxiously awaiting their arrival. As the grandfather clock chimes ten, three short knocks come at the door. Right on time. Quickly he opens the doors, smiling coldly, he greets, “You must be Alice, correct?” Before him stands a young woman in her early twenties, dressed in a simple white blouse and long green skirt which, Francis berates himself for noticing, brings out her forest green eyes, and her long blonde hair is tied up in two simple pigtails. “Yes sir.” She agrees with a slight bow of the head, and Francis can’t help his smile turning warmer. She clearly knows her place in society, just like he wanted. Still, there’s something in her eyes that makes Francis curious. She doesn’t smile, keeping her face neutral, but it almost feels like she’s frowning at him just from the depths of her eyes. Turning away, he looks back into the house, sighing at the lack of children in sight. “Boys, come here for a moment.” He calls into the parlour, waiting patiently for the sound of two pairs of feet to come running. Once the children are within sight, he ushers them over with a wave of the hand. “I want to introduce you to your new governess,” he smiles, turning to the young woman in the doorway, “Boys, meet Alice. Alice, meet my children and your new charges, Alfred and Matthew.” “Hello, Alfred. Matthew.” She greets in the same neutral tone. As expected, Matthew shyly ducks behind Francis’s legs to hide, he’s always been slow to warm up to new people. But Alfred’s reaction is more unexpected as he curls his hands into fists and angrily stomps his foot. “So your just going to replace Issy? Like you replaced mum?” Al cries, face scrunched up in hurt. “No, mon chou, that’s not-” Francis tries to explain, but Alfred isn’t for listening. “Why do you always have to take everyone away from me?! I hate you!” Before Francis can get another word in, Al throws off his good coat and runs up stairs, the sound of a door slamming comes shortly after. He sighs, placing a hand on Matthew’s back, before returning his attention to Alice. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Alfred has been having some trouble adjusting since I sent their last governess away.” Something like pity flashes across Alice’s eyes before being buried beneath cold indifference. “It’s quite alright. It’s only natural that it will take time for the boys to get used to me.” “Yes,” Francis agrees slowly, before shaking himself out of his stupor, “Anyway, please come in.” He steps aside with Matt still attached to him, letting Alice in before noticing the time. “Merde! Is it that late already?” He panics, if he doesn’t leave now, he’s going to be late to the factory. “There is a list in the study of everything you need to do. If I am not back by six, only make dinner for the boys.” He tells Alice, before turning to kneel by Matt. “Matthew, be a good boy while I am gone, and try to get along with Alice, Alright?” Quietly, Matt nods, before Francis hurries to depart. Now alone with Just Matt, Alice directs her stare to him and demands, “Show me to the study so I may begin.” X Francis sighs tiredly. It’s late, nearly nine o’clock, far later than he planned to return home. On the plus side his textiles are booming, but managing all of the demand from just one factory is almost too much. And he really could have gone without those five accidents today. He really does pity the children that work so hard for him, but that’s just how things are. He made a promise long ago that he would do everything he could to keep his sons from such a life, and if that means working others to the bone, so be it. When he finally returns home, he stands in shock at just how, clean, everything is. He had thought the house was tidy before he left, but he never realised how much dust had built up in the place. Even when Isabella was here, the house never looked this good. It’s also suspiciously quiet. “Alfred? Matthew?” He calls, but the one who greets him is neither. “Welcome home sir.” Alice nods, coming from the direction of the kitchen. “Where are the boys?” “Asleep.” “At this time?” Francis is shocked, they never go to bed when he tells them. “Yes. Alfred was disobedient, so I punished him. And Matthew chose to stay quiet rather than come to me when his brother started the fire, so I had to punish him too.” “Fire?!” “Yes,” Alice repeats, sounding annoyed, “In the back garden, he then attempted to hide in the old oak tree. He refused to come down for several hours, so I sent them both to bed without dinner.” Francis’s mouth opens and closes, before he sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I will have a word with him. He really is a good boy you know, they both are.” Rather than comment, Alice switches the subject, “Would you like me to draw you a bath before dinner?” “Ah, oui, merci.” Nodding, she disappears, leaving Francis to go check on the boys. The sound of sniffling can be heard through the door, and Francis sighs sadly again as he enters. “Oh ma chérie.” He breathes at seeing Al sitting by the window, trying to not cry, but his eyes are still clearly red and puffy. He can see Matt silently watching from his bed to the side too. “What happened? Alice said-” “I hate her!” Al cries, voice sounding chocked, “Why’d you have to bring her here?” “Haa, you know why. I need someone to look after you two while I’m gone.” “But Issy-!” “Isabella can’t come back. Please Alfred, just try to get along with Alice. For me, please?” When Al only sniffles and looks away, Francis turns to Matt, “And Matthew, why didn’t you tell Alice Alfred was misbehaving?” “I don’t like her.” Matt whispers, as if he’s afraid she’ll hear him, “She doesn’t smile, she only shouts at us, and when we told her we were hungry, she sent us to bed.” “And the fire?” “I was just trying to have some fun.” Al protests. “Alright. No more fires from now on, you know that’s dangerous. Now come on, let’s see about getting some dinner in you two.” Francis leads the boys down to the kitchen, where he finds Alice starting to prepare food. “Alice, the boys have something to say to you.” He looks to them expectantly, and begrudgingly they apologise. “Good, now would you make them some supper as well?” She frowns at them slightly before nodding, “If that is what you want sir.” “It is.” “Very well. Your bath is ready, dinner should be served once your done.” “Good, now boys, be nice.” Before Francis can leave, Alice turns to him, “Will you be needing any assistance?” “No, just leave a fresh set of clothes out for me, that will be all.” “As you wish sir.” X Dinner wasn’t what Francis had expected, but at least the boys seemed to be trying to get along with Alice. Or maybe they were simply too hungry to cause trouble. Either way Francis is relieved. Over the course of the next few weeks they settle into a new routine, and, thankfully, the number of incidents goes down, but Alfred and Matthew still seem distant around Alice. Francis knows he can’t force them to get along, but he really does wish things would be better. Maybe they just need more time. And for a while, things remained the same, stagnant. Until one night on All Hallows’ Eve. Francis returned home early for once, something Alice clearly hadn’t planned for. When he arrived, he was surprised to find the house in complete darkness. Curious, he headed up to the boy’s rooms, shocked to find it locked, and even more so to hear his sons crying inside. Hurriedly, Francis found the spare key in the study, and through the door open to find his sons huddled together on Al’s bed, crying and shaking. “Boys! What’s wrong, what happened, where’s Alice?” But no matter how much he asked, neither of his sons could give him a coherent answer, so Francis was left with no choice but to go looking for the one who should be caring for them. “Stay here, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” He knows Alice has a tendency to be strict with the boys, but she has never broken his rule against striking the children, and he can see no sign of injuries, so something else must have frightened them. But as he wonders the house, he feels a strange chill run down his spine, and has the foreboding sense of being watched. He makes his way to the kitchen, but still no sign of Alice. But as he turns to leave, he hears the screech of a chair, and turns just in time to see it flying through the air, straight for him. Francis ducks and the chair sails over his head, but before he has time to process what’s happening, another two are mysteriously launched at him. He dodges one, but the second hits his back, knocking him to the ground. Winded, he shivers suddenly feeling ice cold, and a voice he thought he’d never hear again whispers, “why did you betray meeee?” Confused, he looks up, only for his blood to run cold and the colour drain from his face as he comes face to face with his deceased wife. “Why did you betray meeeee?!” She screeched, snatching a knife from the counter, and plunging it down on him. He closes his eyes and braces for the pain, but, it never comes. After a few tense seconds, he peaks an eye open to see his wife, or rather her ghost, frozen in place, knife dangling mere inches from his neck. Her mouth and eyes hang open in a soundless scream, and it’s then that he notices just how transparent she is. He can see right through her. Snapping out of his shock, he scrambles back until he hits the wall behind him, staring in terror. Then he notices something else, a thin green light, crackling like that strange new electricity, is wrapped around the ghost’s body like a rope. Then, he hears a voice, one he knows is very real, and very much alive. “Run Francis! I can’t hold her much longer!” Francis wonders how he never noticed her before now, but there is Alice, leaning heavily against the kitchen doorway, the dark lit by the glow of her eyes. “Run! Run to the children!” Had Francis more of his sense about him, he might have noticed how out of breath and tired Alice sounds, but at that moment, all he can think about is getting away, away and to find his precious boys. So he ran, scrambling to his feet, he dives through the pantry, out to the parlour, into the hall, up the stairs, and down the corridor to the boy’s room, all the while cursing how big the house is. He bursts in, and launches himself at the pair, still huddled together where he left them. He holds them close as his heart races. Below, a pained screech rings out, and a terrible crash clatters throughout the house as a blinding white light seems to emanate from the very air itself, before everything falls horribly silent and darkness returns. It takes more courage than Francis ever thought himself to possess before that night to lead his boys out and down the stairs, determined to get them out. But before he opens the front door, he turns to look towards the kitchen. Taking a breath to steady his nerves, he tells his sons to wait for him here. Quietly, he slinks into the kitchen, where everything is worryingly still. But no ghost is in sight, and, if he had not been looking, he might not of heard the shallow breathing by the pantry. “Alice!” He hurries over to her, finding her lying amongst the vegetables. “It’s okay,” she tells him weakly, and for the first time, she smiles, “Your safe. Your all safe,” before passing out. X Birds chirp in the trees by the house as Francis paces by Alice’s bed, his boys sitting outside listening in. Alice, the governess he so carefully picked for his sons, after last night, she can only be one thing. She must be a witch. But can witches be good? Francis may not be the most religious of people, but even he knows that God disapproves of witches, they’re work is the devils work after all. She did save him, of that much he’s sure. But to what end? To think, a witch living under his roof all this time. That he trusted her to care for them, for his boys! But… every time he thinks of kicking her out, of running to the nearest church to deal with her, he remembers her smile, and his heart aches at the thought of any harm coming to that gentle look. When she starts to stir, he halts his pacing. He knows what he has to do, and no matter how much it pains him, he has to know just what she intends to do. “Alice?” “Mmmhh….” “Alice, wake up.” She slowly blinks awake, confused eyes falling on him, before she suddenly sits up, “Sir!” Francis holds a hand out to stop her, frowning coldly down at her. “I have questions, and by God’s grace, you will answer me truthfully or so help me-!” He cuts himself off, blowing a breath out his nose, before restarting. “Are you a witch?” Alice looks away, her gaze falling to her hands folded in her lap. “Yes.” Francis knew it to be true, but hearing her admit it is still a shock. “What happened last night?” Slowly she looks up to meet his gaze, her eyes cold and swirling with a depth that’s almost terrifying to look at. “This house, from the first day I came here, I knew it was haunted. A vengeful spirit had been trying to bring harm upon you. You were supposed to be out late, you shouldn’t have returned before the ritual was done.” She frowns, “But you did.” “Ritual?” Francis doesn’t know if he should sound shocked or disbelieving. “Yes, to purge it from the house.” “And you were going to do this with the boys around?” This time he knows he sounds aghast at the idea of putting his boys in such danger. “No, I kept them out of harms way. I locked them in their room, I’d been warding it for a few weeks, no spirit can enter there now.” “This is ridiculous.” Francis shakes his head in disbelief. Alice looks away again, quietly mumbling, “I know you probably don’t believe me, but I was doing this to protect you.” “By putting my life in danger?!” “No! I never meant for you to be put at risk. The vail between the worlds is at it’s weakest on All Hallows’ Eve, the closer it got to then, the stronger the spirit became. I had to stop it, and last night was my best chance.” “… why?” “Eh?” Confused by the sudden change in Francis’s tone, Alice looks up. “Why did you do this? Why not just leave? A smart woman like you, I’m sure you’d find someone else to hire you. Wouldn’t it have been easier for you?” “I…” Alice frowns, unable to keep looking at Francis, she turns her head away, a blush tinting her cheeks red and her hands bundling the sheets in her fists. “What?” Francis blinks, “I didn’t hear you.” Alice mumbles something again, but it’s still to indistinctive for Francis to hear. “Sorry? Please, speak up.” “Because I have feelings for you!” She blurts, her face bright red and eyes slammed shut in embarrassment. Francis can only stare in shock, he had no idea she felt that way about him. All this time, he had been so determined not to fall for another, he never thought about how Alice might feel. “I… I couldn’t just walk away, and I couldn’t turn a blind eye. Not when I… cared so much for you.” She sighs, tears falling down her cheeks of their own accord. “But I know nothing can ever come of these feelings, so I tried to forget them, to push them away. But, that only made it hurt more every time I looked at you. I-I’m sorry things didn’t go how I planned, just please, please don’t hate me.” Francis continued to stare, mouth working, but no sound coming out. But the longer he stood there, watching Alice cry, the more his heart twisted painfully in his chest. And rather suddenly, he realised, he wanted to make those tears go away, he wanted to take all her pain away. He wants to see her smile again. Gently, he lifts a hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the tear tracks, smiling softly he whispers, “I don’t hate you.” He watches as those words cause a glimmer of hope to flash in her eyes, and his heart twists more at the look. Sighing softly, he gives in. Francis is no fool, he knows exactly what this feeling is, he’s just been trying to ignore it, but really, how can anyone ignore love? Slowly he leans down, and, in a single breath, kisses her. It only lasts a moment, but when he pulls back, he sees that beautiful smile again, and that makes it all worth it. Perhaps it’s as they say, third time’s the charm.
24 notes · View notes