#the way the sky combined the blue and gold lighting from the first two shots of them each alone in the final shots of them just wrecked me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

powdermelonkeg · 3 years

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So, BO2W Breakdown

Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one.

Here we’ve got Ganon’s...energy taking over Link’s arm. Ordinarily, I’d call it Malice, but based on what it turns into, I’m just going to be calling it corruption. We don’t get much information from this scene besides this expression:

Link’s grabbing the corruption with his other hand, and wincing. It looks painful. I personally think it’s for cinematic effect that it was included, but it COULD be a gateway into a Phantom Hourglass sort of mechanic--Link has to function on a time limit, or using the corruption’s power could drain his life.

Next we’ve got a closeup of Ganondorf. F in chat to the rehydration theorists.

And the closeups of his jewelry. The only significant thing I can see is his necklace, which looks like a cross between the Gerudo symbol and a Fleur de Lis:

But what I’M most interested in is this tie on his belt:

For one, it’s WAY bigger than it needs to be, and that’s deliberate. Ganondorf’s got a jewelry aesthetic he’s already hit above; everything else is gold, why not this bit?

Most importantly, you can barely make it out, but the designs either look Sheikah or Zonai--they’ve got that same kind of swirly busy pattern to them. The red tint and tan-ish lines in it makes me think it’s possessed Sheikah tech.

Next, we’re shown Zelda falling. This looks like it happens right after these two caps from the first trailer:

So we reach for her as the ground collapses, and evidently, we fail to pull her back up. So my next question for that scene is going to be what the in-game reason is for us not diving in right after her. Maybe we won’t get one, since the appeal of the original BOTW was that you could fight Ganon whenever you wanted.

Up next, we’ve got a skydiving shot:

The first thing to notice is that Link’s pose while skydiving is just about identical to his pose in Skyward Sword:

Second is that, yes, he’s falling towards a floating island, and that in itself is noteworthy, but he’s FALLING. There’s something either above him that he jumped off of, or a force that carried him high enough TO fall, and I doubt Nintendo’s encouraging magnesis flying.

So, there’s a few options: Loftwings making a return (which is unlikely, but a hope I have), something like Revali’s Gale boosting Link up for a cinematic shot, indicating that the corruption arm has that kind of power, or islands higher than the one shown here.

Now the island itself:

In Skyward Sword, Skyloft looks like this:

And (spoiler alert) we loose this island here over the course of the game:

Now, it’s not a PERFECT 1:1 match, as most things between games aren’t, but a quick rotate and overlay shows it’s got the same kinds of shapes between the two. The same “W” shape along the eastern side, the same tiny island off the northeast point, the same relative edges.

Now, I don’t know what happened to the plaza at South Skyloft, or the Knight’s Academy isle, but it could very easily be drift away from the central island.

The presence of other islands through the clouds seems to support that theory. Now let’s look at Link here:

The outfit is new. We haven’t, to my knowledge, seen one of this design in other games. My gut reaction to this image was “oh, we go back in time and we’re the first hero now!” because it’s vaguely reminiscent of Tapestry Hero.

But upon closer inspection, that theory’s null and void. Under Link’s tunic in the image above, you can see that he’s still wearing the shorts he woke up in in the first game. So either Sheikah boxers haven’t changed in 10,000 years, or it’s taking place in present day. Jokes aside, I’m curious to know if the outfit he’s wearing is modeled after Tapestry Hero.

Next thing to point out is the obvious:

Link’s arm here looks less prosthetic and more...withered, I almost want to say. The corruption here’s made his hand look frailer, and armored them up with Zonai patterns before it fades out at his shoulder. Based on how the tattoos look, I think they’re an artifact of the corruption taking hold.

Also, the belt here:

Aesthetic purposes, or specific function? The presence of the second, smaller one on the side reminds me of Skyward Sword’s adventure pouch, which could be how the new game handles inventory size:

Next we’ve got another flying shot:

It seems like he’s flying towards Ruined Skyloft, and you can see the bottoms of islands above it, possibly meaning that the sky serves as more than just a hub world like it did in Skyward.

Now let’s look at the paraglider he’s using. It’s new.

This is how the paraglider looks in the original BOTW. It looks like we still have the Rito symbol in the center, but other than that, there’s a LOT of changes here.

First off is the color. We’re now blue and gold. The shade of blue makes me think of the Kochi Dye Shop’s navy blue:

So, possibly a dyeable paraglider?

The new pattern surrounding the Rito symbol makes me think that it’s combining the paraglider with Skyward Sword’s sailcloth:

Other than that, there isn’t much else to say about the paraglider besides the handles looking like they’re made of bone. Craftable paragliders? God, I hope not.

Back to Link:

Here we have him in different gear than the last shot. He’s wearing the snow boots, he has a shield with a stylized Eye of Truth looking upwards, and he looks like he’s carrying a traveler’s sword and an unknown bow. The presence of the bow makes me think that the shield here is a lower tier item, rather than this game’s Hylian Shield equivalent.

Now, let’s get a better look at the horizon:

The trees here look a lot like the smaller trees you can find in Akkala, but there’s a distinct lack of red among them.

Then it looks like we’ve got some ruins at the furthest isle.

Whatever the rock formations are over there, they don’t LOOK natural.

Another thing I noticed is the bottoms of the islands.

These look a little too geometric to be natural, too. Now, this one, I’m a little muddy on, because it COULD be a stylistic choice. But it also reminds me of the Shrines if you clip out of bounds:

And a little bit of the dormant Gate of Time from Skyward:

My money’s on the cube-like nature of the islands’ undersides being deliberate, rather than just a far-off render.

And then there’s this thing!

What is it? It doesn’t look broken at all; look how nicely the roof(?) is kept. The ribbing on the sides makes me think it might be a Zonai thing, but the shape makes it difficult to figure out. A giant temple? An airship? A sloped coliseum? This thing haunts and vexes me.

Our next shot is presumably from one of the islands, based on the color. Here we can see that there are definitely ruins all over the place. Link is in the same gear as before, so I won’t touch on him.

This, however, has my interest. The design here has more geometric patterns--Zonai ruins?

We’ve got another one off in the distance here. Sky checkpoints, like Sheikah towers?

Now this guy here. There’s a LOT to look at. First off is the eye design, it’s the same sort of upward looking one that Link has on his shield in the previous shots.

The energy that’s pulling this thing towards its base looks like the same green energy that surrounds the arm holding Gan in place in Trailer One:

This stuff. That, plus the fact that the robot has to be pulled into its base rather than just existing, implies that either A: Link activates it himself, like a trial thing, or B: that the green energy here functions in the same way Malice does in the original BOTW.

This pattern at its base is intriguing, too. I don’t recognize the gold symbol in the center, but the green around it reminds me of the portals from Twilight Princess.

Which, yes, everyone’s already said that the Twilight Princess patterns look like Zonai things. But another thing this weird dial thing reminds me of is from Lanayru Desert:

On top of that, the color palette of this guy looks like that of the Lanayru Robots from Skyward:

BO2W robot on the left, Lanayru robot on the right. Given that Skyward is a lot more vibrant than other non-Toon Zelda games, I think this is a fair enough comparison to draw similarities from.

And then we get a closer view of the sky ruins from the last shot. I don’t know if the geometric pattern in the corner is a deliberate carving, or wear from time, but since the pattern looks ALMOST mirrored around the corner, I’m going to go with the former.

A better shot a few frames later. The robot has HANDS, which I do not like in any way shape or form. However, we get a better look at the sky ruins.

We haven’t seen this style of stairs before, to my knowledge. The pedestal out front looks like a light source, and it has the same floral egg thing the robot above has on each shoulder; the eggs could easily be a power source for Zonai tech. And at the top of the stairs, we see a pedestal, backing up the theory that these ruins function as our new Sheikah towers.

This is our next shot. Which...

Unikoblins. Can we talk about that? UNIKOBLINS.

Anyways, Link is here again in his old clothes. This is a very early game shot, because his right arm isn’t corrupted yet; this means we get to explore Hyrule before we embark on the main quest. Which gives rise to a question: Where’s Zelda?

The hopeful side of me wants to say that she’s a tutorial companion, like Navi or Tatl, at least for the beginning here. The pessimistic side of me thinks that she’s waiting for us at a predetermined location, and this is just part of getting to her.

Now the unikoblin structure itself is built on a Talus, meaning that the dev team at least intends to have more inter-monster interactions. But if you kill the Talus, does that mean that the base falls apart, or does it just drop down as a separate entity?

Also, what are these background ruins? The one on the left looks like it’s a distinctly different style than the one on the right. It looks almost like a giant guardian arm.

Our next shot is Link’s arm getting corrupted. Which, first of all, the effects look beautiful.

Now, we can see a corner of Link’s hip here, and we know that this is his right arm. So Link’s lying down here. Unconscious? Knowing how Zelda games like to start with Link waking up, probably. Although it looks like at least part of his shorts got an update.

We can see what looks like circuits here. It looks a bit like the electricity puzzles you can find in the Divine Beasts and Shrines in the original.

Then we’ve got these strange symbols.

Whatever this circular stone he’s lying on is, it looks a lot like the Zonai puzzle from the “A Fragmented Monument” sidequest.

This one that everyone thought was the Mirror of Twilight for years.

Our next shot is Link using the corruption powers against enemies:

The spike ball itself looks solid; the question is, is this a duplication power, or a visualization of how the spike ball is set into motion?

We see it barreling over a poor Unikoblin or two, but I’d like to turn your attention to the Moblin and the background.

The moblins here have helmets, and the bases, while they carry the same design, look like they have more cause and effect in mind. The left base’s rock, for instance; that’s a lot bigger than the rocks we got to play with in the last game, and it looks like we can barrel anything in the screen over with it.

The helmet, though, concerns me a little bit. It looks natural rather than forged; like it’s the moblin’s horn, just very much deformed. Does it mean a harder enemy, or is it just for flavor?

Our next shot is this strange flower thing. Note that Link’s right arm is perfectly fine in this shot, meaning that it’s still early game.

This is what Link’s flamethrower looks like. And this:

Is Zonai art.

So the question is, what IS the flamethrower? My first thought was that it’s either a new item in its own, or it’s a Sheikah Slate upgrade. The latter might sound a little far fetched, but Link in this game is right-handed, and in BOTW, he always held the slate in his LEFT hand when using it.

We have more of the weird faded designs that we saw on the Sky ruins:

And we’ve got some kind of pedestal or stage behind the ground flower thing:

It looks like it’s either an altar or a grave, from what I can tell. The stairs aren’t the same design as the ones in the sky, and there aren’t any patterns on it.

More importantly, though, is that this place is underground. This could be a part of the game you’re required to go through, in order to get to Raisin Gan.

A few seconds later, though, we get our answer to what the flamethrower is!

It’s a shield!

Off to the left side, we can see pillars with more weird scribblings towards the top. These match the Sky ruins’ pillar shape, with a narrow base and a wider top.

Our next scene is...weird.

We see a puddle splash in reverse. It’s hard to tell if it’s actually water or not, but the design on the ground implies that it’s either been there for a long time, or that that’s a dedicated splash spot. And the quality and zoom makes me think that this is part of a cutscene. Return of the timeshift stones?

We then see Link...surfacing out of the island? I don’t know how else to describe it. However, his arm is changed again, and glowing, meaning that this is a corruption power. And the “water” he rises out of here looks a lot like the puddle in the last clip.

We get a good look at the Zonai Lights:

A Sky ruin that looks like it contains a room:

And a glimpse of other isles’ ruins in the far distance.

And then as the camera zooms out...

We can place a location!

We’re right over Thundra Plateau!

We also get a mildly better look at the back wall of the sky ruin, which looks to be some kind of table:

The next scene is Hyrule Castle:

The ground shakes and it starts to rise up. However, notice that the columns surrounding the castle are now missing.

We’ve also got red sparks in the air, like we would have in a blood moon. However, due to the sky color, we can assume that this is a conscious decision by Gan himself, and that he isn’t drawing power from his surroundings.

We then see that power bleeding out of the ground. It’s MUCH more red than Malice is, which has always been a kind of burnt pink-ish color.

However, even though Ganon lifts the castle up, he doesn’t lift it very high.

The castle’s about triple the height it was. But since we’re talking Skyloft levels of floating islands, this is still pretty ground-level. What’s interesting to me, though, is that in this shot, despite the game now being about sky islands that we should be able to see from ground level...there aren’t any here. This, to me, means that there’s going to be a sudden appearance of the isles in the sky, rather than them simply being accessible now.

And that’s the whole trailer! I have many questions.

My blog! If you have any opnions/questions/theories, feel free to drop an ask!

Part 2 is up! We missed a lot!

#botw #botw2 #bo2w #the breath just got wilder #breakdown #analysis #e3 #trailer #theory #zelda #loz #nintendo

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olivemac · 3 years

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1300 miles | chapter one | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, Sarge), smut (f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, slight dom!Bucky, praise kink), angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

A/N | It’s my birthday, so to celebrate I’m sharing chapter one of my new WIP. This started its life as a one-shot but then my enneagram 4 brain took over and now it’s looking like it’ll be a multi-chapter short. Enjoy!

Also, feedback – comments, likes, etc. – is always appreciated, my loves.

AO3 link | 1300 miles playlist

_____

The sun is just starting to sink in the sky as Sam and Bucky finish the latest repairs on the boat. Sam has spent the last hour pestering Bucky about things he’s missed over the last 80 years — things he needs to do, shows and movies he needs to watch, music to listen to, places to go. Bucky is considering the consequences of putting his vibranium fist through the new Captain America’s face.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been to New Orleans?” Sam half-shouts at Bucky in amusement.

“Sam, besides the airport, when would I have been to New Orleans?” Bucky sighs.

“We’re going. Tonight.” He stands up. “But none of that Bourbon Street bullshit. I know a place,” he says.

_____

The bar is crowded on a Saturday night, but they manage to find a table near the small stage where a band is setting up.

“I’ll get drinks,” Sam says, heading to the bar.

“Sam said he knows the owners?” Bucky asks Sarah.

“Jo and Danny. Yeah,” Sarah says. “Danny served with Sam on his last tour. Real young kid when he served. Took some shrapnel to the chest and face in an RPG explosion and got out early. He and Sam kept in touch.”

Bucky watches Sam talk to a man with a mop of curly, brown hair and an auburn beard behind the bar. From where he sits, Bucky can see a jagged scar peeking out from the top of the man’s beard over his cheek, stopping just below his right eye.

Sam returns with three beers. "Danny says hi," he tells Sarah. "Says he'll come over when he has a free minute."

"Jo around?" Sarah asks.

Sam nods toward the stage. "She's playing tonight. Danny says she's in the office rewriting the set list."

Bucky sips his beer and looks around. When they entered, there was a wave of enthusiasm as people recognized Sam as Captain America, but it seems to have died down and now no one is paying them much attention. Bucky prefers it that way, though he’s happy that people are excited for Sam.

“Speak of the devil,” Sam says, smiling and nodding toward a woman emerging from a door beside the bar marked ‘Employees Only.’ She’s wearing a loose-fitting white tank tucked into light-wash jeans cuffed just above a pair of black combat boots. Her wavy, dark hair fans out behind her as she rushes towards the stage. She's clutching a piece of paper in one hand, and the smile on her face makes Bucky's heart stutter for a moment.

Sam catches the way Bucky is watching Jo as she jumps onto the stage. He elbows Sarah and nods at the lovestruck look on Bucky's face, and they share a smirk. Bucky doesn't notice the exchange. He's too busy studying Jo. Her arms are covered in tattoos, from shoulders to fingers. When she tucks a strand of hair behind her left ear, Bucky can see the row of piercings adorning the curve of her ear. There's a gold ring between her nostrils. Bucky's seen some of the kids in Brooklyn with that piercing, but he doesn't know what it's called. He's seen plenty of women like her since moving back to New York — with tattoos and piercings and dark hair — but there's something about the combination with her green eyes and soft smile that makes his mouth go dry and his palm sweat.

He takes another sip of his beer to ground himself.

Jo picks up an acoustic-electric guitar from its stand, swings the strap over her shoulder, and plugs the guitar into a small amp at her feet. She raises her right hand in the air and sets a count with her fingers — one, two, three, four. The band starts, and Jo strums the guitar, smiling at the crowd. When she steps up to the microphone and opens her mouth, Bucky is surprised at how sweet her voice sounds. He was expecting it to be rougher, but it's gentle and warm, and he likes the way her mouth looks as it forms the words to the song.

Next to him, Sam taps his foot along to the music. Bucky can't remember the last time he saw a band play live. God, he thinks, it was before the war, before everything. He takes another sip of his beer before Sarah hands him a fresh bottle. He hadn't even noticed that she'd left the table and gone to the bar. He smiles and nods his thanks.

Sarah leans over and whispers to Bucky just loud enough for Sam to hear, as well, "You should ask her out after the show."

Bucky grimaces and shakes his head. As he told Yori once, there's a dance to these things, and he's eighty years out of practice. Plus, his last date didn't exactly go as planned.

But he can't stop staring at Jo's painted black nails and tattooed fingers as they move across the guitar strings. LOVE is written across the top knuckles of her right hand, HATE on the left. A series of lines and dots decorate her lower knuckles. There’s a snake curling around her left wrist, its inked head resting on her hand, and several large peonies cover the back of her right hand and up her forearm. Bucky wonders what her tattooed hands would look like wrapped around his cock. He also wonders where else on her body she has tattoos and what that voice would sound like when he's between her thighs. Fuck.

The band transitions into another song, and Jo's eyes land on Bucky. She's used to people staring at her, especially when she's on stage, but she's caught by the way his eyes never leave her, never wander to look at the band's female bassist or to Sarah sitting next to him. She's certain his stare could burn a hole right through her, and she wouldn't even complain. He’s fucking gorgeous.

She knows who he is, of course. She’s seen the recent footage of him with Sam in New York and read the Times article detailing his move from assassin to almost Avenger. Plus, her twin brother, Danny, was a bit of a history nerd as a kid so she’s definitely seen a Captain America documentary that mentioned the Howling Commandos. And they may or may not have hidden a fugitive Captain America and Falcon following the Accords.

Jo tears her eyes away from the super soldier and focuses on the rest of the audience. She can see Danny behind the bar, flirting with the man he's been trying to sleep with for the past two weeks. She catches his eye and smiles her encouragement between lyrics. Get his number! she tries to say with her eyes. Danny's usually pretty good at reading her mind. She doesn't know if it's a brother thing or a twin thing or just a Danny thing, but when he holds up his phone in surrender and smiles back at her, she knows he got the message.

The first half of their set ends with a crash of drums and a long guitar riff. Jo takes a swig from the mason jar full of water she keeps on stage. Her eyes meet Bucky's again as she swallows, and he licks his bottom lip. Heat curls in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what else that tongue could do.

Willow, the band's bassist, steps over and whispers in Jo's ear, “If you don’t fuck him after the show, I’m going to."

When Jo looks at her, she can see the amusement dancing in Willow's eyes. She rolls her own eyes and avoids looking directly at Bucky for the rest of the set.

_____

After the last song, Jo thanks the crowd and helps the rest of the band tidy up the stage, unplugging amps and turning off the mics. She's still trying not to look at Bucky, even though she can feel his eyes on her.

"You have to stop staring, man," Sam whispers to Bucky.

"I'm not staring," Bucky grumbles.

Sarah laughs, "You're definitely staring."

“Here," Sam says, "I'll introduce you." And before Bucky can protest, Sam is waving Jo over. "Josephine," Sam says, hugging her.

"Samuel," she returns, smiling. "Congrats on the new gig." She punches his shoulder lightly. "Better you than that John Walker douchebag," she says. Bucky snorts, and she catches his eye and smirks before turning to Sarah. "Hey, Sarah." They exchange pleasantries while Bucky tries to get his tongue to turn back from lead.

Sam points at Bucky, "This is—"

Bucky stands. "Bucky. Barnes."

Jo smiles and shakes his gloved hand. "Jo. Landry," she says, matching his cadence.

Sam was right. Bucky can't stop staring at her. This close, he can see there's a bit of gold in the green of her eyes and a slight gap between her two front teeth. She smells like sandalwood and citrus and just a little bit like pot.

Jo returns his stare. His five o’clock shadow doesn’t hide the dimple in his chin, and she briefly imagines pressing her lips against it. She’s trying to name the exact shade of blue of his eyes when Sam clears his throat.

She’s not usually so easily flustered by attractive people, but Bucky's blue eyes and chiseled jaw have done a number on her self-control. “Let me grab a drink,” Jo says, turning quickly.

“No need,” Danny says, appearing in front of her and handing her a glass. He leans in and whispers in her ear, “He’s cute.”

“Please fuck off,” Jo hisses in return, widening her eyes at him. She’s only half-serious, and Danny knows it. It’s a twin thing.

When she looks at Bucky again, he’s smirking, and she wonders if enhanced hearing is a super soldier trait. Bucky pulls out the fourth chair at the small table for her to sit, and Jo can't remember the last time someone did that for her.

"The show was great," Sarah says, grabbing Jo's attention.

"Thanks," Jo replies. "Took a while to get back to it after…” she snaps her fingers but doesn’t finish her sentence.

"You were snapped?" Bucky asks.

Jo nods. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

"Cheers," she says sarcastically, raising her glass in a toast. She shakes her head again and pushes her hair behind her ear. "Five years just," she holds her hands open, "gone. Danny was still here, holding all this together by himself."

She tucks one leg under the other, and her knee bumps Bucky’s beneath the table. When she moves to pull her knee away from his, he places a gloved hand on her thigh, holding her leg in place.

Bucky surprises even himself with this move. He hasn’t been this forward with a woman since an auburn-haired nurse in Italy during the war. With her, it was all hands and mouths and skin on skin because he was certain he was going to die any day. Now he supposedly has all the time in the world. He just isn’t sure what he wants to do with it.

But in this moment, he's comfortable here, in this tiny bar, with a beer in his hand and Jo's knee pressed against his. He's confident that Sam would never introduce him to someone he couldn't trust.

Bucky's flirted with Sarah, sure, but that was mostly to irritate to Sam. And as much as he doesn't want to admit it, the thought of something happening between himself and Sarah and then ending badly and ruining his relationship with Sam makes his stomach hurt. Pursuing Jo seems safer in that regard. She and Sam are friends, but if — when, he thinks — he ruins things, he can just go back to New York instead of losing his only friend.

Jo asks Sarah about AJ and Cass to distract herself from the butterflies forming in her stomach at Bucky’s touch, and Sam starts a story about the boys' latest interests. Bucky is content to listen to the three of them talk, his eyes barely leaving Jo. When she flicks her gaze over to him every now and then, she doesn't seem phased by his staring, and she hasn't pulled her knee away from where it's softly touching his. After a while, Danny emerges from behind the bar and joins their table, introducing himself to Bucky with a firm handshake.

While Danny and Sam trade updates about people they know, Jo leans towards Bucky and asks, “You want another drink?”

“Sure,” Bucky replies.

Jo doesn’t say anything else, just nods her head toward the bar, stands, and offers Bucky her hand. He takes it, the leather glove of his right hand warm against her palm. He wishes he could feel her skin without the gloves between them. He doesn’t usually wear them around Sam and Sarah and everyone in Delacroix, but he wasn’t sure how the metal arm would be perceived at this bar he’s never been to. Sam told him not to worry about it, but Bucky doesn’t like to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Jo leads him through the sea of tables to a barstool, then moves behind the bar and grabs him a fresh bottle of the beer he's been drinking all night. "Unless you want something stronger," she says, pausing before she hands it to him.

"This is good," Bucky replies.

She pops the top and hands him the bottle. He takes a sip as he watches her maneuver around the bartender on duty to fix herself another whiskey sour before taking a seat on the barstool next to him.

"Full disclosure; because it's only fair," she says, taking a sip of her drink. "I know who you are, Sergeant Barnes. Not the whole story, but bits and pieces."

Bucky pauses. He searches her eyes for the fear he's expecting but finds none. "And you're okay with that?" he asks.

Jo quirks the corner of her mouth up in a half-smile and says, “If Sam trusts you, I trust you."

“I’m not great with meeting new people, and I was telling myself the same thing about you," Bucky admits, almost sheepishly.

“You know we can never tell Sam about this, right?" Jo says, conspiratorially. "We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Never,” Bucky agrees, and knocks his beer bottle lightly against her glass in understanding.

They talk for a while, just the two of them alone at the end of the bar. Jo asks him how he likes Louisiana ("Hot, but the people are friendly"); where he's staying ("Sarah's"); when he's heading back to New York ("A week from tomorrow"); what he likes to do for fun ("Still figuring that out"); his favorite place ("Wakanda") and favorite book ("The Hobbit"); and a myriad of other questions — some of which Bucky answers easily and some that make him pause. He makes her give her own answers to each one in turn.

Jo leans close to Bucky so she can hear him over the noise of the room, and he takes the opportunity to study her features more closely. He's practically mapped all of her face when her eyes leave his for a brief second and land on Sam, Sarah, and Danny staring at them from the table across the room.

"Don't look now," she whispers, leaning even closer, "But we seem to have an audience."

Bucky makes a big show of looking over his shoulder at the group.

"I said 'don't look!'" Jo laughs and swats casually at his arm.

Bucky takes the opportunity to pin her hand with his own, holding it tightly and licking his bottom lip before smiling at her. He can see the blush paint her cheeks and creep down her neck and chest.

He likes Jo, likes how easy it feels to be around her. He isn't used to that. He isn't used to feeling comfortable with people. Hell, he thinks, I barely feel comfortable with myself. But there's something about Jo that makes him feel safe and calm. Of course, there's attraction there — plenty of it — but he's sure it's more than that.

For her part, Jo is enamored with Bucky. She likes his hard edges and his snark, but she also likes the small glimpses he's given her of the man beneath all of that. She doesn't usually fall for people so easily, but she's found herself drowning in the sea of blues that make up Bucky's eyes, and she doesn't want to be rescued. How fucking cliche, she tells herself.

"We should probably go back over there," Bucky says, squeezing her hand once before releasing it.

They both stand and make their way back to the table. Bucky pulls Jo's chair out for her again, but this time, he makes sure to pull it a little closer to his chair in the process. This doesn't go unnoticed by Sam who smirks at him. Bucky returns the smirk with a thin-lipped smile of his own before scooting even closer to Jo.

Jo finds it hard to focus on the conversation in front of her with Bucky's warm body so close to her own, and she realizes she misses the pleasant feeling of his gloved hand around hers. She places her own hand on his thigh and hopes he gets the hint.

Bucky’s fascinated by even the slightest movements of Jo's tattooed fingers, and when her hand rests on his denim-clad thigh, he thinks the sight alone might kill him. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls the glove off his right hand and links his own flesh and bone fingers with hers.

Jo doesn't look at Bucky — she's trying not to draw attention to her hand in his lap — but Bucky watches the corner of her mouth quirk upwards into a smile, and he squeezes her hand in response.

The conversation continues a bit longer before Danny leaves the table to check in with his bartender. Jo excuses herself to get another drink, and Bucky watches her pop behind the bar to fill a glass for herself.

"I need to get home, relieve the babysitter," Sarah says when she finishes her beer.

"We're heading out then," Sam says, then turns to Bucky, "You coming?"

Bucky looks toward Jo and says, "No, I'm gonna stick around. I'll get a cab back or get a hotel room in the city."

Sam smirks. "I don't think you're gonna need a hotel room, man."

Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Just promise me you'll use protection," Sam laughs. "We don't need any little super soldiers running around just yet."

Bucky gives him a sarcastic smile, but realizes Sam's probably right, and he definitely doesn't have any condoms in his wallet. He's not planning on sleeping with Jo tonight — he just met her, and he's not sure he's ready for that yet — but if the army taught him anything, it's to be prepared. As if reading his mind, Sam pulls out his wallet and places a condom in Bucky's palm before pulling him in for a hug and clapping him on the back.

"Have fun, man," Sam says.

Sam and Sarah say their goodbyes to Danny and Jo on their way out, and Bucky joins Jo at the bar, sitting on the barstool next to her where they sat earlier.

"Sticking around, soldier?" she asks. She reaches for his dog tags and tugs them gently. The drinks have been strong, and she's feeling more flirtatious than she would otherwise.

"If you don't mind," Bucky replies.

Jo smiles and reaches for his hand this time. "Not at all."

"Are you gonna finish your interrogation of me?" Bucky asks, amusement apparent in his voice.

Jo laughs in return. “I thought I'd read your palm instead," she says, turning his hand over in her own.

Bucky snorts but doesn't pull his hand away. "Is this a trick you use on all the guys?"

"And girls," Jo says, meeting his eyes. Then she studies his hand carefully, running her index finger across the lines that crisscross his palm.

"Your dominant hand," she continues, "determines your future, while your non-dominant hand is tied to your past."

Bucky snorts again at the truth of it all.

"I'm not making this up!" Jo laughs. "I mean, someone did, but I'm not!" She can see the laughter shining in Bucky's eyes, so she goes on, "Your head line is deep, meaning your thinking is clear and focused, but it's also curved downward which indicates a creative spirit and an appetite for literature and fantasy." She looks up at him, "Explains the love for Tolkien."

"I'm not sure I'm buying this," Bucky says.

"You've literally fought aliens, and you're gonna give me a hard time over palm reading," Jo laughs.

"The aliens were real," Bucky deadpans.

"And in New Orleans, palm reading and psychics and crystal balls and voodoo are real," Jo says, still laughing. "But I promise not to read your palm again or read your aura or get out the tarot cards."

Bucky likes the way her slight accent makes New Orleans sound more like Nawlins. He also likes the sound of her laughter and the way her face lights up when she smiles. She's still holding his hand in her own, so he turns his palm over in hers and brings her tattooed knuckles to his lips.

_____

Meanwhile, the bar closes, and Danny and the bartender clean glasses and close up for the night.

Danny points at Jo as he comes around the bar. "I’m locking up then heading upstairs," he says.

"Thanks, love," Jo replies.

Danny walks the bartender out and locks the front door, then retraces his steps to the back of the bar. On his way past Jo, he stops and kisses her on the cheek, saying, "Be good. And set the alarm."

He turns to Bucky. "And you, Sergeant Barnes," he says, pointing at him now, "I know you're an Avenger or whatever, but if you hurt her, I'll kill you."

"Bye, Danny," Jo says, rolling her eyes as he disappears through the door marked 'Employees Only.' "Don't worry about him," Jo says, turning back to Bucky.

“Older brother, right?” Bucky says. He understands; he was an older brother once.

“Twins, actually,” Jo smiles.

Bucky takes a sip of his beer. "Sarah said Danny served with Sam," he says.

"Yeah. Afghanistan. A lifetime ago," Jo says. “He only had one more mission before he could come home so he switched with someone. An RPG barely missed the helicopter he was in, and he was pretty badly injured in the explosion and the resulting crash. Almost lost an eye. He came home, got out of the Air Force, went to business school. Now we own the bar..." She pauses to take the last sip of her drink. "...and the building. Sam's really helped Danny get past everything."

"He's good at that," Bucky says.

"Another thing we can never tell him," Jo laughs.

"Agreed. So, when do I get to ask about your tattoos?" he questions.

"What do you want to know?" she asks.

Bucky licks his bottom lip. "Anything."

He likes her dagger tattoo the best. It’s inked on the inside of her right forearm, nestled amongst the peonies, the hilt facing the crook of her elbow and the knife’s tip pointed toward her wrist. It’s feminine and dangerous and incredibly sexy. She blushes when he tells her how much he likes it. He doesn't tell her it reminds him of one of his favorite knives, currently tucked at the bottom of his backpack back in Sarah's living room.

"In some ways, they're my armor," she explains. "When I'm on stage, people look at the tattoos, not me, and I kind of like that. It lets me be whoever I want to up there."

Bucky understands the desire to hide better than anyone. But she knows who he is so there's really no point in hiding from her any longer. Plus, he feels like his arm is something she would understand, something she could accept — not just because of her brother's military record but because of her own unique body modifications.

He pulls his left glove off and shrugs out of his leather jacket, revealing the vibranium arm beneath his black t-shirt.

Jo takes in the black metal and gold details. "That," she says, pointing to his arm, "is lovely."

"It's lethal," Bucky warns.

She cocks her head to the side and says, "If you're trying to scare me, it won't work, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky can't stop the corner of his lip from pulling up in the slightest hint of a smile.

"Okay,” she says, placing her palms flat on the bar top. “You want another beer?" she asks.

Jo stands and turns to move behind the bar, but Bucky's vibranium hand on her arm stops her. She looks at him curiously, and he slides his arm behind her back and pulls her flush against his chest. She settles between his open thighs, her palms resting gently on top of his legs. He's staring at her so intensely she's convinced he willburn that hole right through her, but she can't bring herself to look away.

He leans in, his lips only a breath away from hers.

"Can I kiss you?" Bucky finally asks, his flesh hand moving up to cup her cheek.

"Please," Jo whispers, desperately.

Bucky closes the distance between them, and his lips meet hers. He's hesitant at first, but when he feels Jo respond, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing even closer, he runs his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opens them for him. She tastes like bourbon and lemon from the whiskey sours she's been drinking, and Bucky loves it. His tongue sweeps along the roof of her mouth, and Jo moans. Bucky is determined to hear that sound again.

He kisses across the corner of her mouth and over her jaw. The hand that was cupping her cheek moves to her hair to angle her head backwards and give him better access to the bare skin of her neck. He laves his tongue over the corded muscles there, then nips at the skin with his teeth. She moans again, and Bucky is on fire.

Jo's right hand weaves into his short hair and tugs until his mouth comes away from her neck. He catches his breath while Jo nuzzles his nose with her own and places a soft kiss against the Cupid's bow of his upper lip. His eyes meet hers, and her pupils are blown wide with lust.

The need to kiss her again is overwhelming. Bucky’s lips find hers, and Jo somehow leans even closer into his body, her hands tracing down his chest to his waist. Bucky lets his own hands move to Jo’s ribs, resting just beneath her chest, his thumbs teasing the underside of each breast. Jo gasps when Bucky’s right thumb moves across her taut nipple.

Fuck, he thinks, I need to slow down. While he’s shared kisses with the handful of women he’s met on dating apps, he hasn’t done anything this intimate in a lifetime.

Bucky pulls away, panting. He rests his forehead against Jo's and stares into her green eyes.

"I should leave," he says. “I’m getting carried away. I…I want to do this right.”

And he does. Desperately. He wants to buy her flowers and take her out and learn what makes her swoon. But he also wants to map every tattoo on her body with his fingers and tongue and then fuck her until she can’t walk straight.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Jo laughs breathily. “We don’t have to do anything, but it’s almost three o'clock in the morning and your ride already left. You can sleep on my couch if you want to be a gentleman.”

Bucky groans. “I should be a gentleman."

She kisses him again, lightly, then moves away to set the alarm and turn the rest of the lights out. She leads him through the 'Employees Only' door and up a set of stairs to her apartment.

"You're not allergic to cats, are you?" Jo asks, as she unlocks the door.

"No," Bucky says. As far as he knows, he's not allergic to anything thanks to the knock-off serum, but he doesn't say that.

Inside her apartment, Jo kicks off her combat boots at the door, and Bucky does the same, leaving them both in their socked feet. There's a fluffy black cat sitting on the back of the green velvet sofa.

"That's Toulouse," Jo says. "Or Louie. He doesn't answer to either, so it really doesn't matter what I call him."

The cat regards Bucky with indifference before standing up, stretching, and leaving the room.

"Guest bathroom’s just there,” she nods. “Let me get you some blankets and pillows for the couch," Jo continues. "Unless you've changed your mind about being a gentleman." She smirks at him.

Bucky laughs through his nose. “Don’t tempt me.”

Jo leaves the room for a moment, which gives Bucky a chance to look around. He's standing in her living room; one wall features a set of French doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the street, and the opposite wall holds bookcases stuffed from floor to ceiling with books, framed photographs, and various knick-knacks. From where he stands, he can see a small room with an upright piano and guitars hanging on the walls. The exterior walls of Jo's apartment are brick, and everything else is set in jewel tones. He likes it. It's dark and cozy, and from what he knows of Jo so far, her living space matches her well.

When she returns, Jo is holding a stack of blankets and pillows. She sets them on the ottoman and moves across the room to close the curtains.

"There are some sweats and a t-shirt there that should fit you" she says, turning to Bucky.

"Thanks," Bucky says, smiling softly.

Now that they're here, in her apartment, Bucky isn't sure what he's supposed to do or say. He can still feel the heat of Jo's lips on his, and he's painfully aware that the condom Sam gave him is still in his pocket.

Jo must sense the hesitation rolling off him because she crosses the room to stand in front of him and takes his hands in hers.

"Get some sleep, Sarge," she says, squeezing his hands in tandem before dropping them.

"Goodnight, Jo," Bucky returns.

_____

Bucky lays on Jo's couch in the dark beneath blankets that smell like laundry detergent. He wishes they smelled like her. He unlocks his phone and looks up the distance between New Orleans and Brooklyn. Just over thirteen hundred miles. He sighs and drops his phone onto the coffee table before closing his eyes and reliving each kiss as he falls asleep.

On the other side of the wall, Jo falls across her bed, deflated. She likes this guy. She wants him — painfully so. But leave it to her to fall for the one guy in her bar who lives half-way across the country.

_____

next chapter

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes romance #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff

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whatgaviiformes · 3 years

Text

Firefly’s Glow - Part 1/?

For @janetm74 and @tsarinatorment and because I am desperate to post something to get my groove going again.

📦 trapped in a box requested by Janetm74 / How about ⏳ - time’s running out and 📦 - trapped in a box with some Scott&Gordon? – requested by Tsarinatorment

A/N: Author’s Note - Okay, first I hope it’s ok that I combined these asks. Second, I know this is strange. End notes included to explain. Also, I have and by extension Gordon has a potty mouth. I promise I edited most of them out.

*****

Less than a minute.

Gordon could work miracles in less than a minute. In 51.2 seconds, he went from Gordon Tracy, son of the late Jefferson Tracy, to Gordon Tracy, Olympic Gold Medalist representing the United States of America. He’d let the muscular pull, push, recovery rhythm of the butterfly stroke propel him past world records.

But of course he never really had to think about how to move through water.

Focus.

He had shackles to pick.

“You’re running out of time, Gordon Tracy.”

Damn it all.

Now the Hood was just being rude. It was Virgil’s face and voice that taunted him– though it really wasn’t his voice because Virgil could never speak to Gordon with a tone so laced with malice. Ire, sure. Hatred and malevolence, no way in hell.

Gordon would tear the Hood apart for stealing his brother’s voice, starting with a solid right hook in his snickering mug once he got out this.

Arms crossed, the Hood had a timer in one hand and an unrecognizable gun in the other. Though Gordon knew guns, he couldn’t recognize this one from the quick glance he’d spared. He’d had no time to look.

35 seconds.

He could do this. In that amount of time he’d saved an electrified Thunderbird 2 from a free fall by redocking his pod in the plummeting behemoth and connecting their computer systems to regain control. He hadn’t needed time to think, just react – his brother’s life was dependent on Thunderbird 2’s survival.

His brother whose voice was stolen by a madman.

“My, my, didn’t my niece teach you better than that?”

Leave Kayo out of this, you stupid, greedy, motherf - His survival thus far had been a little bit Kayo, a little bit Parker, and a whole lot of Brains. Parker for the lock picking knowledge, Kayo for the speed and survival tactics, Brains for the lock pick built into the bottom of his boots.

And sure, maybe a little bit of his own survival training helped.

A minute to remove the shackles in exchange for freedom. 60 seconds. Gordon could save lives in 60 seconds. He can, and will, save his own.

15 seconds left.

“Tick tock.”

His hands fumbled with the small pick between his fingers and the awkward angle of a lock he couldn’t even see, only feel.

Click!

The shackles came free and fell to the ground with a clatter. Gordon panted, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Very good. Perhaps, you have some worth to me after all.”

“But-”

“Oh, I was never going to let you go, Gordon Tracy. But thank you for the…” Virgil-that’s-not-really-Virgil waved a hand towards Gordon’s shoes. “Demonstration.”

Rage welled up inside him.

It was Virgil’s face, sure, but Gordon had punched Virgil before. Hell, Virgil had punched him before. And the man in front of him wasn’t really Virgil anyway. So, Gordon launched himself at the Hood, preparing to attack.

In his anger, he’d forgotten about the gun. He wouldn’t have entered a gunfight with his fists if he remembered. Taking out your opponent 101. His WASP superior officers would have been sorely disappointed in him.

Sans his standard yellow baldric (because the Hood had taken that from him too), Gordon gasped at the sudden impact that hit his chest. Even though the projectile’s force wasn’t enough to drive him back, the gun, intended for mid-range, packed a hell of a punch, and there was a terrifying moment when Gordon looked down at his body and expected to see blood. Instead, the dart protruding from his left pectoral carried a blue liquid, an injection of something. He didn’t know what, and somehow, that thought was even less comforting.

The swift lethargy that flowed through his muscles slowed him as the drug hit.

Gordon crumpled to the dirty cement floor as Virgil cackled in his ear, and all went black.

*****

Gordon’s love of the sea came first from the fact that the sea was so different from the plains of Kansas, secondly that it was a part of the Earth itself he loved so much. and thirdly – and most importantly– because the first time he stepped into the rushing waves of the ocean it had been like finally learning to breathe.

Gordon had learned to appreciate all of Earth’s life at a young age. He was never a rescue scout like Scott, as there was a bit too much focus on badgework for his tastes, but his youth was spent making mud pies, watching bird’s nests, and observing caterpillar chrysalises all the same.

The summer Gordon was six, Scotty had taken him out to the barn late at night and showed him how to make a lantern of fireflies. Their adventure pack (really Scott’s school bag, repurposed) held a flashlight, mason jars, a couple pieces of mesh to put overtop the glass, and two bug nets.

No brothers were allowed – this was for him and Scotty only.

He’d abandoned the bug net for his hands pretty quickly, and within a few minutes, he’d managed to catch five or so for his lightning bug lantern. Of course, Scott had managed to catch more because he was older and also because he’d shared this memory with all his brothers and this was only Gordon’s first time.

It had been so pretty, the fireflies dancing in the mason jar, their lights slowly dimming and brightening in a mellow cadence that soothed his soul. But then, he realized their little bodies, which were used to flying around in the expanse of the sky, were suddenly confined to the glass container of the jar. And he saw not beauty but pain.

It was a lovely, bittersweet memory he kept close to his heart because it represented a key moment of his youth: first growing up with Scott as an older brother and also the first time he’d felt a creature’s cry reach him. It was the same wail he felt when he read about oil spills off the coast of Alaska and illegal fishing nets that should not still be in use, and, god, the absolute trash humanity left in the oceans for poor sea turtles to choke over.

Scott hadn’t understood where the tears came from suddenly, but Gordon remembered his brother kneeling in front of him so their eyesight was level, and he recalled him asking what happened and what Gordon needed, completely uncaring that his jeans were getting dirty in the fertilized soil. And the best thing about Scott was that he was the type of older brother that didn’t laugh or ignore him when Gordon said “they want out” through blubbering tears. He just helped Gordon release their fireflies back into the night, and instead they spent their evening counting their happy flickering until the numbers lulled Gordon to sleep.

The memory faded; the fireflies behind his eyes converged to a fragment on the other side of his lids, and a piercing white struck his brain with each blink as he awoke.

His feet were cold. The Hood had stolen his boots. Of freaking course. His next realization was that the rest of him was not as cold as his feet. In fact, that light coming in through the window was making his face and neck feel quite flushed.

It was the light that told him he was somewhere new. Previously the Hood had kept him locked in the darkness in his cell.

He groaned, shifting to sit up and look around his new abode, which was compact and with no angles to define the walls. But it was all glass, and so the window he thought was present was actually the room itself. And the floor he realized, feeling the material against the pads of his feet as he stood, was also glass.

His investigation was short lived, and Gordon hissed as the attempt to put weight on his left foot shot a laser of pain up through his ankle.

God, the Hood must have really thrown him in here, he thought.

He looked up.

No, not thrown. Dropped.

The ceiling of the room was not a ceiling at all, but the top of a bottle where the glass curved inward and then continued upward.

It was not quite what he imagined…. being the test subject of a madman. Maybe a tube or a cage or the cell where he was before would make sense, but a human-sized glass bottle? He felt like one of the fireflies he was just dreaming of, and of course, the Hood had to steal that memory too, in addition to his baldric, his boots, and his brother’s face.

As Gordon squinted to peer past the glass, the light that had been penetrating his new home suddenly darkened with a singular brown eye filling the expanse of the vessel, disorienting the shape so that the pupil was huge and the iris round, and the rest was…well, still huge just not as much so.

Fire raced through his ankle as he backed up two steps, stumbling into the back of the bottle.

“Gordon?” The eye said in a deep rumble.

The hell? He knew that voice.

“Fuse?”

“Shit, man, you’re tiny.”

His instinct was to look at his hands, but of course, they were the same from his perspective, though perhaps a bit grimier than they were before he was captured, tossed in a cell, and then forced to pick his way out of his shackles for no reason other than the Hood’s demented sense of pleasure.

The eye was then replaced with Fuse’s hand as he picked up the bottle to clasp it by the neck and pull it off of what was clearly a high shelf, with Gordon still inside.

Everything was not okay.

He was not okay.

It was never a human-sized bottle, and as his world shifted with Fuse raising the glass, Gordon realized he was lucky if he was half a foot tall.

END PART 1

End note: In effort to think outside the box for in a box my brain went straight to pocket!Gordon, so I went angsty Arrietty/the Borrowers vibes. There’s a more literal box planned later, I promise, and more Scott as requested. But for now, hope this helps do the job. Also don’t skip over the first part, POCKET!GORDON. 😊

Part 2

#Gavii Scribit #ask box prompts #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Thunderbirds fanfiction #Thunderangst #thunderwhump #Firefly's Glow

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petra-deserved-better · 4 years

Note

Rivetra fantasy request ? :)

The Dragon Slayer

Fantasy AU

1751 words

Levi Ackerman/Petra Ral

————————————————————————

The small town of Paradis had been plagued by dragons for years. The people who lived there had tried everything, every spell, every charm, every curse that was available, mountains of gold had been lost to knights who had claimed they could slay dragons- they rode off in glory but they never came back.

Eventually it became a way of life for the towns people, they learned to live with the attacks, learned to anticipate them. They built shelters in their gardens and on street corners, you were never more than a few feet from somewhere to hide when you heard a roar or saw smoke and fire in the sky. So the casualties became fewer and farther in between but never gone completely. Children were born who knew nothing but a life where you could be snatched by a dragon at any moment. Death stalked them like an old friend. Everyone knew someone who had died.

Then came the day it all changed. No one knew where they came from, there had never been an attack like it before. There were so many dragons that filled the sky at once. Before long half the towns people had been devoured. Then as suddenly as it began the attack stopped. From that day onwards there were no more attacks. Years passed. The people were scarred and bruised from the fateful day but with each year that passed without so much as a dragon sighting they learned to live without fear. A whole generation of children grew up into young adults who barely remembered what a dragon looked like and only knew of them from the stories. Many of them had lost parents but they could barely remember the creatures that had stolen them.

Then almost ten years to the day of the last attack the dragons returned. They stole away the most beloved girl in the town, Petra Ral. She had lost her entire family in the last dragon attack, she was only thirteen years old but she’d devoted herself to caring for the rest of the orphans who were left behind. She had been walking in the town square when a dragon came and scooped her up where she stood and dragged her off, her legs dangling as it held her in its claws. It was the dragons first mistake, the fear the older townspeople had forgotten returned but the orphans who had known nothing but Petra’s care as they had grown felt only rage. They who had become young adults without parents because of the dragons but had spent most of their life not living in fear of them decided that enough was enough. They set out to find the one person who could help them, Levi Ackerman the dragon slayer.

He arrived three days after they had sent word to him. He rode into town on a black horse. He was dressed in black from head to toe. Two long swords were sheathed on his back, his face bore a scar the whole way down it’s left hand side. It was the closest a dragon had ever come to beating him, the head of the beast that caused the scar was mounted on the dragon slayers wall. At least that was what the legends said Armin had whispered to his friend Eren as they had watched him approach.

Eren raced forwards before the slayer had even had time to dismount from his horse.

“Are the stories about you true?” He cried, his brow furrowed in fury, his finger pointed at Levi in accusation. “Can you really defeat the dragon!”.

Levi eyed the boy carefully. He was used to meeting with hysteria, after all the nature of his job meant that he followed tragedy in its wake. The people who called him were desperate and down trodden.

“Yes,” he replied swinging down from his horse and handing the reins to the impetuous boy. ”But first you’ll tend to my horse. Then I will need all the details of the dragons you wish defeated, and I mean every detail. And finally I need several glasses of the best ale your town serves.”

It was an hour later that he sat drinking his third glass of ale which was, surprisingly not bad, served to him by a talkative girl named Sasha. The townspeople has taken time each telling him stories of the beasts that had blighted their existence. Two things stood out to him, the girl the dragons had taken on their last attack was important to most of them, Petra, it seemed was beloved in the village, secondly they were all mostly convinced that she was still alive.

“You see, they always eat their pray straight away.” The young boy Armin explained, looking across at Levi with earnest blue eyes. “But not this time, it scooped her up where she stood and flew her away. We know it didn’t eat her then so there’s a chance she’s still alive, you need to finder her. Please sir. She practically raised us, all of us here lost parents to the dragons.”

Levi sighed, he knew the chances of this girl being alive were slim to none, but looking at this group of kids he didn’t quite have the heart to tell them that yet. Let them have hope until he brought back the beasts heads. It wouldn’t bring their beloved friend back but it might soften the blow to know that her death had been avenged. He’d play along for now.

“Describe the girl to me, so I know who I’m looking for.”

“We can do better than that sir.” Said Armin with a small smile. “Jean drew a picture of her, it’s a very good likeness.”

An annoyingly tall teen handed a piece of paper to him. Levi studied it and felt his stomach drop. She was beautiful. If this picture was truly a good likeness and the boy hadn’t been exaggerating then-

Levi folded it up and placed it in his pocket, he didn’t want to look into those amber eyes a moment longer, why did the dragons always have to take the beautiful ones.

“Ok, I’ll leave at night fall.”

“We’ll come with you.” Eren said, jumping to his feet.

“No! I fight dragons alone. Just be sure my horse is ready.”

X~~~X

The moon was bright in the sky as Levi rode into the mountains, when he hunted dragons it was essential that his mind was pin sharp and focused, ready for what lay ahead. They were not easy beasts to conquer, they were as intelligent as they were brutal and only a fool would assume that he had learned everything about them.

But tonight his mind was plagued by the image of the girl the dragons had stolen. He was being foolish he knew after all it was only a drawing, the rose tint to her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes might be the product of the artist imagination and not the subject. And yet something about the way her a red hair has flowered about her shoulders sparked something inside him-

Mentally he batted the imagine away and muttered a curse under his breath. He couldn’t keep doing this, focus!

He followed the clues carefully, over years he had learnt how to find a dragons nest, he was sure he’d reach it soon, then he would need to be ready for anything.

“Excuse me.”

A voice, a feminine one coming from nearby caused him to jump. He swung his horse round in the direction that it had come from but he couldn’t see anything.

“Who’s there?” He cried out.

“Are you hear to slay the dragon.” The voice came again but there was a slight tremble in it that made him pause- it couldn’t be, could it?

“Yes,” he answered trying to make his voice gentle as he dismounted from his horse. If it was truly her she’d been up here with dragons for over a week it was a miracle she was alive. “My name is Levi, the townspeople from Paradis sent me to find you.”

“Me?” Her voice was quiet, Levi’s eyes scanned the area trying to find her, he cursed the darkness he usually relied upon.

“You’re safe now, you can come with me.”

A movement to his left caught his eye, he realised it was her stepping out into the moonlight. His breath caught in his throat. The picture had been no exaggeration, if anything it hadn’t done her justice. Her Amber eyes seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, she was breathtaking. No wonder the townspeople had been so desperate to get her back.

“I can’t come with you.” She said as she studied him carefully.

“There are kids in the town below who sent me to find you. They are desperate to get you back.”

“I can’t go back, I made a promise, a long time ago. A promise to keep them all safe.”

What she was saying didn’t make any sense. But then given all she’d been through it made sense that she was a little disorientated.

“Armin and Eren they sent me and Sasha and Jean, they’ve all been worried about you.”

“Then you can give them a message for me please, tell them I’m fine. I had to pay my debt for keeping them all safe and that I hope all I’ve taught them in the last ten years will be enough for them to live long happy lives.”

Levi furrowed his brow, he wondered if she’d even been able to eat or drink the whole time she’d been here, dehydration alone could make people delirious.

“You can tell them yourself, come with me I can help you.”

“You can help me?” She asked her head tilted, she looked disbelievingly at him.

“Yes I can take you back with me.”

“You need to leave now. It’s not safe here for you.” She sounded angry.

“I can make it safe, I am Levi Ackerman the Dragon Slayer.”

“Ah that’s the problem, you see...” Suddenly her eyes seemed to grow brighter, they weren’t just shimmering in the moonlight they were glowing, they were on fire.

Light glowing red shot across her face outlining scales across her delicate pale skin, it almost blinded him as she began to transform. He had just enough time to reach for his sword as he heard her voice echoing all around him.

“I am Petra Ral. I am the dragon!”

—————————————————————————

A/N - Hi all, this was a combination of the above prompt and the one below. I’m not sure if your the same anon or two separate ones! But I hope you enjoyed.

As always reviews or evening just screaming in the tags is always appreciated.

#rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #petra ral #levi x petra #petra x levi #my writing #my fanfiction #fanfic #dragon slayer au

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alison-anonymous · 4 years

Text

flawsome bandits pt. 6 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Truth

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A FLASHBACK. It is set in the past, and you will now all get to understand why those awful cliffhangers were a necessary part of this story ;) Feel free to gawk in the comments section if you wish, but I have many more plans for this story! I think I’m going to even continue it on past the movie plot line too! I love you all my darlings, thank you for your patience. Next update might come a little slower due to the whole corona virus thing. Stay safe!

Warnings - Flufffffffff

♡♡♡

It was a beautiful day in another world, far, far away from the one we know.

The sun was shining high in the sky, smiling down on the exotic loop-de-loops, flora, and fauna. Critters fluttered about the land, most of them average and just going about their days. But if you looked very closely and kept your eyelids peeled, you could see an electric blue blur zipping through the fields. Behind the blur, not too far away from its tail, was another blur, only it was an icy blue color, just a pinch away from being white.

The two zipped throughout the island, and you could just barely hear a soft little tune coming from the electric ice blur as it raced after its friend.

Ah~, ah~. High and low, then high and low again. The song echoed softly over the hills, almost as if it were being intentionally silent, trying to suppress its full abilities of vocal range. The two balls of light zipped through the blades of grass, flying through loop-de-loops and racing past the echidnas until they finally burst through the door of a tiny little hit in the trees. They hit the very tall, very beautiful owl that had been sleeping on her perch with a start, and finally slowed down to a stop on the ground, revealing two hedgehogs. One was a bright electric blue with a set of the most dreamiest green eyes you had ever seen. He wore a pair of white gloves and some very worn out tennis shoes on his feet, an excited smile never leaving his face. His quills here spiky and brushed out of his face, but posed as a threat to anyone who got too close. The other one had a gorgeous icy blue coat on her. Her eyes were a bright e/c and her smile could make anyone fall in love. She had some of the softest quills anyone had ever seen, falling back onto her head in what any human would have mistaken as her hair. Two gold piercings were embedded on her left ear, and she sported the same pair of white gloves and a slightly smaller pair of shoes that the boy did.

They were very young, barely teenagers.

“Ha! I beat you again, N/n!” The blue hedgehog taunted, sauntering around in circles around his friend. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, watching with close eyes as he walked around her.

“I’ll beat you one day, Sonic.” She spoke confidently.

The young Sonic stopped and stared at her for a moment. Eventually she grew uncomfortable under his stare, waiting for him to say something. Finally, he lowered his eyelids, a sly smirk crossing his lips. Her eyes widened. She was in trouble now.

“Oh, really?”

Y/n watched with fearful eyes as he advanced on her, like a cat stalking his prey. With every step he took, she took one back, her strong and confident facade crumbling until he finally sprang over to her. He grabbed her face surprisingly gently and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She let out a shriek, not being able to control the giggle that erupted from her as she pushed him away.

“Sonic!” She rubbed her cheek, attempting to get away from him but he was quick to grab her wrist, pulling her back into him where he kissed her other cheek again. She yelped again, both cheeks burning a bright red as his laughter filled the air.

“Stop it!” Y/n laughed. It wasn’t too long before Longclaw’s laughter mingled with theirs. The two young hedgehogs turned back to their mentor, not even noticing that they were still holding hands. The owl’s smile slowly fell and was replaced with a stern expression.

“You two need to be more careful, running around like that! What if someone had seen you?” She glanced from Sonic to Y/n. “Or heard you?”

“No one saw us,” Sonic dismissed. “And Y/n’s been working on keeping her vocal telekawhatever under wraps-”

“Telekinesis,” Y/n corrected, her pitchy voice sounded a bit congested. “But he’s right! I was barely even singing that loud! I’ve almost gotten to the point where I can hum and still have the same effect!” She smiled proudly. Longclaw had found Sonic and Y/n in two different places at two different times, both with their own set of insanely powerful and unique abilities. Sonic was born with incredible powers that granted him super speed in every aspect of his being that became supercharged with his emotions. Y/n was born with what Longclaw had identified as vocal telekinesis. She had abnormally strong vocal chords, so much so that whenever she sang, she could move whatever she focused on. So far they had only been able to help her carry herself as a booster in order to keep up with Sonic when she was running, but they had been able to get her to lift a flower or orange here and there.

“And besides, I wanted to bring you this,” Sonic shot the owl the most adorable smile you can imagine, whipping an exotic flower out from underneath his quills. A smile began to form under Longclaw’s beak as she leaned forward to take it. Something moved out of her peripheral vision.

“Get down!” She cried, leaping forward and sweeping the two hedgehogs into her wings, slamming the door shut with her back just as the echidna tribe shot at the door. Y/n and Sonic clutched on to one another in fear, Y/n burying her face inside of her friend’s chest in fear. He held her closer to his racing chest, glancing around frantically as the guilt began to set in. They had led them here. They weren’t careful enough. The one time that they weren’t cautious and were just trying to have a kind hearted race was the time that they got caught. Longclaw was quick to tuck the little hedgehog’s under her wing as she burst out the window, flying high up in the sky, determination set in her eyes to get her children away from the danger. Unfortunately, the echidnas had very good coordination, as they sank one of their arrows straight into her rib. She let out a cry in pain, crashing onto the ground, hidden behind some trees.

Y/n and Sonic tumbled out of her grasp, and once Sonic regained his balance, his first instinct was to grab onto Y/n. It was out of fear that if he wasn’t touching her that he might lose her to the ones that wanted their powers. Longclaw was quick to recover, ushering the two behind her as she pulled out a single bag with a handmade label on it reading “emergency.” Sonic and Y/n glanced worriedly at one another.

“Listen carefully you two,” she struggled for breath. “You both have powers unlike anything that I have ever seen. And that means that someone is always going to want them. The only way to stay safe is to stay hidden.” The two watched as she threw one of the golden rings, opening a portal to some strange, dark forest. Y/n’s heart began to race, tears beginning to form in her eyes as she realized just what exactly was going on here. “This land is far away from here, somewhere where you two will be safe. Stay with each other, combined you two will be safe.”

Sonic’s hand slowly found its way to Y/n’s, and this time she didn’t pull away. Longclaw handed the sack of rings to Sonic.

“But we don’t want to leave you!” He protested.

“You must-” Longclaw was interrupted by the sounds of yelling, the echidna tribe fresh on their trail. “If either of you are ever discovered, use one. Never stop running. Now go!” She used her wing to push the two towards the portal. With one last tearful glance at their foster mother, Sonic tugged Y/n with him through into the dark woods. They turned back just in time to see Longclaw spread her wings out before the echidnas, trying to protect them from view.

“Longclaw!” Y/n screamed, ripping her hand out of Sonic’s and racing towards the only mother she had ever known. Longclaw turned her head at the sound of the voice, a small smile lining her beak.

“Goodbye, Y/n.”

“NO!” She screamed, running into the portal just as it dissipated. She stumbled on her feet, crashing onto the ground. Sonic zipped over to his best friend and sat down on the ground next to her, the bag of rings still firmly grasped in his hand. His gaze met Y/n’s just as the dam broke and the tears began cascading down her face.

“H-hey,” Sonic stuttered, not being used to seeing her cry. She sobbed, tilting her head towards the ground as her body naturally leaned in towards him. At such a young age, neither of them were having a very easy time processing that they were now completely and entirely on their own.

They only had each other now.

Sonic’s own emerald eyes filled with tears as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his chest, hoping she couldn’t sense how much it was racing. “It’ll be okay… we’ll figure it out.”

Her sobbing slowed a little at his words, wrapping her own arms around his torso and giving him a hug. They stayed like that for a very long time...

♡♡♡

It had taken quite a while for Sonic and Y/n to grow accustomed to their new home. Since they were barely used to having to fend for themselves, even with Y/n’s competencies and Sonic’s ability to see the light in every situation, it wasn’t too long before they got discovered on the first planet Longclaw had sent them to. So, they went to another one.

And another one…

And… another one.

Until they finally came to a stop at the one they were on now. It was some sort of water based planet, where the grass was blue and the weeping willow trees were made of suspended particles of h2o. It wasn’t exactly the best planet for the two to be living on in order to practice their powers (they were growing with every year that passed), but they made do with what they had. The two hedgehogs were now around eleven years old, and they had already taught themselves how to build a shelter, how to find food, do chores, and ultimately protect themselves during the night. For the first couple of weeks, they had slept in shifts to keep an eye out for any predators that might come breaking down their wooden door.

Maybe it was some PTSD from the echidna attack, but Y/n was the one who always had a horrible time sleeping, so she took most of the shifts. Out of “lack of materials”, Sonic had convinced Y/n that it would be easier for them to just share a bed, plus it made more room in their home to live. It was a bit uneasy at first, the tension in the air so thick that even a knife would have a difficult time cutting it. They had laid awake, just staring at each other until Y/n finally began to giggle and rolled onto her back. He did the same and by the morning light, they were in a tangle of limbs and leaf-sewn blankets. It turned out that Sonic moved quite a lot in his sleep, so when Y/n woke up with his arms wrapped securely around her, it was quite the pleasant surprise.

Honestly, to any other person that could have met these two, they would have easily mistaken them as a couple. From the way that even though they were opposite genders, they were able to work so perfectly. They switched on and off with cooking or finding food that they would eat for the night, and they helped each other train by imitating things that Longclaw used to say to them. Sometimes it helped them feel like she was still there…

But besides the whole sleeping thing and spending all of their time together, the second Y/n asked Sonic for something or even was just about to suggest that they do something, he was always entirely on board. She didn’t even have to finish her sentence in order for him to be on board. She was all that he had, and he was all that she had.

Secretly, Sonic just could never find it in him to say no to her. With those gorgeous, dreamy eyes and bright smile, the way that her laugh made his heart melt, she was just so-

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. He wasn’t in love with her. There was no possible way!

She wasn’t like his sister, of course not! Y/n was more like… the insanely pretty girl that he lived with. God damnit.

Even though Y/n tried to convince herself of the exact same thing, she couldn’t help but notice that she felt differently about Sonic than anyone else she had met. No matter how many hours she spent with him, she never got tired of it. Things were always interesting whenever they were together because they both had a knack for the unusual adventures. He was always showering her with compliments (even when she tried to reciprocate he would always just turn up the heat), and he was just so sweet to her. He wasn’t too bad to look at either, if you get what I mean ;)

As time progressed, the two grew closer, their bond knitting tighter together with every day. They had made some enemies along the way, and those enemies taught them that not every person is as good as they may seem. So they tried to stick to themselves as much as they could. It took a very long time for them to get over Longclaw as well, each day being a little bit harder to get through once the memory floated across their brains. But they knew that as long as they had each other, they would be okay.

They could run for as long as they wanted to.

But at least they’d never be alone.

♡♡♡

It was a rainy day when something horrible happened.

Sonic was at home, goofing off as he listened to some music playing through a set of water speakers he had stolen from someone by the ocean. He was deep in the music, creating his own dance moves as he went along, bobbing his head to the beat. It was only when the door to their home burst open and a very frazzled looking Y/n slammed it shut that he turned off the speakers.

“Hey, N/n,” he greeted, but his happiness slowly faded as he realized she was trembling. The ice blue hedgehog hadn’t moved from her position by the door, gloved hand still placed firmly on the doorknob as her eyes peered through the slight curtain covering the window next to the door. Her tail quivered like crazy and she was staying a lot quieter than normal. Sonic took the opportunity to slowly approach his friend, concern filling his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

The second the words left his lips, she whirled around to face him and that was when he realized why she had been facing the door. She was crying.

Tears streamed endlessly down her cheeks, her nose turning a bright red. Her eyes had grown puffy, proving that she had been crying long before just now, the e/c irises full of guilt and pure sadness. Sonic could feel his heart breaking in his chest as he instantly wrapped his arms around her.

“H-hey, what’s going on?” He stuttered, running a hand along the back of her head, stroking her hair-like quills back. After so many years of comforting one another, they had learned tricks to instantly make each other calm down. The stroking had a decent effect on her, but she still trembled in his arms as she tried to force out a coherent sentence.

“I-I didn’t m-mean-I didn’t kn-know they-following m-me…” She choked on the extra saliva in her mouth and sniffled, burying her face into Sonic’s warm chest until she could hear the steady beat of his heart. It calmed her to know that he was still here. He was safe.

Sonic did his best to process what little he could understand that was coming out of her mouth. “Did someone follow you?” Y/n slowly nodded her head, more tears gushing down her cheeks as she pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes.

“I-I’m so sorry, S-Sonic-” She was cut off by another sob wracking up her pipes. Even if he wanted to, Sonic could never be mad at her. He held her tighter against his chest as he himself glanced through the window. His heart stopped in his chest as he saw something move.

“It’s okay, N/n, this is what we have the rings for, remember?” He glanced over at the bag sitting snugly under the covers on their bed. “Besides, this is your first time getting us caught out of my, what? Four times?” His joke was able to successfully get her to crack a smile, her tears beginning to slow down thankfully. They still kept a firm grip on one another as Sonic began to maneuver them towards the bed in order to get the rings. Once Sonic had finally grabbed the bag out from under the blankets, they let go of one another as he pulled out one of the shiny, golden rings. He held it up and thought of the next planet on their list and-

Suddenly, the door slammed open.

Y/n’s scream was so shrill it could have shattered glass, the fear coursing through their veins. The figure standing before them was dressed entirely in black, a hood pulled over their face so that neither of them could tell who or what they were looking at. A horrible aura floated through the room.

Something was very wrong.

Sonic’s first instinct was to jump in front of Y/n and protect her, so that’s exactly what he did. Zipping in front of her in less than a second, he gently pushed the frightened hedgehog behind him and prepared to throw the ring again.

“Leave us alone!” He yelled, closing his eyes as he envisioned the next planet they needed to go to. Y/n’s hand slowly entertwined with his, refusing to let him go, when the form before them started to… laugh. It wasn’t one of those lighthearted laughs either, it was one in which you knew something bad was coming. The two hedgehogs inched closer together, their hearts pounding rapidly against their chests, noses twitching and bodies trembling as the adrenaline coursed through their veins. The sudden sound from the intruder had been exactly what they had needed in order to distract the two.

Something sharp was pricked into the side of Sonic’s neck. He let out a sharp hiss and quickly pulled out a dart. “W-what?” He began, the room around him already growing fuzzy.

“Sonic!” Y/n cried, wrapping her arms around his waist in an effort to keep him standing. The serum within it was very fast acting, as he crashed down onto the floor before her, groaning. She kneeled down before him, refusing to leave his side, and shook him rapidly, the tears now coming down her cheeks faster. She was more than able to protect herself, but she needed to know he was okay. “Please, stay with m-”

A dart sank its teeth into her neck.

“N-no,” she stuttered, yanking the dart out of her neck and forcing herself to try and stay awake. Unfortunately, the poison coursing through her veins was stronger than her will. Her world went dark as she fell on top of Sonic, unconscious.

♡♡♡

When Y/n finally came to, she couldn’t see anything.

She couldn’t move either. It was almost as if something had taken away her ability to move from her brain, leaving her limbs lifeless against the cold surface she was lying down on, belly up. Her eyelids felt heavy, like a dozen quarters were resting on top of each eye in order to keep them closed. She was surprisingly calm given the certain situations, her pulse beating as steadily as it would if she were asleep. But she did feel rather drowsy… perhaps it was from whatever was in that dart…

Dart… where was Sonic?

The panic instantly began to rise, the need to open her eyes becoming almost unbearable to ignore. But she could still hear.

“Alright,” she heard a voice murmur. Her mouth remained shut, unable to move that, either. The voice didn’t sound like anyone she had ever known, and she couldn’t tell if its owner was a boy or a girl. “End… his happiness…” The voice seemed to be fading in and out, like whoever it was was walking towards her and then walking away, presumably to another table of sorts. But ending whose happiness? “This serum will make him forget about her entirely. It’ll be like she never even existed.”

A slight tapping noise against something floated through the air, making Y/n’s frantic panicking come back full force. No.. No way… they weren’t talking about her and Sonic were they? They were going to make Sonic forget about her? But why? Why would they do that? Sonic was the only person she had!

She couldn’t lose him!

Y/n tried with all her might to scream at the top of her lungs, to move her legs or even to just open her eyes but they were all futile. It was as though she were dead, her body as limp as a paperweight. Tears threatened to spill down her eyes as the feeling of helplessness suffocated her. The silence that continued on for countless moments made her want to die wondering what was going on. She could just picture it in her mind, her worst fear: Sonic being injected with some kind of serum to make him forget about her, and then being tossed into a portal to some realm that she didn’t know how to get to.

She’d never see him again.

Minutes turned into hours as they laid there in that torture, wanting nothing more than to feel Sonic’s arms wrap around her. To hear his voice, to feel his heart beat against her ears… She didn’t have a purpose without him.

Footsteps suddenly sounded through the tense silence. Y/n’s body tensed, which brought a celebratory light on in her mind that she was actually able to move a little. The footsteps came closer to her and stopped right next to her head.

“Ah, Y/n the Hedgehog…” the voice chuckled darkly, sending shivers down her spine. “I’m going to make your life miserable.”

Venom seethed from their tone, and without any warning, four needles dug themselves into her arms and legs. They pierced into the flesh so furiously that she screamed in pain, not even the sedatives she had been under being able to stop the primal instinct to such torture. Whatever liquid it was raced through her veins, spreading the white hot pain like wildfire. It felt like something was forcing her limbs to stretch and become much longer and larger than they were meant to be. Like growing pains, but set on fire. With gasoline. The pain seemed to go on for hours until the world turned dark once more. She finally released her breath in the blackness, relieved that the pain was finally over. A sudden bright light pierced through the darkness, and in her haze, she reached towards it. Blinking her eyes in order to adjust to the brightness, trees filled her vision.

“Honey? Sweetie, can you hear me?” A woman with yellow hair tied up in a bun was leaning over her, a worried look across her face. Her form twitched in and out of Y/n’s vision as she tried to focus on her.

“H-huh?” Was she standing up or sitting down? What was that smell? Who was this lady? Where was she? Wait a minute… What was her name?

“Sweetie, can you tell me your name?”

“I think… I think it’s Y/n?”

“Okay, we’re going to get you to a hospital.”

Hospital? What was a hospital?

...Who am I?

♡♡♡

It was a slow day for Doctor Robotnik. He had been considering going back to college for about a trillionth time in order to gain yet another degree in something that he hadn’t already accomplished. Which was nothing. Do they even give you degrees for studying nothing?

He was resting in his home when one of his bots hovered over to him, dropping down his mail onto the coffee table before him. The main glanced down at the junk mail littering the table, but stopped at a very peculiar looking package. It was about the size of a small throw pillow he had once seen in JoAnns (no comment on why he was there), and there was a small letter taped to the top. He cautiously proceeded to swipe the letter off and opened it. The contents were even more peculiar.

Dear Dr. Robotnik,

Inside this box are two vials for two beings. You must make sure that they never remember or find them. If they consume their contents, the whole plot will be lost.

It wasn’t signed. He furrowed his brows, wondering if one of his stalkers had sent him more men’s lingerie again. The letters tended to be very misleading. But, throwing caution to the wind, he opened the box and lifted the lid, staring down at the contents. There were two vials, just like the note had said. One was an ice blue with the title Y/n on it. The other was a dehydrated yellow, with the name Sonic written across the label. Y/n and Sonic… seemed pretty normal compared to other things he had witnessed.

And then the blue one started to sing.

♡ a.a.

#sonic #sonic x reader #sonic imagines #sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic the hedgehog imagines #sonic the hedgehog movie #sonic the hedgehog movie x reader #sonic the hedgehog movie imagines #sonic the hedgehog movie 2020 #sonic the hedgehog movie 2020 x reader #sonic the hedgehog movie 2020 imagines #sonic the hedgehog 2020 x reader #sonic 2020 x reader #flawsome bandits

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themagicalreads · 4 years

Text

Journey Home (Mature/Prompt)

Rapunzel was hot despite the biting cold wind of the sea rushing outside, and it was all the captain's doing. Jack sucked at the nape of her neck as he moved against her, drawing a long moan from her lips. She ran her fingers up his back, pulling him as close to her body as she could, before moving on to his hair.

"Mmm," his mumbling was deep, husky. She tugged at his white locks to bring more out of him, and he obliged wonderfully.

"Oh, captain," she whined in pure bliss.

He pulled away from her, suddenly, eyes sinking deep inside her soul.

"Jack," she corrected herself with a small smile. He rewarded her with a smirk and his tongue slipping in smoothly beside her own. Her entire body buzzed with energy, with light and tingles and love. Pure love, and shared ecstasy.

Rapunzel tightened her bare legs around Jack's hips as they continued their rocking. Then, she gripped his pale shoulders and flipped him onto his back so she now sat atop him, in control. His chest shivered as she ran her hands across it, feeling drunk by his very presence.

This was the most ruthlessly handsome man she'd ever laid eyes upon. The youngest captain to sail the Seven Seas on a fully crewed ship. And yet he had the biggest heart she'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. One he liked to trap inside of a birdcage called his ship. The Zella. A nameless ship named after her, of every human in existence.

The way he looked at her now with heavy-lidded eyes made her question how it had taken her so long to let him in, even after he'd saved her from a life no one wished to have. It had taken him a while to break apart his cold-hearted persona to her as well, but he'd shown her vulnerability long before she could even muster to reveal hers.

He gripped her hips gently, running his hands over her thighs and back again. To places that made her insides flip completely in the most wonderful of ways.

When they were finished, Jacks head dropped against the pillow as he tried to catch his breath. After a few seconds of relishing in his sweet scent, Rapunzel sat up on his hips and brought his suddenly-distanced mind back on board with a soft finger to his chin.

"Your heads off somewhere in the moon again," she said as his ice blue eyes, warm as the sun, met her own. They were full of sadness, and love, and pain.

"Is it?"

Rapunzel nodded.

"You're beautiful."

Tingles rushed over her spine, but she ignored them, to her body's dismay. She plucked his crumpled, white, linen shirt off the bedsheets beside them and pulled it over her chest. It was much more flowy on her than it ever was on him, which was one of the reasons why she loved wearing it to bed so much. Immediately, she felt fingers playing at its hem, tugging up and down. "And you're ignoring my questions again," she told him.

Jack sighed, pulling his wandering hands away from her to palm at his eyes. "Because it's a decision I've already made. We're going for the Black Treasure."

Rapunzel shook her head in disbelief. "Everyone's gone for the Black Treasure, you and I both know it's a death trap." She lowered her palms to his stomach. "No one's caught word of the Golden Flower yet, save from us, the Sea De Vil, and the Jolly Roger. And we're the ones closest to the island, as far as word carries. It'd be stupid not to go."

Jack shifted, gently pushing at her hips until she swung off of him. While he pulled his breeches on, Rapunzel sat patiently on her legs until he grumbled: "I'm not going back to Corona. I made that clear with you before you joined the crew."

"And I haven't said a word about it in six years. It would've been longer if Nicholas hadn't told us about the sighting."

Jack shook his head again, then glanced over his shoulder at her. "It's a magic golden flower. There's no such thing."

Rapunzel smiled softly, crawling over to sit just behind his shoulder. She slid her chin down over it, wrapping her arms around his own in an embrace that set her soul of fire. "I don't believe in magic," she mocked, in a horrible imitation of his voice. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say, Ice Man."

"I was cursed. There's a difference."

"You've never viewed your magic as a curse before. And even if it was technically a curse, the fact that it exists is proof that this flowers' powers can very much be real, too. We can't miss the chance of someone else finding it. Imagine the gold people would pay for it—more than all the treasures we've kept and sold combined. We can treasure it, too. Keep it to ourselves."

Jack was quiet for a long moment. She knew he'd grown up on the island, same as she, but he'd never confessed why he refused so strongly to go back, and she'd never felt the right to push. She hadn't told him everything about her long years in Gothelitch either. He had a right to his own privacy as everyone else did with things that didn't involve her.

He opened his mouth to speak, finally, when a loud bang! suddenly sounded from the door. "When you two lovebirds are done rubbin' up all over each other," Merida, the Zella's master gunner, yelled from the other side, "we got somethin' out here ya might wanna see."

"Aye!" Jack answered. The both of them hurried into their own garments and out of the captain's quarters. Out on the main deck, most of the crew stood gazing at something far off to sea.

"Ya see 'im watching us too?" Hook Hand's eyes glared under the hand pressed over his brows, shielding the sun.

"I can feel 'im," Big Nose added.

"Aye, captain! First lady," Merida sauntered over, nodding to the both of them. "Sailin' master's caught somethin' on the horizon. Gettin' easier to see by the second. Aye, Haddie," she yelled out to the sky, suddenly, where Hiccup Haddock stood on the main mast. "How's it lookin' up there?"

"Definitely him!" Hiccup yelled back. "I recommend we set sail East soon, unless we want a repetition of the blood moon!"

Rapunzel glanced at Jack, whose face was still as a frozen lake. The battle on the blood moon had been a nightmare, worse than any they'd been in. The Zella usually did its best to avoid physical conflict between other ships and coastal villages—it was how other pirates got their ships sunk to the ocean's bottom so quickly in their early days of sailing, or how they lost their treasure faster than they earned it, what with all the repairs it cost 'em. The Zella was more so of a silent threat, he'd say. We were a legend, never seen, yet wielding a deadly strike.

Their run-in with the Sea De Vil hadn't been planned. Jack was usually good at tricking others and tracking their thoughts long before they even made them, but he'd made a slight miss guess on Captain Crell's plans. He hadn't expected the renovations he'd given his ship months back for faster sailing. Guess someone else caught on to Jack's tricks—when you scream your plans out for the world to hear, surprise is an impossible thing to achieve. But if you put them to motion under the cover of sealed lips and well placed coins, diverting expectations most often turns victorious.

Now, that very ship was sailing straight for them, only but a small blip on the horizon. It would take a day for them for meet up if they continued on their current route.

"He's sailing for Corona," Rapunzel told him. "Heading South. We're a bonus treasure on his path."

"We're sinking him next time we meet." Jack's voice was stiff, and incredibly determined. There was no doubt in her that his words were true—the Zella's was easily the toughest ship on the Seas. "The Jolly Roger, too."

"You really think words not going to make it to the others if we take those two down? It's a useless endeavor. They'll just cost us more gold in repair, and for what? Temporarily stopping pirates from sailing for the Golden Flower?"

Jack's lips were pressed in a neat line. She knew she was getting onto his nerves about the topic, but she was itching to head home, despite what she told him. The one thing that had kept her from dangerous thoughts after she'd been forced into white slavery was the thought of seeing her parents again. She hoped her disappearance hadn't affected their protectiveness of her sister to a point of extreme. Slavery was a common thing, but her family had cared about one another far too much to let it become an unspoken topic, she knew.

"Please," Rapunzel whispered. She knew she was being cruel, torturing him this way, but she needed to see them at least one last time. She needed to know they were okay, and that she was too.

Jack refused to look at her. The pain he was trying so hard to hide in his eyes tore her heart to pieces. What was she doing to him? She knew she was right in her talk about the flower's worth, but Corona had always been the one thing he'd refused to hear talk about.

He scowled, finally, starring deep into the horizon. "Turn the sails south," he ordered.

***

They arrived at sunrise three days later. The Coronian seas were calm as they anchored down around a mountainous bend, covering them from prying eyes.

"Everyone, ready yourselves for a quick leave," Jack announced as he marched down the main deck. "I won't be long."

The crew groaned in disagreement.

"Ya mean none of us are comin' with, save for Zel?" Merida complained. "No offence, Cap, but that's idiocy at its best."

Jack shot her a dangerous look.

"You'll need Haddie for his navigation skills. And you'll need me, for added protection, yeah? Ain't that what we usually do?"

"This isn't a usual case," Jack informed her. But Merida had never been one to give up. It was a wonder Jack bothered keeping any of this crew around, considering how much they talked back at him. Rapunzel suspected he liked it, deep down. It made their days on the ship that much more entertaining and pleasant, considering the business they were in.

"We do make a good team," Hiccup had just climbed down from his mast, ready for departure. "Zella's four heads of ship."

"Fine." Jack gave in. "Shorty! Lower two boats. We leave immediately." And immediately they did. Rapunzel found herself sitting in front of an emotionless Jack in a matter of no time. His gaze was glassy, fixed on nothing as he rowed their boat off to shore. His grip on the paddles was tight; it worried Rapunzel.

"Talk to me," she said, finally, over the sound of waves tugging them along. "What are you thinking, Jack? It's no good keeping things bottled up inside. You're not a treasure map, or a letter lost at sea."

That brought out a brief chuckle from Jack. "It's nothing."

Rapunzel frowned. "You're worse than a lady. It's not nothing."

"Doesn't matter anyway," he shrugged.

The boat scratched to a stop against the sand, but Rapunzel made no move to get out. Instead, she hopped onto Jack's lap, legs on either side of his hips, and gently pried his fingers away from each paddle. They moved to rest on her waist, only to lower back to his side. The subtle action hurt Rapunzel more than she cared to admit. She leaned forward, oh so slowly, and slipped her tongue between his lips, soothed when she felt his hands return to caress her.

"I love you," she told him.

Jack closed his eyes, gripping at her hips with each rock of the boat. "Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true."

She felt one of his hands reaching up to rub against her hair. "It'll hurt more when you leave."

Realization dawned on her suddenly—he thought she would leave the Zella as soon as they docked in Corona. His sudden failed attempts at distancing himself from her made much more sense now. From the past three days, he'd been trying to rip away his attachment to her. Rapunzel gripped Jack's neck, brushing her fingers against the hair at his nape. "I just want to visit them," she clarified. "I want us all to know we're okay—that I am, now. The Zella's my new home, captain."

Relief flooded over Jack's face, something he was brief to show. A smirk suddenly found its way back to his lips. "Bad girl."

Rapunzel smiled against his lips, warmth swelling inside of her. "Forgive me, sweet, sweet, Jack."

"Aye!" Merida yelled from somewhere off to their left. She and Hiccup had just arrived. "Got a magic flower to find, eh?"

Hiccup chimed in, "Nicholas mentioned it was somewhere by—"

"I know where it is," Rapunzel interrupted, joining up with the others. She looked at them almost guiltily. "I might have done some of my own research after Nick clued us in. If I read the riddles right, it's on top of a hill just out of town. Oh no!" Rapunzel patted at her dress. "I drew a map of how I remembered the island! I was so excited, I must've forgot it on the ship, but that's alright," she was quick to add, grinning at Jack. "We can grab one in town—it'll be much more accurate, and we can visit my family on the way!"

"Sounds like a plan, Zel," Merida agreed, happily.

"If they're as sweet as you, we should invite them on the crew," Hiccup added, only to earn an elbow to the gut from Merida.

They all laughed, save from Jack. "I'm not going," he told them.

"Oh, but they'd love you!" Rapunzel insisted. She was quick to give up her attempts at convincing, however. She knew could do it, he'd crack in a few minutes time, but the trick in gaining a silver tongue was to know when not to push. Jack never wanted to go back home in the first place. Something must have happened in town—something he didn't want to remember. He could meet her family another time, then. "We'll meet back here in half an hour," she told Jack once they'd reached the main bridge.

"Make it an hour," Jack said, but Rapunzel shook her head, keeping it at half. If she spent too much time with the family, she might forget how strongly she loved being at sea.

She might want to stay.

Rapunzel pressed a kiss onto Jack's cheek in goodbye. Then, she followed an ecstatic Merida and Hiccup down the bridge.

Corona was just as beautiful as she remembered, with his big, brick building, and sunny flag. She'd been caught after wandering too far on the outskirts when she was but a seven year old girl. She'd spent another seven in the grips of white slavery, where dirty men used her in ways no child or adult should ever be used. When Jack had stopped by Gothelitch in search for the islands solid gold tooth box, he'd had a run-in with the head of operation, Sir Black. Merida had been the one to spot her first, and she'd convinced Jack to unleash the crew of the Nameless to free our group of imprisoned girls. They'd succeeded, to her surprise, despite them only having been in the pirate business for barely over a year—he'd started when he was but fourteen, Rapunzel's age at the time.

If she hadn't been so curious, she never would have left Corona. She never would of met Jack, or Merida, or Hiccup, or even the rest of the crew. She was grateful for everything that had happened to her, in a way, but she still had nightmares of her time in Gothelitch. The town itself was lovely, but it had been tainted by her reason for being there.

Hiccup located a map easily. Finding Rapunzel's parents had been harder but, with a lot of asking around, they finally found themselves before an old brick home. Her parents looked the same as she pictured, but little Poppilia was almost her height. She was seventeen now, almost a grown woman, just like Rapunzel. It hurt her to know she'd missed out on watching her grow up, on creating memories only a big sister could give her. Still, her sadness gave way to relief at knowing they were still safe and okay.

"Where have you been?" Her mother asked after many hellos.

Rapunzel briefly explained what had happened to her, sparing them of the awful detail. Only she would bare that burden. "I've been sailing on the Zella since," she concluded. But instead of pure joy at her safety, her family looked fearsome.

"Doesn't Captain Jack own that ship?" Poppy asked, worry etched on her brow.

"Yes," Rapunzel smiled. "He's the most wonderful man."

Her father turned to her mother. "He was an Overland, wasn't he? Left at thirteen. I remember him."

"Oh, Punzel!" Her mother sighed, taking her shoulders. "Stay with us! Please, it's so good to have you back. We'll protect you from that man." Her green eyes flicked to Merida and Hiccup, standing a few paces behind Rapunzel. "Your friends too, they're absolutely free to stay."

Rapunzel's brows formed a neat V as she pushed one of her mother's hands free of her shoulder. "I can't stay," she told them, expecting sadness, instead of the worry they all suddenly wore in their eyes. "But I'll visit. I promise."

She made to move away when her father suddenly reached for her wrist. "Sweetheart, please! Don't go back to that devil! He'll flay you, just like he did his family!"

Rapunzel stilled. She saw her friends do the same as well—except they weren't watching her father.

They were watching her.

"What?" Rapunzel asked her father.

"The boy murdered his entire family, an older sister and two younger brothers. Then the coward had the sense to run away and get himself into that pirate business. No one's dared chase after him, not after everything he's done."

Rapunzel's head spun wildly, a headache blooming at her temple. When she turned to Merida and Hiccup, she found them completely unsurprised by the news she just been given. It was true, then. Jack had killed his own family. That explained why he ran away—why he didn't want to come back.

Rapunzel ripped her wrist out of her father's grip. There was an explanation, there had to be! Jack wasn't a monster. But why hadn't he told her what he did? Why hadn't he...?

She stormed out of Corona, ignoring her family's pleading calls. Merida and Hiccup said nothing, but she was pleased to hear they were struggling to follow her quick pace.

"Explain!" She yelled at Jack when she found him hanging by the bridge. Tears already stained her cheeks, but she didn't attempt to wipe them away. She could see it on his face, then, the horrified realization that she knows. Rapunzel knew what he'd been trying so hard to hide from her.

"I..." he started, but failed to continue.

"Your own family!" Her yells were drawing attention from the townsfolk, but she couldn't stop, couldn't stop it with the utter pain radiating through her.

"Not to interrupt," Hiccup hesitantly started, "But can we talk about this while—"

"It's there!" Rapunzel jammed her finger over a spot his open map. "Go find your damn flower!"

Red tainted Hiccup's cheeks, sending a rush of guilt swishing through her stomach. He and Merida rushed off without another word. She'd apologize to them after—they'd done nothing wrong. This had been Jack's secret to share, and he'd failed to do so. "Why?"

His blue eyes flashed. He glanced around them quickly. Then, he took her elbow and led her behind a nearby stand. She should have felt afraid, but he was so familiar. She'd trusted him far too much, and now her body couldn't even be afraid of him.

"It was... It wasn't me," he explained. "I mean, it was, but it wasn't. Not really."

Rapunzel lip quivered. "You're not making much sense."

Jack let go of her elbow and turned away from her. He rubbed a hand through his hair, pulling. Finally, they dropped tiredly to his sides. "It happened after the curse," he whispered. "I stole from the wrong lady. She was talking gibberish to me, saying how she was gonna curse me and all that. Thought she was just rattling out stuff that she knew would scare a normal kid." He shook his head, deep in memory. "I ran back home. Went to sleep thinking my brothers would have the laughs of their lives after I told them about what happened tomorrow." His shoulders shook, but Rapunzel couldn't hear him crying. "I woke up in the middle of the night. All I remember is sitting in the backyard, looking at—at their bodies, all—"

Rapunzel's hand betrayed her. She placed it over his shoulder in comfort, and he turned his face toward her in reflex. They were tear-filled; he had been crying after all. "You don't have to—"

"I flayed them alive. Probably did more, too, seeing how frostbitten they looked. I don't remember anything other than sitting in the yard looking at them. And then running for the fastest boat off land. I knew even then that nothing I could do would bring em' back."

Rapunzel could feel her heart wrenching, twisting harshly at the memory. How horrible must it have been to live with such a sight engrained in your mind? And she'd thought she'd experienced scarring things.

Frostbitten. It explained why he'd refused to use his powers during her first years on board. It took three entire years for them to become close friends, for Rapunzel to develop a crush she hadn't known he returned until that evening in the ship's stores when they'd gotten closer than usual. "Can I kiss you?" He'd asked, face only inches from hers. He had her pressed against the wall as soon as she'd whispered, "Yes." But the flashes of her past still haunted her, then. More than they did now that she knew she was safe. It had taken her long to let him share more than simple kisses in the shadows with her.

It had taken him just as long to give in to Rapunzel's constant encouragement for him to make use of his powers.

"Did you ever try pursuing the witch?" She asked him. "Maybe she would have known how to reverse it."

Jack bobbed his head up and down. "She was Black's mistress in Gothelitch."

Betrayal bloomed inside Rapunzel like a poisoned flower. "That's why you came to the island. To the house. To get your revenge on the Great Dame. You weren't planning on saving us at all, were you?"

Jack looked away, and Rapunzel slid her hand off of him. "Please," he begged, suddenly, looking back at her with widened eyes. His hand had quickly found its way to the crook of her elbow. "The crew really did want to get you girls out of there after we made it. I did. You know I would never lie to anyone on board, especially not you."

Rapunzel closed her eyes as his palm reached her jaw. He pet a thumb against her cheek, sending sparks running through her skin with every stroke. "I wouldn't of hated you if you'd told me," she whispered. "I could never hate you."

"You should," he whispered back. "You really should."

"Jack," Rapunzel opened her eyes. "It wasn't your fault. What you did. Your heart's as good as the Gods above, it was the curse that—"

"There he is!"

Rapunzel twisted fast toward the street, where Poppy stood pointing with a guard at her side. Fear shot through her heart—Jack was not welcome on this island, that much was clear to her now. "Run!" He pulled him away with her, just as a gunshot sounded. Its smell soured the air around them as they ran to shore, fast as their legs could take them. More gunshots came as they found their way to their boat and started rowing. Rapunzel watched as they pulled Merida and Hiccup's boat off shore—they'd have to come find them later.

Then, one last gunshot fired, and it had its eye on Jack's back. He lurched forward as Rapunzel cried out. "Hold it!" She told him, taking charge of the rowing. Her arms were already starting to burn from the pull, but she was glad to see Jack finally do what he was told. "Rip my skirts," she added.

Despite his situation, Jack still managed to smirk. "I don't think now's the time for that, princess."

"Rip my skirts," she said again. "Use it to cover the wound until we get on deck"

"Princess," Jack struggled to hum again in her lap. He was silent for a moment as he tried and failed to move himself upward. "I can't feel my right hand, and my thigh's going numb."

Rapunzel was breathing hard, sweat beading at her brow. She rowed faster. "What?" She said, looking down at him. "You—no. No, you'll be alright." She stopped rowing, suddenly, and helped him into a sitting position at the bottom of the boat, despite his protests. She wasn't strong enough to tear the fabric of her skirts, so she made sure he kept his left sleeve against the open would while she took Jack's previous place and worked all of her energy into rowing. "You'll be alright," she kept telling him.

But the both of them knew he wouldn't be.

"The Golden Flower has healing magic, doesn't it?" Rapunzel asked.

"It'll be too late," Jack answered.

"No," she insisted. "I'll hop on a boat with Vladimir as soon as we get back. We'll tie a second one with us and carry it along for Merida and—"

"No, Zella." Jack's voice was stern, decisive. It left no room for argument. "We're going back for them, just not now. They're smart enough to hold out on their own."

"Jack," Rapunzel's voice was weak, broken. The bullet had hit his spinal cord. He was being forced to succumb to paralysis, something she couldn't imagine would ever be easy for Jack to bare, considering how active he always was. He'd realized it, too, she knew. How horrible must he be feeling, knowing his fate? And after everything he'd gone through.

It wasn't fair.

Nothing was fair.

Rapunzel cried out for the crew as soon as they were close enough to the Zella. Nothing was fair, that was true, but from now on, she vowed, she would make sure to make that very saying as untrue as she could.

#JackunzelFS20 #pirate au #jackunzel #jack frost #rapunzel #merida #hiccup haddock #the big four #rotbtd #wattpad fanfic #jackunzel week #jackunzel prompt #jack frost x rapunzel

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themuffinbee · 4 years

Text

Lore Olympus Novelized, Chapter 2

First Chapter

I decided to combine chapters 2 and 3 since they basically flow into each other anyway. Plus, we get to the action faster :)

For the most part, I will be sticking pretty heavily to the source material in this little writing exercise. However, I may change a few minor things to better suit a prose retelling of the story, like maybe adding small actions/gestures or tweaking a bit of dialogue here and there. Hope you enjoy!

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“I don’t think I should have come to this party…” Persephone said through the stall door, tugging down the hem of the dress yet again. No matter how she adjusted her clothing, she couldn't find a way to make the darn thing stop riding up her butt.

Loaning Persephone an outfit had been a great idea on Artemis’ part since the two of them were pretty close to the same size. Well, close to the same size, with one important exception: Artemis was curvy, to be sure, but Persephone was curvy. She could breathe all right, that part was fine. However, it was obvious that the dress didn't fit the way it should. It was just one more thing to add to the teetering stack of worries she had built up on the drive over to the Panathenaea, her earlier optimism now shriveled up and gone.

She was going to make an embarrassment of herself, she just knew it.

“Come ooon." Artemis' voice echoed off of the sleek bathroom walls. "You look fantastic!”

Persephone attempted to smooth out the bunched-up fabric at her hips, wincing at the contrast of her calloused hands against the shimmering material. Even her fingernails looked unsophisticated, cut short and stubby so it would be easier to clean the dirt out from under them after working in the fields.

With a sigh, Persephone leaned forward and peered through the gap under the hinge. "I feel out of my depth...everyone’s going to think I’m some stupid village girl.”

“Nobody’s going to think that," Artemis said, unconcerned as she reached down to adjust the strap on her heels. "Come on, I don't want to talk to a bathroom stall all night."

Persephone cracked the door open and peeked at her cousin around the edge. "Artemis, I'm really nervous…"

"Awww, Persephone. You'll do fine. We'll stay under the radar." Her cousin sounded sincere enough, and Artemis didn't tend to attract too much attention to herself anyway.

Persephone poked her head out a little farther. "One drink and then we can go, right?"

"Promise." Artemis nodded.

One drink. That shouldn't take too long, she could handle that.

With a final steadying breath, Persephone smoothed out her borrowed dress, attempted something close to a smile, and ever so confidently said, "...Okay."

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

"One drink and then I can go, right?" Hades cast a sidelong glance at his youngest brother.

Zeus looked at him as if he had sprouted three other heads. “What? No, no, no, no! The festivities have just begun!”

The festivities had been underway for a good hour and a half, but Hades knew there would be no point in arguing with Zeus. He’d spared no expense this time around and was obviously proud of his work. The floor under their glassed-in suite was awash in all matter of nymphs, gods, and demi-gods, a sea of celebration roiling in time to swelling music. Aerialists drenched in technicolored light swung on swathes of silk above, while a vast variety of libations flowed without end among the cheering crowd below. Hell, it looked like people were even starting to crowd surf over in the far corner. It was, by all accounts, a damn good party.

Too bad Hades couldn’t find it in himself to enjoy it.

“What’s the problem?” Poseidon asked, handing Hades a glass of scotch. “Normally you would be drinking us under the table.”

“Oh, he’s got blue balls because some nymph dumped his sorry ass,” Zeus answered.

You little shit.

Hades rolled his eyes and set his drink on a side table without tasting its contents. “Can you please not talk about my balls? Or my ass, for that matter?”

“‘Can you please not talk about my balls? Or my ass for that matter?’” Zeus mimicked in his most morose tone, furrowing his eyebrows and pressing a dramatic hand to his chest. Then he shot Hades a shit-eating grin and pointed at him. “That’s what you sound like.”

Before Hades could decide if he wanted to bestow a response to his brother’s terrible impersonation, Poseidon twitched and stiffened as he looked down into the crowd.

“Zeus…” the Sea God said through gritted teeth, the faint outline of shimmering scales beginning to show through his skin, “...did you invite Odysseus?!”

“Of course!" The shit-eating grin on Zeus’ face took on a fiendish glint. "You know, Poseidon, you’re just too entertaining when you get mad.”

Not for the first time that night, Hades found himself wondering why they put up with His Royal Pain in the Ass. As the father of the blinded Polyphemus, Poseidon was still more than a little sore about Odysseus stabbing out the Cyclops’ only eye. Granted, the Cyclops had been trying to eat the King of Ithaca at the time, so Hades sided more with his great-great-grandnephew’s point of view over that of his nephew’s...point of view.

Poseidon probably wouldn’t have appreciated that pun. Perhaps it was a good thing Hades wasn’t in the mood to annoy his brothers with bad wordplay tonight.

The Sea King thumped a fist against the glass and pointed at the wide-eyed sailor. “Yeah, Odysseus! MOVE ALONG!”

And move he did, with a start and a jolt, right into…

It took a moment for Hades to comprehend what, or rather who, had just encompassed the entirety of his vision. At first, his brain could only process parts of what he had seen before assembling them into a whole. Pink hair and skin as bright and rosy as the sky just before the break of dawn. A falling drink dissolving into a spray of petals in midair. Next, a pale gold dress that, wow, left nothing to the imagination, and—

It was then, as she sank to her knees among the tumult of revelry, picking up the scattered petals, that he saw her eyes. Sadness, one reaching far beyond that of a simple spilled drink, resided there. Judging by the look of inexplicable hopelessness on her face, it had probably been there for some time.

After a couple of unsuccessful attempts at forming a sentence with his stuttering tongue, he managed to ask, “W-who...who is she? She’s...”

The word merely echoed around in his head as his vocal cords failed him.

...Beautiful.

His pulse began to pound through his veins with a beat loud enough to rival the music blaring through the speakers over the dance floor. His fingers seemed to move on their own accord and pressed into his chest, as if they could somehow reach through his rib cage to calm his racing heart and ease the sudden ache constricting his lungs.

“Who, Pinky?” Poseidon asked.

Hades’ vision expanded to once again include the rest of the party around the mystery girl, now accepting a helping hand from Artemis as Odysseus turned back around to offer his apologies.

"P-Pinky?" He glanced back towards his brother, translating his words from sound to meaning at a snail's pace.

“Persephone, she’s Demeter's daughter,” Poseidon continued. “She’s the Goddess of Spring."

Hades rested his forehead against the window, the coolness of glass grounding him to reality as he began to collect his scattered thoughts. This reaction wasn't…normal. No, not normal at all. He squinted out into the crowd, now doubting what his own eyes had seen. Surely this Persephone couldn't be so beautiful to warrant his earlier moon-eyed staring. It had to be a trick of the light, paired with some kind of romantic desperation after the disaster with Minthe.

Only one way to know for sure.

Reaching into his jacket, Hades pulled out his glasses, cleaned the lenses with his gloved fingers for good measure, then practically shoved the spectacles onto his face. All too aware of his brothers’ sudden silence and intense stares, he grabbed his scotch off of the table, attempting to recover at least the appearance of composure. Taking a nonchalant sip, he searched the lower level for a splash of bright pink.

She wasn't hard to find. Even in the multicolored mob, she stood out like a rose in a snarling mess of brambles. His improved clarity of vision only confirmed his first assessment: she was still gorgeous, perhaps even more so than before. It had been foolish to think that his mild nearsightedness could be to blame for what he had seen. He could feel himself getting sucked in again, unable to look away as she waved a stilted yet gracious goodbye to the unnerved Odysseus.

“Demeter’s daughter, you say?” he asked, absently spilling some of his drink out of his forgotten glass. Any pretense at composure had flown out the window as soon as his eyes found her again. “I didn’t even know she had a daughter.”

Hearing his own voice made at least part of Hades’ brain wake from its stupor, though he still stared after her. None of this made sense. “Hold on. How come I’ve never seen her before?”

“It’s...complicated.” Zeus took a swig of his fizzing wine and thought for a moment. “But, basically, Demeter doesn’t like the way I run things. So, she opted to do her duties in the Mortal Realm. Apparently, I’m 'morally corrupt.' Whatever that means.”

Hades nearly rolled his eyes at the air quotes discernible in his brother’s voice, but that would mean losing sight of the Goddess of Spring for half of a second. It wasn't worth it.

“So, for the most part,” Zeus continued, “she raised Persephone in the Mortal Realm. I’m surprised Demeter let her move to the city, to be honest. She’s always been super protective of Persephone.”

I can’t imagine why.

Expressive features…sleek, short-cropped hair…big doe eyes…curves for days wrapped up in that incredible dress…there shouldn’t be a way for someone to be such a mix of beautiful, sexy, and adorable. Looking around, he was surprised she didn’t have a string of would-be suitors following her around. Did no one else have eyes?

“Honestly,” Hades said as he folded his glasses to stuff them back in his jacket, “I think she puts Aphrodite to shame.”

His brothers grinned, elbowing one another in the side at this unexpected development, and for the first time that night, Hades smiled.

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

“Honestly, I think she puts Aphrodite to shame.”

… Honestly, I think she puts Aphrodite to shame…

… Honestly, I think she puts APHRODITE to shame…

The words went round and round in Aphrodite's head, seething just fifteen feet behind the oblivious jerk that spoke them into existence.

Why? Why did they always do this? Some lovelorn dope sees a pretty girl, and obviously she must be compared to the Goddess of Beauty herself. Every. Single. Damn. Time.

And this time it wasn’t even some stupid mortal who had never seen her in her full glory. It was Hades of all people! One of the three Kings!

Ugh! The nerve.

This could not stand. Aphrodite needed to make an example out of him. Now. No, better yet, a certain someone needed to make an example out of him. Finish what he had never started months ago.

Yes. Perfect.

Aphrodite’s fingers flew across her cell phone’s screen, dropping her favorite disgruntled cat gif into the chat. She was going to give him five seconds before she called.

Five...Four...Three...Two—

‘What’s wrong, Mommy-kins?’ came Eros’ response. ‘Party no fun?’

What a good boy.

Aphrodite tapped out her reply, ‘Get over here.’

‘No can do, this orgy isn’t going to coordinate itself.’ Followed by a string of sunglasses smiley emojis. ‘I wore a really cute polo shirt…’

‘The salmon pink one?’ She bet it was. That one went so well with his complexion.

‘YUUUUUS! I’M THE CUTEST!’

‘I love that one!’ Aphrodite added a heart-eyes emoji at the end, to show she was supportive. ‘Polo shirts aside, I still need you to get your butt here.’ Snorty face emoji, to show she was serious.

Then she closed the app and sighed. She loved her son, more than almost anything in any of the realms, but he needed to learn a few things about priorities. And a lesson. He needed to learn a lesson too.

As did Hades.

Next Chapter

#My fics #Lore Olympus #Lore Olympus Novelized #Persephone #Hades

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selenium-drive · 3 years

Text

Stay Gold Chapter 3: The Betrayal

Words: 9.3k

Series rating: Explicit

The suns beat down on the backs of the three hunters as they raced through the rugged sand dunes of Tattooine. It would be too generous of the desert planet to allow the breeze that whipped across the exposed skin of Tajana and Calican to be that of a cooling relief from the arid landscape. No, it was a continuous, sweltering gust of air that blew past them during their entire journey. It was only after a good two or three hours that Mando's raised fist in Calican's peripheral vision signaled them to stop.

"What's going on?" The young man asked impatiently. Mando gestured up ahead over a few rolling sand hills. Calican stepped off the speeder bike to get a closer look with the use of his binoculars. Tajana walked slowly to his side to get a glimpse for herself. She pulled her goggles down over her eyes, flipping through some of the settings on the side of her eye-ware to hone in on any threats ahead.

"Tusken Raiders," she noted out loud.

Calican sneered at the sight of them. "I heard the locals talking about this filth."

"Tuskens think they are the locals," Mando corrected. "Everyone else is just trespassing."

Calican straightened his posture and puffed out his chest. "Well, whatever they call themselves, they best keep their distance." Tajana couldn't resist the urge to roll her eyes at his abhorrent tough guy demeanor.

"Yeah?" Mando played along. "Why don't you tell them yourself?"

The inexperienced hunter whipped his head around to come face to face with two Tuskens. He stumbled backwards, hand clutched tight on the handle of his blaster while he simultaneously tried to gather his footing in the powdery sand.

"Relax," Mando snapped. He looked towards the natives and raised his hands to begin communicating with them in sign language. Tajana and Calican watched in silence while Mando spoke back and forth with the Raiders. When one of the Raiders outstretched their hand towards Mando, Tajana knew where conversation was going; they were demanding retribution for passage through their land.

Mando glanced over towards a naive Calican who was warily watching the silent exchange between the two parties. He stretched out his hand towards the younger man. "Hey, let me see the binocs."

Tajana couldn't help but grin under the obscurity of her scarf, knowing what he was about to do with the piece of equipment. So Mando did have a sense of humor.

The trio continued making their way across the desert, although now short Calican's binoculars. It didn't take long before Mando signaled them to stop once again, this time stepping off his bike with a sense of urgency. He approached the overlook of the sand dune they had stopped behind. Both Toro and Tajana joined Mando at the top of the ridge, all three looking down across the way at a dewback trudging around in circles. It wandered around aimlessly, letting out several groans of frustration here and there. Tajana felt a nervous lump in her throat when she realized the dewback wasn't exactly alone; it was dragging the body of its rider behind it.

"Cover me," Mando said suddenly while drawing his blaster. Tajana shot a startled look at the hunter.

"Hey, no, wait a second-"

"Stay down!" Mando commanded harshly. He sprinted out from the cover of the large sand dune, slowing his pace the closer he stepped towards the beast and the lifeless form carried behind it. Mando crouched over the corpse then flipped it over carefully. "It's another bounty hunter," he called out behind him. He began sorting through some of the belongings that had spilled out from the pockets of the deceased stranger.

"Hey I hope you're not planning on keeping all that stuff for yourself," Calican whined. "Can I at least have that blaster?"

"Something's...not right about this," Tajana mumbled. Her eyes darted from Mando, to Calican, to some of the rolling sandy hills in the upper ground levels. Wait...higher..groun-

"Get down!" Mando yelled. Calican pulled down roughly on Tajana's sleeve when the high pitched, pinging sound of a bullet striking on beskar broke through the tense atmosphere.

"Shit," she swore. Another sharp tug on her jacket yanked her back down behind the cover of a sand dune when she tried make her move to provide aid to the bounty hunter.

"Don't get yourself killed!" Calican growled. Tajana slapped his hand away in disgust. Before she could stand, Mando launched himself over the top of the ridge. He landed right besides the pair, another shot from an enemy sniper rifle making contact with one of his beskar pauldrons at the exact same moment. Tajana looked him over quickly and sighed in relief when the noticed neither of the shots had maimed the Mandalorian any.

He was panting heavily, trying to collect himself after being placed into the role of the hunted rather the hunter. When it was apparent that the tables had turned dramatically, Mando proposed they wait until nightfall to make their next move. He traveled down the dune towards where the speeders were positioned. "I'm going to rest," he told the others while taking a seat against one of the bikes. "Keep a close eye on the ridge the shots came from."

"All right, suns are down," Calican called to the rest of the group. He glanced over at the Mandalorian that was still propped up against one of the speeders, head tilted down in an apparent resting position. "Time to ride, Mando." When he received no response, he scoffed and stepped in front of the sleeping hunter.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tajana hissed quietly.

Calican waved a hand to shush her. He grinned cockily in his own amusement. "Look at you, asleep on the job, old man." He chuckled and looked towards Tajana. She didn't find him nearly as amusing as he thought himself to be, especially when he started playing gunslinger in front of the sleeping Mando.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to point your gun at people if you have no intention to shoot them?" She groaned. "Or even basic trigger discipline, for that manner."

"You're a bit of a killjoy, you know that?" Toro snapped. He continued pointing his gun playfully at Mando. This time, it was strictly for the purpose of annoying the female hunter.

"You done?" Mando's modulater spoke out.

"Y-yep," Calican stuttered. "I was just, you know...waking you up. Come on!"

Mando looked past the frazzled novice to see Tajana silently shaking her head to herself in disbelief that they ended up stuck with this fool.

"Get on your bike," Mando commanded them both. "Ride as fast as you can towards those rocks." He passed Tajana a flash charge once she had mounted herself firmly on Calican's speeder. "We alternate shots. It'll blind any scope temporarily. Combine that with our speed and we got a chance."

They sped towards the ridge where Calican had noticed the sniper rifle being fired from just hours ago. The two bikes traveled side by side, Mando firing the first flash round high into the air. The round erupted into a bright, firework explosion of blue and white light. Off to the side, and crimson red blaster shot whizzed past the two speeders, far off to the side from its intended target.

"Now!" Mando yelled. Tajana raised her charge in the same manner the Mandalorian did, successfully blinding Fennec upon both her and the enemy sniper firing their weapons. Before Tajana could let off the next round, Calican jerked the bike to the side in an attempt to weave in and out of Mando's path.

It was an attempt to interfere with Fennec's tracking; all it did was cause Tajana to lose her balance for a split second on the speeder, causing her to shoot the flash round straight ahead directly into the sand. Fennec seized the opportunity from the misfire; she locked onto Mando's bike, taking aim and firing one shot directly into his vehicle. It buckled underneath him, collapsing under his weight and sending him flying several feet forward.

Tajana looked back in horror once the speeder smashed into the desert floor and disintegrated from the impact. Mando managed to get to his feet, although dazed from having the wind knocked out of him. He fired off one final flash charge, allowing Calican and Tajana to make it the short remainder of the way. As soon as Mando pulled the trigger, so did Fennec. Her sniper round collided with his beskar chest plate, knocking him backwards onto the ground. Calican sprinted towards where Fennec had taken cover; Tajana rushed towards the battered Mandalorian. She fired her final round into the night sky in one more desperate attempt of a distraction. Fennec fired in her direction, the blaster round grazing past Tajana ever so slightly. She recoiled away from the heat of the shot, still hellbent on reaching her downed partner.

"Mando, we gotta go. We gotta move!" She yelled. He unsteadily brought himself to his feet, Tajana gripping onto his arms to sturdy him.

"Where's Calican?" He asked breathlessly. His question answered itself when they both heard the yells and grunts of a bounty and quarry fighting close by.

"We gotta go," Tajana repeated. "He doesn't stand much of a chance."

The pair arrived to the top of the ridge just in time to see Calican slammed down and pinned by Fennec. She grabbed his arm tightly, jerking it backwards with a loud pop. It was only after Calican's groan of agony, did Mando alert Fennec of his and Tajana's presence.

"Nice distraction," he mused. Fennec stiffened. Turning her head to the side, she took in the sight of two blasters pointed in her direction. She released the younger hunter and rose to her feet slowly with her hands up in surrender. As Calican stood up to redeem his composure, Mando tossed Fennec a pair of binders.

"Cuff yourself," he instructed. Once she did so, he turned his attention to Calican. "Why don't you go and find your blaster?"

Fennec looked Mando up and down, sarcastically whistling in amusement. "A Mandalorian. It's been a long time since I've seen one of your kind." She grinned to herself and raised one eyebrow suspiciously. "Ever been to Nevarro? I hear things didn't go so well there but...it looks like you got off easy."

Toro and Tajana curiously shifted their eyes in Mando's direction, figuring it was some kind of banter that went over their heads. "Well you don't have to worry about getting to Nevarro or anywhere else once we turn you in," Calican said boldly. "You know I really should thank you. You're my ticket into the Guild."

Fennec rolled her eyes and scoffed. "You're welcome."

There was one slight, unforseen problem. Due to the previously miscalculated firing of a flash round, they were now one speeder short. Tajana sighed in annoyance; this whole entire job was turning out to be more effort than what it was worth.

"I need you to go and find that dewback we saw," Mando addressed to Calican.

"And leave you two here?" Toro sneered while gesturing between Mando and Tajana. "With my bounty and my ride? Yeah, I don't think so."

Mando tilted his head towards Tajana in shared irritation. He turned his back towards the rest of the group and scanned the horizon with his built in HUD. He managed to pick up a sliver of a far off heat signature several ridges down from there they stood.

"I can go, Mando," Tajana offered.

"No," he cut her off. "I'll do it. Stay and watch her. Him too. Don't let her get near the bike. She's no good to us dead." Before they could reply, Mando stepped forward to begin walking towards the distant dewback.

"Tch, watch him too?" Calican mocked once Mando was out of earshot.

_________

"I'm going up top. Maybe I can see Mando from there." Tajana turned her back on Calican and Fennec, eyeing just where would it would be best to start climbing the tall, rocky surface behind them.

"Are you crazy? You can't climb that!" Calican shouted. He gestured quite dramatically to the steep, rust colored plateau she was referring to. Yeah, there were no ledges to climb easily, but that didn't seem to be a problem.

Tajana ignored him. She stared up at a promising looking rock formation near the top of the cliff. "Don't do anything stupid," she grumbled. "I'll be right back."

She pointed her arm towards where the rocks seem most sturdy. One of the gauntlets she wore released a small, shining, silver rod. It opened, revealing four sharp silver hooks that latched themselves deep into the rocky surface. Tajana gave the grapple two solid tugs before ascending upwards. The hook she implanted didn't quite reach the top; locking herself in place, she extended her other hand upwards once more and fired a second hook closer to the ledge. She released the first hook and waited until it rested once more in her gauntlet before continuing the climb. The edge of the plateau was just within reach this time. Tajana locked herself in place once more before reaching to put one hand on the top of the cliff. With all the strength she could muster, she unlocked the grabbing hook rope to finally pull herself to the top. She took a minute to catch her breath before glancing over the edge to check on the other two. They were a bit of a distance away but not too out of reach to where she couldn't monitor them closely. Once they turned their attention away from her, she pulled her goggles down over her eyes.

Altering the settings, she tried different sensors to see if she could find any life form trudging its way through the desert terrain. She sighed at the lack of feedback she received and pulled her goggles back up after several minutes. Seating herself on the uncomfortable rocky surface, she entertained herself by flicking a few pebbles off the ledge. "Stars, Mando, where are you?"

She wasn't necessarily concerned for the skilled bounty hunter. There was no doubt in her mind he was managing just fine but still, there was a growing feeling in the pit of her stomach that something wasn't quite right.

She looked on at the rising suns of Tattooine, taking in its growing warmth and beauty. It's a shame that such a place was crawling with criminals who brought with them violence and crime. Even after all she experienced living here, Tattooine was still her home planet.

The increase of volume coming from down at the base of the rocky cliff shook her from her thoughts. Her instincts were telling her to listen in on their conversation.

Rising up slowly, Tajana crept away from the edge. There were a few dips in the rocks where she could get a bit lower and closer to the now bickering Calican and Fennec. When she was above them, she stooped down as low as she could near the edge. "

...The Mandalorian. His armor alone's worth more than my bounty." Her blood ran cold and she grit her teeth.

"Dammit Fennec!" She hissed quietly to herself. The enemy sniper was trying to bargain her way to freedom. But wait, the realization dawned on Tajana that Calican wasn't in this for the money. He wanted the fame.

"I already told you I don't care about the money," Toro backfired. Tajana let out a small sigh of relief. Maybe he was smarter than he let on.

"Then think what it would do for your reputation," Fennec persuaded. "A Mandalorian shot up the Guild on Nevarro. Took some high value target and went rogue."

Tajana's heart dropped again. "No no no no no!" She whispered repeatedly to herself. This was going south, and fast. Fennec said the magic words that would put Calican under her spell, and Tajana wasn't there to stop it.

She scoured the edge of the cliff as best she could, looking for where she could grapple down quickly to stop Fennec from brainwashing the poor excuse for a bounty hunter.

"Fuck!" Tajana stood up suddenly out of desperation. Calican had gone silent and she knew he was strongly considering going after Mando. She knew he had no chance in a fight with the Mandalorian, but he still gave her a job to do. Her mistake of trusting Calican was about to ruin everything.

She grabbed the blaster from her side holster right as she heard a shot being fired. A hot searing pain exploded from her shoulder and spread throughout the rest of her body. The force from the blast knocked her back some. Sweat began forming on her forehead and she grit her teeth, fighting through the unpleasant, hot iron sensation. The sound of a second round being fired from Calican's blaster permeated the dry desert air.

Her stomach twisted into knots when she realized that second shot wasn't meant for her. Tajana stooped lower to the ground and cautiously snuck a peek at what was happening below. Calican had already begun to climb onto the speeder, leaving Fennec's lifeless form laying in the dirt. He sped off in the direction Mando had taken off to.

Getting to her feet once more, Tajana hastily pulled down her goggles with shaky hands to see if Mando was anywhere nearby. There was nothing in sight other than Toro speeding up and down the dunes towards Mos Eisley. There was nothing she could do now but pray Mando would show up. Even when he did, she was sure he would kill her and leave her body to rot with Fennec's. She did exactly what he told her not to do: ruin the hunt. Now he was left with a dead bounty and definitely no payment in return. She sighed and rubbed her temples.

"Dank Farrik."

_________

Tajana knew the climb down would be a bit more challenging than the climb up. It was agonizingly painful to do it with a shoulder that had a blaster round shot through it. She bit her lip hard to try to distract herself from the burning hot feeling wreaking havoc on all of her nerves as she traveled downwards.

Her feet hit the ground and her knees buckled right after. Once the grappling hook retreated back into her wrist, she all but crawled towards a small nearby rock to lean up against. She was panting hard, her shoulder now bleeding from the pulling and yanking movements of the grapple. She fought back the nausea that was creeping up from her stomach and closed her eyes, trying her absolute best to regain her composure and think about her next move.

Several minutes had passed and she felt herself getting a bit weaker as time went on. She had to find a way to stop the bleeding. Tajana reached up carefully to grasp at the black fabric encircling her neck. Just when she gave it a light tug in an attempt to loosen the scarf's hold in her, she watched as the shape of a heavy set animal bobbed up and down over the mountains of sand.

The unmistakable shimmer of sunlight off of beskar further caught her attention. To say she was both relieved and terrified was an understatement. Now she knew the fear of being a Mandalorian's target, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

When she first came across the stoic, intimidating man that was twice her size, she felt nothing. She wasn't scared when she heard a possible bounty hunter was sweeping the hangars in Mos Entha looking for someone. She wasn't scared when she heard his deep voice radiate through his helmet's modulator, commanding her to turn and face him. She wasn't scared when she surprised him outside of the cantina, causing him to pull his own blaster on her. But now, the closer and closer he got to her and knowing she had actually wronged him this time, the feeling of fear sent her vitals into even more of a frenzy.

The dewback's clumsy trots transitioned to a much slower gait once the Mandalorian approached the bloody scene. Mando sat completely stiff once they managed to come to a halt. Without a moments hesitation, he smoothly slid himself down the side of the massive creature. He took slow steps towards Fennec, not saying anything or acknowledging Tajana in any way.

Her eyelids fluttered and she tried to straighten her posture while she sat propped up against the desert rock. She held her shoulder tight to cover up her wound and cover up her embarrassment that such a lowly, two-faced, idiot of a man wounded her this way. Mando tilted his head in her direction. He was just...staring. Neither of them said a word to each other. It was dead silent except from the soft rapid pants coming from the raven haired woman. She was too worn out and nervous to speak. Even if she could, she knew he wouldn't listen to any kind of explanation. Yet, to her surprise, he didn't shoot her dead on the spot.

Mando took a few slow strides over to her, then stooped down to her level. The sand being ground beneath his boots sounded deafening due to the stillness enveloping them. The reflection off his armor seemed more intense, almost blinding up close. She flinched when his gloved hand raised up and reached towards her, her body instinctively curling up some in a defensive manner while pulling away from him. He paused for a moment. Tajana could feel his gaze from the pitch black visor of his helmet, burning into her with the same intensity of Calican's blaster. His movements resumed at a much slowed pace. He wasn't necessarily being gentle when he pulled her hand away to inspect her wound; his grasp was still firm as he were saying "don't fight me".

Tajana involuntarily winced when the hot air made contact with the delicate, mangled tissue. Mando reached behind him to rummage through one if his small bags he had scattered on his person. She recoiled away out of uncertainty of what he was about to do, but his grip tightened ever so slightly to keep her in place. He pulled out a small can of bacta spray, shaking it before applying a generous amount to the gaping wound. Mando pulled her forward some, much to her anguish that she tried desperately to hide from him, and did the same to the other side. The cool feeling of the germicidal mist was euphoric against the angry skin of her shoulder. Thank the Maker that the pain relieving properties of the disinfectant was already beginning to kick in.

It was still quiet when he scooped her up and placed her on the dewback. Neither uttered a single word when he climbed up to sit behind her, and no one said a thing when held her in place while simultaneously grasping onto the reigns of the beast carrying them back to Mos Eisley.

_________

Nightfall was beginning to set in by the time the pair of hunters reached town. They approached the hanger where the Crest was stationed, taking in the chilling sight of Calican's empty speeder parked outside.

"This can't be good," Tajana commented. Mando dropped down off the side of the dewback then extended his hand out to Tajana to ease her down. She looked uneasily at his outstretched hand. "I'm fine," she said stubbornly while swinging her legs to the side of the creature. "The bacta kicked in a while ago."

"Good, then you can cover me if I need it," he said matter of factly. Reaching up to grab her forearm, he firmly pulled her down off the dewback. Mando released her once her feet hit the ground, leaving her to struggle to gain her balance. When he pulled out his blaster and turned to head inside Peli's hangar, he didn't catch the glare Tajana was giving the back of his helmet.

The two cautiously advanced inside the dock, listening for any sign of movement and looking for anything out of place. Before they reached the lowered ramp of the Crest, Mando reached his arm out in front of Tajana to block her from going any further.

"Took you long enough, Mando," a familiar, cocky voice echoed from the hull of the gunship. A surge of anger rose up into Tajana's chest at the thought of him setting foot on the Crest. It wasn't even her ship, but the level of disrespect the younger man was showing angered her to no end. When he emerged with a terrified Peli clutching The Child, both held at gunpoint, Tajana nearly saw red. "Looks like I'm calling the shots now, huh, partner?" He jeered. "Drop your blaster and raise 'em."

Mando did as he was told. Tajana remained still, her blaster pointed disdainfully at Calican. Toro cocked his head and smiled in her direction. "That means you too, sweetheart. How's the shoulder?"

"It appears you're a better aim than a better bounty hunter," Tajana snarled. She bent down slowly to set her blaster next to Mando's. "Even then, it was a lucky shot." Calican chuckled at her banter, then looked down at Peli.

"Cuff them," he ordered. Peli set The Child down on the ramp nervously. She grabbed the two binders that Calican held out for her. Making her way down to the ground level of the hangar, she shot an apologetic look to both Mando and Tajana.

"You're a Guild traitor, Mando," Calican chastised. "And as far as the girl goes, I don't know what I'll do with her quite yet." He glanced down at his feet to look over The Child with interest, then carefully took it in his arms to get a closer look. "I'm willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape."

Peli raised one of the binders up to Mando's hands that were resting on the back of his helmet. Before she latched one of the cuffs to his wrist, she caught sight of a flash grenade securely held in the palm of Mando's hand.

"You're smarter than you look," she whispered closely to his ear.

Tajana remained still with her hands behind her head. She couldn't help the smile that sprang forth due to his quick thinking.

"Fennec was right," Calican continued out loud. "Bringing you in won't just make me a member of the Guild, it'll make me legendary." Toro raised his blaster in Mando's direction.

Before he could pull the trigger, Mando detonated the flash grenade. A blinding white light filled the room along with a violent bang. Mando shoved Tajana to the ground and grabbed his blaster. Calican fired a shot where Mando was standing, not noticing the Mandalorian had darted to the side. Mando took aim at the other hunter, shooting him in the side of his chest.

Calican dropped off the Crest's ramp, his body smacking the hangar floor with a loud thud. Tajana darted in his direction to find where The Child had landed as well. She peered behind the corner of a nearby crate, her golden eyes locking with the startled, black orbs of the infant.

Peli emerged from behind a wall of storage containers, eyes scouring the floor for the foundling. "Stay back," Mando warned her when she closed in on Calican.

"We gotta find it," she said worriedly. Mando turned over Calican's body, not finding The Child in his possession.

"It's here!" Tajana called out from behind the crate. She stood up from the floor, clutching The Child tightly in the crook of her arms.

"There you are!" Peli cooed while extending her arms out anxiously for the little creature. "Are you hiding from us? Look at you. It's alright. I know that was really loud for your big old ears, wasn't it?"

Tajana smiled from underneath her scarf at the caring older woman. Her eyes shifted from Peli, who was now rocking the foundling back and forth, to Mando, who picked up a rather full coin bag off of Toro.

Peli turned to face Mando, a serious and uneasy expression in her eyes. She gingerly passed his son back to him.

"Be careful with him," she said softly. Folding her arms behind her back, she rocked back and forth on her heels nervously as she looked the hunter over. "So I take it you didn't get paid..."

With his free hand, Mando poured out the contents of Calican's bag into Peli's hand. As the shining gold and silver credits filled her palms, some even dropping to the floor, her eyes and mouth widened in shock.

"That cover me?" Mando asked. Peli shook her head to snap herself back into focus.

"Y-yeah. This is gonna cover you." She broke her attention away from her payment, a slight frown crossing her lips while she looked curiously at Calican laying by the Crest.

"All right pit droids! Let's drag this outta here!" She called out. They all began frantically chattering at the same time.

"I don't know!" Peli yelled back to them. "Drag it to Beggar's Canyon!"

Tajana let another small smile grace her hidden features as she watched the cluster of droids team up to drag Calican out of the hangar.

Peli headed off in the opposite direction, mumbling happily to herself while looking over the shiny stack of credits in her hands. It seemed her newfound riches were masking the trauma of being held at gunpoint for the past few hours.

Mando began to lower the ramp of the rebuilt Razor Crest. Tajana didn't dare turn to watch him as he gathered The Child into one arm and left to make his leave. When she heard the pitch of his footsteps change when he stepped foot onto the metal ramp, she started to follow in the direction the droids went.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Tajana froze. The rumbling baritone of his voice stopped her hard in her tracks. He didn't sound angry or threatening. It was just a simple, emotionless question.

"Back to Mos Entha?" She immediately wanted to slap herself. It came out sounding more like a question rather than a confident statement. Her typical bold attitude was sucked out of her, replaced with humiliation and a bit of fear. She hadn't felt this way in so long. It made her disgusted with herself. Mando's silence looming over the two of them didn't help any. She knew if she turned around to face him, she would meet the stone cold gaze of a deadly hunter hidden behind a solid black visor. She understood Mandalorian's tended to hide their faces from the world. It was part of their culture and she respected that. She herself had her own reasons for hiding most of her face. Just as she wanted to remain unseen, she honored Mando's decision as well. But Maker, what she would give to see what emotions were etched upon his face at this moment.

"Are you refusing my offer?" Mando asked once more. His tone was a bit more forceful than the last time.

Tajana swallowed hard. She felt cornered but also relieved at the same time. It would take a simple "yes" to get out of this whole situation. She could leave and act like nothing had happened tonight. The Mandalorian, The Child, Fennec, and Calican would be a memory she would quickly push to the back of her mind and forget about. She could return to her small home in the crowded city of Mos Entha, maybe even go back to her shitty paying job as well. She would try to keep a low profile, try to stay out of trouble. As hard as she tried to come up with reasons to to stay after all, the budding desire to leave this planet was the only thing she could focus on. Although Tattooine was her home, was too much history buried underneath the sand dunes.

"No," she said with a little more strength backing up her words. "But I have to go back to Mos Entha. All my things are there."

Mando had most definitely perfected the ability of standing still and looking intimidating. The mood lightened some from The Child in his arms making soft cooing noises now and then. The two of them together made for an interesting contrast. Who would’ve thought Mando had a nurturing side? Maybe that's why he was still willing to consider taking Tajana in even after the complete fuck up that happened today.

"Well let's get a move on then," he answered. "And you better pack light." Mando finally moved, continuing his voyage to the inside of the Crest. Tajana took one more look at the exterior before following right behind him. After she settled in she would finally be able to take a closer look at the interior and map out areas that needed to be fixed up.

She watched Mando retreat to the cockpit, delicately placing The Child in the passenger seat and putting his strap on tight. The ramp door ascended into its closed position. Once the audible fastening of the locks holding it into place were heard, Mando lifted off the ground and sped towards Mos Entha.

Tajana held onto the wall tightly to keep her balance. The aircraft, even after all the years it's been around and what turmoil Mando put it through, smoothly ascended into the pitch black twilight of Tattooine. The now fully functional engines propelled them through the crisp night sky while The Child cooed happily from the front of the ship.

Tajana walked around the first floor carefully, finishing the mental map of the Crest in her head she had started prior to their hunt for Fennec. Everything looked a little worn down or old, not that old was necessarily bad. "Old" didn't mean dysfunctional. It didn't automatically mean it needed to be replaced. "Old" was her word of choice she had used to describe the Razor Crest, a word that carried some sense of stability along with it. That's why she was here, working alongside a deadly bounty hunter and his infant son; she needed a new start.

_________

"Why don't you and your foundling come with me?" Tajana asked Mando.

Silence.

"I'm sure you could use something to eat while I get everything together."

More silence.

"Look, I know you haven't had anything since I met you outside the cantina, at the very least."

Still silence.

"At least let the kid eat."

That brought the Mandalorian to his feet. He still didn't say anything when he unfastened The Child from the chair on his right side, nor did he utter a single word during the agonizingly awkward walk to where Tajana called "home".

It was a rather unremarkable little dome shaped structure. Mando had to almost crouch down to duck below the doorframe, something The Child found slightly amusing.

The inside was simple; a soot riddled fireplace in the quaint little living room, a small dining area next to an equally small kitchenette, and a few doors leading to other rooms in the house.

Tajana dusted her shoes off before rummaging through a closet near the front door. She pulled out some duffle bags and began talking over her shoulder at the Mandalorian standing awkwardly in the center of her living quarters.

"I know it's uh, it's not much but make yourself at home. The kid can wander around fine, there shouldn't be anything he can really get into."

Mando robotically set The Child down, eyeing him carefully while he trudged around the room in his potato sack outfit. The bounty hunter glanced up at Tajana and saw her retreat into the kitchenette. She started sorting through her cabinets, setting some of her food supplies either on the counter next to her or tossing it in one of the bags.

Mando thought about telling her she didn't need to give up all her food for them, but the uncomfortable stabbing feeling of hunger he had been suppressing told him to keep his mouth shut. They had next to no food on the ship and he knew it.

Tajana peeked around the corner to glare at the stoic man. "Sit down will you? You're making me nervous."

Mando complied willingly. He turned his attention back to the foundling who was running back and forth across the spacious living room, all while babbling a bunch of nonsense to no one in particular. All the time the kid spent being coddled by Peli or asleep on the ship resulted in lot of pent up energy he was now letting loose. At least he would probably knock out when they finally got back to the Crest.

Tajana zipped up the duffle bag and tossed it down next to the front door. "It's not much, but now you'll have more to feed the kid other than ration bars."

Mando's hand twitched. The inside of his helmet felt a bit warmer. If he didn't know better, he would say he was a little embarrassed. She probably noticed the lack of supplies due to the lack of funds in Mando's credits bag. He had given all of the credits stolen off Calican's body to Peli. Normally it wouldn't pain him to do so, but now this meant his first priority was finding another job as soon as they left Tattooine.

Tajana returned to the kitchen and the sound of pans clamoring around recaptured the Mandalorian's attention. He failed to notice the mischievous green creature that was waddling towards the direction of the food supplies bag. The sound of a knife on a cutting board masked the sound of a zipper being pulled back. The smell of meat being cooked on a stove top only further distracted the Mandalorian. He clutched at his stomach in an attempt to get the all too familiar gnawing cold feeling of hunger to dissipate.

A tug on his leg stole his attention back from the uncomfortable feeling and when he looked down, The Child gazed up at him innocently, a handful of dried fruit crammed into its mouth.

"Hey! Hey!" Mando corrected with a firm tone. "No! That's not yours. You have to share." He picked The Child up but before he could pull the remaining dehydrated fruit bits from its little green fingers, The Child extended his hand towards the Mandalorian's helmet.

"No, not share right now." He set the little foundling down next to the wide open duffle bag. With a point of his gloved finger, he brought the little one's attention to the source of the problem. "This is ours. You have to share it with all of us."

The Child babbled a bunch of nonsense in return. Mando sighed heavily, eyes still dead set on the little troublemaker. The Child looked off to the side behind Mando and raised its arms excitedly.

"You're awfully talkative all of a sudden," Tajana said playfully. She reached down to pick up the foundling and cradled him in one arm. "Both of you," she continued.

Mando's eyes protectively followed her every move out habit from someone new handling his kid. Tajana picked up on his shift in demeanor and smiled in a reassuring manner that was meant for him, almost forgetting he couldn't see it. The softness in her expression in turn transfixed itself into her eyes that peered into the black abyss of his visor; her typical firey stare was now that of warm, melted honey.

His rigid form relaxed some when she handed him a steaming bowl of stew. Thank the Maker his stomach didn't growl right then and there.

"Thank you," he said, staring into the cream colored liquid. His eyes danced around the plump chunks of meat and diced vegetables that bathed themselves in the viscous broth. "But I can't-"

"I know." Tajana said simply. She eyed the windows to make sure all the curtains were obscuring the view from the outside, all while Mando begrudgingly tore his gaze from the meal he couldn't eat. Grabbing another bowl in her free hand, she set off towards one of the other rooms of the house.

"Knock when you're finished, please." She didn't give him a chance to argue. Shutting the door softly behind her and The Child, Mando heard the muted excited giggle emitted from the hungry little foundling. He looked upon his own serving and set it down on the dining table. He glanced back at the door the woman and child were situated behind, fighting with himself whether or not to indulge in something as simple as a bowl of stew.

She does not trust easily, but you can place your trust in her.

With a faint hiss, the latches at the base of his helmet released. Mando pulled his helmet off shakily. He turned his head to the side, eyes fixated on the door of the other room. His helmet hit the table with an intentionally loud thump. The hunter hoped that the woman one room over heard it and knew what the noise was. The door still remained shut.

Mando cautiously raised a spoonful to his mouth, eyes still glued to the entryway. He ignored the slight stinging sensation of the hot liquid coating his tongue. The burn that traveled down his throat meant nothing in comparison to the joy of finally eating a decent meal. He shoveled in spoonful after spoonful. The pieces of meat were a forgotten luxury he hadn't experienced in years while the vegetables provided his worn out body with the nutrients it rarely received.

He gasped for air when he set the empty bowl down minutes later. He caught glimpse of a drinking glass on the opposite side of the table that was filled with fresh water. Mando didn't even notice it before or know if it was even meant for him. He gulped it down hastily, his fast pace no longer being because he was worried about having his face looked upon but rather desperation for food and water.

Underneath all that shiny armor, he's still just a man.

Mando himself almost always forgot that. He knew everyone around him completely had. People only saw him as a handful of things: something to kill, someone to do their bidding for them, or something to be feared. He pushed himself to unimaginable limits every day, always depriving himself of basic needs and rest. It only made sense that when he had the extremely rare opportunity to sit and enjoy something as stupidly simple as a cup of soup or a glass of water, that he would bask in that blissful moment for as long as possible. In those several, bittersweet short minutes, he had never felt more human.

Mando sighed. In this certain circumstance, it was a mannerism that stemmed from content rather than aggravation. Now satisfied, he reached over to grab his heavy beskar helmet and placed it over his head once more. When the locks on the sides snapped back into place, he rose from the table and landed three sturdy knocks against the door.

There was a bit of movement stirring on the other end. Tajana poked her head out through the opening, a her hand placed over her eyes as a precaution.

"You can look," was all that Mando let out. He was back in his full suit of armor, once again just a Mandalorian that had yet another job to do.

Mando took a few steps to let Tajana work her way past him, her arm still holding The Child tight. It cooed both happily and sleepily, its large brown eyes half closed from the food coma that was beginning to set in.

She passed Thee Child to Mando and set down one more duffle bag on the floor next to the one that contained their food.

"Thank you again," Mando called out to her. She was busy bustling around the kitchen, cleaning off the cooking ware she used for the meal, along with the two bowls that they ate from.

Wait. Two bowls.

"Hold on a second," he started. "You didn't get any-"

"Hey, Mando," Tajana interrupted. She shook her hands free from the soapy water, not looking at him but rather the baggage on the floor. "Do you mind grabbing one of those for me? I still have one more thing I have to get before we go."

Though he heard her request, he tried in vain to vocalize his previous concern. "But you didn't-"

"You were in a rush to leave Tattooine, yes?" She asked. Mando didn't fail to pick up on the not so subtle sharpness of her question. Her eyes met his for a few seconds, the previous warm glow of her golden orbs intensifying into the unmistakable smoldering glare he had seen several times already. When she moved around him to grab a blaster rifle from the closet, Mando shut his mouth immediately. He reached down to pick up the heaviest of the luggage, then placed the sleeping child into a brown cloth bag at his side. With her weaponry strapped against her back and the remaining duffle bag in her hand, the trio set off towards the direction of the Razor Crest in silence. The only noises they heard were the late night conversations of passer-byers that ceased once they caught sight of the Mandalorian, and The Child's soft snores that accompanied them the rest of the way.

_________

By the time they arrived at the Crest and Mando had mapped the navigation for their next destination, the suns of Tattooine were just about to make their appearance. He sat in the pilot's seat for another moment, taking in the warm glow of the two suns rising together. The Child was fast asleep in the sealed off area where Mando's mattress lay. Nearby, Tajana was trying her hardest to not make too much noise as she added her rifle to the Mandalorian's hidden firearms collection. She shut the compartment door with an unpreventable clang, thanking the Maker that the infant was a relatively heavy sleeper. Her footsteps were fairly quiet, almost unnoticeable until they grew louder the closer she got to the entrance of the cockpit. The door was already pushed slightly ajar, signaling to her that Mando deemed it safe to come in. When her strides fell completely still, Mando turned his head ever so slightly in her direction.

"Need something?" His deep voice was monotonous as usual.

"Just a few questions about this whole living situation thing," Tajana began.

Mando looked forward and continued. "Such as?"

Tajana suppressed the desire to roll her eyes at the clueless man. Maybe he was feigning ignorance in an attempt to get under her skin the same way she does him. Maker, did she really have to spell it out for him?

"Such as, where do I sleep or where does my stuff go? What exactly do you want me to take care of other than the baby and the ship? Are there any rules? Anything I should never ever do?" She counted out each question on a finger in a demonstrative fashion, even though she knew Mando wasn't watching her.

"The safety of The Child is our main priority," Mando began. "You will watch and care for him when I'm not around. I'll be going on hunts off and on to cover the funds for your employment and other things. I'll let you know before I leave. Some hunts may require me being away for a few days or more," he paused for a second. "Some...I might need your help on."

Tajana stared hard at the back of his helmet. Was he just blatently fucking with her at this point? Her mouth replied faster than her mind could fully come to terms with what he just admitted. "You want to repeat that?"

"You heard me just fine," Mando said stiffly.

Tajana was completely blindsided. "Even after what happened with Calican?"

Mando was quiet. The longer he put off answering her, the more she wanted to throttle the back of his chair. It was soon becoming evident to her that this was his most annoying mannerism.

"I'm certain you're aware of my wanted status with the Guild." His voice lowered to a more hushed volume. The shift in his attitude was unnerving to say the least. "You know why Calican turned on us. I know you do. You were there when Fennec told him about the high price of my head."

Tajana couldn't help but interrupt him. "Where are you going with this?"

"I don't know how he got the jump on you," Mando answered quickly. "What I do know is that even after learning exactly the same bit of information he did, you passed up every chance to come after me and the kid. His betrayal was unavoidable."

It was her turn to keep him waiting for a response. "What makes you think I still won't turn on you?"

The question was an uncomfortable one but nonetheless, it was a very real concern. Throughout their entire conversation thus far, Mando sat still as could be in his worn leather seat. The flashing shades of blue and white hyperspace swirled around on the flawless beskar metal that adorned him. The mesmerizing fluidity of space was a stark contrast to the constricting tension brewing inside of the ship. Instead of answering his new pilot's question, Mando once again deflected the topic of conversation.

"If you climb down the ladder, there's a bit of barren space off to the side across from the ramp opening. We can find a way to make it more comfortable so you can sleep there, or you can use the cot The Child is sleeping on currently, whichever you please. Next to the carbon freezing chamber, there's room for you to store your belongings." Mando gave her no time to respond, not that she even knew what to say anymore. Their whole discussion was riddled with twists and turns, so Tajana did her best to just listen instead of add to it. "I'm sure you've seen the refresher. It's yours to use as you see fit. Now, as far as rules go: Don't pilot the ship unless I tell you to, or unless I'm not around and there's an emergency. I'll do my best to keep in contact with you the days I'm not here. Of course you know I take my meals alone. I don't remove my helmet in front of anyone, and don't ever ask me to. I'm sure you understand the desire to remain unseen."

Tajana's flinched. Desire? There was no desire for her to live this way. Sure the difference between their circumstances was that his was cultural and her's was...well, it wasn't his business actually, that's what. A surge of anger blossomed deep in her chest. She didn't even know who she was angry at exactly. Mando brought it up, so she supposed that his baseless assumption of her was the cause.

He thought she would’ve given him some sort of agreeable witty remark one he was finished. Out of curiosity, he tilted his head to peer back over the back of his chair. There was no mistaking the solar flare of emotions raging through what little expression of hers he was able to see. "Good to know," she said a little too calmly for his liking. "Thank you, Mando."

Tajana slipped through the door and slid it halfway shut before he managed to say another word. Rummaging through her personal belongings, she pulled out a few clean pieces of clothing and descended down to where the refresher was. It wasn't spacious, not in the slightest. Not that she was intentionally trying to imagine Mando in here, but the thought of the much larger man crammed into the tiny space and removing all of his armor for a shower was rather amusing.

She turned on the water to let it warm up and began removing the dust covered layers of clothing off one by one. Although the bacta had helped immensely, peeling her blood crusted shirt away from the still tender wound site was far from comfortable. The side of her arm from where Mando had unintentionally rammed into her back in Mos Eisley, was painted a dark purplish blue color.

Tajana wasn't the most sturdy or physically strong person in the galaxy by any means. What she lacked in brute strength she made up for with her sharp mind, stamina, and dexterity. Her small stature made her an unassuming and perceivably "easy" target, something she frequently used to her advantage. Her enemies had a tendency to rush her half cocked, a mindset that always proved to to be a deadly mistake.

Once a thin curtain of steam was rising from the shower stream, Tajana let her thick, raven tresses fall down past her waist. Her hair was dry and rough from the unrelenting desert sun. A layer of sand was caked on within some of her strands. Water wasn't the easiest thing to come by on bone dry planets such as Tattooine. She did her best to keep up with her hygiene, but finally being able to be in a full on shower such as this, was a gift from the Maker itself.

Beads of warm water rolled off her golden caramel skin, taking with it the stress and grime from the past two days. Not knowing how much warm water could be used in one sitting, Tajana did her best to make it a thorough yet not overly drawn-out shower. She was sure Mando would want to take one as well after being under the blistering suns all day.

Her stomach twisted into a tiny knot when she thought about the way she cut him off earlier. He had done more than hire her as a babysitting pilot; he opened up his whole home to her. A bit of guilt began to set in when she dressed herself with new undergarments, a charcoal grey tunic, and loose black pants. She grabbed a clean black scarf, securely wrapping it around her neck to just below her eyes. Tajana knocked before she exited the washroom, keeping in mind the highly unlikely but still possible chance that Mando might be lurking about the ship helmet-less. After waiting a few more seconds, she slid out of the bathroom and climbed up the ladder to put her used clothes near where her other belongings were.

On her way back down to the lower level, she noticed the sliding door leading to the cockpit was securely shut, not cracked open like she had left it. She decided it best to give the Mandalorian his space for a while. It was something he wouldn't be getting much more of after today. It would take both of them a while to get used to living with another person. Sure Mando was living with the kid now but still, that's different from sharing living space with another adult human being. In the mean time, she was going to look around for something to use as a makeshift bed.

Her search came to a dead stop when she noticed the compartment that housed the sleeping child was wide open. Tajana rushed over to see if the foundling was missing from where Mando had laid him down when they boarded the Crest. Something was situated on the cot, and it wasn't the kid.

A bit of warmth pooled into her cheeks when she realized what it was. Resting on top of a poorly folded and tattered sheet, sat a small bowl of dehydrated fruit.

#the mandalorian #mando #mando x oc #mandalorian fanfic #star wars #din djarin #din djarin x oc #stay gold #star wars fanfiction #pedro pascal #din x oc

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theflashdriver · 4 years

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Silvaze Pirate AU: Present or Plunder

I’ve had this for a while, I always thought Silvers powers would be capable of creating a great ghost ship. I hope you enjoy!

"Your majesty, are you certain this is the best course of action?" Gardon, an elderly Koala who served as the royal retainer, whispered to his young ruler. "Forgive my saying this seems a little… blunt? A little too direct perhaps, would you disagree?"

Blaze the cat, the sole monarch of Sol, stood at the bow of a warship; eyes locked on a horizon obscured by mist. Eight of her ships and, if reports were to be believed, countless pirate vessels had undergone a plundering described by many supernatural. Due east of Southern Isle, a few miles from the common trade route, was an area prone to thick fog yet strong winds. When the wind was right merchant ships, desperate to meet deadlines, often took this sub-route in hopes of making up for lost time. No one had been injured, the ships went undamaged, but whenever her vessels had entered the fog an ultimatum allegedly sounded. It was best described as a demand for tribute, the choice to throw their valuables to the depths or have phantasmal light seize them. Regardless of the truth, to steal from vessels bearing her flag was a declaration of war.

"Blunt as it may be, they only attack singular ships; we cannot bring our naval might. I want to put an end to this nonsense as quickly as possible. I'll prove this is a pirate front, apprehend the perpetrators and drag them home for trial." She'd spoken plainly, focused on the task at hand rather than formality, as was often the case.

"Of course your highness, forgive me." The old man lowered his head, regalia jangling as he bowed. "You know I worry."

"I'm aware, though, regardless of the reason for this venture," Blaze spared him a glance, the faintest outline of a smile graced her lips, "It is nice to be outside castle grounds. Especially on less serious business." Though Gardon was Blaze's most trusted advisor he'd practically raised her and that, naturally, came with some baggage. He was the closest she had to a parent, she the closest he had to a daughter and yet she was his ruler. "Do drop the titles, while we're out here at least."

He sighed, resuming his usual high shouldered and stiff posture. "If you insist. Shouldn't be long till we breach the fog, are you prepared?"

Free of her kingdom the feline had shed her royal garb and a far more comfortable outfit had taken its place. A purple long coat, adorned with silver buttons bearing the royal insignia, obscured a white dress shirt. A pair of cavalier boots protected her feet while matching black tights shielded her legs. For fighting her foes, two swords hung at Blaze's waist. They were simple sabres, designed for duelling rather than combat, but her aim was always to subjugate rather than kill. She could, of course, rely upon the curse that ran in her blood but that came with repercussions. If those pirates came to trial branded the news would travel far and fast, dissuading other pirates but terrifying her people. They wanted a princess who'd rule them justly, not some demon sat on the throne.

"I won't know until I face them, will I?" As she spoke, turning fully to Gardon, she found his form faintly obscured. Despite her efforts, the fog had crept up on them. "Ideally this vessel serves as my transport but, if I fail, it's armed for a reason. Have the crew ready themselves, the so-called ghost ship should soon be upon us."

With less than a second's hesitation, the koala turned and began to roar orders in a voice the stark opposite that prior. Blaze heard footsteps pound across the deck and the sounds of heavy canons being rolled into place, all the while her gaze was fixed ahead; awaiting whatever form dared emerge from it. Her fur bristled against the salty wind, ears flickering as she tried to identify any shapes in the fog or hear something besides the crashing of waves.

She folded her arms, brow furrowing at her wasted effort, and turned to the stern of the ship. Despite the mist's attempt to obscure them, she saw men and women stood ready; twenty individuals discounting herself and Gardon. No lives had been taken in prior raids, but had these pirates faced such adversity? Twenty-one soldiers, each prepared to die for their princess, but ultimately; they were twenty-one lives she sought to protect. She'd trained since she could walk but it'd been months since she last truly fought and her presence alone likely wouldn't dissuade her foes, not without some show of power. Perhaps unleashing her curse would be enough; showing those pirates something truly supernatu-

Blaze lurched backwards, the wind had dropped from the sails… no, it was more than that. She cast her eyes up to them only to find they'd fully furled, the ropes that once held them were swaying as if caught in a gale; floating beyond the reach of her crew. Waves broke against the hull of the ship and yet it refused to rock. Before she could turn, Blaze sighted her shadow cast in eerie light; a pulsing blue glow that stretched her shade to its utmost lengths before returning it to its regular shape. Hands at her sword hilts Blaze spun on her heel, jaw shut tight as she steadied herself through bewilderment. The white miasma had been cast cyan; ghostly light shone from her own ship's hull as though it had been slathered in ectoplasm. But that couldn't be the case; it had to be some trick! She racked her mind; it had to be some weather phenomena or a trick of the lig-

"Present or Plunder?" The ultimatum was dealt, a booming voice echoed from the fog. But it was no ghostly moan nor haunting shriek, it was the voice of a regular person. This had to be a trick; it simply had to be!

Flinching at her own hesitation the princess turned back, drawing her swords lest the fool could see her. "You are no privateer! What right do you have to plunder? Pirates shall be punished to the full extent of the law! Surrender lest I drag you from your ship, repent and your lives will be spare!"

Silence swept over the sea, the wind did not whistle and her crew refused to move. Blaze knew she had chosen her words well, her voice was known throughout the land and, furthermore, she had given clear warning. No sailor, on their ship or hers, could claim she hadn't been merciful; other countries would have fired into the fog without hesitation.

The pirate's response was clear. "You have chosen Plunder. Your goods are forfeit. Cast your treasures into the depths or I will take them myself."

"Ready the cannons!" With her word Blaze drew her cutlasses, amber eyes sharpened in an attempt to cut through the fog. Unable to see, she shouted again. "You face the crown! Without surrender, there will be no mercy!"

As her first demand hadn't been met, Blaze doubted her opponent would reconsider but that shout was more intended to bolster her crew. To those of weaker minds and dispositions, this would seem like the attack of an adult. Whatever phenomena caused this ethereal light would, undoubtedly, cause the disappearance of their belongings; she just had to determine how and why.

Just as she began to ponder it, Blaze felt herself grow lighter; there was a tugging at her fingertips. It took but a moment to react but her grasp tightened as a bizarre blaring noise swept across the ship, it sounded like the moan of an alien whale. An invisible force had grabbed hold of her swords and (tug as she might) was refusing to let go; the pirates were trying to steal her swords from her very grasp. Digging in her heels, the feline's fangs came to bear. There was a scream behind her, she heard someone cry the word ghost, her bolstering had been for nought; she had to help them!

Irritated but unwilling to part with her swords, her curse bubbled to the surface; blistering flame were leaking from the mark on her back. Soon fire danced across her shoulders and wove its way along her arms, quickly arriving at her hands. With a roar and a final heave, those flames shot up her sword and tore away whatever had grasped them; allowing the princess to quickly return the blades to their sheathes and lock them in place. Despite having learned from this interaction, she was still puzzled. There was no hand grasping at her blades, yet they had been pulled away from her. Perhaps it was a bizarre magnetic phenomenon? If utilised correctly, that could explain her sabres being taken… but then why wasn't the metal on her clothes reacting and why had her flames-

Above the clamour Blaze heard Gardon yell out; "Your majesty! Come quickly!" But as she turned the feline found the fog had grown thicker still, her crew reduced to dark shapes moving within the cyan tinted clouds.

She dropped from the ship's head, racing across the deck and toward the largest cluster of ship hands. Though her journey was quick, with each and every step new shapes appeared through the miasma. Objects wear tearing themselves from the deck and floating toward the sky. Blaze heard koalas cry out as they were robbed of their swords, she heard the sounds of metal clattering and the deck creaking as it was relieved of strain. Following the elder's shouts, she managed to reach him; only half visible through the miasma.

"There's no gold on the ship so they're taking our weapons!" Gardon cried out, clinging to a koala as they clang to a cannon that was starting to float away.

"I've got it!" Blaze shouted, hardly even thinking as she clambered and swung her way up and atop the canon. Despite their combined mass, the cannon still hung in the air. She'd intended to set both it and herself alight when a thought dawned upon her. "Let go, both of you!"

"Blaze! What are you doing?!" Her elder subordinate yelled.

"Clearly we can't stop them stealing from us, whatever they're doing it's spread too far and they've already claimed too much!" She called back. "But, if they hope to steal our weapons, I'll make sure they get more than they bargained for!"

The koala quickly understood, she watched him open his mouth to shout again only for it to close. His eyes shut tight. "Are you sure about this?"

She wasn't, she was doing this on a whim, but she wasn't going to let that show. Steeling her brow and locking her swords beneath the weapon's barrel, further securing herself to it, she turned from him and gave one last shout. "Of course I am, let go!"

There was a final moment of hesitation, but she felt the canon shift higher into the air. She glanced back to the koalas only to find they'd vanished from view, her ship followed suit as she flew beyond its bow. She could make out other canons as she flew but, beyond that, the shape of their plundered weapons was beyond discerning. They'd travelled light, bringing canons, flintlocks and a few dozen swords. Considering the goods they'd plundered from her fleet alone, this was barely a drop in the bucket. Eventually, the smog started to thin and soon she could see that same eerie light ahead.

The enemy was anchored in the eye of the fog cloud, as she drew closer the clear zone granted her a perfect view of both her stolen goods and the ship. The tales of a ghost ship seemed a magnitude truer as it came into view; the vessel's sails were tattered and its hull was punctured in several places. The same blue light that had plundered her ship seemed to coat this boat's entirety, making it hard to identify the hull's shape; let alone any identifiable markings. What little Blaze could see was jagged and broken; it seemed that little more than the glow and great clumps of barnacles were holding the ship together. Rationally, logically, it shouldn't have been able to float, let alone sail.

But, beyond the state of the ship, something far more confusing caught her eye. Despite its state, beneath the rot and the damage, this ship was so very familiar to her. The sail bore the royal crest, despite the state the sails; Blaze could make out seven emeralds emblazoned upon them. The ship's figurehead was familiar too, a crowned feline with a single outstretched arm (now merely a stump), and even the ship's scale was so very familiar to Blaze. It was damaged, almost beyond the point of recognition, but this ship was so very similar to the one she'd just left. Her ship, her family's ship, the one of a kind ship that'd been constructed almost one hundred years ago; The Sunflower. Whatever trick these thieves were playing, it was getting stranger by the moment.

This bizarreness was compounded as Blaze watched the first of her weapons approach the desk, a swarm of ten or fifteen cutlasses. Before they could make contact with the deck, Blaze watched as the wood panelling cracked and buckled upward to create a wide crevice. The swords flew in without hesitation; over the hum of glowing energy Blaze manage to hear them clatter against something. As more and more equipment vanished into the hole, it became apparent Blaze's cannon would soon do the same. From her position atop the barrel she was free to look down, the hull was half-full with shining objects; among the swords and flintlocks were copper trinkets, necklaces and coinage.

Before the deck could engulf her, only half expecting it'd bear her brunt, Blaze leapt from the canon; landing on the deck, a few metres from the opening. The wood, held in place by that blue light, was secure to stand on; it didn't even creak beneath her. A cursory glance to her surroundings gleamed little more than what she'd already noticed. This ship, despite how damaged it looked, was a mirror of her own. Eventually the last of her ship's weapons vanished into the hull and, like the doors to a cellar, the frayed wooden boards returned to their prior position; the deck had mended itself. Now alone on this supposed ghost ship, Blaze couldn't deny there was an eeriness in the air. The sooner she got to the bottom of this, the sooner she found whoever had made that demand, the better.

As she started to walk, the princess realised she wasn't actually stepping on the deck. The touch of her heel against the floor made a bizarre sparking noise and, despite the boards being uneven and broken, it was as though she was stepping on solid, flat, concrete. The light was creating some kind of barrier between her and the ship, preventing her from touching the decrepit wood beneath. Alike her own when it entered the fog, this ship refused to rock with the tide too; hanging in place, unaffected by the waves. Further adding to the eeriness, the deck was lifeless. Not a single crewmember was present and, search as she might, Blaze could find no signs of daily life. There was no mess; no bags left unattended and no sign of sailors' tools (no spyglasses, no ropes and, most astonishingly, no weapons). Beneath the cyan barrier, the deck looked filthy; no fewer than ten generations of barnacles and limpets lined the hull.

Her denial had started to waver; these supernatural sights were growing too great in number. Loot had flown through the air, this ship was floating despite being decrepit and it seemed to sail without a crew. There was no natural explanation for this; it was either the work of some miraculous gadgetry or the rumours were-

After biting her tongue Blaze screamed out. "What need does a ghost have of weapons and gold? You are no spirit; you are a pirate merely masquerading as the dead to avoid punishment! Show yourself!"

It was not fear but outrage driving her shouts; this farcical ship went against all she had learned. Her family were cursed, powerful yes but feared for their power. Supernatural fire was no plaything, born without a spark or match-strike it was a deadly tool easily mishandled. Regardless of how this power was achieved, its wielder was abusing what she'd been forced to hide. The strong were meant to act sparingly, do what had to be done and no more. If there was a supernatural presence piloting this ship, they were using such power to satiate their greed. It was a misuse of power, a misuse so flagrant it brought Blaze's blood to boil.

"If you will not show yourself willingly, I will force you out!" She drew her swords, igniting the right blade's tip. "Failure to heed my words will result in the immolation of your ship, its plunder included!"

Regardless of who manned this ship, they failed to heed her final warning. With the flick of her wrist, the fire leapt from her blade to the floor, sizzling away at the cyan aura before setting the wood itself alight. Despite her training, she felt her fingers clench around her swords' hilts as she waited for a reaction.

She didn't have to wait for long; her ears flickered as the wood began to buckle behind her. Without hesitation she threw herself forward, leaping toward the mast and turning to face what she anticipated to be a gnashing maw of wood. Instead, the hole remained small; just big enough for her to fall through. Unsettling silence continued to rule, a glance to the deck found her flames were spreading very slowly. The coating on the wood was impeding their propagation.

Her eyes raced back to the hole only to find it sealed, hovering roughly a foot from the deck was a form shrouded in brown burlap. Chains hung from their wrists and the bottom of their tattered cloak, their face was obscured by the shadow of their hood and cyan light flared from a pair of billowing sleeves. This figure had all the trappings of a ghost; there was no denying that.

The whole ship seemed to shake as they spoke, the surrounding light flared wildly. "You chose plunder and thus your ship was plundered. Leave this ship with a lesson learned, provide me with a gift and your vessel will go untouched. Share this lesson, lest others share your fate."

The feline pointed her swords at this so-called ghost. "You have stolen from my people just as you have stolen from me, those goods are not yours to keep! You have committed piracy and will be sentenced as a pirate, continued resistance will worsen your charge."

The figure seemed to take pause at her resistance. Though their head was obscured and their clothes were billowy, their body language spoke volumes to Blaze. They were floating no higher than a foot from the ground. This being was looking down on her, just as it had talked down to her, and acting as though she was at fault. Acting as though her intrusion on this ship, a ship modelled after her own, was more boorish than his continuous theft.

"If you will not leave willingly, you will be forced to leave," As if to emphasise their point, the figure closed their right fist. Out of the corner of her eye, Blaze watched as ghostly aura smothered her burgeoning flame. "This is your final warning."

"And I have warned you, several times; surrender or I will show you no mercy!" The princess growled back, grip further tightening on her blade's hilts. "You will not hear me submit!"

Again, the figure fell silent. Blaze swore that, beneath his heavy robes, she saw a set of yellow eyes blink and dart around. They weren't attacking her, not yet at least, but they certainly weren't surrendering. The so-called ghost hung there, hands flaring with a light brighter than that on the ship. The longer they hung, stationary in the air, the angrier Blaze found herself growing. It was all so stereotypical; the light, the robes, the chains and even the obscured face. Though she couldn't explain her surroundings, not rationally at least, she half believed the form to be some kind of marionette; a puppet being manipulated by crafty pirates. She didn't dare break her gaze from them but she knew that the crow's nest was overhead, the angle was strange but it didn't seem impossible.

Regardless of what they were, Blaze was at her wit's end. If they would not surrender by choice then there was no alternative. With a hiss behind her breath, Blaze gave up negotiating. "So be it, I'll take you in by force."

The princess began her approach, swords unlit but raised to strike. The puppet shifted slightly in the air, backing away from her. Knowing it'd be a mistake to let him flee, let alone strike first, the feline pounced with both blades drawn over her shoulders. Her attack was successful, her blunted swords had smashed against his shoulder, but it was as though she'd struck stone rather than flesh. Cyan sparks flew from the point of impact as their form was sent careening towards the deck, Blaze thought she'd secured a clean hit but the ground reacted; swallowing them whole and resealing before she could even land.

Alone on the deck again, Blaze tried to corral her frustration. Taking her right blade, Blaze swung it where the hole had formed. Her weapon caught no strings and a glance to the crow's nest revealed no opponents, the robed figured wasn't a puppet.

It wasn't long before the silence was broken; the sound of splintering wood filled her ears. She spun on her heel only to find the figure hadn't remerged. Five planks had sprung from the deck and were rocketing toward her. She managed to knock the first two away but the third shifted mid-flight, it came at her long ways and struck her in the gut but the initial impact wasn't the problem. The plank kept moving, its considerable speed was pushing her back and keeping her feet from the ground; it was attempting to throw her from the ship!

A snarl slipped her throat; flames exploded from her back and quickly chased along her arms. Orange sparks spat and fought with cyan, crackling and exploding before one gave way; her flames ignited the wood. Her heels found the ground, the beam crumbled into ash as the fire consumed both it and the cyan light that held it together.

Before she could understand what she'd done, the remaining two boards were racing toward her; crossed over each other in to create an X. Without so much as a thought, Blaze thrust her right sword forward; her curse rushed across her body and from the weapon's end, flying toward the cross as a bolt of red flame.

The contact was bright and explosive. As she squinted to see, Blaze had prepared her offhand to strike away whatever remained but when the light cleared, only dust and splinters reached her. The wood had been liberated from the cyan hue and either crumbled or burned, too dilapidated to maintain its form.

Again, before she could consider what she'd done, Blaze heard the whir of electric wind and the buckling of wood. Regaining her bearings, she found herself on the starboard bow; only a few metres from the deck's edge. Unable to locate the crackling's source (nor the figure), Blaze started to stalk across the deck; heading towards the mast. She attempted to move quietly, assuming if that person was relying on sound rather than sight, and prepared to ignite at the first sign of movement.

She managed twelve paces before the wood creaked beneath her. Blaze ignited, casting her amber gaze across the deck, but she still couldn't sight her opponent. She quickly shifted the fire to her weapons; cloaking them in orange heat, before taking another, hesitant, step forward. The ship was still wrapped in cyan light, nothing had changed, but she knew her opponent was out there. It was time for a shift, it was time to swap from defence to offence.

Blaze swung her weapons forward and the fire flew from them again, two burning bolts raced from the metal and detonated upon contact with the ship's sail. The thin material was a far better conductor of flame; the fabric began to rapidly ignite. Almost immediately she heard the deck stir but again, glancing to her surroundings, she couldn't locate the figure. By the time her gaze returned to the sail the fire had been extinguished but a large black hole had formed near its centre; her crest had been removed.

Flames were just beginning to engulf her blades when she heard the loudest shifting of wood yet, a cacophonous splintering that was easy to locate. She looked at the peak of the mast and saw the hooded figure, but she didn't have time to focus on them.

The crow's nest had been torn off and broken into pieces, a hail of glowing wood was tumbling towards the deck. There was no time to move, the mass was too great and spread too widely! She engulfed her blades and dug in her heels, bracing for impact rather than even attempting to flee. As rubble came down she slashed with all her might, batting away and atomising a good portion. But the wood came in waves, by the time she'd deflected one the second was upon her. Rubble struck her from all angles, glancing off her shoulders and back. It hurt less than she'd anticipated, the rot had lightened the wood, but the damage wasn't insignificant; the figure's psychic grasp was reinforcing the wood.

As she attempted to rise from her buckled position, Blaze felt her swords slip free from her grasp and clatter across the ground. The electric humming had grown louder again, chains were dangling at the edge of her vision. Despite losing her weapons, Blaze attempted to pounce only for a bizarre feeling to engulf her midsection. Then it spread to her legs, then it spread to her upper body and, before she could react, the guardian was entirely engulfed. Cyan light had fully surrounded her; she couldn't move and she couldn't see but she could breathe.

Surrounded by the light, having watched the figure conjure it, she could no longer act as though it was a natural phenomenon. It didn't feel like she was being crushed, the hold itself was painless, but Blaze knew how dire her position was. This was a power like hers; this was a curse. At best; she was going to be flung back to her ship, at worst; she'd been taken hostage. But, just as she believed hope was fading, a thought dawned upon her.

"I gave you warnings, I asked you to leave. Don't make me force you, I don't want to hurt you." The light obscured their form, but Blaze could make out their outline. The figure was so close. "Remain still and I will return you to your ship, unharmed. Resist and I'll be forced to fight, I don't want to fight you!"

But Blaze wasn't listening to the figure's further ultimatums; she'd come up with a plan. She was preparing to strike. The feline was pooling heat near the small of her back. The cyan light could muffle her flames but, equally, her flames could burn away the light. There was air in here; if she could breathe then she could burn. Whatever this ghostly power was, Blaze knew she could fight it. It meant relying on the power she hated, but it was the only way.

The flames exploded from her back and ignited the light surrounding her, it spat and exploded as her own orange flames came to engulf her entire body. Soon she was totally free from their psychic grasp, she landed on her feet. Looking up at the figure, she caught sight of their face in the light of her flames. He had yellow eyes and, by the state of his muzzle, he was incredibly gaunt; beyond that, she couldn't make out much.

His ghastly light would mute her burning and, as long as she kept control, she wouldn't end up scaring him. This was an opponent she could fight fairly, an opponent she could fight without holding back. Leaping from the deck, Blaze ignited her fists. She didn't speak, she hardly even thought, for this was the time to strike. She lunged up at him, her flames battered against his cyan hue, but this time Blaze struck true; she felt her knuckle contact his chest. The floating man doubled over at that contact, their body was pulled upward and beyond her reach, but that fine. Blaze had hit him once; she knew she could hit him again.

The figure thrust his right hand towards her and, for a moment, Blaze felt the light's pressure on her shoulders. She reignited without hesitation, rending the light from her body and showing him that his method wouldn't work. He had three choices; tear apart this ship fighting her, fight her on his own or give up fighting.

Light flared around her, the debris from the crow's nest began to hover. He'd chosen option one.

Blaze immolated herself, she allowed fire to fully engulf her body and obscure her vision. Her curse's cracking filled her ears, overwhelming the psychic hum. She felt the wood touch her body but the impact was reduced further still, the rotten wood was being ignited and disintegrated before it could even touch her. When the impacts finally ceased and she subdued her flames enough to see, Blaze was alone on the deck. She scanned the sky, he'd vanished again but she knew how to draw him out.

Channelling the fire that garbed her, Blaze formed a fireball more than a foot in diameter. She launched the orb towards the mast but, as it made contact, the fireball detonated and spread; smaller fires split off to surround the smoking central pillar. She watched the inferno swell and spread, slowly creeping across the deck and leaving gashes in its wake. The ship had already been in poor condition, incapable of sailing was it not for the energy engulfing it, but their battle had more thoroughly destroyed it. Psychic energy had glazed over the holes and perhaps made them safe to walk over, but the ship was twice the wreck it'd once been.

The deck creaked, her flames were snuffed and Blaze sighted the so-called ghost in the corner of her vision. She spun and threw an open fist, a smaller fireball shot free of her palm and exploded against his glowing body. "If you don't want to fight, then surrender!"

The figure was sent tumbling backwards, only managing to stabilise himself by dragging his feet along the ground. Blaze bolted after him; not only had he landed, the light had faded from his form! Only his hands were glowing! Blaze pounced at her opportunity, tackling him to the deck and pushing her hands against his collarbone. She'd won! The pirate was within her grasp!

His hood fell as she pinned him, revealing a tangled mess of overgrown quills. Amber eyes met bright yellow before they scanned the rest of his face. Bones were visible through his skin and, were it not for his panting, she would half-believe that he was a corpse. Black bags hung beneath his eyes, as though he'd gone weeks without sleep, and she saw neither resistance nor fear in his eyes. Instead, she couldn't help thinking that he looked regretful.

The moment Blaze caught her breath; she began the interrogation. "Speak your name."

Those eyes shut tight; she felt him tense once more before again flopping loosely in her grasp, seeming to concede to her. She knew better than to trust him though. "M-My name is Silver," That name matched no pirate she knew; his appearance was entirely alien to her too.

"Do you know my name?" She rhetorically asked. "Do you understand the weight of your crimes?"

"I-I understand what I've done but... I know you are a royal, I-I just don't know which one," He bafflingly admitted. "What year is it?"

Her brow hardened further, her pulse was pounding and adrenaline was racing through her. "Do you take me for a fool?"

"I don't, I'm telling you the truth!" Blaze leant on him a little harder, even if he looked near death he clearly had the strength to shout. In response, he quietened down but his stutter returned. "I know th-that seems stupid but I really don't know! I know this is the sea of Sol, I know we're the 'Merchant's Tunnel' and your ship is called The Sunflower, its been part of your family for generations, but I really don't know what year it is and I'm not sure who you are."

Maintaining her tight grip, Blaze posed an alternate question, "If you profess not to know my name yet know my lineage then answer me this; who do you think I am?"

"Maybe Percival the Eleventh…?" He answered, before quickly hazarding another guess. "Although, judging by your canons, you might be the Twelfth…?"

Confusion, aided by curiosity, forcibly undercut her ferocity. He looked no older than her, despite his tired and sickly state, and yet he had mistaken her for her elder relatives. She felt her adrenaline begin to abate. "Percival was my grandmother's name and my mother's name but it is not mine."

"W-Wait, y-you're Blaze?" He hadn't called her your majesty, everyone referred to her by royal titles yet he had failed to both upon first addressing her and now; having identified her. Against her better judgement, her grip on his burlap slacked. "If you're Blaze then it's almost too late! I-I thought I was at least half a century earlier!"

Feeling him begin to panic, slipping loose of her grasp, Blaze quickly realised her folly. She pressed further down on him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the entirety of her thin frame pushed to pin him. "I said not to move!"

Pain broke across his brow, his eyes shut again. "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I-I-I…" He froze up, a brief silence followed his stutter. When he reopened his eyes the beginnings of tears had formed. "There's a lot I can tell you, but I don't think you'll believe me."

Blaze felt something in her chest (some hint of compassion perhaps) but, being her royal self, she knew to quash it. She distracted herself by further taking in his person, difficult as that was at such close proximity. The longer she stared the thinner and more ragged he appeared; she'd never seen anyone quite like him. Few citizens lived poorly in her kingdom, fewer still that she saw first hand, but he bordered on being malnourished. Hedgehogs were rare in the kingdom too, but the layout of his quills was simply bizarre and perhaps a result his overgrowth. His physical body was intriguing but not as intriguing as his curse. Though the light had weakened around the ship it still brightly flickered from his palms. Upon closer inspection, seeing how the light refracted through his mucky gloves, she determined those circular marks dyed his flesh rather than his gloves or fur. Somehow, a curse had affixed itself to him.

She waited a few moments longer before resuming, allowing them both some respite. "Where did you steal this power from?" She noticed her voice was sapped of its commanding venom. "Abilities like ours aren't meant for mortals, what foolish occult pact did you make?"

"M-My blessing? I've always had it," Silver claimed. "I've been psychic for as long as I can remember, I-I guess I just got lucky, like you did?"

"Like I di-

She hadn't dared to think of her curse as a blessing, let alone say it. No one ever had, not even Gardon. While in some ways his words made sense, her power kept her kingdom protected, but fear of it separated her from the masses. Still, though her brow furrowed further, that feeling in her chest grew, glowing kindling of compassion. At the very least, he wasn't all bad. This hedgehog hadn't tried to kill her despite resisting, he hadn't fought until she'd attacked him and he'd submitted after she'd defeated him. He seemed to be under some kind of delusion rather than being intentionally malicious. All of a sudden, her grip on him felt a lot looser. Try as she might to smother it, that kindling of compassion was growing brighter. As far as she knew, he hadn't claimed a single life; he hadn't even harmed a single seaman.

A sigh slid passed her lips. "I'm going to let go, you can sit up but do not move from that spot." Quickly deciding she was being too limp-wristed with him she quickly snapped. "I-If you do, my generous demeanour will quickly sour. You'll be back on the deck before you can blink."

His expression softened, as she slid off of the hedgehog he slowly rose to sit beside her; gangly legs poking free of his wrappings and revealing a second set of cuffs. Thin as he was, the hedgehog was almost a head taller than her. "Um… thank you, Blaze."

Neither the terms your majesty nor your highness passed his lips, just Blaze. Again, compassion bubbled in her gut; she felt a strange heat on her face. Being unable to look away, certain he'd capitalise on her weakness, propagated that warmth. She continued the interrogation in hopes of quashing this feeling. "Explain yourself! Why are you out here, why are you stealing from my vessels?"

"W-Well, I don't expect you to believe me but I didn't simply sail out here; at least, I didn't sail out here as you did," He started to explain. "I don't quite understand it myself, but I used this ship to cross a sea of time. I came here from the future."

Before she could even respond, he flinched slightly and his face crumpled. The hedgehog clearly wasn't expecting to be believed and, in truth, he had reason to think that. His claim was ludicrous, but then today had been a ludicrous day. She'd set out expecting to disprove a ghost tale only to find herself face to face with a cursed boy on a decrepit version of her own flagship. At this point, he could say he was an alien and she might have believed him.

A sigh, not far from a grumble, slipped past her lips. "Continue."

"Y-Your kingdom is going to fall. It's going to overtaken by a shadowy puppet-master and his pet monster. They'll shackle your people and work them, to death destroy all who disobey their will." The hedgehog continued to explain. "That's why I'm here, that's why I'm stealing from the past. I'm gathering all I can to rise up against them, give us a fighting chance. I figured that if I stole things from now, he wouldn't have them to use against us then," He quickly listed the types of items he'd stolen. "Weapons, trinkets and valuables; anything that can be used to fight, anything that can be melted down to make weapons and anything we can use for barter."

"That is difficult to believe." Blaze informed him, the strangeness of his tale offsetting her embarrassment. "Though, perhaps, not impossible; if you can provide further explanation. You say you crossed a sea of time to get here, how exactly did you do that?"

"I-I can show you," He offered, before quickly catching himself. "If you'll let me?"

She extended a hand to him, both offering to help him up but setting a rule. "You may stand as long as I hold you. If I release you, then you are to sit. If you flee then you will be made to sit."

Blaze watched a small smile line his lips, she felt his weak grasp and heard the waver return to his voice. "I-I'm not sure I could even stand without you holding me. It's taking all I have left to keep us from sinking…"

This proved true, as she tugged him to his feet he wobbled before stumbling into her. He unleashed an avalanche of apologies like they'd been building up over years but she was too focused on suppressing her blush to care. Her position meant physical contact was a rarity; she'd touched this time travelling pirate more than anyone in recent memory. Not only that but she'd offered her hand to him, pinned him to the deck and now slung his arm around her shoulder. She was initiating this far more than he was.

With his free hand, he pointed her toward the back of the ship, offering what little movement his limp legs would allow. She'd noticed it before, but he really was frail. Admittedly, Blaze hadn't had to hoist someone along like this before but she reckoned that Gardon, who was two-thirds of Silver's height, likely weighed more than him. As she brought her free arm around his waist her fingers struggled to find his form beneath burlap and matted fur. When she did find his side, providing additional support to aid his walking, she felt ribs through his skin. It was the same thinness, the same starvation evident in his pale muzzle. The majority of his weight seemed to be made up of the cuffs binding his extremities, rather than his body. The remains of a broken chain, hanging from both of his wrists, raised both questions and concerns. No wonder his feet were dragging, no wonder he'd flown everywhere, the set on his ankles were even thicker. The hedgehog hadn't flown to condescend her; he flew because he was in pain.

Just as she recalled his mention of her people in chains, the hedgehog began to speak again. He must have followed her gaze. "We're all bound, but those with strength are given stronger bonds. I managed to break the chains myself but I could never get the wrist parts off," As if to emphasise, he gave his wrist a little shake. "I acted as though my power was weak, I hoped if I did they'd leave me alone, but they just pushed me until I showed them more."

"What did they make you do?" Blaze dared to enquire.

"Build, dig…" He began to explain. "They tried to get me to do a lot of things, but I only really did those two. When all seemed lost you brought down the castle, so there was plenty for me to excavate. I-I tried to do it slowly…"

There was pain in the last of his words; Blaze cursed herself for softening further. "While I am glad I made some form of final stand and loosed one last act of defiance." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. She was talking as though she believed him. Well, she did believe him; whether she liked it or not. "You shouldn't have drawn their ire trying to maintain my final effort."

Silver shook his head. "There were a lot of things they wanted in the palace, I never quite understood what or why though. They talked a lot about jewels and emeralds, saying they'd help secure world dominance. I never found any but they were always talking about emeralds, always promising they'd set me free if I found one. I never did but, if I ever did, I'd probably have buried it even deeper."

The mention of emeralds caught more than its share of Blaze's attention and she was about to enquire more when she ears caught the wheeze on his breath, she halted at the cyan light surrounding the ship flickered but quickly returned. The fight had taken most of his stamina but there was a reason that reserve was so low. Not only was he malnourished; he was clearly sick.

"You stole so why not steal food too? Weapons and gold are far more valuable, I assume you'd have no qualms with doing that?" Blaze questioned.

"I-I have from time to time, bits of hardtack and cheese, but," Silver grimaced. "I don't like doing this, I only wanted to steal what I had to. Only what could help those in the future. I wasn't stealing to make myself comfortable, if I stole food it'd go rotten. There's nowhere to keep it on this boat."

There was a difference between being comfortable and healthy but, clearly, this Silver hadn't considered that. Blaze felt another wave of compassion surge through her, she could relate to him in a way she hadn't really related to anyone. He'd taken on this duty without hesitation and fully committed himself to it, working himself to death was stupid, of course, but it was certainly endearing.

Before she could ask more questions, they'd arrived at the ship's cabin.

With the wave of his hand, the door opened. The inside was stripped bare, the inner walls untouched by cyan light, save for a small object near the centre of the room. It looked to be a stone, roughly hexagonal in shape and an inch or two larger than her palm. With a point, a cyan bubble surrounded the rock and brought it up to hover before them.

"I know it doesn't look like much now but when I found it there was a strange light, almost like fire." He reminisced, wheeze hanging on every word. "I figured that meant it was important so I hid it from them, took it with me wherever I went in case they found it. When they had me lift up your ship the stone kind of reacted, the light surrounded both me and boat. We vanished into this weird blue and yellow swirl for a while? I don't know how to really describe it… but we reappeared on an island in the middle of nowhere. Ships passed on their routes and I recognised their symbols from other wrecks I'd pulled up. It took me a while but I eventually pieced it all together."

Blaze plucked the stone from his aura and immediately felt a bizarre sense of familiarity. Its shape was similar to a set of emeralds she knew and Silver's tale lined up with stories she'd heard; the colouration and texture were wrong though. Drawing the claw of her right thumb, she scratched along its black surface. Black, rock-like, dust was freed by her scraping. She had brought down the castle, or so Silver had said, but perhaps that wasn't all she'd done.

"Close your eyes Silver, I'm going to try something."

Once he complied, she set the hand wielding the emerald alight; engulfing the stone in bright orange flames. The response was immediate; what looked to be tar or rock of some nature, was quickly melted away to reveal a vibrant purple beneath. Her assumption had been confirmed confirmed; as the filth was purged a reliquary was revealed. The sight filled her with equal measures of awe and dread.

"Silver, you did find one of the emeralds," She revealed, indicating that he should reopen his eyes. "But this goes against so much of what I know. The emeralds are inert, fables surround them but they've been sealed away for hundreds of years. There has been no reason to call upon them, no cause great enough to draw them out."

"But that means no one has checked on them, right? Maybe something changed and they've started working again?" He questioned.

"The Sol Emeralds only have power during times of crisis. They are a collection of seven reliquaries, capable of performing extraordinary feats of magic. They last showed their power during Percival the First's rule. When her parents were assassinated and she was left to rule alone, a child of only seven years, they aided in her protection; losing their power as she herself grew more powerful," Blaze exposited before turning back to him. "Do you understand what this is? What this means?"

"Not really, you said a lot of really big words, I-I... I really don't know what a reliquary is," He seemed to perk up a little though, a small smile forming as he pointed toward the stone. "That's a Sol emerald though and it's important, right? I got that much. They work in times of crisis and the kingdom being in ruin must have counted as one of those times?"

"You've understood the essentials, this more than proves your story to be true," She briskly walked him from the cabin and back onto the deck, the gravity of the situation still impacting her. "We must depart for my ship and make haste toward the palace."

"Y-You might be able to depart, I can't," Silver's denial forced her to take pause. "I mean, what about the plunder? If I leave this ship, everything will sink to the bottom of the ocean. Some of it might survive but the gunpowder won't and things will start rusting," He described. "And what about everyone in the future, without that stone, I can't get back to them!"

"You told me that my kingdom will fall; that my people will suffer and the skeleton of my castle will be defiled by a tyrant, lusting for weapons of war. I will not let that happen. It is my duty, both as princess and guardian, to protect my people." Blaze thoroughly explained, not daring to waste a word. "I will put your information to good use and prevent this disaster, be it through the defence of my kingdom or caging this puppeteer and slaying his monster. But, with you by my side, I think we can undo this tragedy rather than heal it in post." She continued, throwing him a glance. "You have stolen much from me over these past months but the righteousness of your cause has swayed me."

"Swayed you?" Silver's head tilted, confusion spread across his brow. "What do you mean?"

"You will not be taken to the gallows, instead…" Blaze hesitated. She was dealing with a crisis but, simultaneously, dealing with a person the likes of which she never had before. One who called her by her name and thought her curse was a blessing. Her mind and heart were at war. "Instead you will stay with me, no matter how long this campaign lasts; I want you by my side," Clearly oblivious, he blinked at her. Blaze couldn't maintain her stare; she finally tore her gaze from his gangly frame. "Y-You're so naïve, must I be blunt with you?"

"I think I would appreciate it?" He gulped, very much unfazed by their situation.

"This is most unorthodox, I-I wish to take you…" She scrambled for the right words. "A-As a companion," That term was close, but not quite what she meant. "A partner of sorts, t-to aid me in preventing this travesty. You have acted to protect my people, so I will protect you from the stockade."

"You mean like friends?" He bluntly inquired, "I've not really had many friends, but they're supposed to help each other; aren't they? So if you want to help me and I want to help you…"

Friendship had no place in a princes' life, she'd specifically worded her proposal to avoid that term, but having met the hedgehog's bright yellow eyes; Blaze couldn't refute his offer. "If that is how you'd prefer to word it, yes."

"I think I'd like that a lot," A smile managed to break across his muzzle. "I haven't really had any friends, just people I've met and been separated from. To think my first would be someone so incredible, it's amazing!"

Feeling that heat on her face again, Blaze tried to press on and ignore his embarrassing words. "Are you strong enough for one return trip, to lift me to my ship then pull me back? I need to announce our plan to my crew."

"I-I don't think so, not while keeping The Sunflower afloat," Silver admitted, the weakened glow of his hands acting as proof. "I could sail closer to your ship though? Get you within leaping distance, or shouting distance at the very least?"

The feline allowed herself a small smile. "That will do nicely, thank you."

Blaze felt him shift slightly, the wind began to catch her fur and she heard the ship groan as it began to glide across the water. Soon the fog obscured her vision and the sound of Gardon panicking found her ears, loudening with each passing second. The old man was clearly panicking, he'd be glad to see her in one piece but before that, Blaze gave her new friend another glance. Though Silver claimed he could do this much, even through the fog, Blaze could see that his eyes were clenched shut and his hands were balled. She'd have to stay here with him, prepared to grab him and leap if his power ran out.

Regardless, before he fell, she wanted to say some final words to him. "Silver?"

"Y-Y-Yes?" He was clearly struggling to talk, overwhelmed by psychic strain.

"I'll do all I can to make this right," She promised, hoisting him a little higher and thus bearing more of his weight. "Your efforts won't be for nought, I will defend my kingdom."

"I-I'm far from done Blaze," Tired as he was, steely determination returned to his voice. His tone wasn't dissimilar to when he'd made his demands. "We'll make this right, together," The feline tightened her grip on him.

She'd found an ally, one she already trusted unlike any she'd made prior, but the guardian doubted her care alone would shield him. His power would prove useful, his knowledge and kindness would too, but the curse affixed to his hands would draw prying eyes and dangerous parties. Rumours would swirl like a maelstrom, engulfing both her and the hedgehog. Blaze knew she would have to hide him from her own people; if they'd fear her for embracing her powers then they'd surely fear his blessing.

This wasn't going to be easy, sneaking him into the castle would be difficult (let alone keeping him safe and hidden there), but Blaze was determined to help her new companion. As the ghost-ship drew closer to its past counterpart, the many mysteries this venture had uncovered started to nag at the princess. Who was this puppet master and where had they come from, how had they overwhelmed the entirety of her armada and when would they strike? Were her people in danger now or did they have a few more years to prepare? Only one thing was certain, the moment her feet touched the shore she would start preparing. Her words couldn't be mere consolation, Silver's efforts wouldn't be for nought; they were going to make this right.

#silvaze #Blaze the Cat #Silver the Hedgehog #sonic au

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darlingrutherford · 4 years

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Kinktober Day 19

Happy Dragon Age Day! I wanted to put out a bit of fun today in honor of the celebration, so here’s long overdue prompt 19 from my Kinktober list.

This prompt was made from a combination of two anonymous submissions, one asking for a pregnancy kink between Cullen and Sarya, and another requesting “avvar!cullen fucking the inquis. from the back.” This is a short one-shot AU, and I left out a lot of back story that would probably explain Sarya’s choices in this just for the sake of the kinky story, so, roll with it ;)

It hadn't only been her silver-white hair and piercing green eyes that had caught his attention. For an Avvar, picking a partner rarely held beauty as the deciding factor, though it never hurt. It had been the way she had run to the aid of Cullen and his three brethren as demons had crept from the green tear in the air, how she had ripped through their flaming bodies as if they were made of wheat. A Dalish mage, aiding the Avvar. It was almost unheard of. Unneeded, certainly, as they were more than capable of tearing the demons limb from limb themselves. Yet she had run from her passing clan with their aravels on the hill, summoning lightning to strike through the bodies of the demons like the Lady of the Sky Herself before vanishing them into hues of green that back into the tear in the sky with screams of their own. As the tear had calmed and the demons ceased to appear, they had locked eyes, she with hers, eyes like shining emeralds, and he with his, deep like flaming amber and gold. Her cheeks had flushed as her chest rose and fell with rapid breath from the battle. As four of her clan approached to ensure all was well, he had watched her eyes travel over him in interest. The green tattoos on her cheeks, favors for her elven gods, were delicate in comparison to the blue that painted his face and chest, but he could only assume she must have been blessed by Hakkon Himself to fight so fiercely and not be one of his own. And as her clan led her away and she had looked at him once more with a flaming desire in her eyes that matched his own, he knew theirs had been no chance meeting.

The Avvar were adept hunters, and Cullen knew the importance of patience. He waited until the moon had risen, full in the sky to bathe the lowlands in white. He watched as many of the Dalish clan had gone to sleep and he had seen the woman with the silver-white hair retire to her tent alone. Then, he crept into the land, moving quietly before slipping into her tent without notice.

Her eyes had been wide in the dark, shining from what little light filtered through the fabric that surrounded them. Her shout was muffled by his firm hand, until flame illuminated the tent in her palm. And then she had clearly seen his face, the same paint streaked across it like blue blood that her flames danced across, golden amber eyes that looked upon her with more want than she had ever seen in her life, and the flame in her palm extinguished. Her hands slid into his long, golden curls as he pulled her close, and their lips locked as a quiet whimper left her throat. Cullen's fingers slid up her neck and into her hair, gripping and pulling at it until her head tilted back.

“I know why you're here. I know of the Avvar ways,” she whispered into the dark, careful not to make too much noise as the sound of others still awake drifted close to the tent.

“What do you know of us?” He asked as his lips trailed her jaw, and he felt her body tremble in excitement from his voice.

“My Keeper told me how you steal your women under the light of the moon, never to be seen again,” she breathed. As his teeth grazed her neck, he chuckled lowly against her skin, not unaware of the extravagant rumors lowlanders spread of the Avvar.

“Not without permission...To take without consent of the elders is punished by death,” he spoke. She whimpered as he bit at the crook of her neck, and her fingers slid to his chest, grating over the dried paint to grip at his bare skin.

“I won't be given by any word but my own,” she breathed. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat as his hand cupped her through the fabric of her cotton breeches. His face lifted to gaze at her, and when their eyes met and he saw the desire in her eyes and the hope that lived just behind that, he understood.

Cullen lifted her, throwing her over his shoulder. The voices still lingering near the front of her tent, he grabbed the dagger at his side and cut straight down the back of the tent before stepping out into the moonlight and taking off into the hills. His grip on her thighs remained tight, holding them close to his chest as he made his way through the mountains and towards his Hold. She was quiet along the way, breaths of air only escaping her in any semblance of a protest whenever he dropped down from a height. Cullen took no shortcuts, allowing her plenty of opportunity to change her mind, yet she said nothing. Before long, they had reached the Hold, and he carried her through the archway of his dwellings, lit only by the moonlight that filtered through the wood. He set her on his fur ladened bed, then began removing the leathers that adorned him.

“What are you called?” He asked.

“Sarya.” The name left her quietly, as if still afraid to be heard. He grinned for a moment, knowing full well how many had witnessed his return with her, hidden in the dark as they kept watch on the Hold. Reaching for the dagger at his thigh, her heart began racing as he pointed it towards her chest, yet her magic remained still. Then he gently took the collar of her shirt, and with the tip of the dagger he tore at the fabric, slowly ripping it to her navel until it was in two. He repeated the motion with her breeches, then her smalls, tearing them from her body and tossing them to the floor.

“You won't be needing those anymore, Sarya.”

Cullen slid onto the bed, taking her in his arms as he kissed her. She clung to his lips as if they were a pure life essence, licking at them and tracing a scar that ran along their corner. She gasped against his lips as he slipped a finger into her heat, then two, coaxing out more of her wetness as he readied her. He nipped at her jaw, her neck, her breasts, anywhere he could suck and bite and mark her as his own. She felt him shifting as his fingers slid from her, removing the rest of his clothing before he grabbed her hips.

“Wait,” she said suddenly, and he paused his motion, waiting in silence for her to explain her outburst as he wondered what she could possibly want to stop for now that she was so far from home. “Does this mean I'm to stay here? With you.”

“Is that what you want?” He asked. Their rules were greyer when choosing from outside the Avvar; being a lowlander, if she agreed to it, he need not ask permission from anyone else for the sake of avoiding a blood feud. If she had changed her mind… Well, that was her decision to make, and he didn't long for death more than any other man.

“It is.” She nodded, and he needed no further explanation. She had already shown her willingness to defend him and his people. He would be questioned for sure, bringing a lowlander to his Hold without any mention, but his desire for her and her want to choose for herself was undeniable. If she wished to stay, then he would be glad for it.

“Then yes. You shall stay with me, for as long as you please.”

“Tell me your name.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. He sat up on his knees, and she followed him, eyes eager as they traveled over him.

“Cullen.”

She ran her hand down his chest, fingers gliding across the dried blue paint that stained his skin. And when her eyes met his again, he could feel the weight of her desire.

“Then I trust you'll give me my fill, Cullen. My clan will not understand, unless I grow one of your own.”

“With Rilla’s will, I'll see it done,” he growled. His hands gripped her hips, turning her to face away before holding her close. His cock slid with ease along her slick, and she whimpered as he teased her while grasping at her breast. Her back to his chest, Cullen slid down before guiding himself to her heat.

Sarya cried out as he pressed into her. It was the first thing he had heard from her void of a whisper, and he desperately wanted - no, needed more. She sighed as he nearly removed his cock, then slowly pressed back in to bury himself in her to the hilt. Gods, she felt incredible. He could feel her heart beat against her breast, heavy and quick as she moaned under his touch. Her voice made his skin shiver, and as his hand slid down to grip her thigh he felt the muscle quiver beneath his touch. She began slouching from his slow thrusts, overwhelmed by the feel of him. He ran his other hand along her skin, up her body to firmly grip her neck as he pulled her flush against his chest. Sarya's mouth hung open as the back of her head rested against his shoulder, heavy gasps leaving her as his hips began slapping against her backside.

“You want me to fill you, Sarya?” He asked, his breath husky in her ear. She moaned loudly in response, her voice strangled in her ecstasy.

“Gods, yes, please,” she gasped. Her hand grasped behind her at his thigh for purchase as her legs shook, while her other stretched to tangle in his hair at the back of his head. The way his cock filled her, stretched her, it was unlike anything she had felt before.

“Until you're full of my seed and your belly swells with an Avvar of your own?”

“Fuck, yes!” She cried out. “Fill me with your child, so everyone knows what we've done!”

Cullen grabbed a fistful of her hair, pushing her forward. Her hands caught against the furs, her back arched as her head strained to ease his pull on her hair just slightly. His other hand gripped at her hip, pulling her backwards towards him as he thrust forward in time. In the moonlight he could see the faint smudges on her back where his blue paint had rubbed off onto her, streaks of blue made liquid again by their sweat and heat. Their bodies met one another with salacious slaps, and Sarya's voice echoed out of the hut into the night as she cried out his name. Wanton moans carried from her throat, words he couldn't understand as she encouraged him in her people's tongue. He needed no translation to know what she wished, releasing her hair to grip both hips as he increased the speed of his thrusts until her screams of pleasure became the sweetest music to his ears. For a moment she became ever louder, and Cullen wondered if she would wake the entire Frostbacks, until her legs quaked as she came undone beneath him in a flurry of gasps. She slumped slightly, her forehead touching the furs on the bed as he held her hips in place, his body snapping towards her in one last, great thrust as her quivering sent him over his edge as he groaned loudly and spilled into her.

Sarya slumped onto her elbows, whimpering as she felt Cullen pulsing in her. He held her hips in place for a moment, his body flush with her backside as he ensured his release of every last drop. When he finally slid from her heat, they groaned in unison and she fell to her side, her legs tightly clenched together and a grin on her face. Cullen pulled one of the furs from beneath her, draping it over the two of them as he slid next to her. His breath was still heavy as she scooted closer to him, quickly finding his lips and sharing a string of appreciative kisses. Gods, but she was perfect. Theirs had been no chance meeting. After this, he knew their nights would be filled with plentiful opportunities to make her swell. He would later give two offerings, one to Rilla and another to Hakkon, for working as one to bring them together.

“How good are you at tying tight knots?” He breathed as her head hit the bed once more. He slid his arm beneath her neck, and she eagerly nuzzled her face against his shoulder as he pulled her close.

“Not great,” she admitted with a laughed. He grinned widely, pulling her close as he closed his eyes.

“Good.”

#kinktober #avvar!au #cullen rutherford #cullavellan #sarya lavellan #avvar!cullen #fanfiction #lemons #spicy #my ocs #my work

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liliseestheworld · 4 years

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Bus seat warmer-Han Jisung

summary: drunk and cold after a night out, you just wanted some warmth. what happens when that warmth has to get off at the next stop though?

Ok it’s my first writing so any constructive criticism is welcomed. Also, english is not my first language so pardon my mistakes pls.

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Whoever decided that plastic bus seats shouldn’t have pillows should have a word or two with you. You just sat down, hoping for a warm and quiet 50 minutes ride back to your flat. Instead, you were in for 50 minutes of butt freezing. Great! You knew that going out for drinks with your friends was a bad idea. But the thought of your best friend getting mad at you+ the opportunity to dance, have a lot of vodka and meet cute guys made you say yes.

You chose a pretty popular club that your friend was a regular at. It was pretty far from home, however the drinks were really cheap so you could still save some up for rent.

The night started just fine, drank a shot, then two, danced a little bit, then drank some more; laughing with your friends and being besties with people you just met.

By midnight, you started getting hot and mentally high-fived yourself for your choice of clothing: ripped black skinny jeans, brown crop top with a cute print and a tiny black denim jacket. As you continued to dance, you got pretty tired and, by the time the morning came and the club doors were closing, you were sitting by the sidewalk to finish your last drink. After all, you paid for it.

When you were done, you said goodbye to your friends and began walking towards the bus stop. One of them offered to drive you home but you refused. It was 5 something in the am so the first bus was bound to arrive soon. No need for them to take a detour to drop you off. Actually long bus rides were one of the few activities you actually enjoyed. Especially in really late or really early hours. It was just something abouth watching the city from afar; you were a part of those wandering around in the silent streets, but at the same time, you were not. You were only observing.

As the drunkness began to fade away, you realized you were shaking. You sat down on the bench and waited patiently while hugging yourself to keep the heat from escaping your body. As you were fighting sleep the bus arrived and you got on quickly, imagining you’d be better once you’re inside it. Your dreams of a cozy ride were immediately crushed once you sat down in the cold seat.

And here you were now, cursing your government with your still dizzy mind. Thinking about TOP’s song ‘Tear in my heart’ which had these exact lyrics, you softly began humming the song. The seat was still really cold even after 10 minutes into the ride so you lost hope for your precious comfortable ride home.

You rested your head against the window and gazed out at the still world. The streets were pretty empty but it was expected as the Sun was just starting to come out. Every once in a while, when the bus passed by small buildings, you had to squint your eyes, because the morning sunshine was too strong and you struggled to keep them open. You probably looked funny to those who could saw you from outside, but most of those who were out now were not paying attention to their surroundings. The young girl who was out running only looked ahead of her, the old man who was walking around was focused on the plants and trees growing on his path, the old lady who was walking her dog was preocupied with her phone and the students gathered around the coffee shop were busy talking with eachother. There were only 2 people who made eye contact with you from outside the bus: a little girl who was walking to school with her mom, who probably thought that you were making weird faces at her and stuck out her tongue at you in response and a man in his late 40s who didn’t pay you any other attention than the brief eye contact that you held.

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly realized that you weren’t cold anymore when the bus opened its doors to a random stop. At least, your right thigh wasn’t cold. You focused your eyes on the window again but this time you looked at the interior of the bus, seeing a young boy settled on the seat next to yours. When did he get on?

You subtly checked your phone to see the time. Yup, 40 more minutes to go. You relaxed in your seat, thankful for the little warmth his thigh provided pressed up against yours and sneakily studied your bus neighbor. He was a boy around your age. He wore a simple black hoodie and a cute orange beanie, covering his dyed dark blue bangs. Interesting color combination. His profile was one of the prettiest you had ever seen in your life. It was no secret for you that your side profile view was not a pleasant one for many people. You subconsciously turned your head more towards the window, so that your face was entirely hidden. His face was a work of art. Was it possible that you fell asleep and now you were dreaming of a painting come alive? That’s how you felt. The early morning lights were making his sking almost glow, bringing the ‘sun-kissed skin’ saying to life. His eyes were the color of pure honey, but then again, they could be a darker shade. In the light of the new day they appeared to look like gold. He seemed so warm, you almost imagined curling yourself in a tiny ball and settle in his arms. You were clearly still drunk.

Although your first impression of him was that you were seated next to the God of Sun itself, you started noticing small details that reminded you that he was just another boy. His eyes had dark bags under them and looked exhausted. He was staring into nothing while silently moving his head to whatever music he was listening to. His hands were around his earphones’ cable, playing with it absent-mindedly. Most of his nails were bitten almost to blood, the others just really short. He had a few rings, most which appeard to be silver. One of them though made his perfect skin around it turn a green-ish color. Still, you wanted his hands to gently hold yours.

As you were daydreaming about why was he here at this time of the day, you suddenly felt a shiver starting from you thigh and spreading through your whole body. Coming back to reality you realised that he got up, removing one of his earphones and was heading to the bus doors. Without realising, only thinking that the whole world’s warmth will be gone with him, you found yourself stopping him.

-Wait, don’t go.

He stopped and turned around confused, most likely thinking that he was hearing things. Did he know you? Were you one of his fans? Maybe you were talking to yourself. But no, he looked into your eyes, eyes just as confused as his were. He walked back to his previous seat but didn’t sit down, just rested his weight on the bar that he was holding onto.

-Were you talking to me?

Now was your turn to be taken aback. Why did he come back? After your sudden outburst you expected him to ignore you, or worst case scenario laught at you before getting off the bus. What was he thinking?

-Umm, me? you pointed at yourself in a dumb way.

-Yeah, sweetie. Who else? If you haven’t noticed the bus is kinda empty except for us. Well, it was supposed to be just you here now but for some reason you decided you want me to stay.

He laughed shortly, clearly amused at your flustered state. One thing’s for sure, he definitly had the arrogance of a Sun God. You rolled your eyes and tried to get your cheeks to cool down. Shouldn’t be too hard, considering that your source of warmth for most of the ride wasn’t next to you anymore.

-I wasn’t asking you to stay. I just…

And then your voice was too quiet to be heard, making the boy lean in to hear you better.

-Come again? You have to speak up if you want me to hear you.

-I said, I was just cold.

-’Just cold’? What does that have to do with me?

-Ok, listen up, pretty boy. I’m drunk and cold and I was walking home thinking how I’ll warm up once I get on the bus, but these seats are fucking cold and my butt was frozen and I was tired and you sat down next to me, by the way there were a lot of seats available, so you started it but you were warm and I wasn’t shaking anymore so I panicked when you got up and called for you and I didn’t expect you to actually hear me but then you come back all cocky and start asking me ques-

-Ok, sorry for interupting your rambling but I pretty much know the rest of the story.

He watched you for a few more seconds and then sat back down next to you. Never breaking eye contact he disconnected his earphones and opened his backpack, putting them inside. He only broke down his stare when whatever he was trying to get out got stuck. He easily managed to take it out and he handed it to you. What was it? A black simple hoodie, just like the one that he was wearing now. You took it without a second thought and put it on, happy with the fact that you weren’t cold anymore.

- I’m warning you that it may smell like a dead rat, but I can’t guarantee that the one tham I’m wearing is any better. Still better than nothing though.

He looked embarrassed, his full round cheeks being as pink as the sky behind the window. Cute.

You didn’t say anything, but inhaled subtly. The hoodie didn’t smell bad at all. It smelled like old cologne and a something else which you guessed was his own smell. Ok, you could smell a little bit of sweat, but it was barely there and, afterall, it might have as well come from you with all the dancing you did back at the club. You made sure to tell him that it was ok and thank him. Would it be weird to ask for his name now?

-So, what’s your name sweetie? Looks like he beat you to it.

- Y/N. What’s yours?

-You don’t know me?

-Umm, was I supposed to? You’re even weirder than I am.

-No, just. I’m part of a rap trio. 3Racha. We’re pretty popular on soundcloud and spotify. I thought that you knew me from there and wanted an autograph or something.

-That’s so cool, you guys are on spotify? Show me.

And that’s how you spent the rest of your ride, listening to him and his friends rapping. You had to give it to them, they were good. Really good. After adding all of their songs to your playlist you realized that you were only 2 stops away from home. And he was still there next to you, even though he was supposed to get off long time ago.And then you realised he still hasn’t introduced himself.

-Hey, we’re nearing the last stop. And you still haven’t told me your name, J.One. I don’t think that’s how your mama named you, isn’t it?

He laughed with his whole body after hearing your question. Damn him, even his laugh was beautiful. With his heart -shaped lips and shiny eyes, with his sweet voice filling the empty bus. Is this how falling in love with a stranger feels like?

-Of course that’s not it. My name’s Jisung.But you can call me anything you’d like.

Getting off the bus, you and Jisung stared at eachother. What now? Were you supposed to walk him to the bus stop on the other side? It’s your fault he missed it. But you also wantem him to walk you home. You liked talking to him. You didn’t want it to end, even though the day was just starting.

-Are you gonna keep staring at me or will you let me walk you home, sweetie? I’m getting cold too now.

-Oh, right. I’m sorry you missed your stop.

-It’s okay. It wasn’t actually my stop. Usually, when I’m going home from the studio I get off 2 stops early to walk and clear my mind. So I could have gotten off if I wanted to. But I didn’t.

You didn’t say anything, instead started walking towards your flat. You didn’t know what you were supposed to say. ‘Thanks’? No way. So you opted for silence.

The wind was a little bit chilly, but definetly warmer than a few hours ago. It almost felt good to feel it pass by you, making your hair go in all different directions. You adjusted the hoodie and put your twiching hands in your pockets. You suddenly remembered thinking about holding Jisung’s hands. The thought made your cheeks red again, and you snuggled further into the hoodie, almost being swallowed by it.

You thought of breaking the silence, that was a normal thing to do. But then again, it was comfortable. Jisung didn’t seem to be bothered by it and you actually enjoyed it. There were not many people you could be quiet with and he was one of them. Words were not necessary. They would be carried away by the wind anyway.

You reached your building and faced him again. You two just stayed like that, staring at eachother for a few minutes.

-Give me your phone, y/n.

-Is this the part where you steal it and run away?

-No, it’s the part where I take it and save my number in it.

And that he did, saving himself as ‘Bus seat warmer’ in your phone. Very funny. He gave you your phone back, said goodbye and turned away to leave. But before that, he turned around and winked at you.

-And afterall, I already stole something. Your heart belongs to me now. And trust me when I say, I wouldn’t even dream of running away.

With that he finally left, leaving you to contemplate how soon you should call him. You entered your apartment and pressed call. Jisung immediately answered.

-Miss me already, sweetie?

#stray kids #skz oneshots #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz writing #han jisung #j.one #fluff

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sagehaleyofficial · 5 years

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HERE’S WHAT YOU MISSED THIS WEEK (10.16-10.22.19):

NEW MUSIC:

· YUNGBLUD received his first gold certified single thanks to his collaboration with Halsey and Blink-182 drummer Travis Barker. “11 Minutes” is now certified gold in the United States, which is the same as saying the artist sold 500,000 units of it.

· Twenty One Pilots took “The Hype” and reworked it as their latest reimagined track from Trench. The band rented a studio in Berlin for one day and recorded the track as the latest edition to their “Location Sessions.”

· Twin Atlantic debuted their brand new track “Novocaine” and the announcement of their charged-up fourth LP, POWER. The song marks the first track from the forthcoming record, slated to debut January 24th, 2020 via Virgin EMI.

· Ice Nine Kills’ deluxe version of The Silver Scream titled The Silver Scream (FINAL CUT) releases October 25th, and includes a bonus track titled “Your Number’s Up.” The song is based on the horror classic Scream.

· Waterparks returned with a new video for their song “Easy to Hate” from their new record Fandom. The new video is directed by frontman Awsten Knight and marks his third video he’s directed for the band.

· Fall Out Boy singer Patrick Stump continues his descent into the world of movies and TV with psychological thriller Spell. He scored the upcoming film, and a first taste of what’s to come from it arrived with the song “Deep Blue Love.”

· Jimmy Eat World dropped a new video for the song “555,” off their latest album Surviving. The video is a science-fiction post-apocalyptic nightmare filled with clones and an evil galactic master played by frontman Jim Adkins.

· Bring Me the Horizon debuted their cinematic new visual for the song “In the Dark,” starring actor Forest Whitaker. Taking to Twitter last Friday, the band shared a clip with the caption “r u ready? Monday 21 October” showing a blurry close-up shot of Whitaker.

· Over the weekend, pop star Shakira put her own spin on a classic Green Day track by covering the band’s hit, “Basket Case.” Bassist Mike Dirnt commented “Bacano!” on the post, which is Colombian slang for “Cool!” Frontman Billie Joe Armstrong also chimed in adding, “I love this.”

TOUR ANNOUNCEMENTS:

· The Wonder Years recently kicked off their “Halloween Extravaganza” run, where the band performs two sets for fans every night. This year, the band is taking the stage dressed up as Limp Bizkit while performing some of the band’s hit tracks.

· Circa Survive announced a 10-year anniversary tour commemorating their 2010 album Blue Sky Noise. The band are set to hit the road in early March, taking to Twitter to reveal the run and also revealing a VIP ticket upgrade option.

OTHER NEWS:

· Bring Me the Horizon launched a new line of merch that has a color scheme based on your Spotify listening habits. On the band’s new site “amo in colour,” you can log in to your Spotify and pick your favorite six songs from their most recent album amo.

· Frank Iero spent the long weekend jamming out at a Post Malone show and sipping on customized Posty Bud Light. The rapper performed at Madison Square Garden in New York last Monday night.

· Fall Out Boy‘s Pete Wentz launched his very own unisex jewelry and apparel line titled Ronin. Wentz announced the jewelry launch on social media, asking fans to tag him on Twitter and the Ronin page on Instagram with their purchases for a chance to get a little something extra.

· Making its debut in Salem, Massachusetts, “OuijaZilla” was unveiled on October 12th in Salem Common, where Ripley’s dubbed it the world’s largest ouija board. Rick “Ormortis” Schreck, a New Jersey-based tattoo artist, began constructing the massive spirit board in June of last year.

· Gerard Way spoke at his own panel during Los Angeles Comic Con last weekend and talked about The Umbrella Academy and a bit about My Chemical Romance. Notably, he talked about getting kicked out of his first band at school for being “really bad at guitar.”

· Panic! at the Disco took TikTok to the next level, this time dragging in Fall Out Boy bassist Pete Wentz. They combined forces to create a hilarious mashup titled “Dear Future Self, Close the Goddamn Door.”

· MewithoutYou have decided that 2020 will be their last year as an active band, and teased fans about the major plans they have in store prior to that. The band formed in 2000 and has released seven full-length albums, their latest being last year’s [Untitled].

· Angels & Airwaves frontman, Tom DeLonge, announced To the Stars Academy of Arts and Science has a new partnership with the U.S. Army to collaborate on future research. This comes shortly after the organization ended up releasing three videos potentially showing UFOs.

· Yellowcard filed a lawsuit against emo rapper Juice WRLD for alleged similarities between their respective tracks. The disbanded group claimed the rapper’s 2018 mega-hit “Lucid Dreams” infringes on their “Holly Wood Died” released in 2006.

___

Check in next Tuesday for more “Posi Talk with Sage Haley,” only at @sagehaleyofficial!

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bellygunnr · 4 years

Text

all the world’s a stage

The Death Rogumer was not a large airship, but it was imposing in its own right. It glided through the air under a quarter of its power, ponderous at such a slow speed, clad in a royal purple and burnished gold regalia. Its name was inscribed along its bow which bulged out beneath the sword-like figurehead, a deadly aerial rapier. A giant lens, a contraption of glass and steel, rotated, extending, shifting until it could view the sprawling city unobstructed. The ship banked, rolling so gently in the air, exposing the electric cannons stationed on its slim upper deck. Steam hissed out from their rounded chassis as their barrels extended; red lights flashed for as long as the cannons turned to position, glowing solid green when their mark was found.

Their target was an elegant, conical skyscraper that made the city's skyline iconic, a legendary silhouette recognized by many. Its glass face shattered in the brutal wake of the cannon-barrage. More than plasma ammunition, shards burst from the half-ton shells, raining fire on the city below. These embers floated, descending, skipping through the air as the wind took them, then latched onto the ground and neighboring buildings, singular burning cinders where they did not ignite what was below them. Above, the skyscraper shuddered, failing to regain its strength when another two-gun barrage assaulted its broken flanks.

Its assailant circled the beaten structure, engines burning low and steady. The Death Rogumer no longer lumbered, but sauntered through the air, a circling shark awaiting the next opportunity to bite. Fire from the city below washed its sleek hull in a flickering orange glow. It banked again, settled onto an even keel-- and exploded.

A fin on its starboard side burst apart from the inside. The explosion rocked the airship simultaneously with cannon fire-- the combined inertia saw the ship plummet, flaming from its open hull, a main engine going up with it. Yet, as quickly as the inferno began, all was smothered, choked out by thick white foam and a flood of emergency drones from within. The Death Rogumer shuddered violently, shaking off the wound, and struggled into a climb.

The ascent was slow. It clawed its way back to a cool, safe three thousand, above the skyscraper which was now collapsing in on itself, and above the city, terrified but alive. There was a pronounced list to the airship. The repair drones broke from their duties to latch onto the battered decks, miniature motors whining, straining, a dozen or so contributors against a starboard tilt. The airship heaved.

The airship limped.

While the center of the city burned, the rest ground to a standstill. Jumbo-Trons and billboards flickered, the now-familiar warning message disappearing. The repetitive emergency instructions played alongside city sirens died down to a low, vibrating buzz, an oppressive hum that choked the ears and numbed the brain. The sound permeated the tons of concrete and steel as to be felt in the bones of various underground shelters.

One such shelter thrummed ominously. Marcus looked up from his book, eyes flicking from his companions to the open doorway to the television screen, suddenly alive with static. He watched it apprehensively, wincing when the intercom system blared. The speakers clicked rapidly, like gunshots.

The thrum died down. The shelter stopped shaking, as did their bones, and the screen warped colorfully. When it recovered, Marcus was staring at slightly grainy footage--

"That's the airship! It has to be!" Marcus cried, shocked. The airship had been popular before the Maverick War; its decks were as familiar to him as they were to Storm Eagle. "What's happening? How are they doing this?"

The footage flickered. When it returned, it was much clearer, and audio tuned in with it. Whistling gales played over the intercom, but Marcus found it as abrasive as the feedback, if not worse.

The explosion had knocked X into a titanium door, jamming up his shoulder. The damaged joint creaks and grinds in his ear as he clambers up a narrow ladder chute, pushing himself off the upper rung and onto the ship's prow. A shadow is already cast across the deck and he's mildly glad for it-- the sun is blazing overhead, bright and uncaring. He knows it would have blinded him if not for the ship's secondary rudder.

It also helps that Storm Eagle is the one blotting out the sun , X thinks dimly.

The former Commander holds himself aloft, a combined effort between gallant purple wings and dual shoulder-mounted rockets. He's intimidating, always has been, but now he also makes X feel sickened-- this is not the same Reploid he met as a rookie Maverick Hunter.

But it is , a voice whispers. You don't know if he was infected or merely defected.

X shakes off the thought.

"You've damaged the Death Rogumer . You must know that we'll be lucky to crash land outside of city limits, yes?" Storm Eagle calls, his voice reedy, a thin whistle to it. "No matter. The only acceptable death is one found in combat!"

Storm Eagle dives down. The sun flares out, brilliant, and X's face aches as his optics work double time to compensate. He dashes across the deck, clearing it in one, but as he twists around to face his adversary, he's already within seconds of blowing him away. X stumbles more than rolls out of the way as Storm Eagle's wings threaten to cleave him in two.

When he pops back up, it is with his buster blazing, yellow plasma tracking Storm Eagle across the platform. He sights crackles of satisfying smoke; his buster hums, residual plasma beginning to gather around the mouth of the barrel.

"I see you've improved!" Storm Eagle says, laughing, a sound punctuated by chirps. "But you're still just a rookie."

The first attack had been close. Marcus paws at hands grasping his arm, prying the clutch grip off. He can feel his heartbeat in his chest, an overwhelming sense of anxiety stealing him. None of this moment made sense-- the footage, the rattling terror in their bones, or the clash of Reploids above a burning city.

It didn't make sense.

But it was hope.

The charged shot is timed well, in X's opinion. Storm Eagle's gale rips across the platform, plying at the tips of his boots as he leaps above the focused stream, but his shoulder jolts at the recoil. The shot, aimed for the other's open chest, flies wide. X hardly has time to brace himself as he falls back into the wind tunnel, fingers tearing at metal.

The gust dissipates around him. X slumps against the deck, relieved, but is violently reminded of his situation when massive, vice-like talons clamp around his torso. His skeleton creaks as Storm Eagle squeezes and lofts him into the air.

"Perhaps this is dishonorable, but you left yourself open, Maverick Hunter X!"

His body lurches, and then there is nothing but open air and pain.

Marcus cries out in alarm as he watches the battle. Had it been too much to hope? Had their naivety tipped the scales out of the blue Reploid's favor? It was agonizing. X fell through the sky, disappearing from view in only seconds, but it felt like years.

"He can't die here! We need you, X!" Marcus exclaims, but it was mostly to himself.

X descends, but not as far as God or Storm Eagle intended him to.

He descends, but his body is skidding the surface of the wounded Death Rogumer , and it's enough for his boots to find purchase. With no small amount of strain, X kicks against the bruised hull of the ship and goes the only direction available to him-- up.

Storm Eagle is walking off the platform at a casual stride. Grief and dread sit heavy in Marcus' heart. It sits heavy in all their hearts.

"He's not dead, he can't be. We need him," someone says, and Marcus can't help but agree, bowing his head.

"He's not dead! Look! Mega Man!"

X walks across the deck unopposed-- for the most part. He fights the slanting, listing deck, his eyes hardening as he understands this to be a ship in her death throes. His time was running out.

"Storm Eagle!" X shouts, throwing his arms wide open, gasping as his shoulder wrenches. "I lived! Can't we work something out?"

The former Commander turns, one hand on the door to the ship's cabin. His beak drops open in surprise, eyes wide underneath his golden mask. X stares back unflinchingly, knowing that he must be quite a sight.

"No one has to die," X continues, plaintive.

The Death Rogumer groans.

"What of Chill Penguin, then?" Storm Eagle replies.

The fight is on again.

The fight is knife's edge close, a toe-to-toe stand between a stowaway and a corsair.

The camera shakes sometimes, revealing how bad off the ship is in fits and bursts. Marcus watches Storm Eagle make sweeping dives at X, but each time he zooms away, a feather is plucked, shearing off in a smoldering heap.

"He's doing so much better!"

"He must have found his stride..."

"You can do this, X! Mega Man!"

X goes up in light. When the light fades, his armor is a paler hue, bodysuit a bold yellow. He continues to track Storm Eagle across the sky, pacing the platform, buster vibrating with a suppressed charge shot.

He watches as the Eagle wings around, flight now a wobbly, barely sustained trajectory toward his target. It's enough for X to level his buster, optics shrinking as he locks in-- the small of Storm Eagle's back, the rocket pack--

Arctic cold floods X's circuits as he looses his shot. A barbed mound of ice soars through the air, followed by a rapid-fire burst of ice shards.

The Death Rogumer shudders underfoot.

X's feet slide out from under him.

Storm Eagle crashes unceremoniously into the stern of his own flagship.

"He got him! X did it!"

"He did it! X really is a Mega Man!"

The Death Rogumer breaks apart. X finally plummets, his body going slack as he clears the fractured deck.

If the camera aboard the ship had still been rolling, then all those watching could have seen Mega Man X weep.

#rockman x #mega man x #storm eagle #mmx #megaman x #fictitions #fanfic of the damned #Three Laws of Robotics

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sheliesshattered · 4 years

Text

Fic meme

I was tagged by @primarybufferpanel -- thank you darling, this was a ton of fun to do!

This got a bit long, so I’ll put the people I’m tagging here at the top: @claraaoswald, @ambitious-witch, @someillplanetreigns, and @junoinferno, if you feel like playing!

My AO3, my old non-updating fanfiction.net

Fandoms I’ve made fanworks for: Oh lord. I’m only going to count fanfiction that has actually been posted, but if I tried to count up every fandom that I’d started writing for and left unfinished fragments languishing on various harddrives and googledocs over the years, it’d be at least double this list. I have two pseuds on AO3, with the fics roughly organized by fandoms that I post about on this Tumblr account (sheliesshattered) and fandoms that pre-date my time on Tumblr that I don’t post about very much (glasscannon). Putting all the fandoms together in one alphabetized list:

Black Sails - 5 Doctor Who - 8 Firefly/Serenity - 1 Game of Thrones - 1 The Hobbit - 1 The Hunger Games - 1 Iron Man - 2 Law & Order: Criminal Intent - 1 Mad Max - 2 Once Upon A Time - 1 Poldark - 3 Star Wars - 3 Twilight - 7 The West Wing - 1

Number of fics: 38, including a big unfinished epic that I never moved over from ff.n, and don’t plan to unless I finish it someday.

Fics I spent more time on: I’m not even quite sure how to measure this. I’m a slow writer, and a single story can easily hold my attention for years at a time, or be something I return to when there isn’t a newer fandom temporarily consuming me. I don’t tend to keep track of how many hours I put into a fanfic, though. The unfinished epic I mentioned is probably near the top of that list, and was a huge part of my life from 2009 to 2013. Other contenders would be the All Hands series (written with PBP!), and Truth Universally Acknowledged, particularly if you include all the massive world-building that went into that one.

But really probably the one I’ve poured the most hours into, between research and writing, is a Doctor Who epic that hasn’t yet seen the light of day, called Home The Long Way ‘Round. Because I have such a habit of starting long stories and then not finishing them, I’m making myself get that one completely done before I post any of it to AO3, so I don’t have anything to show for it yet, but I’ve put a ton of time into it over the last five years or so. Hopefully someday I’ll actually get to share it. :)

Fics I spent less time on: Like I said, I’m a very slow writer, so any time I can turn out a story in a matter of days I’m just absolutely shocked. I wrote The Message over the course of about 24 hours, which is probably the fastest I’ve ever finished anything in my life ever, lol.

Longest fic: The All Hands series is sitting at 126,800 words, and PBP and I have more finished for it that we’re hoping to post soon-ish. The unfinished epic made it to almost 119,000 words before I ran out of steam. Truth Universally Acknowledged racked up about 54,000 words before my co-writer and I took a break from it, and probably triple that in world-building bibles and timelines, etc. On the works-in-progress side of things, Home The Long Way ‘Round is sitting at about 40,000 words currently and only about a third of the way done, and the For As Long As We Get series is at 21,000 words between what I’ve posted and what I’m still working on, and will definitely continue to grow.

Shortest story: 10 Seconds, at 208 words. Also one of the very first fanfics I ever finished and posted online.

Most hits: Truth Universally Acknowledged, by like a factor of 20 vs anything else I have on AO3. It’s the only time I’ve written for the main pairing in an active fandom (tho my purview in the co-writing was more on the secondary pairing), and that translated to a stupidly large number of hits. Fanfiction.net doesn’t count hits the same way, but the unfinished epic is sitting at about 3500 favs.

Most kudos: Setting The Stuns’ls, the first in the All Hands series -- which is SHOCKING considering that’s a tiny rowboat of a fandom, for a non-canon background pairing that has literally about 30 seconds of shared screentime, and the two romantic leads don’t so much as kiss over the course of 94,000 words (longing looks, significant hand-touches, mutual pining, definitely, but kissing, not so much).

Most bookmarks: Truth Universally Acknowledged, by a long shot.

Fic you want to rewrite or expand: I don’t tend to edit a story once it’s been posted, beyond correcting a typo or adding a missed word. Once it’s published, it’s finished and I don’t change it significantly. I do have quite a few (so, so many) unfinished stories that I would love to finish up at some point.

Total words combined: Counting only published fics, including the unfinished epic (and a companion piece for it) that lives only on ff.n, I’m currently at 376,542 words total.

Fav fic you wrote: How can you make me choose between my children like this, honestly?? Siiiigh. I’m with PBP, whatever I’m working on currently is usually my favorite. I’m having a ton of fun with For As Long As We Get, and can’t wait to publish the next part of that, hopefully sometime this month. I’m incredibly proud of All Hands, and that occupied such a specific time in my life that I’ll always think of it fondly. I’m exceptionally happy with the character voices and use of language in both Breathe Again and Upon This Rock Will I Break Myself, Until It Shows Me Your Beloved Face, and tend to feel like they don’t get enough love vs how much I love them. But my one true favorite is and will always be Home The Long Way ‘Round, and hopefully I’ll actually be able to finish it and post it someday.

Share a bit of your WIP or idea if you have anything planned: Again, how can I possibly choose just one?? Even just within the Doctor Who fandom, I currently have more than half a dozen stories actively in progress. But since I’ve talked it up so much without being able to link to it at all, and just declared it my all-time fav, I’m going to break one of my own rules and post the whole first chapter (eek!) of Home The Long Way ‘Round behind a read more:

Chapter 1: Orange Dreams

The sound of the wind is whispering in your head Can you feel it coming back? Through the warmth, through the cold, keep running ‘til we’re there. We're coming home now, we’re coming home now. —Home, Dotan

The winds shrieked and howled around her. Clara had never been in a tornado, but she imagined it would feel like this to stand in the eye of one. She could see gusts lifting the tops off the sand dunes in shimmering ribbons, gold against the orange sky. The waves of airborne sand dissipated a few feet from her, leaving only a jagged grittiness in the air.

A woman with long blonde hair was yelling at her, her words ripped away by the wind.

“Tell me again!” Clara called back to her. “Tell me how to find home!”

“It’s just physics!” the other woman shouted, taking a step closer; they were nearly the same height. “No information can ever be lost! Start from zero, and run the math! We’ll be waiting on the other end of that equation!”

There was something Clara desperately wanted to tell this woman who looked at her with kindness behind the steel of her eyes, but in that moment, the words wouldn’t come.

“Look!” someone yelled behind Clara, and though she didn’t want to take her eyes off her, she instinctively looked up, following the line of the other person’s arm up into the gathering storm-whipped dusk. There, silhouetted against the last of the light, was the unmistakable blue boxy shape of the Doctor’s TARDIS, spinning quickly as it flew away—

Clara jerked awake, her heart hammering against her ribs, already sitting up and pulling off her sleep mask before she realised what had woken her was the sound of the TARDIS materialising in the sitting room of her flat. She took a moment to catch her breath, trying to hold onto the details of the dream. In the other room, the TARDIS’s familiar wheezing and groaning came to a stop with a soft thud, followed by the squeak of the door.

“Doctor?” Clara called, not bothering to hide the sleep nor the annoyance in her voice.

He poked his head around her bedroom doorframe, grey hair awry and his most innocent expression plastered on — which meant he knew he was waking her and felt at least marginally bad about it. “Hello, Clara. It’s Wednesday,” he said pleasantly, by way of explanation.

“Is it?” she asked, deadpan.

“Technically.”

“You do know that I have to work today, don’t you?”

“Not for another six hours. So come on, up-and-at-‘em, plenty of time to go out and save the universe and still be back in time for your morning coffee. I’ve an adventure that simply won’t keep, so come on!”

His excitement was infectious, as he must have known it would be, but Clara clung to her annoyance a little longer, mostly for show. “You have a time machine: everything can keep,” she replied, but waved him off before he could launch into a lecture on all the ways that statement was false, at least from a temporal physics standpoint. He lectured anyway, hovering outside her bedroom door as she dressed, though Clara expected it was mostly to keep himself from pacing in anticipation. She followed more than half of it, and worried a bit over how often she let him babble on about the minutiae of time travel these days.

By the time the universe had been set to rights — or at least one small blue world, home to a race of sentient seahorses, that had been facing imminent extinction in the form of a rogue exoplanet — she had nearly forgotten her unsettling, vivid dream.

Given the recent events on Skaro, Clara was unsurprised when bits of her experiences there began to filter into her dreams. Truthfully, she had expected to dream of it more often than she did, but in the weeks that followed, more nights than not her sleeping mind instead conjured up the strange orange landscape. She revisited that screaming sandstorm so often it became almost comforting, and before long, other dreams joined it.

Clara was leaned against a railing on a high balcony, overlooking a large city coming alight as dusk crept on, a rusty sunset that stretched the width of the horizon bathing the world in amber. The woman with the serious eyes and long, straight blonde hair stood beside her, in the middle of a conversation, as happened so frequently in dreams.

“Alright, but what about the last stage?” Clara asked, elbows resting next to hers on the railing. “That bit depends on us actively doing something, and you know we can’t rely on my knowledge. I can’t take any of the engineering or navigation with me, so it’ll be down to him.”

“And he loves a good puzzle,” the other woman said confidently, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a twitch of her head. “He’ll want to find us. He’ll figure it out.”

“Before I die of old age? Are you sure? My mother was one of his professors at the Academy, I’ve seen his test scores. I think we need a fail-safe.”

“He did graduate,” she pointed out reasonably.

“He passed his exams with a fifty-one percent on his second attempt! No, we can’t assume he’ll have all the baseline information to even consider such a solution, much less actually accomplish the maths. We have to find some way to hide it with me,” Clara said. “Or in his TARDIS.”

The woman was silent for a long moment, her mouth set in a thoughtful line. On the distant horizon, the sun had finished its slow descent, but below them the city was coming to life, the light not so much fading as changing sources, becoming ever so slightly more golden.

“By that point in the timeline,” the blonde woman said, speaking slowly, still thinking it through, “you’ll have been exposed to his timestream and to the crack in the universe, so some of your memories will probably start leaking through. If we structure the extraction the right way, we might be able to embed a particular thought or moment into your consciousness before you go into the Schism.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Clara asked, turning her head to look at her.

“This conversation?” she suggested, laughing, her broad smile transforming her face. “No, a phrase would be cleaner, I think.”

“‘Run the math, you idiot boy’?” Clara suggested, also giggling.

“Oh yes, that’d go over well! No, if you want him to do something, call him clever. Works every time!” she laughed, leaning her shoulder into Clara’s.

“The horrid thing is that I know the temporal physics for this is part of my mother’s coursework,” Clara groaned. “If he hadn’t slept through so many of her classes, this would be a non-issue!”

“Ah, but a Doctor who was always responsible? What a boring universe that would be!”

Above them, the stars were beginning to come out, though the glare of the city obscured them. Through the haze of the dream, Clara couldn’t find any constellations she recognised. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I was the one who helped him steal that box in the first place.”

“And if he could take half a moment to remember that,” the blonde woman said seriously, “he might realise the role of his TARDIS in all of this, and start to think of the solution that way.”

“‘Run the math, you—”

“Clever.”

“—boy, and remember when you met me’?”

The other woman nodded, considering. “That could do it. Your chronodeterminate conjugation won’t work until you come into contact with at least a little regeneration energy. Assuming you choose regeneration on Trenzalore, it might start kicking in then, in plenty of time for the last stage.”

“Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me,” Clara whispered up to the distant stars, cradling her chin on her arms against the railing.

The woman mimicked her position, the golden light of the city and the silver light of the stars catching in her long pale hair. “It’s just physics,” she murmured back. “Start from zero and run the math. I’ll be waiting at the other end of that equation. We’ll all be waiting.”

As unsettling as they were, at least the orange-tinged dreams were better than nightmares of Daleks, of being locked in the Dalek casing, unable to convince the Doctor that it was her, it was her, she wasn’t a Dalek, she wasn’t a Dalek! Dreams of the Doctor peering at her down an eyestock, this face or the last, or any of the others buried deep in her subconscious, hearing her but not knowing her, seeing her but not saving her.

Clara grasped for that orange sky, let it carry her away in bronze sandstorms, golden cities slowly coming to life, and starlight caught in tawny hair.

Monday morning third period found her Year 10 students taking an essay exam while Clara doodled on a scrap piece of paper, trying to pull images and phrases out of the orange haze that had taken up residence in her slumbering hours since Skaro. There were bits that tugged at her memory, like a song she couldn’t quite place but whose tune was intensely familiar.

She’d written Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me across the top of the page, and her eyes strayed to it every few seconds. The phrase had stayed with her after she woke, and had been on the tip of her tongue ever since, as though it was a message she was meant to deliver. Below it she’d rewritten the phrase, but crossed out six words: Run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me.

It was too close for comfort to the phrase that had, in retrospect, changed her life, sent her on her current course. The Maitlands’ mnemonic for their wifi password, which she’d said out loud during that first phone conversation with the Doctor, had caught his attention somehow, and it wasn’t until she jumped into his timestream that she understood. It was the last thing she’d said to him before sacrificing herself to save him. Every fragment of her scattered through his timestream had said it to him at some point as well, the words reverberating endlessly up and down his timeline.

Why her dreams would dredge it up now, and in such a strange context, Clara had no idea. They didn’t feel like random images, but more like memory-dreams, like the bits of echo lives that filtered through to her sleeping mind from time to time. It had to mean something.

Half way down the scrap paper she’d written: It’s just physics. Start from zero and run the math. Below this was the very helpful ??? and Clara idly traced over the question marks again. Physics was still a foreign language to her, despite how much the Doctor prattled on about it at times. She could bring this to him, she mused, but what was it, really? Her subconscious doing backflips in the wake of Skaro, that was all. No grand mystery to solve, no universe-altering secret code, just her. She wouldn’t bother the Doctor with this quite yet.

Besides, she was certain she could tease this apart on her own, follow the clues to their logical conclusion without his assistance. The dreams were insistent, and felt familiar, but Clara was sure she’d never dreamed of the blonde woman and the orange sky prior to Skaro. That was the next clue, then, and she jotted it down on her scrap paper. Something had changed after Skaro, something that caused her subconscious mind to dredge up these particular buried memories.

She needed more information. Dreams about her echo lives were always stronger when she was aboard the TARDIS travelling in the Vortex, sharper and easier to remember. Maybe these orange dreams would be, too. And maybe the TARDIS itself would have some answers for her.

Of course, she didn’t sleep aboard the TARDIS very often, with her insistence on returning home for a week of Real Life in between their Wednesday trips. But the Doctor was never adverse to her sticking around longer than she’d planned, and in the end it didn’t take much to convince him:

“I’ve a staff meeting at work that I’m dreading,” Clara told him on that next Wednesday, when they returned to the TARDIS after their latest outing. “So what do you say I have a little kip and then we squeeze in another adventure before you take me back to face my workday?”

She thought for a moment that the Doctor might question the change in their routine, but he seemed thrilled about the idea. When he announced that he had some tinkering with the engines he’d been putting off that should keep him occupied while she slept, Clara made an excuse to linger in the console room — “just going to finish reading this chapter, then off to bed” — until after he’d gone. Once he’d disappeared down the corridor and around a corner, she quietly set aside her book, then slipped out of her armchair and down the stairs towards the console. The rotors hummed overhead, and somehow Clara knew the TARDIS was aware of her, and was curious to see what she would do.

Carefully clearing her thoughts, she made her way over to the telepathic circuits, pushed up her sleeves, and slid her hands into the strange interface. Focus was the key, she knew, and she was nothing if not focused. She closed her eyes and held two very specific thoughts in her mind: the sand-whipped orange sky in her dreams, and the clear question, Where, please?

She hoped the please would help.

It was a long quiet moment with the circuits warmly cradling Clara’s fingers, and then something on the console beeped. Her eyes flew open and she carefully extracted her hands from the telepathic interface before pulling the monitor down to eye level.

Gallifrey the screen read in English, below an image of a startlingly red-orange planet. Immediately prior to the Time Lock.

Clara felt her heart thud painfully against her ribs as she read the brief text again. She’d been dreaming of Gallifrey? She knew she’d had an echo life on Gallifrey, but she remembered that interaction with the Doctor, and it happened indoors. She had never before dreamt of the Gallifreyan sky. Had it been buried somewhere in her subconscious with the rest of her memories of that life? Why surface now?

More confused than ever, she clicked the screen back to the desktop, unreadable Circular Gallifreyan floating idly across the display. Perhaps she should bring this up with the Doctor — it was his home world, after all. But the whole point of this had been to dream while they were in the Vortex, and if she didn’t get a move on, he’d be ready for their next adventure before she’d even managed to fall asleep. She could talk with him about it later.

And if things worked tonight as she hoped they would, maybe she would even have a bit more information to bring to him when she did.

“Fire suppressant in Pod Four!”

The frantic call was quickly overwhelmed by the sound of the requested suppressant dispensing from the ceiling. When it ended, the speaker, dressed in the dark red uniform of a technician, brushed soot and foam off his shirt.

“It hates me, that one,” he said, nodding at the unassuming gray cylinder in the open pod in front of him. It was devoid of features, even its doors invisible now in the wake of the fire, two meters tall and one meter in diameter, just like all the other patients in the workshop. But somehow it did seem to be glowering at him.

“And it always will, stop wasting your time,” his coworker said flippantly. He was perched in front of a console on the other side of the room, deep in his own repairs. “Just get the Impossible Girl to do it, she’ll have it eating out of her hand by lunchtime.”

Their conversation occurred in the time it took Clara to enter the large oblong workshop and make her way to the far end where the two were working. “I heard that,” she said seriously, earning a guilty-looking jump from the man who had spoken most recently. She continued over to Pod Four and leaned against the outer casing, arms folded over her uniformed chest, one booted ankle crossed over the other. “What did you do now?” she demanded of the first technician.

He looked at her with wide eyes, more out of genuine fear than mock innocence, in her estimation. “I just told it—”

“You what?” she snapped, in a tone she usually reserved for misbehaving students.

He wilted a little but started again “…I told it to—”

“Told it?”

“…to give me access to the logs,” he mumbled, dropping her gaze.

“Told it to give you access to the logs?” she asked, voice harsh. “Well first off, Number Four here prefers male pronouns, respecting that might put you on better footing. And secondly, as with all TARDISes, you’ll get a lot further if you ask rather than tell.”

Behind her, the other tech scoffed. “They’re machines, we shouldn’t have to baby them like that. An access request is an access request.”

Clara turned her head to pin him with an icy glare. “Some days I cannot believe I let you work here,” she told him bluntly. “They aren’t just machines, as you very well know. Yes, there’s hardware we need to be able to work with, but that’s nothing more than a radio, at some level — only instead of radio waves, we’re using oswin waves to talk to pan-dimensional beings so large, they can’t have a physical form in this dimension. Who, with a little extra energy, can take us and an infinite amount of folded space to nearly any point in spacetime. Just think about the massive intelligences that speak to us through each of those machines!

“But more to the point,” she said, turning back to the tech still covered in soot, “you have to understand their viewpoint of the universe, and their understanding of time. A Time Lord telling a TARDIS what to do is akin to creating a fixed point in spacetime. It’s in their nature to want to avoid fixed points. Ask instead, let him find his own way ‘round to it.”

Before the beleaguered technician could reply, there came a polite knocking from the far end of the room, and Clara turned to see a soldier standing in the doorway of the workshop, looking a little out of his depth. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a message for—” he paused to glance down at the datapad in his hand, “for the Oswin. From the Lady President. Top priority.”

Clara was moving towards him before he’d finished speaking, curious and concerned, her attention focused on the message in his hands. But the dream faded out before she reached him, her mind moving on to something more abstract, more difficult to hold on to.

When she woke in her bed aboard the TARDIS, she stared at the ceiling with fond frustration. “If that was your attempt at help,” she whispered to the ship, “then I do not understand the message.”

It still wasn’t enough to bring to the Doctor, she decided later that day, watching him spin around the console room in the afterglow of a successful adventure, people saved, the universe bettered. So she was dreaming of Gallifrey, what of it? Many of the details in that last dream matched up with what she remembered of her interaction with the Doctor in that life. And while he occasionally enjoyed comparing memories of all the times her echoes had met him, she’d found he wasn’t especially keen on discussing the one in which she’d helped him steal the TARDIS and leave Gallifrey. Susan continued to be a point of pain for the Doctor, all these centuries later, and Clara understood him well enough to know better than to pick at that particular scab.

Still. That phrase was on a loop in her head: run the math, you clever boy, and remember when you met me. The emphasis on their meeting hadn’t been part of the original phrase, and now she was dreaming of the life in which they’d met face to face for the first time, from the Doctor’s perspective. Clearly they would have to discuss it at some point.

Eventually, but not yet.

#long post #about me #my writing #like seriously all of it #fanfiction #fandom life #AO3 #Home The Long Way 'Round #For As Long As We Get #All Hands #Truth Universally Acknowledged #et al #if you read that chapter let me know what you think!#❤️

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deluxedolans · 6 years

Note

from the drabble list: 128 and/or 105 :) i prefer e but ur a gray girl so it's up to you!!! i love all your writing!!!!!

hiii baby patient anon! thank you for waiting for this fic :))) tbt to when I was a grayson girl…ahh memories to when I felt safe!! but now I’m v much in ethan’s lane and it’s quite fun down here, anywho.

thank you so much for sending in this drabble which is actually not really a drabble and it kind of evolved into a longer fic? anyway, i love you so much, babe, and hope you’re having a great night/day wherever you are💙💙💙 it literally still blows my mind that people wanna see my take on certain ideas/prompts.

I am currently not accepting any drabble requests at this time.

@freewill-is-an-illusion

Prompt: 128, “Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.” & 105, “You can’t make up for it by giving me a tic-tac.”

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: So this is a part two to this blurb that I posted a few weeks ago! Both of these blurbs will be integrated into a full length fic that I’m currently writing (and which is taking an extremely long time to write so bare with me). I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think; love you all & I hope you’re having a good rest of your weekend :)))

ALSO, this blurb takes place in the same night as the last blurb. Additionally, the beginning of this blurb (the part written in italics) is the ending of the first blurb for a refresher/context. Sorry this author’s note is wicked long ahh.

“Guys, c’mon, let’s go! We’re gonna be tardy for the party–whoa.” Ethan’s mouth hung open at your appearance, he was truly stunned.

“That’s pretty much what I just said, bro! Doesn’t she look different?” Grayson said excitedly, his hands gesturing to you.

“Um, yeah she definitely looks different–so, you’re going out dressed like that?” Ethan asked flatly.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes narrowed at Ethan’s words, “you’re a real fucking asshole, you know that?” You pushed past Ethan and walked out the door, accidently slapping him in the chest with your purse as you walked by. You could feel your eyes well up in disapointment but you pushed the tears back, you did not spend all this time on your makeup just to have it ruined because Ethan was being a jerk.

Ethan stood there rooted to the ground, he did not mean to say that out loud.

“Way to go, genius. If you’re gonna act like a jealous douchebag, you at least need to let her know you like her first before you go off saying shit like that,” Grayson said shaking his head as he started walking out of the bathroom. “You’re gonna have to spend the rest of the night trying to make it up to her, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I fucked up,” Ethan mumbled as he followed his twin brother out of the bathroom, and walked towards the car.

You could feel your nerves kick into overdrive as you stood by the punch bowl of the house party with Grayson. Your senses were heightened; the combination of the mixed drink you were nursing, the rainbow strobe lights and the gaze of the cute boy across the room making you hyper-aware of your surroundings, your heart racing at all of the stimuli.

You and an incredibly attractive man, dressed as a boxer, had been eyeing each other from across the room for about a half an hour now, and you couldn’t tell if the butterflies in your stomach were ones of excitement or fear. Sure, you still had your crush on Ethan, and his words earlier definitely made you think twice, but he probably was A.) shocked that you were dressing like an actual girl for once, and B.) teasing you to get a rise out of you. You knew Ethan would never like you, you just weren’t his type; hell, you felt like you weren’t anyone’s type, but the way people were looking at you at this party most definitely had you feeling way more confident in your appearance …. or maybe that was just the vodka.

“Y/N, are you gonna talk to that guy over there or what?” Grayson asked. “You two have been staring at each other since we got here.” Your cheeks immediately burned with embarrassment.

“I have not been staring! I was … taking in the scenery,” you covered lamely, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Grayson rolled his eyes; you were the worst with communicating with boys you liked, exhibit A being Ethan and exhibit B being right now.

“Mhm, sure whatever you say. I bet if I leave he’ll come over here.” Grayson’s eyebrows shot up mischievously, a wide grin decorating his mouth. Your stomach dropped; Grayson couldn’t leave, then you’d be alone.

“Wait, what? Stop, Gray, what if he actually comes over here!” You immediately turned away from the guy who had broken his gaze with you for probably the twentieth time that night, turning your back to face away from the crowd.

“Well, that’s kind of the point; he’d be a dumbass not to! C’mon, Y/N, you’re so pretty and funny; let yourself have some fun with a guy for once, alright? I’ll be right over there if it goes south and he needs a roundhouse kick to the throat,” Grayson said, putting a hand on your shoulder to reassure you.

You put a hand on his shoulder, mirroring his position, “You can’t leave me. I’m not mature enough for this … Or drunk enough, if I’m being honest.”

Suddenly Grayson stuck his arm out, pointing a finger into the sky, “Holy shit, Y/N, look at that!” Naturally, your body turned in alarm to see what Grayson was talking about. But sadly, by the time you turned around, Grayson had fled to the couch across the room. He flashed a thumbs up as you glared daggers at him for pulling such an idiotic trick.

When you turned around, you were met with two crystal blue eyes and messy, sandy blonde hair; the boy from across the room finally worked up the nerve to greet you after almost an hour of stolen glances.

“Hey, nice robe,” Mystery Man commented, his head nodding towards the black silky fabric that adorned your body. You could feel yourself blush as you looked down at your outfit and then stole a peek at his own; his robe matching yours almost exactly.

“Wow, thanks, seems like that is a trend tonight, huh?” You internally cringed; you definitely sounded like you were trying too hard to be cute and flirty.

But, in spite of your self doubt, the boy smiled in response to your answer, “I guess so. I’m Evan,” the boy stuck his larger hand out, engulfing your tiny one in a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Evan, I’m Y/N,” you replied, a small smile gracing your face as you felt yourself relax a little more. You turned around for a brief moment to scoop some more punch out of the bowl and into your cup, praying that a little liquid courage would help you survive and (possibly thrive) within this conversation.

As Ethan jogged down the stairs, the colorful lights blinded him for a brief moment, blurring his vision. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was feeling good tonight; he had just won a game of pong upstairs and in spite of the many inquiries on his costume, once he had explained it most people got a kick out of it, claiming it was original when it was mainly laziness that created his get-up.

Before Ethan reached the bottom of the stairs, he did a quick scan for both you and Grayson. After a few moments he spotted Grayson sitting on the couch, his firefighter hat in his grip as he chatted casually to James.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” Ethan greeted, plopping down on the couch besides James whose eyes practically bugged out of his head in surprise.

“Jesus, Ethan, you scared me.”

“No shit; it’s spooky season, sister,” Ethan replied, wiggling his fingers for dramatic effect. James rolled his eyes, “The only thing spooky here is your costume, what are you supposed to be again?”

“A douchebag!” Ethan’s hands indicated to his outfit proudly; his shirtless body was complimented by the fake gold chains that draped over his chest. In addition to the chains Ethan’s outfit was accessorized with a backwards black snapback and matching sunglasses and his legs clad with black joggers to complete the look.

James busted out laughing, “Only you would dress up as a douchebag for Halloween.”

Ethan smirked, “I know, it’s original huh?”

“Original? More like sister stupid. Aren’t you supposed to dress up as something other than yourself for Halloween?” James said through a laugh, slapping his knee at his own joke. As Ethan’s eyes narrowed, Grayson’s boisterous laugh rang out; he loved when James roasted Ethan.

“I fucking hate you guys.” James and Grayson’s laughs continued, eventually settling down as James got up.

“As fun as this has been, I see Luke Wilde looking very nice over there and he slid into my DMs a few weeks ago, so.” Ethan and Grayson nodded, watching James bound towards the tall, dark and handsome man in the corner.

Ethan sighed happily, leaning back into the couch, both of his arms splaying behind him. “So, man, you having a good time?”

“Yeah, I just got done dancing a bit ago and I’m taking a break, I finally got Ali’s number, though,” Grayson remarked, smirking. Ethan put his fist out to which Grayson bumped; Grayson had been trying to hang out with one of James’s editors, Ali, for months now, but just hadn’t developed the courage to ask.

“Nice, man! It’s about damn time.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, bro, we all know how much of a pussy you are about talking to girls,” Grayson shot back. Ethan crossed his arms, “I am not! Hey, I almost forgot, where’s Y/N?”

Grayson raised his eyebrows at his brother, his teeth coming together in slight fear. Ethan was about to be salty at the sight before him.

Grayson pointed across the room and Ethan’s gaze followed, his heart falling into his stomach at scene in front of him. You were leaning against the wall, holding a solo cup, smiling a huge, beautiful smile as you looked up at the guy in front of you. The guy you were talking with had a hand against the wall as he leaned over you, a solo cup in his own hand, and a smirk smeared across his lips in contrast to your innocent grin. Ethan was livid.

“What the fuck?” Ethan muttered, his eyes bulging out of his hand, and his hand crushing his cup. Ethan barely felt the cool liquid seep into the fabric of his joggers as he took off his sunglasses, stuffing them into his pockets in an attempt to make sure that his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

“Who the hell is that guy?” Ethan didn’t even look at Grayson as he asked the question, too afraid that if he turned away that you would either disappear from view, or worse, start kissing the dude.

Grayson shrugged, “I don’t know, to be honest. When we got here Y/N and I were talking over there together and that dude kept eyeing her, so I left and they’ve been talking ever since.”

Ethan’s head turned towards Grayson so fast he almost got whiplash, “You what? ” He hissed.

“I left them to talk together! Christ, Ethan, if you like her you have to tell her, you can’t just stare at her and pray to God she’s a mind-reader.”

“You can’t just leave her alone with that stranger! He could be a serial killer for all we know, Grayson.”

Grayson rolled his eyes so hard you could only see the whites of his eyes for a moment. “He is not a serial killer, stop being so dramatic.”

“Well, how would you know? Did you interview him before you left her with him?” Ethan’ cocked an eyebrow, his lips pursed together.

“I am not gonna interview every fuckin’ guy she talks to, Ethan, she’s a big girl she can handle herself.”

“Yeah, well, he’s looking at her like a piece of meat, Gray, just look at the guy!” Ethan’s hand flew out, gesturing wildly to the two of you. The boxer’s eyes were hooded as he talked to you, the alcohol most likely flowing through his veins, while you now stood with your hands clasped neatly in front of you as you told a story animatedly, your expression bright as you recounted your tale.

“Ethan, at least the dude is talking to her, if anything you’re the one looking at her like a piece of meat,” Grayson sassed, the reality of the situation still not reaching his brother.

“E, if you like her so much, just tell her already, bro. It’s so painfully obvious you have feelings, and I bet she feels the–.”

“I’m going over there, he’s definitely a serial killer,” Ethan interrupted, popping up from the couch and storming across the room, leaving his younger brother in the dust.

“Same way.” Grayson finished, sighing as he watched Ethan walk across the room towards you, anger pumping through Ethan’s body.

“Yeah! So I’m sprinting through campus holding all these books, I lost a shoe somewhere along the way and then–.”

Suddenly, Evan was pushed to the side as a strong body knocked into him; Evan’s drink falling to the floor, the thankfully basically empty cup clattering to the hardwood in all its plastic glory.

“Yo, what the hell man?” Evan whipped around, prepared to square up to the man who knocked into him, when he was met with someone a few inches taller than him and a few inches wider, causing him to shrink back.

“Sorry, bro, didn’t see you there. You okay, Y/N?” Ethan’s jaw was clenched tight as he gave you a tight smile. He was clearly irritated.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” You huffed, your arms crossing in annoyance. At your movement, Evan’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to your chest, as your arms perked up your breasts through the top of your robe. Ethan gave Evan side eye, his eyes narrowing as he noticed where Evan’s eyes had traveled. Ethan immediately punched Evan in the shoulder, Evan’s eyes widening in surprise and then narrowing in anger.

“Keep your eyes on her face, asshole,” Ethan commanded, his fists clenching in rage. Evan’s eyes lit up in anger, who the fuck did this guy think he was?

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me, man,” Evan snarled, pushing Ethan away from him aggressively. “You know this clown?” Evan pointed at Ethan. Your eyebrows shot up quickly, your voice suddenly caught at your throat; you hated confrontation.

“Uh–yeah, um, Evan, this is Ethan, Ethan this is–.”

“An asshole,” Ethan deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest. Your mouth flew open; you couldn’t believe how downright rude he was being. “Ethan!” You exclaimed.

“I’m the asshole? You’re kidding me, right? Let’s get out of here, baby, what do you say? Seems like this jerk doesn’t know how to control himself in front of a pretty girl.” Ethan could feel his skin heating up at Evan’s words; deep down Ethan knew he didn’t have a right to be acting this way, but he couldn’t help it, his heart always winning out over his head.

“I’m good, actually, I came with Ethan and his brother–.” Evan then grabbed your hand at your words, interrupting your rejection.

Your face dropped at Evan’s sudden act of possession; everything had been fine up until this point, why couldn’t things ever go normally for you? You looked down at his hand gripping your own, your fingers limp in his grasp.

“Let’s go, Y/N,” Evan said, trying to tug you away from Ethan. You stayed put, your eyes wide with fear; fear of the man holding you, and fearful of what Ethan was about to do.

Ethan couldn’t contain himself any longer; he ripped Evan’s hand off of you and pushed the blonde away, his back hitting the wall harshly as he gripped the collar of his robe tight in his fist.

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch her, do you understand me?” Ethan’s fist shook he was holding onto Evan so tight. He slammed Evan into the wall again for good measure, his back hitting into it so hard Evan had the wind knocked out of him. Grayson started to run over as he saw the situation escalate in front of him, pushing past people just as Evan was bent over coughing.

“Ethan, what the fuck?” Grayson stood behind his brother, prepared to back him up, but also frustrated that his brother couldn’t just express his emotions rationally.

Ethan turned around, ignoring Grayson completely, as he looked you up and down in worry.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

“You’re such a dick, you know that?” You snapped, glaring at Ethan as you pushed past him, your eyes tearing up in anger. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, you chanted to yourself as you made your way out of the party.

Ethan’s mouth fell open in shock, your reaction confusing him. He thought you would’ve been happy that he stepped in, saving you from that massive douchebag.

“What’s her problem?!” Ethan put his hands on his hips in bewilderment.

“What’s her problem? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. You practically insulted her outfit before we even got here, and now you randomly come in and intervene when she’s talking to a guy? She’s not the one with a problem, it’s you, bro.”

“He was grabbing her, did you see–.”

“Yeah, I saw, but before that. You were acting like such an asshole before that even happened. You can’t act all protective if you don’t tell her how you feel.”

Ethan rolled his eyes in irritation, knowing that his brother was partially right, however, it still didn’t make him like what Grayson had to say. Ethan stalked off after you before Grayson could say anything else, leaving the younger twin standing alone under the smokey haze and rainbow lights.

“Y/N, wait,” Ethan called as he grabbed your wrist, his voice ringing out loudly in the silent and cold October air.

“Don’t touch me. We’re fighting,” You snapped, ripping your wrist out of Ethan’s hand quickly. Ethan’s face fell at your actions and his heart hurt; he really hoped you wouldn’t be that upset.

“But why are we fighting? That guy was a total stranger, Y/N! He was grabbing you and looking down your robe and–.”

“And you were a stranger too at one point, E! And honestly, at least someone was appreciating my costume and not bitching at me saying shit like ‘you’re wearing that?’” Your voice dropped several octaves as you mimicked Ethan’s voice from earlier in the evening, your hands waving around wildly to emphasize your rage.

“Well excuse me for being a little concerned for how much skin you were showing! I mean, hell, the dude was practically having a conversation with your tits rather than your face.”

“How much skin I’m showing? You’re the one shirtless!” You admonished, your finger pushing against his chest.

Damn, she got me there, he thought to himself.

“And what are you supposed to be anyway?” Her head cocked to the side as she awaited his answer.

“A douchebag,” Ethan practically whispered, embarrassment consuming his voice.

“A what?” You asked again, not quite hearing his words.

“A douchebag,” Ethan said louder, his eyes looking at his sneakers in shame, now realizing that his costume fit his actions.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you cackled at the irony; Ethan dressing like a douchebag in an attempt to mock it, and then ending up being one throughout the night.

You pointed at him, “Aren’t you supposed to dress up as something different than yourself on Halloween?” Tears were streaming down your face at this point, the humor of this situation literally making you die of laughter.

“Okay, fuck off, James already said that,” Ethan chuckled.

After you calmed down a few seconds later, you and Ethan stood smiling at each other in a mutual understanding; at least he realized that he was being a dick.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I just didn’t know that guy and it pissed me off that Grayson left you alone with a total stranger. And then he was treating you like you were a–a– like a thing, and–.” You put your hand up, indicating that he stop. Your heart thumped at the possibility that Ethan could be jealous, but you knew that he was merely protecting you, only seeing you as a little sister.

“I get it, E. But you can’t just get all older brother on me whenever you feel like it … you’re not the boss of me.” Your heart stabbed with pain as you said those words, praying inside that Ethan would dispel them and say that you were more than a sister to him, that it hurt him seeing you with another guy.

But Ethan didn’t.

Ethan’s heart sank at what you said; he fucking knew you’d never see him beyond the goofy brother role that he couldn’t seem to step out of no matter how hard he tried. “Um, yeah, well when some fucker grabs you forgive me for going a little psycho,” Ethan said flatly, taking his snapback off and readjusting it, needing to fiddle with something.

“Yeah, but before that, you were acting so–so upset. Why were you so upset that I was talking to that guy?”

“I told you he was a stranger,” Ethan looked off to the side, digging his shoe into the dirt.

“Yeah, but still–.” You started before a voice interrupted you.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out soon, is that cool?” Grayson yelled out from the porch, the music behind him thumping.

“I think I’m gonna stay a bit longer,” Ethan called back. “You wanna stay, or do you wanna go with Gray?” Ethan asked, his tone laced with hope that you’d wanna stay with him.

Grayson stood there patiently, waiting for your answer.

“I’m gonna stay with E and then we’ll uber back.” A wide grin spread across his face in victory; victory that he had a few hours of privacy with you without his brother’s judgemental eyes.

Grayson responded with a thumbs up as he slammed the door shut to the party, leaving you two alone yet again.

“So, wanna go dance? I might forgive you if you come dance with me!” Your eyebrows wiggled suggestively as you tugged your robe tightly around you as a breeze made its way through the air.

Ethan groaned, “Can’t we do something else in there? Here’s a tic-tac, will that make up for what a dick I was?” Ethan reached in his pocket, holding out the case of minty candy.

“Ethan Dolan, you can’t make up for it by giving me a tic-tac.” You giggled, pushing his shoulder as you walked back towards the house. Ethan smirked and pushed you back lightly, putting his hand on the small of your back as you walked up the stairs.

As you two walked back into the party together, you and Ethan both couldn’t help but internally sigh; yet another night where both of your feelings were brought to the surface and pushed down yet again by each of your own cowardice.

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