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5sospenguinqueen · 3 years

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COLD HAND, WARM COCK - Bucky Barnes

PLOT: Bucky watches you train and you’ve had enough. Sam and Steve catch you. This is a fic from the Avengers Tower days where they all lived together. Based off this picture.

WARNING: Unprotected sex

Fists smacking into the bag, you step back so that it doesn’t knock you onto your arse, before darting back towards it and booting it with your foot. Grunting as the impact reverberated up your spine, you knew Nat would criticise your poor technique if she had been training with you. Your mind was otherwise preoccupied to think about your stance. For weeks you had been tense and coiled tightly all because of the newest resident of the Avengers Tower.

Bucky Barnes had been living across the hall from you for almost a year now and yet you still hadn’t relaxed fully around him. You were constantly aware of his presence and it had taken him a few months of Steve forcing the two of you to spend time together until he had relaxed around you. However, you had developed a strong bond since the night you found him on the balcony at 2am, staring up at the moon and shaking. It wasn’t a cold night and the distant look in his eyes informed you that something was wrong. You had pulled him in for a tight hug and he had spilled his heart to you about his nightmare. Happiness bubbled in your chest when - a few days later - you had teased him about his metal arm. Biting your tongue, you waited for the usual stony glare he shot you (or even an indifferent remark) but instead he had let out a small chuckle before responding with his own quip.

The first time the two of you had been sent on a mission alone, he had lost control for a millisecond when you two had returned to the motel room. Deep in thought, he had been startled when your small hand touched his right arm. Before you could speak, you were pressed against the beige wall and a vibranium arm was crushing your windpipe. Despite the fact that you were gasping for air, you refused to hurt him and instead begged for him to let you go. Looking down at your bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks, he dropped you instantly. Cowering in a corner on the other side of the room, he pleaded for your forgiveness; apologies spilled from his mouth with every other sentence. The pair of you had spent the night cuddled up in the small motel bed, your hand stroking his hair as his tears dripped onto your neck. Flowers had been left outside your door out of gratitude for your help and your silence. If you had told the other team what had happened, he would’ve been forced back to the ‘luxury psych hotel’.

As the bond between the two of you grew, so did the sexual tension. Electricity coursed through your veins each time he brushed past you. His cock jumped every time you smiled at him like he was one of the best people in your life. Sarcastic comments had been traded for teasing comments. Lingering touches and “incidental brushes” of your chest and his ass had you spending numerous nights with your fingers deep inside you and Bucky’s name tumbling past your lips. Exhaling deeply, you felt those piercing blue eyes that haunt your dreams staring at your figure.

“Can I help you, Mr Barnes? I know in your old age your memory starts to falter but this is a training room. You should be training, not lounging about.” You say, snarkily.

A heat ignited in your core when you turned to look at him. Seated on the bench, his legs were spread wide open, elbows resting on his knees. Hands dangling in between them, the veins in his right harm rippled as he flexed his muscles and his metal arm gleamed in the fluorescent lighting. Mouth hung slightly open, his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he brazenly looked you up and down.

“And you should be training, not shaking your ass at me,” he smirked, leaning forward to see how you would react.

Taking a step towards him, you circle him before coming to a stop behind him. Leaning down, you whispered in his ear and smiled at the goosebumps that appeared on his neck. “I shake my ass for myself and myself only. Anyway, Barnes, you should be keeping your eyes to yourself. I’m far too young for you, Grandpa.”

“Oh, Doll, I could show you things that would have your legs shaking.” Bucky taunted, grabbing your arm as you tried to move away and swinging you into his lap.

Gasping at the sudden movement, you felt your panties dampen when he forced your legs on either side of him so that you were straddling his lap. One warm hand and one cold hand rested on your bare waist, an erotic combination that had your heart quickening. Forehead resting upon his own, your breath mingled with Bucky’s. Once more, his tongue licked his bottom lip but with your close proximity, it tickled your own lips slightly. Both of you knew that there would be no backing down or running away this time. Needing something to soothe the fire within your stomach, you made the first move.

Leaning forward, you connected your lips, hands sliding into his hair and giving a slight tug. Moaning into your mouth, Bucky bucked his hips against you. Tongue brushing against his, you squeaked in surprise when you found yourself on the floor. Your hands grip the bottom of his shirt and he pulls away from you to allow you to pull it over his head. Instead of reclaiming your lips, Bucky trailed open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking against a small spot that had your hips bumping against his.

“Buck!” You shrieked in shock when his metal arm grasped your breast. The coldness of the metal hand had you crawling away.

“I’m sorry, Doll. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Bucky frowned, lines forming between his brows as he backed away. Leaning up on your elbows, you reassured him that his metal arm didn’t scare you at all.

“You don’t scare me, Buck. I trust you completely. It was just cold.”

However, he still looked doubtful so you grabbed his metal arm and placed it on your stomach. Waiting to see what you would do next, Bucky’s cocky persona returned once you pushed his hand under the waistband of your shorts.

“Y/N, are you sure?” “Buck, if you don’t fuck me right now, I will go and jump one of those newbies.”

A rip sound echoed throughout the training room and your mouth dropped open at the sight of your shorts in his hand; torn in two. Before you could berate him, his mouth pressed a kiss to the skin above the band of your underwear and you begged him to touch you. One finger brushed along your core through your lacy panties, grinning at the dampness of them. Raising your hips so he could pull them down your leg, you protested when his right hand teased its way up your leg.

“Metal. Use the metal one.”

Cocking his eyebrow, Bucky shook his head in amusement before a cold finger circled the small nub of pleasure. Tracing your slit, Bucky blew gently on your wet mound before he slid a finger inside of you. An elicit gasp escaped your mouth when he curled it, pumping in and out slowly. Bucking your hips against his touch, you begged for more.

“Love the sounds you make, Doll.” Bucky murmured against your clit before he sucked gently.

Your hands pulled on the dark locks of his hair, shrieking slightly when he groaned against you.

“Buck, please, I need you in me.” “So desperate.” Bucky taunted as you made grabby hands at his shorts. “I’m gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

Pathetic whimpers poured out of your mouth as Bucky pulled down his shorts, revealing his hardened cock. Gripping both your wrists in his metal hand, Bucky pinned your arms above your head, enjoying the way you squirmed. You were helpless under him. Attaching his mouth to your nipple, Bucky slid his tip inside you.

“More,” you begged. A shocked scream came out your mouth as Bucky slammed himself inside you, revelling in the warmth of your walls. Barely giving you time to adjust to the sheer size of him (apparently the super soldier serum enhanced more than his muscles), Bucky pulled out before thrusting deep inside you once more.

“Eyes on me, Y/N.” Bucky demanded as your back arched off the floor and your eyes fluttered shut. Bucky’s other warm hand gripped your hip tightly as he pounded into you, hard enough to leave bruises. Hips pistoning back and forth, Bucky grunted as your walls clenched around him. A mix of curses and his name poured out of your mouth as you fought against his grip, wanting nothing more than to touch him.

“Wanna touch you. Please, Bucky.” You moaned, pleasure rippling through you. His hips came to a stop and you cried out, wanting him to resume the pace that had you teetering on the edge of an orgasm. Wrapping his arms around you, Bucky leaned back so that he was seated and you were in his lap. Both of you moaned at the sensation before Bucky was bouncing you on his cock. The new angle had Bucky sliding in deeper and you screamed as he reached the right spot.

“You like that, doll.” Bucky said cockily, enjoying the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

“So close, Buck. Gonna make me cum.”

Bucky’s movements became sloppy as he thrust faster, eager to watch your face as you came undone. Your hands wrapped around his biceps, nails digging in and as you matched his pace. Pressing your mouth against his neck, you sucked lightly as your walls clenched along his thick member.

“The thing you do to me.” Bucky muttered. “Been wanting this for ages. Come on, princess.” His metal hand reached down and his thumb connected with your clit, rubbing circles onto it.

Head dropping into the crook of his neck, you moaned his name loudly as your orgasm washed over you. Waves of pleasure had you arching into Bucky, nipples brushing against his slick chest. Bucky fucked you through his orgasm, chasing his own high. When he finally came, his teeth sank into your shoulder to muffle the growl that rumbled through his chest and out his mouth. Hot cum splashed against your sensitive walls and you pulled him closer to you, basking in the after-sex emotions.

“Maybe now you’ll get the hint that I’d like you to take me to dinner.” You smiled, pressing a lazy kiss to the underneath of his jaw. Neither one of you were ready to move from the position you were in and Bucky was in no rush to slip out of the warm walls that perfectly encased him.

“AHHH! Are you fonduing?!”

“Ya’ll nasty.”

Two loud voices pulled the two of you out of the bubble you had created. Cursing, Bucky pressed himself against your body, shielding you from his two friends. Steve had turned his back on you both, hands covering his face as if he would somehow still be able to see you. Sam was staring at the ceiling but his body racked with laughter. Apparently the gym wasn’t the most private place to sleep with your super soldier.

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darthkruge · 3 years

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Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Life Day

Summary: Spending Life Day with Anakin. Also, let’s pretend I’m better at titles than I am.

Warnings: Language and fluff, y’all.

Words: 2.1k

A/N: We’re all going to pretend that there is ice skating in Coruscant. Because there should be. Also, Happy Holidays to all of you lovely people. Thank you for supporting me and being my friends <3

“Come on!!” You said, trying to pull your boyfriend up.

“Y/N...” Anakin groaned, “Come back to bed, it’s early and cold!”

Normally, on days you both had off, you’d concede and spend the remainder of your time lounging in each other’s arms. But today was Life Day! You’ve always loved the snow and it was the first Life Day since you and Ani started dating, you weren’t going to waste it.

“Anakin Skywalker! You are going to get out of bed this instant and spend the day with me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I know, I can see the future.” You joked.

Anakin quirked one of his eyebrows, slightly opening his eyes to look at you. “Hmmm… well, if you’re so good at predicting things, how come you didn’t predict this-”

You squealed as you felt yourself lifted off the ground, the Force pulling you right back into bed. You, however, were having none of it. You immediately jumped back up and away from Anakin’s inviting, warm embrace, knowing that if you caved you’d never leave.

“Come on!” You repeated, dragging out the last word.

Anakin threw his head back against the pillows dramatically. “Fine” He was never able to say no to you and you both knew it. If something had the slightest chance of making you happy, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

You cheered as you successfully pulled him out of bed. You quickly threw his robes at him, his boots in your other hand.

Anakin chuckled. “Eager, aren’t we?”

You just jumped up and down happily as he finished getting ready.

“Alright, come on, love. Where do you want to go?”

“The town!! I want to walk around, look at shit, I dunno! Just- let’s go!”

Your energy was contagious and, before long, the two of you were skipping down the Coruscant streets. Anakin insisted on taking alleyways whenever possible; he wanted to amuse you but didn’t exactly want another Council member to see him grinning like an idiot and laughing hysterically in his secret relationship in the middle of town. You didn’t mind. As long as he was here with you, you didn’t care.

After walking for another few minutes, you came to an abrupt stop.

“Hey!” Anakin yelped, almost smacking into you. “What the-”

You held up your hand and started pointing excitedly. “Ani, look! Ice skating!! We have to!”

He took one look at you, eyes lit up from excitement and smile bigger than he’s ever seen, and was sold.

He took your hand and led the two of you to the ice rink. You both laced up your skates, walked onto the ice, and immediately death-gripped the wall.

“So, Y/N, want to show me how to do this?”

“... I thought you would show me how to do this”

“Why did you assume I knew how to ice skate?!”

“I don’t know! You just- You know things I expected you’d get this! Or like, use the Force or something!”

“You’re the one who suggested this!” Anakin laughed, smiling and shaking his head at your current predicament. The both of you were basically glued to the side of the rink, shuffling forward slowly like two drunk penguins.

You started laughing, too. You couldn’t help it. Eventually, after spending the next fifteen minutes getting more comfortable with it, you decided to take a risk and only hold on with one hand.

“Ani, look! I’m doing it!” You were giddy from excitement.

Anakin chuckled lightly. He loved seeing you like this, so care-free and joyous.

You came upon a slightly rough spot of ice and skid for a moment, your hand going out to brace you in case you fell. Anakin, ever heroic, jumped into action.

He called your name and let go of the side of the rink, trying to get to you so you could hold onto him. Emphasis on trying. Instead, he pushed off the side of the rink, was completely unstable, and landed flat on his ass.

Since it was only a slight skid, you were able to right yourself pretty quickly and without help. So you were pretty surprised when you heard an“Ow!” from behind you.

You turned around and let out an involuntary laugh. Your boyfriend, Anakin Skywalker, powerful and renowned Jedi, was sitting on the floor of the rink, ice in his hair, pouting.

You shuffled back to him and held out a hand. “Are you alright, Ani?” You said, hand coming to comb through his hair.

Anakin sighed dejectedly and took your hand, face still red from embarrassment.

“...Yeah”

“You’re an idiot, you know that right?”

“I thought you were going to fall!” He grumbled.

“Anakin, it was like a two second skid, I would have been fine!” You laughed

“I just wanted to protect you”

You looked at him gently. It was true and you knew it. All he’s ever tried to do is protect you. “I know, baby, I know. You’re still moronic, though. But I love you for it.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep moving, L/N”

You chuckled. “Nice, Skywalker.”

After exiting the rink, you took his hand and walked back to the bench to return your skates. You felt him staring at you.

“Stop that”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Yeah! You’re like… looking at me”

Anakin laughed. “So I’m allowed to date you but I can’t look at you? That’ll complicate things”

You playfully smacked his chest. He led you behind the rink and away from prying eyes and, as you tried to squirm away, his arms came around you and he pulled you in for a kiss. You tasted the frost on his breath, making the sensation of his warm lips even more inviting. You lost yourself in the taste of him, in the feel of his tongue and lips against your own.

You separated for a second, breath mingling as you looked at him. His eyes were soft, snowflakes nestled in his gorgeous hair. His hands cupped your face, thumbs tracing your cheekbones.

“Hi” You said softly.

“You’re incredible” He replied, reconnecting his mouth with yours. You sighed into him, fingers weaving into his hair as his hands grabbed your waist. You were grinning into the kiss and so was he, your emotions connected as your energies fed off each other. You were so attuned to the other that it was indescribable. You didn’t even need to talk, you simply understood. Understood each other’s minds, bodies, and souls. That level of intimacy- it was all you’d ever wanted.

“Want to head back?” He asked quietly. Even though you had broken apart from your embrace, Anakin kept his voice low. It was as if everything he said was special, just for you.

You nodded and picked up his arm, settling it around your shoulder as you put yours around his waist. As you finally returned to your apartment, the two of you flopped onto the bed. The day had exhausted you in the best way. You felt at peace, loved, cherished, and, for once, safe.

“Did you enjoy our first Life Day together, my love?”

You hummed in content, lacing your fingers with his, twisting to look up at him from your current position. He was sitting against the headboard and you were lying with your back to his chest. His arms wound around your from behind and you rested your hands atop his, absentmindedly running your fingers across his metal ones.

“I have something for you”

“Anakin, I thought we said no gifts!”

“I know, I know. But I love you and I couldn’t resist.”

He reached into his bed-side table drawer and pulled out a beautiful hand carved pendant. It had the symbol from your home planet on one side and a symbol for Coruscant on the other. You gasped at its beauty, eyeing the intricate details he must have spent hours perfecting.

“Anakin-” You breathed out. “It’s gorgeous, thank you!”

“I wanted it to represent your past and your future. I mean, well, what I hope is your future. I want to spend my life with you. I know the Council forbids it but I am so hopelessly in love with you,” He took a breath, letting his words hang for a moment. “Y/N L/N, what I’m trying to say is that I want you to be my future.”

“I want you to be my future too,” You said, pulling the pendant around your neck. It sat beautifully against your skin and you twirled it around. Seeing your old planet’s symbol, you were reminded of where you grew up. You reminisced, realizing that this feeling of happiness was all your childhood self wanted. As you looked at Coruscant, at its symbol, at the beautiful boy behind you, you were filled with this immense warmth.

You had a home.

“I’m sorry for breaking our no-presents rule, my love.” He mumbled in your ear, gently kissing your temple. You leaned into him.

“It’s alright. I broke it too.” You said sheepishly. Anakin laughed. Of course you did.

You pulled out a poorly wrapped package and plopped it down on the bed. He smiled and you could tell he was excited, even though he didn’t let on to it. Anakin was always surprised when you did something for him even though you told him a million times that you loved him and you wanted to be there for him, just like he was for you. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe you loved him; Maker, there was no doubting your love for each other, it was just that he was always taking care of everyone else. He frequently forgot it went both ways. You, however, were determined to remind him.

Anakin unwrapped the present and just stared at it in shock for a moment. You fidgeted with your hands, wondering if something was wrong. Tentatively, you called his name, bringing him back to the present. He looked up at you and tears had filled his eyes.

Your eyes widened. “Anakin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep, I’m so, so sorry-”

He cut you off by pulling you into a bone-crushing embrace, burying his face in your neck. You held onto him and rubbed your hands up and down his back, unsure of what was going on.

He pulled away and looked deeply into your eyes. “Y/N, I love it.”

“Really?”

“Baby, it’s perfect.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank Kriff, Anakin! You worried me for a second!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I was just... processing. I can’t believe you went and made this for me, it must have taken hours!”

You looked at the painting you’d done of Shmi and Anakin at about 8 years old. She was ruffling the sand out of his hair and he was scowling, but clearly appreciative. You always remembered how his eyes lit up when he talked of his mother. You wished, more than anything, that they’d had more time together.

“I’ve been taking art lessons for a while now and I wanted to do this for you. I know you loved her and how she gave you such moments of goodness in your overall not-so-great childhood. And I hated that you had no tangible reminder of her.” You gestured to the painting, hoping it conveyed the rest of your point.

“How did you-” Anakin was still trying to wrap his head around it. He was so moved, so touched that you valued him this much. He still had some trouble opening up. After being taught for so long to just push it down and suppress his feelings, he was afraid to share those emotions. And now, you come along and don’t just want to listen, you encourage him to talk. He genuinely feels like you care and, honestly, it’s a bit overwhelming.

“Obi-Wan helped a bit… He dug through some old records, turns out they recorded a bit from when Qui-Gon and he went to Tatooine and met you all those years ago. He let me see it and it just gave me the inspiration I needed. And the rest of the details I filled in based on what you’d told me. I know how much she means to you, Ani. I’m just so glad you like it.”

Anakin looks at you with such love you think it’ll tear you open. “I adore you. Thank you, Y/N, truly. This is- you are everything.”

“Come here,” You pulled Anakin back into your arms and rocked him back and forth in your embrace. He nuzzled closer to you and you smiled. It seemed you did end up spending Life Day in each other’s arms after all.

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i just made a taglist so if you want to join...

permanent tags:

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anakin tags:

@anakinswhore @chokemeanakin @kennedywxlsh @coldlilheart @gayidioot @adamgetawaydriver

#megan writes #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin imagines #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker x gender neutral reader #anakin skywalker x gn!reader #anakin x gender neutral reader #anakin x gn!reader

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writing-red · 4 years

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The Red Bottle | 2

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings: PARENTAL ABUSE! (verbal & physical) murder, substance abuse/underage drinking, and cussing. I am serious. These themes are heavy-handed, don’t read something that’s going to hurt you, okay?

Word Count: 4.1k

Ever since the letters arrived, your life felt different, and going on as if everything hadn’t changed in a stroke of your mothers’ quill was difficult.

Of course, you and Draco had nearly every class together, and he was acting so differently when you were around. He wasn’t your best friend, but he also wasn’t insulting you or purposely making you trip in the halls. Of course, the two of you didn’t know how to act around one another, resulting in plenty of awkward interactions. It was only September, Winter Holiday wasn’t for months, and summer was much further, but the idea of it was looming.

“Alright, class, please find your new seats,” Slughorn announced as the sixth years piled into his class.

Professor Slughorn had a knack for playing matchmaker for his student before he retired, and he certainly didn’t plan on giving up his habit now that he was back. So, of course, when he noticed Draco’s feelings for Y/n, he got to it.

“Bloody hell,” you muttered underneath your breath when you realized who your partner would be for the foreseeable future. “Morning, Malfoy,” you said when you sat down. Neither of you wanted anyone knowing, so you had agreed to keep up appearances for the time being.

“Good morning, Y/l/n,” he said, not bothering to look at you.

It still stung a bit, you admit. Around your third year, you’d had a bit of a crush on the platinum-haired boy, and you hoped that maybe he would start treating you like a human being. But, it was clear you were overestimating the Slytherin Prince’s capacity for kindness. Despite that, something sparked in the pit of your stomach every time you spoke, but you just chalked it up to nerves and fear.

On the other hand, Draco had fancied you since your second year, a feeling that had only grown since then. But, he couldn’t let you know that, not now, not with everything going on. He could put you in harm’s way. If something happened to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Draco would just have to push those feelings down till he carried out the Dark Lords plan, and until this was all over. Love was a weakness, and he wouldn’t allow feelings for you to interfere with his duty to the Dark Lord.

But, Professor Slughorn interrupted your thoughts.

“Today, we shall be brewing amortenia, the love potion we reviewed last class. As we know, many potions require skill as well as patience, and amortenia is no exception. It will take roughly nine class periods, so settle in and try to be kind to your partners. The recipe is on the board and on page 27 of your books. Begin.”

Amortenia, of course, this class really couldn’t get any worse. It was as if the universe wanted to remind you that you were destined to a loveless marriage your selfish parents forced you into. Eventually, the hour-long period ended, you and Malfoy getting along decently enough to start your potion off on the right foot.

The second Slughorn dismissed the class, you found your friends, and all of you hurried out to the Quidditch Pitch for try-outs where you and Hermione happily resigned yourselves to watching since neither of you are much of quidditch players. You watched Hermione nervously observing Ron and McLaggen, and you eyed her as she quietly sent a confundus charm McLaggen’s way. Being the good friend, you are you didn’t plan on letting her live that down anytime soon. As hard as everything was at the moment, being around the people you love never failed to help you feel a bit more normal.

You spent all your time with them, studying, eating, walking to classes. It wasn’t abnormal, but suddenly you were thoroughly intentional about who you were around and what you were doing. Even if it was something as simple as walking to the bathroom between classes, you were always sure to have a friend by your side.

Despite only having been at school for a week, tension was high around the castle. Everybody needed the chance to let loose a bit.

It’s a well-known fact at Hogwarts that Gryffindor throws the best parties. Everyone years five and up are invited regardless of house. If there’s one thing that can bond bold Gyrffindors and prideful Slytherin, its taking shots of firewhiskey side by side. No one ever snitches because if they were there, it means they were partaking. It was one of the few parties on-campus members of every house attend.

With the first week of classes over and the weekend here, it was the perfect time for a party. Over many years students crafted spots around campus faculty didn’t know about hidden student lounges behind paintings with a password and rooms stocked for parties with couches and bottles of alcohol that would just appear. They would move every year so that if students returned as professors, they would not be found.

“You’re coming to the party tomorrow, no excuse will get you out of it, and I will not take no for an answer,” you said to Hermione on your way the last class of your day.

“But what if we get caught?” She said.

“They’ll give us detention, they won’t kick out all of the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. Anyways they won’t catch us; that’s the point of the rotating location.”

“I have a paper to do.”

“You are the smartest person I know. You’ll finish it in the morning. You know what? I’ll do it with you, and if I don’t both finish, you don’t have to go,” you had a lengthy history of procrastinating on essays. They always took you far longer than they needed to.

“Deal,” Hermione said, underestimating how badly you wanted her at that party. “So how’s that potions project with Malfoy going?”

“Shit, don’t remind me,” you groaned. “Let’s just not talk about Malfoy this weekend.”

“Mate, you’ve got to get laid tomorrow night, ever since we’ve gotten back to school, it’s like you’re a different man,” Blaise said.

“I’m not tense. I’m just no longer interested in school-boy antics,” Draco bit back. None of the boys around him could understand half of what he was going through.

“Boys, take a shot every time Malfoy makes a bullshit excuse for his shitty attitude,” Nott said and chuckled, earning a glare from Draco.

“It’s Hogwarts, not a tavern. I don’t have to be in a damn good mood all of the time,” Malfoy responded bitterly.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to be a git all of the time. We just want you to destress a little mate, it’s not a bad thing,” Blaise said, leaning back in the plush armchair.

“Just go to the bloody party Draco, it’s not going to kill you,” Theo added.

“Fine,” Draco said under his breath. “Now, let’s get back to studying?”

“The effects of muggle philosophy have had an impact on the development of spells that is unmatched by other influences. The opportunity for these philosophers to have collaborated with witches and wizards would have simply increased the advantages which we already benefit from today.”

“In all of our years of school, you have never written an essay that quickly,” Hermione, astonished, said as you read her your concluding sentences.

“I had some motivation, now let’s go get ready! C’mon, it’s your very first Hogwarts party!”

“You are the absolute worst Y/n,” she groaned, as she started putting her essay and writing tools back in her bag.

“And you love me, so you’re going to have to work that one out,” you responded with a terribly overexaggerated wink. “Now come on! Maybe we’ll get Ron to stop being so daft and possibly ask you out,” You dragged your blushing friend out of the common room and up to your dormitory to get ready for the highly anticipated event.

There was something about how free you felt at these parties that had you coming back for more every time. Maybe it was the alcohol, perhaps the too-loud music and having to yell to speak, the mingling of sweat, old furniture, and cigarettes, or all of the above. Whatever it was, you loved it.

You wore your favorite ensemble with a signature deep red clinging to your lips. Although, your pride and joy of the night was Hermione Granger in a tight red dress, somewhat tamed and defined curls, and just a tad bit of makeup. Your best friend is beautiful, you just loved the opportunity to dress her up.

You and Hermione stepped into the cozy room wrapped in ornate red wallpaper about forty minutes after the party’s official start, which had her nervous until you convinced her that was the way things were done, and she had to let you take the lead here. This was your area of expertise, not hers. You walked in and instantly found two fresh drinks, handing her one and offering a toast.

“To your very first Hogwarts party,” you said with a wide smile.

“You make me nervous, Y/n,” she responded, peering into the cup with fear in her eyes.

“That goes away with a few drinks, I promise,” With that, both of you threw back the concoctions. You took it without a second thought. Meanwhile, Hermione started coughing, not yet used to the punishments of hard alcohol.

While you and Hermione made your way through the party, with fresh drinks in hand, to find Harry and Ron, Draco and his crew entered. Draco was wearing an oversized black button-down with the sleeves rolled up his alabaster arms tucked into slick black pants that fit him perfectly. He sauntered in with Blaise, Theodore, Crabbe, and Goyle behind him. As always, he commanded the attention in the room; everyone knew the Slytherin Prince had arrived.

“Hey, your husband just walked in,” Ron whispered to you, a little too loudly for your liking.

“Ron. Shut your bloody mouth right now,” you said through your teeth. He was drunk enough to not care, you weren’t. “I’ll tear you to pieces.”

“Ooh, maybe you should have been a Slytherin, you’re soo scary,” he said and chuckled at his horrible joke.

“Ron, you’re acting like a git, shut up,” Hermione said, jumping to your defense.

“Harry, who’re you staring at?” You asked, in an attempt to change the subject off of you and Malfoy.

“I’m watching the door to see if Ginny shows,” he said quietly to you. His infatuation with Ginny was still a sore subject with Ron.

“I’ll let you know if I see her,” you responded.

“Thanks,” Harry said and smiled, noticing the lull in the conversation he pipped up. “Why don’t I go get us some more drinks? Y/n and Hermione need to get on my and Ron’s level.”

“Sounds good, Potter,” you quipped as he walked towards the bar.

Across the room, Draco Malfoy watched you with a close eye. The instinct to protect you hadn’t yet faded, and it was currently manifesting through stalking you at parties. Blaise noticed his friend’s gaze on you, but he let his friend be. Maybe this would be his opportunity to find out what’s been occupying Malfoy’s brain.

It wasn’t long until Harry returned to your spot with four bottles and no cups in sight.

“That’s it, Harry, it's official, you’re insane,” Hermione said, quickly putting two and two together.

“Oh, just take the bottle, Hermione! You don’t have to drink the whole thing,” he said and handed her a bright red bottle of fire whiskey.

He handed you the same then passed an open beer to Ron, considering he was already pretty drunk. You graciously accepted the bottle and took a swig, the whiskey burning, but it didn't bother you as you were rather used to it at this point.

“Are you going to drink all of that?” Dracos' highly judgemental voice came from behind your spot on the couch.

“Excuse me?” You asked and turned around to see him looming over you. “Did you come here just to judge me? This is a party, you know, drinking is kind of the point. And, why are my drinking habits any of your business?” You questioned, a slur slowly starting to take over your voice.

“You know exactly why it is my business,” he said as if each word was causing him terrible pain.

You handed off the bottle to Harry, stood, and spun around to face Draco. Instead of making you clumsy, whiskey grants you grace. You were not a sloppy drunk. You placed a hand on Draco’s chest and leaned in close enough for the interaction to be intimate. You were drunk enough now, and the man in front of you was far too sober.

“I am not your wife; in fact, I am not yet your fiancée. We are to be married, we aren’t engaged. And that does not give you the right to control me, Malfoy,” you said, sneering as you uttered his surname. “Now let me live my life before I am subject to you for the rest of it,” you were seething, not once breaking eye contact with him as you took out the anger you had towards your parents on him.

He responded by grabbing your chin rather roughly, “Watch the way you speak to me.”

You slapped his hand away, “Don’t bloody touch me like that.”

“I’ll touch you in whatever way I want,” he said, just as angry as you. The two of you held your staring contest before he stormed away from you towards wherever alcohol was.

To put it lightly, you were livid. How dare he treat you like some object he could throw around. Tears welled up in your eyes, and all you could think was that you wanted to hurt him back the way he had hurt you.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Harry asked.

“Give me back the whiskey, please,” you responded.

Harry complied, passing the flaming red bottle your way. If there was one thing, childhood trauma taught you, it was how to drink.

You drowned yourself in the bottle, finishing it off to your friend's shock. “I am perfectly fine,” you said, putting the bottle down and wiping the water away from your eyes. “Ron, Hermione, if you don’t mind, Harry and I are going to go on a walk.”

The suggestion in your voice wasn’t evident to anyone but Harry, who knew exactly what you were getting at. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to snog at parties when each of you was drunk enough. It never got in the way of your friendship, and it wasn’t romantic in the least. It was just something the two of you do on nights where either one wants the chance to forget.

It wasn’t long until you found a spare corner, and the rest of the fire whiskey did its job. Ginny out of his mind, Harry made quick work of pushing you up against the wall and placing his lips on yours. One didn’t need passion to be a good kisser. You reached up your hand and gripped his hair in an attempt to pull him closer to you. The closer he was, the further away Draco would be, right? And Harry obliged, kissing you harder and wrapping his arms around your waist. But, this time it wasn’t working, you couldn’t get the thought of Draco’s hands on you out of your head. Even his scent was lingering, he was infuriating. You continued to try and push the notion of Draco's lips on yours by letting Harry move from your lips to your neck.

Not far away, Draco watched the Chosen One snog his betrothed, jealousy tightening its grip on his heart. It hurt more than he could care to admit. You had some power over him he didn’t know existed before this moment, and he knew that it was dangerous, that caring about you was dangerous. But at this moment, all he wanted was for you to get away from Harry Potter.

“Mate, what is going on?” Blaise asked, breaking Draco from his trance, and handing him a drink.

Draco took the drink and let out a breath. “My parents have decided that Y/l/n and I will be married this summer. We both found out Monday.”

“Didn’t I just see her in a corner snogging Potter?” He asked, his voice rigid.

Draco took a sip from the mystery cup and nodded.

“That’s right disrespectful, and it’s clearly bothering you, go bloody do something about it,” Blaise reasoned.

“I don’t know. I think I may have brought it on,” Blaise could feel Dracos tension, and he placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“It was her decision to pull him into a corner, now get her out of it,” he advised, and Draco nodded, you shouldn’t be going around kissing other guys, particularly not Harry Potter.

“Thanks, Blaise,” he said and set his drink down on a nearby surface before heading over to your little corner.

Harry’s lips were back on yours, there was likely a mark on your neck, but that wasn’t anywhere near your thoughts. No, even with Harry’s tongue in your mouth, your mind was still on Draco fucking Malfoy.

“I hope I’m not bothering the two of you, but I’m going to need a word with Y/n,” Draco said, causing you to pull off of Harry and turn towards Draco. Despite his evident anger, he had a sense of decorum about him.

“Draco, darling, I’m busy, can’t you tell?” You teased in response.

“I’m sure you and Potter can spare a moment for me,” he said tightly.

But you ignored his anger and turned to Harry, who was disheveled, confused, and disappointed by the loss of contact. “Love, would you mind if I stepped away with Mr. Malfoy here for a moment?” You asked sarcastically, not expecting an answer.

“I mean-”

“Just come with me,” Draco said, interrupting Harry, not caring one bit what he had to say. Again tightly grabbing your wrist, as he pulled you out of the party and out into the hall.

“We just have to stop meeting like this handsome,” you said, placing a hand on his chest, softer than you had earlier.

“You’re drunk,” he said, distaste for your inebriated behavior clear as he pushed you off of him.

“Awe, you’re handsome when you’re mean,” you said, a playful pout on your lips.

“Shut it, Y/n, listen to me. I need you to take this seriously, are you listening?” He asked hotly.

“How could I ignore words coming out of pretty lips like yours, love?” You asked, an enticing drawl to your voice, pushing him off the edge.

He wanted so badly to push you up against the wall and reclaim your lips. He knew the words out of your mouth were just drunken prattle, and you didn’t mean a lick of it, but he couldn’t help, but he couldn’t keep the butterflies from flooding his stomach every time you flirted with him or called him love. But, it wasn’t real, it couldn’t have been, why else would you have just been up against a wall with Harry? Merlin, Draco hated how badly he loved you.

“Y/n, listen!” He had started shouting, causing you to draw back into yourself and sink into the wall. “You said it yourself, whether we like it or not, we’re getting married this summer. This winter, you’ll be at my house with my family planning our wedding. If you decide you don’t want to comply, they’ll kill you. So you’re going to listen to me and do as I say. Your bloody life depends on it.”

You just nodded, suddenly at a loss for words. In the state you were in, you couldn’t help but see your own father in Draco at that moment. Survival instincts told you to comply.

“We are going to start dating, we’ll be nice to each other in class, eat together, go on dates, study, and keep up appearances as our parents requested. That being said, you’re not to go around snogging other boys, especially not Harry Potter, and I won’t be snogging girls in corners at parties.” You could sense the bitterness in his voice. “The second you broke the seal on that letter, you confirmed your fate. No matter how much you ignore it, there’s no escaping it, so stop trying, and bloody accept it.”

“Draco I-”

“Why do you assume that marrying me is a death sentence?” He wasn’t done. He was deeply hurt by your words and actions over the course of the last week. You made his heart twist, but to you right now, he was just angry. “I’m not as awful as you and your friends constantly make me out to be.”

“All you’ve ever done is hurt me, Draco,” you said, any air of drunken playfulness gone now, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes. The alcohol was making it impossible to gather your thoughts. “Since we got here, calling me bloodtraitor, every time you got a chance to, you would remind me of how my parents thought of me and what they do to me. All that shit you pulled for all those years, making me feel inferior. You always confirmed that I deserved the abuse, the terrors I faced at home. And now all of a sudden, we’re supposed to get married, and you care in your weird twisted way?” You could not hide the hurt as it streamed down your face and the confusion that laced your voice. “You can’t do that to me!”

Draco broke inside, watching you hurt because of him. But he didn’t know how to tell you that he cared and that he wanted so badly to love you, but he didn’t understand how. “That doesn’t change our family’s choice. Learn how to live with it because, as of tomorrow morning, you are my girlfriend, I put that hickey there, not Potter, and I don’t care how nasty your hangover is, you’ll wake up, get dressed and look presentable, and you’ll go on a date with me to Hogsmede tomorrow. Do you understand?” There was no room in his voice for disagreement. He sounded livid.

The tear that slipped down your cheek as you nodded broke his heart. It hadn’t even been a week, and all he’d done was hurt you. You were right. He was a monster.

“I understand,” you said, and he knew you wouldn’t forget this tomorrow morning, so with that, he stormed off.

The second he turned the corner, you slid down to the floor, you were sobbing, and you couldn’t breathe. He was right. It wouldn’t be the wedding that would change your life, it had been the letter. You were his, and that wasn’t going to change. No matter what, you were stuck. The panic attack just got worse as you sat there, unable to move. But, apparently, you were there long enough for someone to realize you were gone because, at some point, Ron came out to find you in your predicament. He didn’t say anything, he just picked you up and carried you to the Gryffindor common room. He set you down on a couch near the fireplace and sat on the floor next to you as your sobbing shifted to silent tears, and bit by bit, your breathing started to return to normal.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked sweetly, no matter how much Ron joked and teased, he cared.

But you just shook your head no, and when he walked away, you assumed he was going to bed, but he returned with a large shirt, shorts, and a glass of water.

“Y/n, I don’t think you can make it up to your room, please put these on and drink this.”

You nodded and did as he told the common room was empty, so all it took was him turning around to give you the privacy to change.

“Do you want me to stay here with you tonight?” he asked gently. It was obvious you didn’t want to talk, and it was clear that Malfoy had caused this, but he didn’t want to leave you alone.

You just nodded, so he grabbed a couple of pillows from around the room and two blankets. After placing one on you, he lay down on the ground next to you and fell asleep.

Part 3 - The Milky Tea

Tag list - @whatawildone @herequeerandstressed @lordfxxker @pillowjj @pointlesscoconut @lovelylangdonx @fire-in-her-veinz @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco x you #draco fanfiction #Draco Malfoy

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jostepherjoestar · 3 years

Note

After seeing tha La Squadra ask with the yakuza games I was wondering how the group would react if the yakuza La Squadra member had a few of their old yakuza friends visit Italy and their the characters from the yakuza games (let’s just say it’s in the same universe)

🐉 Former Yakuza La Squadra member gets a visit from Kiryu & Majima🐉 (multiple asks in one) (2,1k)

sfw // gn reader (reader is the former yakuza member)

After discovering Majima and Kiryu shared a mutual friend that had moved to Italy and joined a gang there, they were curious to know how they were faring, deciding on a whim to pay them a visit. Their old pal had left quite the impression on the two men back when they were part of the yakuza.

Set in an AU where the Yakuza in-game happenings and JJBA events take place in the same universe, the game does not exist, it’s just real life for the characters and La Squadra’s newest recruit that used to be in the Yakuza happened to be friends with Kiryu and Majima back in the day.

(Btw my interpretation of Majima when he’s alone with Kiryu is that he mostly drops his act and since he’s in a new country he is a little more timid towards strangers, don’t get me wrong, he will still start shit but maybe not as quick.)

It was a bright and sunny day, the sweet spring wind still holding some winter chill as it blew through your hair. You were sat on the bench across from the safe house, arms spread wide on the backrest, cigarette dangling on your lips while you basked in the warmth of sunshine. You quite enjoyed sitting like this, making it an uninviting scene for passersby or your teammates, not wanting anyone near you so you could relax in peace. Of course still on guard, never truly letting it down, there’s enough people out there that have a bone to pick with Passione, especially your division. You took another long drag of the cigarette, the overwhelming smoke entering your lungs like ashy clouds. But as you heard some rustling you reached over to grab the smoking bud and pressed it into the ground with your foot. There was something suspicious going on, you felt like you were being watched. You casually peered through half closed eyes at the building in front of you, no one had been staring through the windows. No, it felt like it came from a different direction. Lazily you stood up, stretching your core, twisting your middle from side to side while letting your arms get some movement, readying your body for possible combat. As you turned, you saw a trashcan wiggle in your peripheral. The movements looked very unusual, was there a cat stuck in it? But the can was placed so precisely on the corner of an alley, someone could easily be standing right around the bend to surprise-attack you. Picking up a rock and throwing it right at the middle of the can, even making an indent, you felt a bit idiotic for doing it. But still there was no further movement or sound. You were still curious so you without much thinking you crept closer. If it was an animal in need you’d feel bad to have left it to suffer.

As you stepped nearer, now in front of the dented can, having full vision of the alley you were met with someone you didn’t suspect in the slightest. “Kiryu-san?” You questioned, face frozen in shock. “Wh-what are you doing here? Am I dreaming?” you asked while rubbing your eyes, maybe if you rubbed them hard enough you’d wake up. The large man’s furrowed eyebrows softened as he was met with your familiar form. A small smile formed on his lips but he stayed quiet for some reason, opting to kick the trashcan in front of him instead. It burst open, the lid sent flying further into the alley as you both ducked for cover. “What the fuck Kiryu-chan?! I told you I got this!” Majima’s figure popped out, the snakeskin jacket crumpled from what looked like sitting in the confined space for far too long. You couldn’t believe your eyes, you’re sure your mouth was hanging open with eyes wider than a deer in headlights, like your brain had crashed and burned. “Ya went and ruined the surprise Kiryu-chan! And ya went and broke Oushi-chan as well.” The one eyed man gestured angrily while complaining, he’d planned out the perfect way to surprise you: to shock and fight you. But the only thing that snapped you out of your stupor was that stupid nickname, Oushi-chan. He basically called you a bull, giving you the nickname after you’d stormed angrily down the stairs of the Tojo Clan head office after a particularly frustrating meeting and nearly threw Majima down the stairs as you raced on by. “Stop calling me that! And what in the name of all that is sacred are you doing in Italy?” You hushed your yells as to not alert the entire neighbourhood of their arrival, helping the older man out of the trashcan. “We’d thought it was nice to come and visit you, see what you’ve been up to.” Kiryu calmly explained. “And calling was too expensive? You guys really scared the shit out of me!” Still filled with disbelief at their sudden appearance, but glad to see those familiar faces again. You did miss them too, the short time you shared with them still being remembered fondly. “Glad to see ya haven’t changed, ya did get an Italian accent though.” Majima playfully jabbed as he slung his arm around your shoulders. “Oh you’re one to talk about accents old man.” You prodded back as you pushed his arm off in annoyance, not taking any of the man’s teasing that easily. “Before you ask how we found you, I’ll explain.” Kiryu’s voice was still as deep as you remembered, telling you how they knew you were in Naples and even knew of Passione, it was just a matter of time until someone pointed you out (after some mild intimidation). Not that it was hard to spot you among the Italian men in your team. Hard for these two to talk, back in Tokyo you’d spot that grey suit and angry scowl from a mile away. And let’s not even pretend that Majima’s no-shirt-tacky-jacket-leather-pants look was any less eye catching. You huffed out a laugh, the shock of seeing these two finally wearing off as they started asking questions about how you’ve been and how work is. Happily chatting on the bench you were previously lounging on.

“So… what’s the nature of yer squad exactly? I mean ya look meaner than before, if that was even an option.” The one eyed man jested in a hushed voice, sure that it was a sensitive topic. “Well I like to think we’re the cleanup crew, bringing a bit more harmony to this field of work.” Ignoring his comment about your looks, sure that they helped you in this line of business. “That’s one way to phrase it.” Kiryu huffed out a chuckle, leaning his hands on his knees as he looked at you with a sympathetic smile. He admired your fervour, it was one of the reasons he was so fond of you. After hearing how you stood up against Majima and he didn’t slice you to bits, he was impressed at how you persuaded Majima to settle it through a game of hanafuda. The stoic man knew you liked to be alone, being used to it himself or rather preferring it somewhat over putting his loved ones in danger. He actually asked you to join his family if he ever became patriarch of his own one, he put a lot of trust in you.

After some more catching up you decided that perhaps you should show them around the house and introduce them to your teammates. Knowing how much they loved hearing your stories about your time in the yakuza, they’d surely appreciate to meet your old pals. You stepped in with the two men in tow, stopping in the entry way to hand your friends some slippers, it was a habit you never let go since moving here and you’d even convinced the rest of your house mates to go along with it. “Hey guys, I have some friends I’d like you to meet! Please don’t be weird!” You yelled loudly enough for the entire house to hear, even your capo on the top floor would be able to. Formaggio, Prosciutto and Pesci sauntered out of the living room, looking quite bored before noticing your two friends. Now they seemed interested. “So who’s the eye-patch guy and mister giant?” Formaggio joked as he elbowed Prosciutto who tutted his colleague for touching his suit. “Well these two gentlemen are my friends from Japan… from the yakuza…” it was so awkward to add that they were also involved in such things. You were pretty sure Kiryu was nearing his end run with the organisation anyway. “Oh and they do not understand a single word you’re saying, I’ll translate and yes I will filter out your jokes Formaggio.” You said in a serious tone. The two men behind you stood awkwardly awaiting any signal from you, Majima eyeing your teammates up and down, trying to get a good impression of them. Pesci seemed scared by the men but trying his best not to show it, only shaking a little. Majima thought him a perfect target to tease, holding himself back from his usual persona. “Prosciutto. Pesci. Formaggio.” Your blond colleague introduced them curtly, hands still in his pockets. Kiryu understood the introductions and gave a little nod, Majima followed with a grunt. “This is Majima-san and Kiryu-san.” The mingling of Italian and Japanese still being something you were trying to get used to, only having been able to speak Italian since you arrived. You led the men into the sitting room, the three colleagues retreating back to their card game while you and the other two sat down on the couches. Your colleagues weren’t really that interested it seemed or maybe just unsure of them for now. As you excused yourself to get some drinks for your guests, you were a little worried to leave them by themselves, you knew they could handle themselves physically, but it was more the communication part that you were worried about. You returned with a couple of glasses filled with juice as you saw Melone had slinked inside the living room, gently placing himself on the one seater next to the couch. “So who are these guys?” He asked curiously while leering, perhaps making Kiryu blush a little since Melone kept staring at him. You quickly introduced them to him and shushed him out of your seat, instead he sat on the armrests of the chair. Majima sat up a little, not really liking the looks of the purple haired one. “Is he always like that?” he asked, being a little weirded out. “Yes, yes he is.” You replied with a sigh as your teammate kept staring with a grin on his face, happy to just quietly observe.

You nearly sprung out of your chair when Risotto entered the doorway, feeling like you’d overstepped by bringing in your friends. Majima cocked an eyebrow at your behaviour, not knowing what superior could make you act like that. That was until he turned around as well. “Risotto I-, excuse me for bringing them in but they came all the way from Japan to check up on me.” You pleaded in a hurry as your capo took in the people in the room. “Don’t worry.” He said while giving a nod to the guests while taking them in, having a bit of a stare off with Majima or more like Majima didn’t want to lose eye contact. He felt an innate need to fight Risotto, not because he wanted to hurt him, he just wanted to see what the large man was made off. Risotto reminded Majima of his dear friend next to him. “I’ll be going back to work but please treat their guests nicely.” Risotto aimed his comment at the other men in the room, seeing them not really interact with the guests just yet. You sunk back down in your chair and sighed in relief. “He’s got ya whipped Oushi-chan.” Majima joked as he saw your cheeks get a little flushed.

Slowly but surely with lots of hard work the men actually started talking (with your help translating), Kiryu was still a bit demure but you didn’t expect him to be otherwise, respecting his usual style. After a while Prosciutto even invited them to play a round of cards, all sat around the table while he dealt them. A simple game of blackjack. You actually quite enjoyed the intermingling of your past and present, happy to know there were still people looking out for you back home. Not even sure if you were still allowed to call it home, having perhaps found a new one.

And yes Melone did ask to fight Majima, who quickly agreed since he thought the lithe man was weird and needed some readjusting. Of course Majima won, you sternly asked Melone not to use his stand. The whole thing was quite amusing actually, even Kiryu seemed to enjoy it.

#cozy ask #jjba au #jjba x reader #jjba fic #jjba x y/n #la squadra x reader #risotto x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #formaggio x reader #melone x reader #yakuza

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george-mackay-macfine · 3 years

Text

Their Royal Secret

Requested: YES / NO

Synopsis: Elodie’s life was pretty straight forward, go to work, come home from work, spend time with her parents and her Grandmother, until she’s invited to meet Prince Richard of England.

Word count: 20335

Prologue

“Today marks the twenty-fourth year since the fatal car accident that took the life of Her Royal Highness Princess Eleanore. Her Royal Highness was only thirty years old at the time of her passing, and in wake of the accident she left behind her husband, His Royal Highness Prince Richard, and two young grieving sons, The Princes’ Michael and Alexander, both of whom were small children at the time of the accident.” I looked up from my copy of Catcher in the Rye to see pictures of the British Royal family mourning flash up on the screen, their bodies donned in black tuxedos. “Perishing alongside her mother was the newest member of the Royal family, Princess Rosalie, who was just a year old at the time of her death.” My eyes moved to my mother who was sitting forward, elbows resting on her knees watching the screen intently as my father sat beside her, nose buried in his newspaper. “Since Princess Eleanore’s death, there have been many who have claimed it was not an accident that took the young Princess’ and her daughters’ life.” I rolled my eyes picking my book backup, I’d already heard the conspiracy theories time and time again, and I was in no mood to hear anymore. “The death of the Princess and her daughter to this day still has many of us questioning the circumstances surrounding it, and wondering who would want to bring harm to the young family.”

Chapter One

“Elodie, you have a letter.” My mother called to me as soon as I walked through the front door of our house, “It’s heavy, and it looks important.” She added on as I closed the door behind me. Putting my handbag on the hallway table I walked through the house, the sounds from the TV leading me towards where my parents sat quietly. My dad, Jonathan Daniels sat in his favourite armchair, a newspaper in his hands.

“How was work? Busy?” He questioned me not looking up from his paper as I pulled off my shoes, dropping them beside the couch.

“Not the worst day I’ve ever had, but it’s never fun serving women who have no concept of manners, or basic politeness.” I flopped onto the lounge across from him, “And of course, they don’t know how to say thank you for the hours you spend helping them find that perfect outfit,” I rolled my eyes, fingertips moving to my temples, rubbing them in a clockwise motion as I remembered my day.

“Maybe this will make your day better,” Claire, my mother smiled at me as she held out a heavy looking letter towards me, “It came by a courier about an hour ago,” She thrust it towards me again, her cheeks pinking in excitement, “Open it,” Her eyes widened as I grabbed ahold of the envelope. I flipped it over to see my name written delicately on the front in gold script.

“Ms Elodie Daniels,” I muttered, thumb running over the deep burgundy wax seal. “Who sends letters with wax seals these days?” I laughed as I ripped the paper of the envelope open.

“Read it aloud!” Mum pleaded from her seat, her feet tapping in excitement.

“His Royal Highness, The Prince of Cornwall requests the company of Ms Elodie Daniels, and guest at the celebration of the Commonwealth at Government House on Saturday the twelfth of March twenty-twenty,” I paused, my hands and the lap falling into my lap. “Why are they inviting me?”

“Inviting the citizens to mingle with Royalty, how diplomatic.” Dad replied, his face still covered by the paper. “I’ve heard it’s something they do every now and then. It gives them good press.” The way he spoke, I knew my father was fighting with his anger. He was never fond of the Royal family.

“They’re allowing me to take a guest,” I handed the envelope to my mum. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Perhaps you should ask your Grandmother, I’m sure she would appreciate it.” She stood up from the couch, holding the envelope in her hands. “It’ll be good for her, to get out of the house, and hear about home. She hasn’t been back in twenty years,”

My Grandmother, Elizabeth, was born in Scotland, and moved to London with my Grandfather Francis right after they were married. Whilst living in London she worked for the palace for a while before immigrating to Australia, and that’s where my family has been ever since.

“But what will you two do?”

“Your father and I will come to Sydney with you two, and we will come home together.”

“If you’re sure,” I knew the affectionate my mother held for the Royal family and how she’d always wanted to meet them all one day. So to me she seemed like the obvious choice to come with me to meet them. “I know how much you look up to them,”

“I’m sure,” She held my hand. “My daughter, meeting the next King of England,” She placed a hand lovinging on my cheek. “We’ll need to find you something appropriate to wear.” She looked over me. “Something to make you look even more beautiful than you already are,” She walked towards the kitchen counter. “I’ll call your Grandmother,” She took the phone from the cradle. Her hands hitting the buttons. “We have so much to do, and only one week to do it in.”

“Well,” My father lowered his newspaper. “What do you have to say about all this,” For as long as I can remember my father had a very strong opinion about the Royal family, and I already knew he didn’t want me too meet them. He’d always told me if I were to meet any of them, by any sort of luck, or misfortune I’d be better pretending I didn’t speak English than bow down and kiss their feet.

“You know what I think,” He smirked. “I think that they’re all a bunch of pompous lunatics who put themselves on a throne and expect us to kiss their feet.” He raised an eyebrow. “The last true Royal died with Princess Eleanore, and ever since then there has been nothing but bad press and negativity surrounding those people,” He spat. “And you promise me you won’t bow down to this Prince when you meet him.”

“I think they’ll behead me if I don’t.”

“Don’t be silly, they abolished beheading in the seventeen hundreds.” He chuckled. “I’m serious El, be careful around them, it’s easy to get sucked in to the glitz and the glamour of it all.” It was obvious from the worry in his voice, and the look on his face my father was serious, something he rarely was.

“I promise, besides I doubt I’ll meet them. I’ll probably just be standing in a room with a hundred other people as he stands on a stage and waves at us.” I rambled, picturing it already hand going up in the air as I mimicked a wave, “Then some cheesy montage about Australia and Britain will play in the background and people will get teary-eyed about how amazing the Royal family is and then just like that,” I clicked my fingers together. “It’ll be over, and Nan and I will be back in the car with you,”

“That’s my girl,” He winked before pulling his paper up again. “Don’t let them fool you, sweetheart.” I stood from the lounge and went to the kitchen where my mother was animatedly talking to my grandmother. I sat on one of the seats at the kitchen bar and waited for her to finish her conversation.

“Yes, It’s on Friday, so we have under a week mum.” She smiled at me as she spoke. “No, Jonathan and I are going to come down to Sydney with you. We’ll go shopping, or something while you’re at the function.” She paused for a moment. “Yes, mother, we’re going to find her something appropriate to wear.” She laughed. “Okay, I’ll talk to you soon. Love you too,” I watched as my mother hung up the phone placing it back in the cradle. “She can talk a lot.” My mother laughed. “Did you need something sweetie?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to ask if you think I should dye my hair again before Friday.” Since I was old enough my mother and I had been dying my naturally blonde hair a dark brown, but as of late I had been too busy to upkeep it and had let it grow out. My hair was now a shade between brown and blonde. My mother picked up a piece of my hair and twirled it around her finger.

“No, I think we should keep it this colour. It looks lovely.” She smiled, dropping the strand. “We’ve been dying it for so long I’ve forgotten what it looks like.” She ran her hand through my hair, eyes glazing over as she thought about something.

“That was easy, I guess.” I smiled. “What do I need to wear? I assume jeans and a hoodie aren’t exactly Royal protocol?” I chuckled picturing myself meeting the crown Royal Prince in my black jeans and worn out hoodie, and I guess my black converses also wouldn’t cut it.

“You’ll need a dress.” I found myself holding in a groan. “Something simple, elegant and formal.” She picked up her phone. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”

“Alright,” I yawned, stretching my arms above my head. “I’m going to bed.” I yawned again before standing. “Goodnight” I called out to my dad and my mother before walking up to my room feeling the weight of the day hit me. As I changed I thought about the Royal family, Princess Eleanore, and once I laid on my bed with my eyes closed, reality hit me. In under seven days, I would be meeting a future monarch.

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--

When I was younger my mother used to tell me the sooner I would go to sleep the sooner something would come. Santa Clause, the Easter bunny, and now the same was true for meeting His Royal Highness the Prince of Cornwall. Before I even knew it was happening, I was dressed and walking inside Government House, my Grandmother by my side.

“Are you excited dear?” She smiled, holding onto my arm for support. “Meeting your first Royal,” She smiled fondly. “I remember when I met his majesty the King many years ago I was beside myself.” A true Royalist till the day she dies. “And now it’s your turn.”

“I’m sure I won’t meet him. It’ll probably be him on stage and us in the audience.” We reached the top of the stairs and walked inside.

“Ms Elodie Daniels?” I looked up to see a man no older than thirty walking towards my grandmother and I. He wore a black suit with a white button-up. A spiral cord hung down his neck.

“Yes,” I stood up straighter still holding onto my grandmother’s arm. “I’m she… I mean that’s me,” I cleared my throat.

“This way please, His highness is waiting.” He motioned for us to follow him. My grandmother took the first steps towards him, frail and slower than what I’m sure the man in the suit wanted us to walk. However, it only took us a couple of minutes to reach a conference room. “He’s waiting for you inside.” My Grandmother let go of my arm and walked inside her shoulders held a little higher than usual.

“Thank you…”

“Collins ma’am,” He stood beside the door, arms crossed over his chest.

“Thank you, Collins.” I stepped inside the room halting when I saw my Grandmother and the man I recognised as Prince Richard embracing.

“It’s so lovely to see you again Elizabeth.” Prince Richard’s voice was smothered in a deep British accent. “How have you been? Keeping well?”

“Of course dear.” My Grandmother tapped his hand. “May I introduce you to someone,” Prince Richard smiled, nodding his head.

“Please.” I heard his voice barely above a whisper, but there was a sigh of relief as he spoke.

“Elodie,” My Grandmother motioned for me to join them. “Come over here and meet Richard.” Mindlessly I walked over to where my Grandmother stood. She held her hand out for me as if the situation was the most normal in the world.

“Your highness,” I curtsied, looking at the ground. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I looked up through my lashes to see tears welling in his eyes.

“You look just like her.” He whispered, his bottom lip trembling. I stood up straight raising my eyebrow. “I’m sorry.” He pulled away from my Grandmother. “Why don’t we all sit and have some tea.” I followed my Grandmother's actions, sitting at the large oak table. “I’m sure you have some questions,” Richard spoke to me.

“A few,” I laughed awkwardly. Richard himself sat across from me, pouring tea for my Grandmother. “Have you two met before?”

“Once or twice,” My Grandmother replied cheekily. “Richard,” She motioned for him to speak.

“Elodie, what I’m going to say to you next will change everything for you,” He began, “And for that I must apologise… I wish it could have happened another way, sooner perhaps, later… at a better time.”

“Sir,” Collins knocked on the door pushing it open. “Jonathan and Claire Daniels are here.” He pushed the door open wider and my parents walked in, thanking Collins as the door shut behind them.

“Thank you for joining us.” Richard stood greeting my mother and father.

“Mum, Dad?”

“Hi, honey,” My mum smiled sadly as she and my father sat on the opposite side of the table. They all looked too comfortable together, this couldn’t have been the first time they’d met.

“You all know each other.”

“As I was saying, I am sorry this is happening this way, I wish it was happening another way.” Richard looked sadly toward my Grandmother.

“What’s happening.” I interrupted the confusion clouding my brain. “How do you know my family?”

“The more important question is how does your family know mine.” He corrected me. “Elodie, Do you know what happened to my first wife and daughter.” I nodded my head.

“They died in a car accident.” My heart began to thump in my ears.

“That’s what the media says.” He scoffed. “But my wife was murdered,” He corrected himself. “We’d been receiving threats on her life, and Rosalie’s for months before.” I didn’t understand where he was going with his story, why did he believe I needed to be privy to such secrets. “So after Eleanor’s death we decided as a family it would be best for my daughter to not grow up fighting against the same fate as her mother… As Eleanor did, so we decided to hide her, in the commonwealth.” I nodded my head although I was having trouble following where he was going with his story. “Do you understand?”

“You hid your child so she wouldn’t have to face the same scrutiny that her mother did?”

“Exactly,” Prince Richard smiled. “However, now we, my family and I, believe it’s safe enough now for her to come home.” He shared a look with my father. “Do you understand me?”

“Elodie,” My mothers’ voice tore me away from Prince Richard, her and my father sat together, my father comforting my mother with gentle calming circles on her hand. “Do you understand what he means, sweetheart.”

“Mum?” I whispered a thought of horror hit me.

“Rosalie,” My Grandmother’s voice caught my attention. I turned to her. “Her Royal Highness Princess Rosalie,” I shook my head.

“You can’t be serious...”

“It’s who you are,” My Grandmother smiled.

“No, I’m Elodie, not Rosalie.”

“But you are,” Prince Richard replied. “My mother is close friends with your Grandmother from when she worked within the palace during the reign of my Grandfather. She knew we could trust her and her family to take care of you until it was time for you to come home to us.”

“Home?” I scoffed. "This is my home, not there,”

“It is your rightful home.” He countered. I stood.

“My home is here with my family.” I looked at my father. “Tell me this is all some sick and twisted prank. Please.” I pleaded feeling hot tears fall from my eyes over my cheeks.

“Honey,” He started. “We did what we needed to do for our Monarchy.” He stood. “For you, To protect you.”

“But you hate the Royal family… Don’t you?” It all hit me like a truck, my father didn’t hate the royal family, he was employed by them. “It was all so I wouldn’t catch on wasn’t it, changing my hair, pretending to hate them.”

“We’re sorry.” My mother wept. “Elodie, … Rosalie,”

“So now you want me? For what some good press.” I shook my head. “You’re all crazy,” I called before storming out of the room. I passed Collins ignoring his pleas for me to stop as I retraced my steps trying to remember the way Collins had led my Grandmother and me only minutes before.

When I’d managed to make my way outside I stopped taking in the crowd of people and photographers who had started to gather the news of a Royal being inside had spread, and now there were even more police holding them back. I rushed around the side and out to the back where I found a giant garden. Walking towards a small fountain I sat on the edge trying to console myself.

“Your Highness,” I heard a new voice call from behind me. I wiped away a tear that was under my eye and turned around intent on telling the stranger not to call me that. “Princess Rosalie,” I turned.

“Please don’t call me that,” I spoke as I turned to take him in for the first time. He is tall, he’d tower over me if I stood beside him. He, like Collin’s, was dressed in a black suit with a white button-down. A skinny black tie around his neck. His hair was a mop of neat brown curls on his head, pushed back of his forehead. He wouldn’t have been older than twenty-eight.

“What should I call you then?” I met his eyes, dark green. I wanted nothing more than to fall into them. I was captivated. “Your highness,” He held out his hand. “Your father is waiting for you.”

“Which one,” I muttered standing on my own.

“I have the Princess. We’re coming back inside.” He spoke into a microphone that was attached to the collar of his white shirt.

“So you work for them?” I stood still as I looked over the man again, trying to find it in myself to not be attracted to him.

“Your highness?”

“The Royal family,” I finalised. “You work for the royal family.”

“Yes, Your highness, I work for your family.” He smiled. “May I speak freely for a moment?” I nodded my head waiting to hear what he couldn’t say normally, “I know I speak for a majority of British citizens when I say we loved your mother, she was our Princess, and when she died, the whole country felt a great deal of sadness. Then hearing we’d lost our youngest princess too, the whole nation was beside themselves.”

“And how will they feel knowing they have been lied to for the past twenty-three years?” The man smiled faded slightly before it grew again.

“They will be happier that their Princess is alive, rather than upset.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure they will understand why the crown hid you eventually.”

“To protect me right.” I scoffed, something I’d found myself doing more times today than I had ever done. “Now they’re throwing me out to the sharks.”

“Your highness, we need to go back inside.” The man motioned for me to lead the way.

“What is your name?” I asked stepping beside him.

“George, ma’am.” He smiled.

“George.” I nodded my head before walking back up the pebbled footpath towards the house again. As I rounded the front photographers started to take pictures of me, calling out questions of who I was and why I was at Government house.

“Ignore them,” George whispered down to me as he escorted me up the stairs and back inside. “The less you react, the less they’ll follow you and think anything of you being here.” I nodded my head and allowed myself to unwillingly be pulled back into the room where the liars of my life sat.

“Rosalie,” Prince Richard spoke as I sat down at the table, making sure to distance myself from everyone in the room. “I speak for everyone at this table, and in this room when I say we did not mean to hurt you we were trying to do the opposite. We wanted to protect you.” Prince Richard stood up. “I am truly sorry, but we need to move past this.” He walked towards me and sat in the seat beside me. “I want you to come to London, meet your family. Your blood family,” He spared a look at the people I had called my family for over twenty years. “Your country needs you.”

“My country doesn’t even know I exist, How can they need me?”

“Rosalie,” My grandmother stood, walking towards me. She sat in the seat across for Richard. “You are special. You are her daughter.” I knew who she was talking about. “She was a spectacular woman, and England needs someone like her right now.” She held onto my hand. “They need you, Rosalie.” I looked at my parents who nodded their head, each had tear-stained cheeks. “We’ll always be here for you.” She reached up and cupped my cheek. “But right now, you need to do what’s best for your country.”

“What exactly would I need to do,” I asked Richard, not breaking eye contact with my Grandmother.

“Come back, meet the family, learn the protocol of being a royal, and be the princess that the people need.” I turned and looked at him.

“On one condition.” Richard nodded his head. “If I don’t like it, I get to leave. I get to come back home and go back to my normal life.”

“As you wish.”

#george mackay #georgemackay #george mackay fanfic #george mackay imagine #george mackay smut

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sp00kworm · 4 years

Text

Trouble (Eric Northman x Reader)

Pairing: Eric Northman x Female Reader

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN LINK

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Trouble tended to follow people that entered Fangtasia. The name alone was enough to make your skin crawl. Old fashioned puns. Before the vampires had crawled from their seclusion and secrecy, it would have been a wise-crack of a name, given to some cheesy goth bar on the strip, trying to make a profit off of young adults who were into the scene. That or it would be some silly feature in a movie. You thought it was too tacky for an A-list as you peered up at the sign over the top of the entrance. Red flashing neon, blood drops dripping from the ‘F’ in the name. Someone had said it was popular for the irony. You knew it was because of the rumours of what happened in the back and toilets. Most of the men and women here were looking for the thrill of being with a vampire. Getting bit. Getting high off their blood. Vampiric blood as a drug was illegal, but you were more than certain that it didn’t stop the backhanded deals going on in the back. Despite that, despite being annoyed with all the garish shit plastered over the front and the gothic tacky theme, you were for this ability to mingle. Seeing genuine vampires and their human counterparts move into the bar, and for once in their lives, be able to be together without fear.

Fear was maybe the only thing in your mind as your friend dragged you to the door. A blond vampire was stood in stiletto heels, her sharp brow raised as a smirk crawled over her pretty face. She was sharp at every angle, even down to the points of her teeth as her red lips curled back.

“I’m gonna have to ask for some ID.” She drawled, perfectly painted nails uncurling to present her palm, “It’s been a long time. I can’t tell age very well anymore.” The vampire sneered teasingly as you pulled your ID free from your purse. She took both yours and your friend’s in hand, peering at the pictures and yourselves before she returned them politely and took one step to the left, “Please. Enjoy yourselves.” She drawled with a lick to her fang, “Any trouble, just ask for Pam.” Blond hair whipped as she shot you both a wink over her shoulder. The men in line behind you didn’t receive such a nice treatment. Pam’s sweet drawl turned sharp when she turfed them out and away.

“Don’t you come back here with those vials, sweethearts! I’ll make sure to stick ‘em so far you’ll never find them again!” She snapped her teeth and laughed as they ran. You tried to take a deep breath as you headed inside the cool club and towards the bar tucked away to the side.

“You never said this place was full of strippers too.” You complained as you ordered drinks for the two of you. The vampire bartender was polite, smiling with white teeth as he mixed your drinks and slid them over the wood, snatching the ten-dollar bill before sliding you back your change on top of two stamped coasters.

“Come on. I know it looks seedy, but people really are nice.” She complained before hiding your eyes from two people exchanging spit in the back, “He…He’s been so kind to me. I needed you here. This is the only place we can be seen together. In this bar.” The drink in her hand shook as she raised it to her lips, taking a long drink of the bourbon mixer.

With a sigh you smiled over your straw and took her other hand, squeezing it tightly in your grasp, “And I’ll stay. I don’t want you getting screwed over by a human or a vampire.” You promised as she pulled her phone out and smiled, perking up and looking around as a young-looking man skulked into the door. Her smile only got brighter, and his own with it, and you nodded before bowing out, moving away enough to give them privacy, smiling over your drink as the two of them laughed in the corner, unseen and ignored where finally, they could be normal.

A human on their own, however, was more than fair game within a bar full of vampires. You watched the male dancer move his way over a table, his ass pressed to the pole as his hyper fast movements paused for a long grind. His fangs glinted as you watched, dark hair stylized. With a huff you turned back to your drink and swirled the ice as the vampire laughed and turned his scary, graceful movements back towards the crowd that would pay, leather trousers rippling but never making a sound.

“You know its best not to be alone in here.” The bartender offered with a curious turn of his head, dark hair falling over his shoulder, “I just make the drinks. But it never ends well if you stay too long.” He offered darkly before nodding at your drink, “Better if you don’t have many more of those either.” Still, he mixed you another before moving down the bar, towel over his shoulder.

Another voice followed behind you, purring with delight, “Humans that are alone don’t last long here.” It was Pam, her red nails curling over your shoulder as she shuffled into the seat next to you, “But I know you’re here for…” She waved boredly, “Moral support for your little love bird friends. I’ve been keeping the vultures away, at least for now, but you’ll have to leave soon pretty thing. They get hungry quickly.” With a sharp smile she was gone again, blond updo flitting through grinding bodies. The bartender laughed a dark chuckle at your full glass and once more you were left alone with your thoughts, hoping that your friend would let you go home soon.

It wasn’t going to happen. You gathered your purse and paid the bartender for the drinks before shooting a message to your friend. She peered up worriedly as you waved to the bartender and walked through the crowd, towards the door. The bodies seemed to glide effortlessly, much like the dancers, yet many humans danced between the gyrating vampires, drunk and indulging in the vampire’s hypnotising eyes. You kept your head down as you moved past the edge of the bar and towards the vampire bouncers guarding the peace at the door. They didn’t stop you however, a hand on your elbow did.

Pam’s red nails swirled around the crux of your elbow, pressing deep into the skin as she smiled at your side, “Now, now, no need to fright sweet thing.” She drawled, stroking a lock of blond hair behind her ear as she leaned over in her heels, the black leather of her dress brushing against you, “A different kind of vulture wants your attention.” Pam’s red lips popped against your ear, “But he’s a much nicer sort, that I can promise you…Well…” Her eyes looked you up and down as she steered you back around by the shoulders, “If you play nice that is.” Her lips spread in another smirk at the rumbling of your phone in your hand. You caught sight of your friend getting up from her seat worriedly, her vampire companion snapping her back down with a hushed word against her ear as you were steered through the crowd.

How you hadn’t noticed the throne on a stage was a mystery. Bodies parted as you were coaxed to stand at the side of the platform, worriedly clutching your bag strap. Pam’s heels clicked as she ascended the stairs. Even more amazing was how you hadn’t noticed the oldest creature in the room looming on top of the throne, his legs thrown up on a velvet foot stool, eyes focused on a small phone in his hand as he ignored the crowds like they were worth nothing to him. Peasants to a Lord. Maybe that was the best analogy. He didn’t pay attention to you as Pam leaned over by his ear, fangs hidden as she whispered quiet enough to not be heard over the music by other vampires. Cold, old, blue eyes looked up from the flip phone in his hand, gaze fixed on your form as Pam leaned back away from his ear. She smirked to herself, like a cat proud of her little catch, and sauntered back down the stairs, heels snapping against the cold floor as she turned to find herself something entertaining for the evening. The blond vampire turned his eyes from her to you again, snapping the phone shut before he curled a single finger in your direction. Pam’s eyes were heavy on you from her corner as she watched you swallow, the nervousness of a human boiling violently under the surface as you looked at the stairs, clutched your bag tighter, and dared to take them.

Your legs felt heavier and heavier as you took the stairs up to the platform stage, the old vampire’s eyes following your movements like a hawk. With another flick of his wrist, he dropped his phone onto the table next to him and crossed his ankles on top of his stool. Somehow, he looked a lot less threatening with his squeaky polished shoes. The shirt was open far too low to be considered proper, yet he wore the tight jeans and a dress jacket over the top, a chain dipping low into the cleavage of his sculpted chest. You stood by the stairs as he took you in, tight outfit, choker and all. Dressed to enter his bar, but something about you not quite fitting in with the rest of the vampire lackeys crowding the large room. A sharp smile cut his face before he curled a finger again, egging you to come closer, “I can’t speak to you all the way over there.” He didn’t drawl like other members of the bar, his accent foreign and unplaced among the Louisiana drawls. You swallowed, and he smirked wider, but you took the final steps towards his lounging place, “There. That’s better isn’t it?”

Finding your voice was difficult in the face of the smirking vampire but eventually you managed to get your vocal chords to work, “I’m sorry to ask, but why do you want to speak to me?”

The blond smirked wider, running his fingers over the arms of his chair, “I don’t think I gave you permission to speak but I appreciate an air breather with manners. So few of you know where you stand.” He linked his fingers over his lap and smiled a smile of ill intention, “Pam thought you might be of interest, since you enjoy agitating the vultures around here so much.” He pointed at the choker around your neck, “Hiding silver underneath there. Very creative of you.” His teeth turned sharp with a movement of his jaw, fangs snapping, “But incredibly rude. None of my clientele are inclined to touch those who don’t want it.”

You swallowed your fear again, “I’m sorry. I’ve heard things about this place…” The fear settled in your gut and squirmed violently, prompting you to say stupid things, “What’s your name if you…”

The vampire laughed, give chest bobbing with the unnatural expulsion of air he didn’t need, “I’ve never been asked that like this. You really are odd.” His smile grew wider, “Eric. I own this bar.”

“Eric… Well its nice to meet you?” You felt sweat drip down your back.

Eric smiled with sharp fangs, “Nice?” He hummed, getting more comfortable in his chair, “I would not call this meeting ‘nice’.”

A finger raised to point at the silver laced choker around your neck, “Take that off. Its insulting.” He commanded with a head rested on his fist, watching you fumble with the buckle, revealing the tight, thing silver chain wrapped underneath it, “Very creative. Take that off too.” Eric droned, snapping open his phone again to look at a message before he tossed it back to the side and admired the unmarked column of your throat. He tilted his head curiously, “So if you’re not here to get your rocks off, so to speak, why are you here at all?”

The burning question. That was why the leather clad creatures were all staring, and you knew it. Your eyes dared not to look at your friends huddled in the corner as you replied, “I came to support a friend. She met the vampire she’d been talking to for a while tonight.” The words felt a bit pathetic as you choked them out, “She didn’t want him to…be a fraud. She loves him I think. I didn’t want her to get…”

“Eaten for it?” Eric offered with a smirk, tapping his fingers together over his hips, “That is maybe what most of your kind comes here for, is it not? She was…brave for doing this. But that maybe makes you stupid for coming into the wolf den with her.”

“Is this an interrogation or are you just bored, Eric…Sir.” You could have shot yourself and been less scared in that moment.

Wild eyes looked at you then, ready to snap you in half if you gave him much more of a reason, “What was that?” He asked before laughing quietly, teeth clenched in the most unfriendly smile you had ever laid eyes on, “Do I need a reason to ask why you’re in my bar?” He leaned forwards, taking his feet from the stool, the soles snapping against the stage before he pushed his hands against the arms, leaning forwards to get close enough to snap his teeth at your trousers, “I’m Sheriff of this area, little girl. My word is law. So, I’ll ask you again.” Eric drew back into his seat and watched you squirm with a little more delight than he would ever admit, “What are you doing in my bar?”

He could glamour you. You understood that. He could do it with a snap of his fingers and have you begging for anything he wished upon your magic infused brain.

“Its like I said, Sheriff,” He hummed happily at the proper use of his title, “I came here to support my friend. Nothing else. I don’t have any ill intentions towards anyone. I came here to make sure she didn’t get fucked over.” You spread your arms out and sighed, “And if you glamour me, you’re going to get the same response, Sir.”

The vampire looked up at you, watching you squirm under his gaze with curiosity equivalent to a cat snatching a mouse back repeatedly with claws hooked into its tail, “If I do glamour you, you won’t remember standing in front of me, never mind the reason why you are here snarking in front of me.” Eric’s smile turned dangerous as he trailed his gaze up over your legs, admiring them before he turned his fingers in a dismissive gesture, “If that’s all you’re here for then you can scuttle away. I have no need of a plaything tonight.” He crossed his ankles on his footstool once more and picked up his phone from the table, flicking it open to set back to whatever it was he was doing before entertaining himself with you.

“Well, it was a pleasure, Sheriff.” You tried to sound sincere as he watched you over the top of his ancient phone, tapping away at the keys at lightning speed as he replied to whatever was urgently awaiting his attention. His icy eyes watched you, hiding his smirk behind his phone as you awkwardly made your way back down the stairs and towards the door. Your friend and her lover followed you quickly.

Eric grinned at the young vampire, knowing there was very little he would be able to do if Eric decided to have his own way. He wasn’t up for that tonight. He had a lot more pressing matters to attend to over playing with a human.

Pam was quick to make her way over once more, “Oh, you are feeling generous tonight, Eric.” She purred as she sat on the arm of his chair, “I’m pretty sure you have a free night? Why lie to such a nice piece of ass?” She drawled, admiring her freshly painted nails as Eric snapped his phone shut and watched the edge of the stage with boredom.

“I don’t always want to eat whatever walks into my lap, Pamela.” He teased as he listened to the annoying ancient ring tone of his phone but ignoring it, “She’ll be back.” He promised with a smirk, “You don’t wear push-up bras if you don’t want some kind of attention.”

Pam scoffed over on his right, a sharp eyebrow quirked in irritation, “A girl don’t gotta wear anything to impress a man. She was here for herself, Eric, not everything is a vie for your attention.” She tucked a stray curl over her ear and moved to stand, “You might as well chase her. She won’t be back without that little friend of hers.” Pam took the stairs and slinked into the crowd leaving Eric to smirk at his phone.

Avoiding Fangtasia was easy. Your friend and her newly turned lover were comfortable being seen after that. After the upheaval of the royalty and the turbulence that followed, vampires were much more well known. Out of the coffin for numerous years. They were more accepted than ever, despite their eating habits. The tacky lighting was no different, even a year on. Your friend and her lover cooed from beside you as you all entered, the bouncers waving you in instantly. Arm through Derrick’s you shuddered at the coldness of his skin until he released you with an awkward smile by the bar, looking to your friend with a look you could only describe as love.

“I’m sorry she dragged you here, sweet thang.” He drawled, tipping the hat he had on with He drawled, tipping the hat he had on with He drawled, tipping the hat he had on with his eyes hidden awkwardly, “I don’t think she’s used to this sort of stuff still.”

With a snort you laughed at the young vampire

With a snort, you laughed at the young vampire, “Don’t worry about it. Sometimes I just think she misses seeing people.” You patted the vampire’s arm before moving away to order a drink. It was a new bartender, yet he accepted your order and whipped it up in record time, sliding it along the bar before winking and turning to his other customers.

You ignored the cold stare on your back as you sipped your drink quietly by the bar. It was quiet in the bar for a while and you listened to Derrick drawl in the corner before a cold hand slipped over your shoulder. Black nails curled into your blouse.

“Well hello again.” Pam purred behind you, leaning into the seat next to you with a smile, not entirely dangerous, “I didn’t think we would ever see you again.” She hummed as she leaned on the bar top, “I thought Eric had scared you off for good after his interrogation.”

You took a rather large gulp of your drink, “Well, I just can’t say no to my friend it seems.” You joked half-heartedly as Pam licked her top lip.

“Well, if you’re looking for something else…” She trailed her nails over the bar, “I’m sure I can help you out. Not all of us want brutish men. I understand that.” Sharp black nails tapped in front of your drink before she smiled and waved them by her side, “But, Eric wants to see you, despite leaving him high and dry for…hmmm…A year? He might have quite a few words for you.” The vampire leaned over and flashed fang at a collared girl, “He’s waiting, girlie. Don’t make him any more upset.”

You turned to avoid having to look at Pam lick her lips anymore and stood with a scowl at the Sheriff leaned over in his chair. Bright, icy eyes looked at you intensely as you took your drink and walked through the crowd, the choker around your neck not laced with silver this time. As you approached the edge of the stage you watched Eric stand and fasten the button on his silver jacket before he descended the stairs and was instantly by your side, a rush of air following him before a cool hand pressed to the small of your back.

“Hello there, darling.” Eric whispered as he dragged you through the crowd, a firm hand pressed to your back after the rushing spin of him turning you around in the opposite direction. Eric made his presence at your side well known; head held high as he directed you towards a door labelled as ‘staff only'.

“Hello, Sheriff...What seems to be the occasion?” You asked as you stepped through the door. Eric held it open for you. It was his small office. The decor was old fashioned, minimal in a way that told you he didn’t care for it, “This better not be a booty call because I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

Fangs flashed near your ear as he shut the door, whisking past you towards his chair, “No. This isn’t a booty call.” He leaned back and perched back on his bottom to prop his feet up on the desk, “This is actually more of an interview.” A pleasant white smile met your eyes as he linked his fingers on his lap and watched you grow suspicious.

“A job?” You gave him a scowl, “Why the fuck would I need a job from you? And for a matter of fact, why the fuck would I want a job as a hooker in your sleezy bar?” You spat the words at him, the smirk on his face making you even angrier.

“Now now, pumpkin. There’s no need for the language.” In a blur Eric had you by the arm, grappled in his grasp, mouth close to your neck as he threatened your pulse with a tight grip, “And that is no way to speak to me.” He hissed behind the words before letting you go with another snap of his pale hands, “It’s a bartending job.”

You felt relief flood through you before you looked at his desk, “You have a contract already drawn up? What is wrong with you, Sheriff Northman?” You snarked as you plonked yourself across from him.

The vampire rolled his shoulders as he paced back to his seat, “I’m getting what I want.” He mused before sighing, “No perfume, lack of cosmetics. Its all telling. I know you lost your job. This is a good way out, plus,” He leaned back in his seat, “Its better than minimum wage, sweetheart.”

You looked at the paper and felt your stomach flipflop, looking at the devil with fangs sat in a designer suit before you glanced back at the paper, “Holy shit! That’s a lot more than minimum wage.” You peered at the figure before looking at the smug vampire perched behind his desk, “You promise this isn’t going to fuck me over?”

Eric tilted his head, “I wouldn’t mind fucking you over…”

“Don’t.” You held up your hand, “Don’t finish that sentence, Mister Northman.” You reached for the pen between his fingers and snatched at it.

Eric held it back, “Are you sure you’ve read the small print?”

With a grumble you held the paper up and read over the fine print, “Really? Only two weeks holiday? That’s gotta be against all kinds of regulations!” You hissed.

“It includes public holidays, those are just the days on top of that.” He smiled pleasantly as you snatched the pen and signed your name at the bottom.

“When do I start?” You asked as he took the paper between two fingers.

With a grumble he looked you over and smiled, “Right now. We’re short staffed.” In a blur of movement Eric moved. You squawked as a stinging slap landed over your ass cheeks, “Now get out there and show me I’m not wasting my money.”

#eric northman x reader #eric northman x female reader #eric northman #true blood #true blood series #true blood tv #eric #vampire x human #vampire x reader #female reader #reader insert #vampire #vampire human relationship

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professorwilliam · 4 years

Text

;Daiharu au 💴🌸💎

Summary : Haru Kato overworked himself as usual and Daisuke is trying to take care of him.

Note : yeh! first tumblr fic, let's get it ✨😗✌️

Haru sometimes hated his job.

Or rather he hated his strong sense of justice, which made him constantly push his boundaries to do what was right. Most of the first division members usually shied out when he asked them for help, and no way in the world he could go to Daisuke Kambe for the same.

Everyone tells him to lay off multiple times but he doesn't needs them to take care of him, damn it.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

Haru fell back in his chair, making the rusty old thing creek in protest. Everyone turned around to witness his loud and grumpy arrival, probably testing the waters before making a move. He paid them little to no attention, knowing he'll lash out otherwise.

The board gave him a hard time, the first division gave him a hard time, Daisuke blew him off like nothing and then Cho-san yelled at him --- Haru straight up wasn't having the best day. Now the last thing he needed was more people pestering him.

Luck, however, wasn't on his side.

The phone on his table starting ringing the moment Haru got comfortable in his chair, the loud sound made the headache double up a few notches. Haru tsked and picked up the receiver, putting it against his ear.

“yes?”

“Oh my god!” the lady at the other end screamed. “Pleass hurry there has been a robbery at my store, everything is wrecked.”

Haru tried to hide his sigh. “Please stay calm and tell me your address. Don't be alone in the house, as it might be dangerous and don't touch anything until help arrives.”

The lady hurried up with details as much as she could while simultaneously sobbing into the speaker, somewhere in the distance was a dog barking at her. Haru kept down the receiver and turned to Kamie, holding up the slip of paper with the address on it.

“There has been a robbery, can you go and see to it?” Haru asked, waiting patiently as the other completed typing on his computer. Kamie looked up with a guilt ridden smile, rubbing the back of his neck as he fumbled for an answer.

“You see, I've been dead tired after all the cardio you put me through---”

“Nevermind.” Haru cut in,“I'll take care of it myself.”

Haru stood up rather fast, making his head go blank for a solid second. He managed to hold himself up just before he could fall forward, the sudden movement causing the table to shake with impact and catch everyone's attention.

“Are you okay?” Mahoro asked, her hand stopped midway with a candy between her fingers. The pink haired officer gave him a worried look. “Would you liked this limited addition candy?”

“I'll pass.” Haru waved his hand and went out of the office lounge, momentarily leaned against the wall to regain his left over energy --- only god knew how worse the robbery was going to be, he needed to get every bit of patience and energy to deal with it.

Once sure that he wasn't going to collapse, Haru shrugged on his jacket and went to the crime scene.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Ah Kambe-san.” Kamie called out as Daisuke entered the room, the millionaire gave him a nod and went over to his desk. The inspector pulled Daisuke down to talk quietly into his ear.

“Is there a problem?” Daisuke asked, his voice even like it always have been. Kamie felt himself shiver at the calculated coldness in his eyes, he has to shake his head to get back on his tongue.

“Did something happen with Haru and you?”

Daisuke stared at him for a long moment, eyebrows lightly scrunched in concentration. Then he simply shook his head in denial, making Kamie sigh in confusion. He was well aware of Haru's habits of pushing himself too far, but there was no way you could stop him from doing so.

“Could you please go and check on him then?” Kamie asked with a requested smile, pressing his hands in a prayer position and ducked his head. “I'm afraid he might pass out or something.”

“Okay.” Daisuke said and straightened up, fixing his suit as he exited the lounge for second time this day. “HEUSC track Haru Kato's location.”

“The location has been found.”

Daisuke got in his car and glanced over to the screen, a map displayed in front of him with a green dot blinking inside a cafe. He got the car in ignition and put it on the road the moment it's engine roared.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Ehhh . . . what do you mean it wasn't a robbery?”

The woman in front of him laughed in embarrassment, a blush spread across her pale cheeks. Beside her, in a vile grip was a child yelling at her to let go, probably the culprit of the robbery. She bowed to Haru while winding up apologies, forcing the kid down with a hand pressed on his head.

“S-Sorry inspector, my son and his friends created a ruckus before I opened the cafe. I panicked and thought it was a robbery.”

“Are you sure everyone in safe here?” Haru asked; Except for the kid obviously, he thought but knew better than to voice it, his mouthy self already got him in trouble multiple times, he didn't want anything more.

“Yes inspector, our apologies for the inconvenience.” She said again and forced the son to say sorry as well, which Haru just accepted with a laugh. He then nodded to the lady and made his way out of the cafe, yawning as he started walking back to the office, his body however was screaming for him to rest.

Haru stopped as a sleek black car pulled up next to him, a colour and design he was all to familiar with now. The door opened with a smooth motion, inside seated was Daisuke with his usual bored expression, the one that seriously ticked him off.

“Oi Kambe, what are you doing here?”

“I was told to pick you up.” He replied monotonously,“Please get in the car before the traffic rolls up.”

Haru didn't want to be anywhere near Daisuke right now but he found himself rushing over inside the car and sighing once he was able to shut himself in the silent atmosphere. He may not admit out loud but Daisuke's car was more comfortable than his bed --- soft seats, warmth and his rich perfume. Haru instantly felt like he was going to fall asleep, and that would have been embarrassing.

“So what makes you come here?” he decided to ask instead.

“I was told to pick you up.”

“And you agreed?”

“Yes.” Haru didn't expect him to say anything more to so he just let it drop, but Daisuke cleared his throat and continued. “And I owed you an apology.”

Haru was in no mood for having that conversation so he just shrugged it off and let his eyes stay fixed outside the window, looking at nothing in particular. Daisuke waited for an answer before he decided better than to question him further.

“Are you tired?” Daisuke asked as he killed the engine and Haru shook his head, hurrying out of the car before he could seriously fall asleep. He shut the door to cut off any further complaints, making his way back to the office and hopefully avoiding Daisuke any further. Thankfully, the conversation never came up again, not until the shutting time atleast.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Haru are you sure you're staying back?”

“Yeah I need to write the report for today.”

“Okayy, bye!” everyone cheered as the hurried out of the office, glad that the day was finally over. Haru watched them leave, wincing when the door shut loudly after the departing crowd.

He let his head fall on the table and groaned. The cursor blink on the empty sheet of the word document, waiting to be worked on; problem was Haru's lack of motivation, he couldn't even lay it off with the board monitoring him and finding all the ways to pick more mistakes on him. It would he easier on their pockets if they could cut more of pay --- and with the deadline for his rent, a pay cut was the last thing he needed right now.

So with the last bit of energy left in him, Haru rolled his sleeved his sleeves up and got to work.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

Daisuke stared at the empty cup holder and realized that he left his wallet in the office, he killed the engine and got off the car. The last bit of left workers nodded as they moved past him, rushing out to go back home. He wasn't half surprised to find Haru bend over his computer and typing sluggishly, his eye bags reached on the floor and casted a dark edge to his golden eyes.

“Kamie? . . . no Kambe." He mumbled his words,"What are you doing here?"

“I left my wallet.”

Haru nodded and went back to typing, taking a sip out of coffee which was most likely cold by now. As Daisuke crossed him, he could see Haru shivering in his seat and having trouble to get a better grip of his coffee. He watched him struggle.

“You need to rest.” Daisuke said.

“As if the guy who threw up off the bridge would care.” Haru replied and then his words turned quiet. “Nobody cares.”

“huh?”

Haru send him a simple shrug and got to work again, mumbling as he typed, backspacing more and actually writing something. Daisuke then turned his head and spoke into the ear piece.

“HEUSC type the report for the incident today.”

“Command in processor. Estimate completion time in 10 minutes.”

“Let's go--- Haru!” Daisuke grabbed him just in time, saving him from hitting his head on the table edge. Haru groaned and fell against Daisuke's torso, eyes barely open and sweat pooled over his eyebrows; despite the obvious temperature rise, he was shivering. “Come with me.”

“I'm fine!” he said, words mingled into each other. “Just a little bit---”

“You just passed out.” Daisuke removed his glove and pressed his hand against Haru's forehead, feeling it burning under his cool skin. Haru straightened himself up, pressing a firm hand against Daisuke's torso too keep him at the arm length.

“I said I'm fine.” he said,“If I don't complete this by today, they'll probably fire me. Unlike you some people are limited on their resources Kambe.”

“I told HEUSC to do it for you.” He replied,“For now just come with me.”

“Why? Give me a reason.”

“To apologize.” He said without missing a beat .

“What for?”

“For everything.” Daisuke said.

Haru could only stare. He wanted to say no and deal with himself, since Daisuke also did the same. The last thing he wanted was to become a burden on someone who refused his help.

He was a burden.

Denial almost went past his mouth but stopped when Daisuke reached out and grabbed his hand, his fingers cold against Haru's wrist. The millionaire's face was stoic as ever but his words were soft.

“Haru . . come with me.”

Seemed like he wasn't getting anywhere with denial tonight.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

continues part two

#haru katou #haru best boy #haru katō #daiharu #daiharu au #daiharu fluff #daisuke kambe #the millionare detective balance: unlimited #the millionaire detective

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starfirette · 4 years

Text

Every Which Way : Chapter Two

The Way To Nevarro

➡️a/n: a new series! Woohoo! Shoutout to https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/ for inspiring the names of the people and planet. There is possible false information regarding Mandalorian culture, so don’t bitch to me about it.

➡️ prev chapter found on masterlist

➡️ JOIN THE TAGLIST | NEXT CHAPTER >> !

Mando’s only command is to stay with him at all times.

He did not want you to wander or stray from his side.

You felt jittery with excitement. You agreed to all of his terms knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to survive without him. You can’t read, write, or even spell, so how could you make it on this planet?

Mando explained before you two left the ship that Nevarro is a planet of a bounty congregation that calls themselves The Guild. You know that means at least one person here will have heard about the missing servant girl from Aniri. Mando explained further that while he is a member of the guild, he is first and foremost a Mandalorian warrior.

You knew of Mandalorians, but not much else.

Venturing out to the town, clad in the leather jacket (which Mando insisted you wear zipped over your plain shirt) and by Mando’s side, you asked him many questions. Where would you go, what would happen? You wanted to know.

But mostly you wanted to talk.

You’ve kept your inner dialogue “inner” for too long, now, and you’ve decided you will babble to your heart’s content. Mando didn’t seem to mind. He answered all of your questions truthfully and without judgment. He understands that you lacked a proper education and he doesn’t make you feel bad about it.

He’s easy to be around, despite his often awkward bouts of silence.

His strides are a bit faster than you’re used to, so you catch yourself jogging just to keep up.

Nevarro is very sandy, you have learned. At least it’s sandy out in the middle of nowhere . You wonder why Mando would have landed the ship so far away from wherever he’s taking you, but you don’t ask him to explain. He’s in charge, you tell yourself, and that’s perfectly okay with you.

Your feet kicked up sand that irritates the back of your thighs.

“We’re here,” Mando said. You’d stopped outside the entrance to the sandy village, guarded by two men in uniforms you’d never seen before. Mando exchanged a few words with them, explaining he had business with the guild.

“Who’s the pretty lady?” One of them asked, pointing at you with a blaster. They have the same sort of modulated voice that Mando does. Your knees felt weak when you realized they’d been talking to you, looking at you.

“No one you need to worry about,” Mando gruffly replied.

Still, the man zeroed in on you. “Why don’t you let her answer me? Huh, gorgeous?”

You are hardly able to stammer out a proper response. Your knees wobbled. Gorgeous. The word here is a compliment, but you’ve gone your entire life dodging compliments. Being ‘gorgeous’ wasn’t good, not ever, it only causes trouble. As the soldier’s helmet bobbed down then up, you could tell the rules of beauty might not be entirely different on Nevarro.

“She’s mine,” Mando growled. “Are you letting us in or not?”

With a defeated shrug, the man let out both in. Mando ushered you with an arm around your waist, just barely there, not quite touching you, but enough to keep you safe.

The Nevarro village is filled with the same sort of soldier who’d given you a hard time at the gateway.

“Who are they?” You asked, careful to keep your eyes straight ahead.

“Storm troopers,” Mando explained. “They’re all—,”

“Imperial?” You guessed. You tucked stray hair behind your ear.

Mando made a confirming sound as he continued to usher you through the village.

“I often worked events for the court when they entertained Imperial officers,” you mutter. “Are the rumors about the war true?”

Mando nods.

“Everything you’ve heard about the Empire is completely true,” he whispered in your ear.

A sharp shiver rolled down your spine. You exhale a shaky breath.

“Left here,” Mando instructed, taking you on a sudden turn. The alley slips into a steep slope, where at the end is a large dumpster positioned beside a little metal door.

“Where are we going?” You finally asked, unable to contain your questions.

“Just follow me,” Mando pressed as he kicked open the creaky door.

You did as he asked, but with a sour feeling at the bottom of your stomach.

Through the door is a tunnel that runs long with stone floors. You feel almost at home, in the most inappropriate of ways.

“Where are we?”

“Underground,” Mando says. “I’m taking you to my people. They can protect you while I figure out what to do next.” He offers you a hand to help you maneuver between the jagged stone that scatters around the floor.

The warm leather of his glove soaks into your palm as you squeeze his fingers and step over the jagged rocks. The darkness deepens the more you walk along.

“How can you see?” You ask.

He pulls you out of the way of a rock you can’t see, pulling you close to his body. Nestled against his armor, all you can think about is the smell of his pillows.

“My helmet does more than hide my ugly face,” Mando whispered, a lilt of amusement somewhere in his words.

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. So he does have a sense of humor.

“We’re here,” Mando eventually murmurs in your ear. His hand found your lower back and gently he pushed you forward. You step downward, onto a new setting of cobblestone that massages the arches of your feet.

Light came to your eyes, blinding you momentarily as you stumbled back into Mando’s arms. He helped you stay upright while you rubbed your eyes.

You’re standing amidst the underground world of Mandalorians. It’s a medium sized congregation of people wearing armor like your friend. The telltale sign is the helmet with the signature T visor and precise slopes around the jaw. Some armor gold, others blue, but all in all they are the same. Mingling into the crowd you feel unseen eyes on you. You curl into your Mandalorian’s side, heart beating painfully.

“It’s alright,” he assures you. His helmet tips down as though he were looking straight at you. “You’re going to be safe here.”

You’d been under the impression Mandalorians had an entire planet to themselves. You can’t say you know much, if anything at all, about them, but the rumors that did manage to spread around the Anirian servants made Mandalorians out to be practically invincible. It is why your king and queen hired your Mandalorian to kill that man.

Mando had delivered, and he’d done it in less than a day. You can’t imagine what a whole colony of Mandalorians can do.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to pop back in, hm?”

Mando stopped in his steps and groaned quietly.

He turned to look at the largest man you’ve ever seen. Your eyes trailed up and up to finally see this man’s crimson helmet. How could anyone be so tall? You swallowed a lump in your throat as you inched closer to Mando.

“Well, well, I see you didn’t do anyone a favor and abandon the planet,” Mando grunted.

The other Mandalorian laughed, booming through his modulator as he bent over himself to pat his knee. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? And who is this?”

Your face burns as the Crimson Mandalorian inspects you up and down with an exaggerated nod of his head.

“Djarren, aren’t you a bit old to be pickin’ up foundlings?” Crimson chortled. “She is pretty, but a little old to be a recruit.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Mando asked, in that same stoic tone.

Crimson ignored him; you imagine he probably rolled his eyes, as he didn’t seem as intimidated by Mando as many others did. He held out an open hand in front of you.

You flinched away, half expecting him to grab you or drag you down the hall kicking. Rather than that, he just waited for you to do something.

“Don’t ya know how to shake hands?” Crimson asked.

Mando knocked his friend’s hand away. “Leave her alone.”

“Smitten, are we?” Crimson mocked. “I’m not so sure how the others will react to you giving away the covert. Where’d you pick her up, eh? You a Hutt whore?” Crimson asked you with a jut of his chin.

“A what?” You asked. It didn’t sound like a good thing to be.

“Leave her alone,” Mando grits out. “Let’s leave,” Mando says as he leads you away. “What’s a Hutt whore?” You asked Mando as you were escorted away. “Something you’re not,” he assures you.

Many heads turned your way as you followed Mando through the underground colony. You earned the attention from every Mandalorian you walked by; you’re not so certain, anymore, that it’s your lack of armor as it is your presence beside your Mandolorian.

“The Crimson Mandalorian called you Djarren,” you murmur, intertwining your hand with his.

He quickly pulls his hand away. “That’s my name,” he says stiffly. “Din Djarren.”

It’s a perfectly normal name but it somehow feels different.

You want to tell him it’s nice; only thing is, you’ve started to realize he isn’t your friend like you’d mistaken. He didn’t hold your hand and he didn’t even want you to know about his name. You fold your hands behind your back as you follow Din into the first room you’ve seen in a while. A burning sort of stove pillar lights up the entire room from the center, where something inside boils. Weapons hang along the walls, sharper and made with more intricacies than you’ve ever seen on decor, let alone on weapons.

Two Mandalorian women occupied the room, one donning gold armor and fur as she tended to the furnace; the other lounged in a chair, her legs kicked over a table with a sword strewn in her lap, which she sharpens at her own leisure.

The Mandalorian women inside are muscular and beautiful, even with their masks covering their faces. Aniri required servant girls to wear makeup to hide their beauty, but now you’re doubting it worked at all. You can’t see their skin but you’re enamored by their beauty anyways.

“Din Djarren,” the Golden Mandalorian says. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” Din replies. “Hello, Wendi,” he adds to the Blue Mandalorian that sits. “Din,” Wendi replies, her voice smooth as butter.

“I see you’ve brought a visitor,” Golden drawls. She sets down a large hammer on her work table, coming to examine you closeup. “I would suppose this is the girl you spoke of in your last transmission.”

“Yes,” Din replies curtly. “She was a slave in Aniri, condemned to execution.”

Wendi raked her stone up her sword with a sharp hiss. Sparks flew on her lap. “And her crime?” Wendi asked.

Three visors turned to you. You suddenly realized they meant to listen to you speak for yourself.

You’d never gotten the chance to explain before. You spoke up best as you could with your chest tight with anxiety. “I tried to escape the palace while also abandoning my makeup.”

“Your makeup?” Wendi cried. A laugh escaped her modulator as she tossed the sword to the cobblestone floor that had begun to pain at your feet. You felt increasingly smaller by the minute, especially as Wendi took to her feet and made her own examination of you.

“Awfully plain without this makeup, isn’t she?” Wendi drawled.

At your sides your hands form tight fists. “On the contrary, ma’am,” you muttered while your nails bit your palm. “I was told to wear makeup because I am beautiful.”

Wendi sniffed behind her modulator. “And awfully sarcastic,” she snubbed.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic,” you snap. Your heart jitters for a second, half expecting retaliation or punishment for speaking with such a tone. None came. You were in slight awe as you realized the extent of your freedom. “I only meant to answer your questions,” you added, softly now as you chew the inside of your lip.

The Golden woman lifted a hand to silence one of Wendi’s impending remarks. “I’m sure you’ve had a very exhausting two days,” Gold says smoothly. “Not to mention the complete and utter lack of proper clothing from Djarren.”

Mando remained totally silent, his helmet staring expressionless at Gold.

“Yeah, it’s almost as if Din’s never had a girlfriend before,” Wendi purred as she elbowed Din on his side.

Din tilts his helmet to her. “More than you have,” he says.

You never heard such jokes from Din’s lips! He calmly explained everything in full detail, then, from his bounty Kais Korren to the number of ships that chased him off planet.

“They considered Y/n property,” Din recalled, looking at you. You stared deep into the visor, unable to tell if Din is even actually looking at you.

“We have all heard of your stunt, already,” Wendi notes from her corner of the room. “As if we didn’t need anything else to be on the run for. I suppose now we’ll have to help fix your mistake.”

Gold made a fist, hitting it against her worktable, making Wendi jump in her blue armor. “That,” Gold says slowly, “is the Way. Mistake or not, Din Djarren is one of this clan and he will have help. Whether he asks for it, or not,” she adds.

Wendi crosses her arms over the dented chest plate. “This is the Way,” she agrees, although begrudgingly. “—but we do have other pressing matters, like it or not. This little girl just adds to the mess.”

You hadn’t realized that was what you were til now.

A little mess of a girl, as Wendi had so vehemently put it. You stub your toes against the cobblestone, feeling your chest pain grow as Wendi’s accusatory finger pointed you out.

While you failed to speak up, Din’s leather bound hands clenched. “She needs our help,” Din growled.

“Your help. You failed to think of your people,” Wendi snapped.

“I wasn’t going to let an innocent woman die,” Din replies. To his credit, he remained calm and level headed, which was not the same for you. Tears gathered in your eyes as you realized Wendi meant you had put her and her people in danger.

These people—these Mandalorians— all live underground for a reason.

You’re an outsider.

You quickly rub your tears away. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you clear your throat. “I’m truly sorry,” you choke out, “for the trouble I must have caused.”

“You have not caused any trouble,” Gold soothes. “There are many ways we can ensure your safety. Anirians are vicious and they use their laws as their weapons. You were born into servant ranks and thus are considered an object of the court. Taking you off planet is the equivalent of taking their money or jewels. Each day that passes wears their patience. They are more likely to negotiate today than they will be tomorrow.”

“So?” Wendi asked, circling her hands around impatiently, trying to draw a conclusion in the air.

“So we don’t have a lot of time left for dallying about,” Golden concludes, her voice firm. “Before anything, Y/n needs proper clothing. Shoes even, if it’s not too much to ask for, Djarren?”

Din stayed still for a moment longer than you’d expected. “…Fine,” Din says, flatly. “You’ll be safe with our Armorer,” Din says to you. His voice lowered as he stepped closer, looking down at you with what you hoped to be tenderness. “I’ll be back soon.”

You nod, releasing the tension in your hands. You didn’t want Din to leave you here, not with these strangers.

You are sheltered, yes, but you are not stupid. You know you must remain unattached from Din Djarren. He saved your life without much thought; including the lack of thought concerning where you’d live and who you’d depend on. You don’t think Din had intended for you to be his friend at all. You’re actually not his friend in any way, shape, or form. So even though you felt ill at the thought of being left behind by Din, you did nothing to object.

“Okay,” you murmured.

You brushed a piece of hair behind your ear.

You tried not to watch Din while he exchanged hushed, last minute words with Wendi. Both helmets tilt to look at you. Wendi finally looked to Din and nodded.

“Will you stay with her?” Din asked.

The Golden Mandalorian nods. “She is safe here. This is the Way.”

You’re not certain of what the Way entailed, but it evidently provided you with your own lodgings.

You followed Gold out of the furnace room, struggling to not look over your shoulder and search for Din’s retreating figure. His armor blended with the rest, becoming lost in a sea of Mandalorians. You returned your attention to Gold. She doesn’t earn as many greetings as Din had on the way in; rather she got nothing. You couldn’t tell if she was disliked among her community or not. Given her well polished armor, you guess she could be in charge. It might be respect keeping her left alone; respect and maybe even some fear.

The sway of her hips and the sword that bobbed with them left you a little bit speechless. You’d never seen such armor. Aniri forbade women from being much of anything aside from servants; women were fortunate to be born into the court, where they were treated equally as men just because they’d been lucky enough to be born into rich families. Even those women, however, were not allowed to do certain things. They could not join guardian ranks; they could not leave the planet. Seeing that Mandalorian women can be so strong willed plants the smallest seeds of hope inside you.

As much as you’d love to be as strong and capable as Gold, you still feel so small. After all, you fidget your hands, unsure of how you’re supposed to hold yourself together as you follow behind Gold. Surely the servant position isn’t expected of you, with your head tilted down and your hands folded neatly by your lap.

You struggle to be comfortable in your own skin. You’re not entirely sure you enjoy living day to day without your makeup.

On the ship, with Din, it was alright. Except now you’re off the ship, where people are able to see your face. It’s strange to think you’ve been given freedom by people that don’t show their faces to anyone, either. Perhaps it’s just irony you’re experiencing.

Gold brings you to the end of the tunnel, which is just one stretch hallway. After all of the walking, you’re shocked to find that there is still more to the tunnel beyond the bedroom you’re being given.

The wooden door creaks open. Before you is the best room you’ve ever seen, despite its lack of space. There is a wardrobe, a mirror, a single cushioned chair, and a bed.

“This room will be yours until we have secured a home for you,” Gold says. She makes two paces across the room to the wardrobe. The old thing only has linens to offer.

The room is a bit small; the new brick walls and cobblestone floors give off an even smaller illusion.

“The covert does not conjoin for meals,” Gold continues, prim and perfect as ever. She puts the stack of linens in your arms. “There is a common room with food portions directly down this hallway. If you need anything, someone there can help. I am usually in the furnace. Din and Wendi have gone to collect for you clothes, shoes, and other such things. The women use the washrooms every night. Men use them in the mornings.”

She almost left before pausing, then turning to look at you again. Her golden visor aimed at your eyes. She says, “There is one rule. Do not leave the tunnel. Above ground are Imperial guards. They will arrest you without hesitation. If you find yourself in trouble and in need of help then yell for it. Din will be back soon.”

Gold departed, shutting the wooden door behind her. You were tempted to follow, but she didn’t seem like the type that wanted company. It must be a Mandalorian thing. Sighing, you hugged the linens to your chest. You’re eager to make your bed, even if it was small and lumpy. It’s soft; above all, safe.

Your linens smell old, but it’s a pleasant smell. It feels nostalgic of a time you couldn’t have known. You smooth the quilt over the mattress, trying to pat out any wrinkles with your fingers. It’s a bit strange knowing the bed is yours to really relax in.

You aligned the quilt to the corners of the mattress.

Satisfied with the work, you gladly crawled under the blankets. Cuddling into the mothy pillows, you lay on your back.

The ceiling has a few cracks in it.

How had this tunnel been built? Why did the Mandalorian people not have their own village? These questions you had no guesses for; the new world you’ve been invited into is curious, and becomes curiouser every waking moment. It frightens you but excites you all at once, a feeling you’ve never felt before.

A knock on the door awakens you from your dreamless sleep. You sat up, vision blurry and mouth dry. Hours must have gone by. You stand, your bruised feet once more being pressed by the cobblestones embedded to the floor.

Your hand stretched for the creaky handle. Beyond the door was Din.

You didn’t know how to greet him.

Awkwardly struggling for the right pose proved difficult. Would he expect respect? Gratitude? Would he want something in return for what he had done for you?

“Hello,” you murmured, averting your eyes from the T of his helm.

“I woke you,” he said.

“You did,” you acknowledged. You glanced into your small room before shuffling back. “Come in,” you said.

Din entered. It must have been hours judging by the creakiness in your joints, but Din hadn’t changed out of his heavy armor. He set down a large laundry box on your lumpy bed. “This is for you,” he said.

You peered into the box. You were confused to find rolls of velvet tightly wrapped and stacked on top of each other. It reminds you of birthday presents, of the neatly wrapped boxes the princes and princess would receive yearly. You’d watched the opening from afar, never once imagining you’d have the chance to do the same thing one day.

With wary hands, you scooped up a roll of velvet, not looking at Din as you unfolded the cloth.

Shiny cuffs of metal shone at you from their soft blanket. “It’s pretty,” you say, stunned by the perfect roundness of the cuffs.

“They’re yours,” Din said, voice a bit stiff. “Armor.”

Puzzled, you cast a questioning glance.

Din approached, his leather bound hands wrapping around the metal. He slid the first over your arm. The cuff fit perfectly around your forearm, casting upwards to your elbow and ending at your wrist. You stared at the piece of armor in shock. Your face looked back at you from the sheen of the heavy metal.

“How does it feel?” Din asked, his hand still adjusting the cuff around your wrist. His fingers are warm even through the leather gloves. They rested on the inside of your palm as he examined the fit up close. Your ears burned at the feeling of his touch. Each little tap on the delicate skin of your palm tingled.

“It feels nice,” you said. “This, I mean,” you add.

Din notices you staring at his hands on yours, and he drags his hand away too slowly. The pads of his fingers left spots that burned on your skin.

“There’s more,” Din added, tilting his head up to gaze at the ceiling. He looked around at your small room before cocking his head to you. “Are you comfortable?” He asked.

“Of course,” you say, tucking hair behind your ear bashfully. A smile peeled over your lips as you glanced around your very own sanctuary. “I love it very much.”

“It doesn’t bother you how horribly plain and undecorated it is?” Din asked. He was clearly joking, but you became serious. “I have privacy and the luxury to do what I want,” you say. “That’s all I could have asked for.”

If Din was surprised, he didn’t say anything to display it. “I’m sorry,” Din finally let out.

You had been pushing around the box for other goodies and upon hearing this, you became startled. “You’re sorry?” You guffaw. “I’m going to be eternally grateful for what you’ve done for me,” you continued. You clutched the other arm piece close to your chest, glad to have something physical to keep you down to the planet.

“That’s just why I am sorry,” Din grunted out. “I’m not a good person to become attached to.”

You blink. Shocked, you slide the arm cuff off and set it loose on the bed. “I never meant to ‘attach’ to you,” you mumbled. “Thank you for the armor, and for everything else. I can sift through in private if you’d like to leave.”

Din left as you’d suggested.

Curious; Din is very curious. You wonder what he meant by the apology. Perhaps you had grown attached…it would be hard not to! After all, Din had saved you from Aniri. You’d only meant to show your gratitude. Like he had on the Razor Crest, Din once again rejected your gratitude. You suspected he would rather pretend nothing happened at all. He’d rather live his life without you in it.

The thought slashed your heart in half. A world without Din? You’ve known him for four days and he’s taken such care of you.

Being reminded of care, you returned your attention to the box on your bed. Enveloped in rolls of velvet were sets of shoes and new clothes. Among that, there were other pieces of metal formed in a way you could only imagine to be armor. Every piece shone and you suspected they were all brand new from the smell of slight smoke that lingered on them. But they were polished to perfection, allowing you to see every detail of your own face in them.

The soft tunics and the fitting trousers were a miracle to receive. Comfortable and, dare you say it, a bit stylish.

What truly took the cake were the pairs of boots. They rose above your ankles and laced up with red string that stood out against the black leather. You almost loved the shoes more than the socks! And the socks you immediately slipped on. They cushioned your skin against the cobblestone a bit better, but starting tomorrow you’d get to wear shoes like any other person in the galaxy.

The next morning you rose early and dressed neatly. You’d missed your opportunity to use the washrooms last night. They were reserved for the men to use in the morning, so you’d have to wait until night came to shower.

This did not worsen your mood, as you were very excited to wear new clothes for a change. You paired a baby blue tunic and plain trousers.

Wearing the cuffs and shin guards felt strange. You almost didn’t want to wear it as you feared the sort of attention it would bring, but you did remind yourself that the rest of the covert wore full body armor, including the helmets, on a daily basis.

If anything about you was to be found weird, it wouldn’t be your outfit—it would be that you are an outsider.

Over the tunic you shrug on the leather jacket, cuddling into the butter soft fabric. You stretch your hands through the sleeves, and the shiny cuffs are just barely visible from the cuffs.

You venture out of your room with a heartbeat that thunders in your ears. Drifting along the tunnel path are Mandalorians who casually wield weapons like blasters and blades that are taller than even you. Cautiously avoiding their gaze, you creep along the walls in search of the furnace. You hoped to find Din among the covert, but he isn’t anywhere to be seen. A clock would be nice to have. You can only assume it is morning. When you’d entered the tunnel yesterday, the sun was on its way down. Would Din be sleeping now? Would he be out, above ground?

The furnace only housed Gold, who currently wielded a knife and cloth, with which she polished the blade so it gleamed brilliantly.

“Good morning, miss,” you say softly.

“Good morning,” she greeted. She didn’t turn to face you, but she did set down her work. She cleaned around her work space, and you simply stood by watching in awkward silence. “You can have a seat,” Gold suggests. “Unless you’d rather stand.”

You took a place in the chair which Wendi had occupied yesterday, where she lazily played with her sword.

You shrugged out of your leather coat as you felt the heat begin to bother you. As you draped the jacket over the back of your chair, the Armorer glanced over at you.

“Do you like them?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The armor,” she says, gesturing to your arm and leg plates with a heavy glove. “I made them the minute Djarren transmitted the message of your arrival. How do they fit?”

“Perfectly,” you say. You look at the metal that wraps around your forearm. “What is it?”

“Beskar,” she replies. “I do apologize for the lack of any other pieces.”

“Well, I should thank you for what you have given me,” you say, as you tuck hair behind your ear. The locks of hair gathers sweat on the back of your neck. You dab your forehead with the back of your hand. “I am confused, though. Why did I get armor in the first place?”

“You are in the care of the covert,” Gold explains. “This means we are responsible for your safety until you can be relocated. It’s only natural we give you a bit of armor to keep you safe. Although Wendi did give me hell for it.”

You crinkle your nose. Wendi must not be happy about your arrival. You suspect many would not be.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Gold asks. You shook your head. “Would you like to join me in the meeting hall?” she then suggested. “It would give you a chance to meet the others.”

You supposed it would have to happen eventually.

Following the Armorer to the main hall, you fiddled your thumbs together.

Exposure to Mandalorians, to actual people, made you sick to your stomach. You’d never worn such tight fitting clothing. On Aniri you’d be called an enemy of the court, condemned to trial for indecency. It seems no one minds, though, as they all dress similarly. The Mandalorians that don’t wear armor wear trousers and tunics, often, however, donning some sort of safety plates on their backs or arms like you. While you feared being judged for indecency, the rational part of your brain knows you will be judged for the lack of a Mandalorian helmet. Every planet has those who fear outsiders. You don’t know the word for it, but it breaks your heart. The royal court hated outsiders. They joined forces with the Empire because the Empire feels similarly. How could someone hate another living being just because they were born on a different planet? You couldn’t understand, as you’ve never felt that way even after living your whole life on Aniri.

The question really dialed down to this: would the covert hate you for being an outsider, or would they fear the trouble an outsider might bring? The difference may be subtle, but it’s there no doubt.

The meeting hall did have several people filling it out. Most bore tunics and trousers like you, but still bore leather belts and cuffs. You recognized Wendi immediately from her helmet bobbing on the corner of the room. It had a delicate touch to it, the carvings of the metal curly and wispy. She didn’t have her blue armor on today, instead a black tunic with long sleeves and tight trousers that rose to her waist. You’d never seen such trousers before but you suddenly long to have simliar types. It was a marvelous outfit to wear, and the black danced with her gold wrist cuffs and knee pads.

Din Djarren is nowhere to be seen.

You wanted to see him and ask him what he meant, last night, about attachment. For some curious reason, the comment bothered you all night. It even haunted your dreams. Perhaps he rejects your reverence towards him. You couldn’t simply make the feeling go away. You’d feel that way forever, because Din had done something you could never do for him. You would never be able to repay him no matter how hard you tried. You want to thank him one last time, even if he didn’t want to hear it. He single handedly saved your life. Of course you’d want to thank him, right?

Gold offered you a seat at the main table. A large basket overflowed with food that made your mouth water. This differed much from the stale bread and leftover poultry you’d been allowed to eat back in the ranks.

You reached for a block of white cheese, tossing it over in your hand before taking a deep sniff. It smelled delicious. You took a tiny bite and lo! how your mouth watered. You had never tasted such flavor in your life, and this had been a single bite of a single square of cheese. You anxiously nibbled around the edges, trying not to let on how impressed you were with just cheese. Embarrassing, really. You’d be bullied no doubt.

The Armorer made conversation with the warriors around her while she supervised you as you ate. You were encouraged to eat as much as you wanted, but you hesitated to do that. Even when your belly felt filled, you wanted to keep on eating, half out of the fear you wouldn’t get an opportunity to again.

“So,” a voice drew behind you. “This is her?”

You froze. The hair on your neck prickled when Gold said, “Yes, although I believe she can speak for herself.”

You turned to look who had inquired about you. The Mandalorian that had given you a hard time yesterday towered over you in his crimson armor. As you looked up at him, he crossed his arm over his strapping chest.

“So she’s staying?” He asked.

The tips of your ears burned with embarrassment as Gold appeared to be glowering. “Ryder,” she snapped. “I’m certain that you were at the meeting last night. Don’t waste your breath with nonsense.”

You swallowed back the anxiety that plagued your chest. “Ah, yes, the meeting,” he said thoughtfully, as if he had just remembered. Although you had a feeling he was being sarcastic. “Where we all voted on killing the little girl.”

You buried your head down to your chest, chin quivering with tears as you felt guilt and overwhelming anxiety boil in your blood.

“I’m not a little girl,” you muttered, just quietly enough that you hoped Ryder hadn’t heard.

“What was that?” He mocked.

Something savage spurred across your brain as you rose to your feet, the chair you’d been in falling to the ground. “I’m not a little girl,” you said again. The quiver in your mouth had transformed into a sneer as you kept your chin raised to look Ryder in the eye. Maybe the anxiety you’d been feeling wasn’t anxiety at all.

It was anger.

With no one to punish you for “stepping out of line” you could express said anger all you wanted, and you started with Ryder.

A mistake, it might have been, as Gold had to use an hand to brace Ryder back by his chest plate.

Searing across your body was the wave of regret and mild, mild fear; in that mixture was a pinch of satisfaction. Standing up for yourself felt good. But you imagined a punch in the face from Ryder wouldn’t feel as great.

“Your vote was cast, Vizsla,” The Armorer reminded him. “I won’t remind you who the deciding vote was. You are obligated to follow your brethren in protecting Y/n or you can join Boba Fett and his fascist friends on Nevarro. This is the Way.”

Ryder seemed like he could be seething behind his mask, but you had no way of really knowing. “This is the Way,” he grit through his modulator.

Anger issues, you think as he stomps away. To the Armorer you quickly apologized. “I’m very sorry, Miss,” you tell her with a bob of your head.

“Do not be,” Gold said dismissively. “Vizsla needs to be put in his place, and you need to continue standing up for yourself. It is imperative if you want to survive.”

Stunned, you nodded. You see the honesty in her words, and while she might have been blunt about it, she was very, very right.

How curious the Mandalorians have turned out to be…

“I suppose now would be as good a time as any to walk you through our way of life here.”

You held out a hand, though it wavered, to stop Gold from continuing. “Before that,” you stutter, “could I ask just what ‘meeting’ you refferred to with Ryder?”

“Ah,” Gold hummed. “Last night the covert convened a meeting in which we all voted to keep you with us or to send you away. Ryder voted against it. The deciding vote was his elder brother, Paz. He voted for you to stay and I suppose Ryder didn’t like that.”

You sighed. You looked down at yourself, at the baby blue of your tunic and how it splashed like the ocean against your beskar cuffs. “I ought to thank you again, Miss. I am forever indebted to the covert.”

Gold tipped her helmet forward, leaving it inclined for a second too long. “This is the Way.”

The Way is what you will be grateful for even after life. Gold brought you along to the furnace after you grabbed one more block of cheese. She showed you the set of her metals. In sheets or in bars, she had a collection of beskar, palladium, ruthenium, and other metals you couldn’t keep track of.

“You make the armor for everyone?” You asked. You grazed the metals with your finger tips. What does Din wear? You resist the question as you thank Gold for her help today.

“I am grateful for the armor and for everything else,” you say, inclining your head the way she had done to you earlier. “Could I ask…where is Djarren? Din, I mean.”

Gold, while taking a thick apron down from a hook, replied, “I am unsure. I think he might be asleep. I haven’t seen him since the vote last night.” “How did he vote?” you asked. You hated the question as soon as it left your lips. But you yearned to know.

“He was very adamant that you stay,” Gold responded. “In fact he made a very moving speech. It’s the most I’ve heard him say all his life.”

Your heart fluttered with assurance. “Thank you.”

“If there is anything else you need, you might find it from me or in the gathering hall. Good day, Y/n.”

“Good day, miss.”

Shyly stepping out of the furnace and back into the hall, you kept your gaze strictly on the floor. Mandalorians threw lingering glances your way, but they didn’t seem to last as long as you feared. A long table lined the eastern wall, and over it was a stack of books. You’d never seen so many before. You’d never actually held one, either. As much as you wanted to pick one up and read it, you couldn’t; you’d never learned to read before. From where you’re from it’s common to hear that, but you suspect it’s not so common amongst Mandalorians. Another factor for them to ostracize you for. You approached the table to get a closer glimpse at the books.

Lingering around the book table was a taller man, in dark blue armor, and he inclined his head towards you as a greeting.

“Hello,” you stuttered. Your intial reaction is always to bob a curtsey when someone greets you, but those days are behind you.

“You’re Y/n,” the Mandalorian says, “aren’t you?”

You nodded. “I am.”

“It’s a pleasure,” he says in his deep voice, “to meet the famed madame. I am Paz.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Paz,” you returned his greeting. “Are you guarding these books because they might run away?” You asked. You half meant it, considering the heavy weapons the were strapped along Paz’s back and belt.

“Something like that,” Paz said. He laughed. It was strange to hear it! Din hadn’t made such pleasant conversation with you in the two full days you’d been on the Razor Crest with him. The Armorer was very formal and upfront, so she didn’t seem like the conversational type. Wendi and Ryder? They’re non-starters.

So you were sort of stunned to find that Mandalorians were, in fact, capable of laughter.

“What do you do here?” you asked, feeling breathless. Finally, someone you could talk to. You’ve never gotten to truly talk to anyone, ever! You’re filled with questions and hope that Paz could answer some.

“Among the covert we have our respective jobs. Titles, almost. I’m apart of the covert’s makeshift infantry. I usually guard and protect, that is.”

“And so the books are under your watch?”

“Sure. Not as prisoners, but as…well, they’re a bit like you. I protect them.”

“Why?”

“Because they were in my family for a long time. Most of them, anyways. Some have been bought by other Mandalorians here. Consider this the library of the covert.” He waved a hand across the table. “Would you like one?”

Gnawing on your lip, you shake your head “no.”

“I can’t read,” you admit. It was easy to say it to Paz. Paz did not laugh or mock the way Ryder or Wendi might have. Paz looked through the books on the table and picked one out for you.

“This is generally for children,” he admits as he holds it out. “The first pages are the alphabet. Memorizing those letters is the first step to literacy.”

Bashful, you look to the floor. “Oh, thank you. I can at least know the alphabet.”

Paz shakes his head. “If you’d like help, I will help. Before the covert I taught foundlings who were also illiterate.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t bother you,” you say, hugging the book tightly.

“It wouldn’t bother me. But I won’t bother you,” Paz says. “You’re welcome to come here at nights, if you want. An hour each day would surely catch you up.”

With a fuzzy feeling in your chest, you slowly nod. “I suppose it wouldn’t bother me if it wouldn’t bother you,” you admit. “I do want to learn.”

“Learn, you will,” Paz promised.

You could hear the smile in his voice.

next chapter

58 notes · View notes

nitewrighter · 4 years

Note

Gency 15?

15. “You Clean Up Well.”

Here’s some Pre-Fall New Years!

—-

“Is this really necessary?” Genji muttered as Tracer straightened his tie.

The three of them were at the headquarters of the Adawe Foundation in Numbani, more specifically at the Adawe Foundation’s New Year’s Eve Gala, a celebration that heavily centered on Overwatch. The four of them were in a lounge-like waiting room just outside the restrooms of the higher offices. Enough to give them some privacy as they did some last minute prep before heading out into the Gala.

McCree had muttered something about it being a “Victory over Doomfist” party, and Tracer had teased that McCree was bitter that he didn’t get an invite, which didn’t exactly go over well considering Blackwatch was still suspended. Jack, however, was keen to emphasize that they had caught Doomfist in Singapore over two months previously and that this celebration was largely to maintain Overwatch’s mutual support with Numbani. They knew though. The whole strike team knew. Overwatch needed that win and now it needed to capitalize on it. Genji didn’t like the idea of being in the spotlight. Only a year or so ago newscasters were looking at blurred footage of him in the Venice incident like he was some monster, some horrific amalgam of Overwatch’s scientific sins, and now he was on the posters–all gleaming armor and glowing green visor. And now a tie.

“If I can handle a tie, so can you,” said Tracer. Genji just grumbled under his breath. When Tracer wore a tie, she actually pulled it off. She didn’t look like a jigsaw of machine parts juxtaposed on a human’s suit.

“As the new strike team, we do have a responsibility to put our best faces forward!” said Winston, daintily folding his own pocket square.

Genji hesitantly brushed his fingers along his own faceplate.

“Uh… poor choice of words,” muttered Winston.

“Lena!” Genji heard a disappointed voice on the other side of the room, “Really?” His head instinctively swiveled to the doorway where Mercy was standing in a short, sparkling gold dress and a black silk cropped jacket. Genji attempted to maintain as neutral a reaction as possible to the outfit that he had never seen the doctor in. “You said I wouldn’t be the only one in a dress!”

Tracer’s lips thinned and he laughed nervously, “Well–yeah, but then Em found this frilly shirt and–well–” Tracer was stammering over herself.

“Don’t bother,” muttered Mercy.

“Sorry, Doc,” said Tracer, straightening her bowtie, “Cant help looking this good.”

“Well now everyone’s in black and I’m stuck—sticking out, and—” she glanced down at herself, then caught Genji’s visor out of the corner of her eye, then caught herself, folding her arms. “It’s fine. This is fine. I’m fine.”

She turned on her heel then, apparently all too easy with her patent leather black wedges, and paced out of the room.

“Oof,” said Tracer. Tracer looked at Genji, then at the doorway, then at Genji, then back at the door.

Genji looked blankly back at her.

“Talk to her,” Tracer mouthed, furrowing her brows and Genji nodded as if he totally knew what he would say to her (he didn’t) and he moved to follow her out the door when the door swung open and Jack walked in, looking more upbeat than he had in months. Mercy was right next to him, apparently caught right outside the door and now smiling her “maintaining-public-relations-while-dead-inside” smile.

“There’s my favorite strike team!” said Jack.

“Really?” Tracer said with a grin, “Are you sure we’re you’re favorite strike team?”

“Okay, second favorite,” said Jack, clapping her on the shoulder, “But really, I’m so glad you all agreed to this.”

“Who doesn’t like a party?” said Tracer.

I can think of two, thought Genji, glancing at Mercy. Maybe if the party wasn’t going to be four hours of stumbling through conversations with politicians Mercy might have the energy for it, but if something as little as being the only one in their group in a dress was already getting under her skin this much, it was going to be a long last night of the year. A few years ago he would probably already be drunk, hopped up on whatever party drug was fashionable at the moment, and embarrassing his entire family on the dance floor, but the dragon had burned that old Genji away. He rolled the thumb of his prosthetic hand over his knuckles as Jack and Tracer continued talking.

“And the Adawe Foundation represents some of Overwatch’s most critical ambassadorial work after the Crisis,” said Jack, “We couldn’t ask for a better crowd.” He gave a glance down to Tracer’s chronal accelerator. “Are you sure you’re all right with the–?”

“It’s been fine, Commander,” said Tracer, jamming thumb over her shoulder at Winston, “I had the big guy take a look at it special for tonight.”

Winston adjusted his glasses, “The accelerator is in optimum condition, sir,” he said, tucking in his pocket square.

“Hope you guys are ready for a lot of pictures,” said Jack, “Let’s move out.”

—

Sojourn greeted them as soon as they came out of the elevator. Mercy seemed relieved to see her in a dress–a striking asymmetrical scarlet number with her white dreadlocks swept off to one side.

“Lookin’ sharp, team,” Sojourn said, folding her arms with a smirk. Her eyes lit up at Genji, “And look at you!” She rapped a knuckle against Genji’s suit lapels, “Actual cloth? Amazing.”

“Gabriel helped find him one that fits,” said Jack.

“How’s he doing?” said Sojourn, looking at Jack.

“Gabe? Fine–he’s–fine,” said Jack, folding his arms, unsettled by the question, “He–you know, he… gets it.”

Genji felt Tracer, Mercy, and Winston’s eyes flick to him momentarily, as if he might have a better idea what was going on with Blackwatch, but the truth was he didn’t. All he really knew was that he was seeing less and less of Gabriel and Moira, and that just put McCree on edge, who was already anxious considering Blackwatch was benched and his very position with Overwatch was probationary. Genji tried to read Jack’s face in that moment. He found that Gabriel and Jack were sort of emotional barometers for each other, problems in their minds settling similar lines across their faces. Even though Jack seemed to be puffing out his chest and pushing his ‘Heroic Commander’ persona as much as his receding hairline would allow him, there was an exhaustion in his eyes.

“It’ll be all right, soldier,” said Sojourn, patting Jack’s shoulder.

“Yeah–New Year, right?” said Jack as he and Sojourn walked towards the party’s main hall with the strike team in tow.

The party itself was thankfully not as exhausting as anticipated. The next three and a half hours were a slog though. The first hour was largely Jack and Sojourn walking them around the party, introducing the strike team as a group, before splitting up and leaving them to ‘mingle.’ A word Genji dreaded. Winston and Tracer managed to keep a lot of attention off of him, and what attention was on him was gradually buffed off by his own taciturn responses. Winston on the other hand could lecture more or less indefinitely on physics, and Tracer maintained her dizzying energy, blinking around different conversations of the party, giving little quips about time travel (which of course went over well considering it was New Year’s) and generally being the charming face of Overwatch Jack had been grooming her for. Mercy on the other hand….

Genji watched from across the room as Mercy was caught in a conversation with what looked like a circle of five different dignitaries. He was impressed with how gracious and at-ease she seemed in the conversation in spite of how frazzled she had been with Tracer earlier. She wasn’t Angela in that light, he realized. This was Mercy. Angela Ziegler was all messy buns and thoughtful thumbnail chewing and weary, snarky looks from behind black-rimmed glasses when they stayed up late in the lab together–Mercy was a mask and a shield, keeping people at a distance but dazzling them with her grace and dignity.

“You still gotta talk to her,” said Tracer, brushing past him and sticking two champagne flutes in his hand.

“What?” said Genji but Tracer was already slipping back off into the crowd to take pictures with Winston and a handful of younger Adawe foundation members, leaving him standing awkwardly with the two champagne flutes. He glanced back at the crowd of five that Mercy was caught in and was slightly alarmed to see that Mercy was no longer there. When did she get the chance to slip off? He circled through the party, and found that most left him alone when he was carrying two champagne glasses because they assumed he had somewhere to go, someone to meet, and in a sense they were right, but Genji himself felt aimless and a bit stupid. He couldn’t even drink one of the champagnes, anyway–that would require taking the faceplate off and no, he was not doing that with this crowd.

“15 Minutes to Midnight!” Tracer announced cheerily from the midst of the crowd, and Genji decided to ditch his champagne glasses before he was caught holding them like an idiot when the new year was finally rung in.

A lot of the tables at the party were occupied by chatting couples, so he couldn’t just drop off the glasses there, and it felt odd to trail after one of the waiters carrying trays to put full champagne flutes on their trays–the balcony, he decided. People forgot their drinks on balconies all the time. He stepped outside and saw a familiar figure in a gold dress slumped against the guardrail of the balcony. Mercy had kicked off her heels and was looking out over the city. The exterior of the party was only marginally cooler than the interior–Numbani wasn’t exactly known for cold climes, after all. The city glittered all green and orange and gold beyond her.

“Angela?” said Genji and Mercy glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Oh,” she pushed up off of the guardrail slightly.

“I um… I got you, well, actually Tracer got you—here,” he held up one of the champagne flutes.

She smiled that weary smile and took it from him, “Thank you, Genji.”

“Is everything okay?” said Genji.

“I should apologize to Tracer,” muttered Mercy, “She looks better in a suit and it was a completely arbitrary thing to be upset about.”

“I think she understands,” said Genji.

“I should be the mature one here, not her,” muttered Mercy, “I mean–Of course she should be mature, she’s team leader, but I shouldn’t be the one getting upset over things as small as wardrobe changes, but she said she would and I would like it if people in this organization actually did what they said they were going to do–and–and–”

“It’s… not about Tracer or the wardrobe change,” said Genji, leaning against the balcony.

“I think… it’s new year’s eve. I know I’m supposed to feel like there’s a fresh start coming, but at the same time, so much feels out of my control,” she looked back over the city, “Overwatch put away one the biggest threats to world peace since the Omnic Crisis but I just… it feels wrong. It feels rotten.”

“…It feels too easy,” said Genji.

Mercy’s shoulders bunched up, “It wasn’t ‘too easy’–you were thrown into a car and Tracer had her chronal accelerator ripped off of her—”

“But Talon’s barely made any effort to restructure with him gone,” said Genji, “It operated so… complexly… before. I don’t think that Doomfist’s ascent to power would be so disruptive that it would destroy every contingency. You would think that they would be fighting harder to prove removing Doomfist doesn’t decrease how much of a threat they pose–like a wounded animal lashing out.”

“Oh thank god, you feel it, too. I thought I was just being paranoid,” said Mercy.

“Well… I’m paranoid too, so…” Genji shrugged and Mercy snickered.

She extended her glass to him, “To paranoia and the new year,” she said with a smile.

“To paranoia and the new year.”Genji clinked his glass against hers, she moved to sip her drink, then stopped, looking at him just awkwardly holding his glass.

“…you haven’t had a drink all night,” said Mercy.

“There’s a lot of politicians here. Someone should stay sharp,” said Genji.

“Genji I’m pretty sure this party has the most extensive and well-equipped security in the world. You can relax a little,” she smiled, but then her smile faded and her free hand went up to her own jaw, “Oh–your…”

“The faceplate, yes,” said Genji.

Mercy gave a glance back to the party through the and she leaned in a bit closely to him, “…Would you like to drink?”

“…yes, yes I would,” said Genji.

“Here,” Mercy set her glass down on the guardrail, then shrugged off her jacket and stepped around him, holding her jacket up and spread out as a shield between them and the party, “But you’ll have to be quick.”

Genji, seeing he was obscured from the party by the jacket, quickly clicked his faceplate off, clinked his glass against Mercy’s on the balcony, and with a quiet, “Kanpai,” gulped down his champagne. Mercy lowered her jacket as he clicked his faceplate back on and his visor slid back into place, lighting up green.

“You’ve rescued me again, Doctor Ziegler,” said Genji with a sight chuckle.

“Angel wings,” said Mercy with a grin, waving her jacket around slightly before pulling it back on. She sipped her own champagne and both looked out over the city. A pause passed between them, not uncomfortable, but both sort of navigating their own thoughts in the comfort of each other’s company.

“…it’s not that bad, you know,” said Mercy, after a while.

“Mm?” Genji glanced at her.

“Your face–the… the scarring’s not as bad as you think,” said Mercy, sipping her champagne, “I know, ultimately, it’s about what you’re comfortable with showing, and that’s what’s important–”

“And I’m a ninja,” said Genji.

“…and you’re a ninja,” Mercy conceded, grinning, “But… I like your face, Genji. I see it and I think, ‘Oh–there’s someone who has my back.’ Even with this on–” She mindlessly reached up and touched the faceplate and there was a sudden kssssh of Genji’s shoulder vents that made her flinch back. “Sorry–I shouldn’t have–”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s fine–Numbani. It’s warm,” said Genji, tugging at his collar to release some trapped steam. He cleared his throat and glanced off. “Um… thank you. I… I like your face, too. It’s…” his shoulder vents steamed again with another ksssssh, “It’s a good face,” he managed to finish, “That wasn’t–This suit has no proper venting.”

Mercy chuckled a little. “I understand,” she said, smiling.

A din rose up from the interior of the party. “3 minutes left!” Tracer could be heard over the crowd.

“…Guess it’s getting to the final countdown,” said Genji.

“Yes,” said Mercy, her shoulders slumped a little, “We should probably head in, get the whole… strike team together for the photo-ops at midnight…”

“…right…” said Genji, not really wanting to subject himself to a flurry of camera flashes but knowing they couldn’t let Tracer and Winston down. He started moving across the balcony back to the door.

“Oh–umm before midnight—” said Mercy, catching his shoulder.

“Mm?” Genji glanced over at her.

She gave him a short, soft kiss on the side of his faceplate. “Happy New Year, Genji,” she said, pulling back, looking a bit too red for it to just be the flush of champagne.

KSSSSHHHH. Steam flooded up and out of Genji’s collar, wilting it from its sharp tailored angles to a rumpled mess. “Ah–Um…” Genji stammered, “Happy New Year to you as well, Angela,” he said. He gestured a bit helplessly at his collar, “Venting–Numbani–You know–”

“I know,” said Mercy with a grin as they headed back into the party for the countdown.

#gency

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theveryworstthing · 5 years

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hello everyone, here are some very rough sketches of hare Messenger/caravan friends. i wanna draw more of these because i’ve finally settled on a general design and now i’m ready to get wacky with them.

but first.

it is time for lore.

this isn’t everything i want to say about hares and caravans and their relationship with rabbits and the above ground world but i figure it’s a start. so welcome to Hare Caravans: a short history intertwined with landscaping and postal work.

The beginnings of a journey: staying above ground where all the things that want to kill you are is good actually.

The first hare leveret was born at about the same time as the first rabbit kit. Some say that the two litters were only a nest apart, or that they were even reared together. No one is quite sure of the exact times and distances though because the only people there were the Mothers, who are all gone now, and a few couple minute old gods, who while gods, were just dumb babies who had no idea that any of this would ever matter in the future.

The main thing of importance is that in the beginning there were rabbits and hares in the same general area dealing with the same general existence bullshit and for some reason instead of wising up and going underground like the rabbits, the hares decided (in what had to be a blinding species-wide wave of spite and wanderlust because let’s be real they are EVEN TWITCHIER than rabbits) to stay above ground,learn to do sick stunts, and make the world Deal With Them.

Both rabbits and hares are naturally very quick on their feet but hares are faster and ridiculously acrobatic. They were able to live above ground on the island for so long because even though they still got got every now and then, they were able to juke their way to survival most of the time. But this made hares very solitary. They’re a little more resistant to fear death but it’s still a thing that happens and stress took less hares than you’d think but more hares than you’d hope. They didn’t have the guaranteed safety of the rabbits’ warrens to relax in and it’s hard to build a stable community when a group = a delicious easy target for predators. That’s where the Messengers came in.

The Messengers At first they were merely a small guild of traveling hares that worked as sort of builders/landscapers/proto-postalworkers. Everything about them was kept pretty hush hush and their founder, a tall albino hare who even then everyone suspected had been doing this job way before this job had a name, wasn’t much into discussing the business to those they didn’t deem prospective hires. This made them one of, if not the first, secret society on the island.

The Messengers would collect and deliver letters, small items, and general news from different parts of the island, packing their cargo on quick beetle steads and leading them through the night to distant territories. When they got to a new area they set up cryptic signs and elaborately camouflaged tents that served as pop-up meeting places for whoever was passing through. They were hardworking, crafty, sleep deprived, respectful of their clients’ privacy, and their slogan: ‘I might only be stopped by death and then I only might be’ has persisted as an empowering and slightly threatening mantra for the hares, rabbits, and now vultures who continue in their stead. Truly strong roots for modern island derived postal work.

The Outposts Now when I said those first Messenger-built tents were camouflaged I mean that they were functionally, borderline rage inducingly, invisible. Messengers would arrange entire false landscapes around their tents and the tents themselves were made of thick woven mats covered in layers of cultivated moss, fungus, and various bits of predator-offensive local vegetation for an optimal ‘this is totally a normal danger bush please piss off’ vibe. Some of their later outposts(where modern ‘postal’ work gets its name)included hidden doorways on seemingly regular boulders, clusters of reeds hiding entrances to submerged airtight rooms, and that one open grove near the Center that looked like nothing until you inevitably walked smack into an expertly painted wall like a dang cartoon character. That was the Head Messenger’s favorite outpost (and the most entertaining to watch from afar).

Most of these places got wrecked by time but some people say that the grove outpost still exists, much to the irritation of local postal workers. This is just an urban legend. Their official stance is that the place was destroyed in a storm shortly after the hares all left the island, and a search of the grove certainly supports their exasperated claims that nothing is there anymore. But there are also no ruins of any sort in the grove and to this day the rare rabbit or vulture will come back from their travels with stories about face planting into air and discovering a weird old building that contained nothing but a single black envelope. Again, the island postal service says these are all just urban legends and nothing more.

But also, maybe just keep away from the area and if you see any black envelopes please contact your nearest postal worker asap.

The Signs Since the outposts were so hidden, if you weren’t lucky enough to stumble into one or you didn’t notice the appearance of a New Bush, then you had to look for the signs. A stack of flat stones or a single hare antler tipped with black were signals that a Messenger was visiting. These items would always be at the base of a tree or some other large immovable object where the Messenger would use paint made with Medic’s Eye fungi spores to draw directional symbols that would light up momentarily when the surface was tapped. Before they left the Messenger would always recollect and scrub away their sign materials. Just leaving up signs was irresponsible, as future Messengers might set up in a different spot and conflicting signs would be confusing. Also, bandits might use abandoned signs to lure victims into ambushes. Very few bandits ever had the chance to do this since Messengers were diligent about erasing their signs and very few of them escaped the Messengers if they found out which hooligans had betrayed the people’s trust in mail, but still.

The birth of caravans and getting creative At the outposts, hares would collect their mail, talk amongst themselves, and generally spend leisure time with their brethren without the threat of danger. The outposts were (purposefully) hard to find, only stayed open for a day or two at most, and the messengers had a serious lack of chill due to their busy schedules, but people really loved them. As interest in these meeting spots grew trade increased, people grew closer(within reason, hares were still real solitary at that point), and eventually caravans were created to make setting up these pop-up marketplaces/communities easier.

Of course by this point the safest spots had small permanent outposts with a rotating staff of guard hares (and a few adventurous rabbits). But hares were too twitchy to leave whole towns just…there. Out in the open. Permanently. A house can’t run. Or at least most houses can’t run. Who in their right mind would want long term shelter you can’t pick up and take with you? But a vehicle? Strap a streamlined wagon to a strong beetle, or better yet get a walking worm that can really sprint, and now you’re in business(some of the most beloved hare fables are about a witch who lived in a walking worm that ran around on pillyki legs). And so these hidden outposts became the center of constantly fluctuating camouflaged towns made of caravans.

The wagons and worms that inhabited these towns were really…a sight. Of course they were all the equivalent of speedwalking shrubbery, but the variation! The ingenuity! The application of literally whatever they found while rambling around! Closer looks revealed dead branch coverings held up by years of interlocking shed antlers and tied together with cast off scraps of green fabric that were coated with wax and artfully styled into very convincing leaves. Plants with woven roots for floors and branches for roofs were kept on shallow platforms of soil and molded into tiny but ever growing shacks. Walking worms resembling rotted logs filled fine garden lounges and stages and libraries and laundry rooms tiled with smooth bits of broken pottery. In a small tent that from the outside looks like three sticks and an unfortunate amount of wolf poop, a midwife helps deliver three healthy leverets. A wonderland made of pure natural beauty, art, and a little teeny tiny bit of collected travel garbage. Magnificent.

It really is too bad that most of the more fragile ones didn’t survive the trip to the mainland. Being successfully converted into boats was just not in the cards for them. Silver lining? They got to re-design them all over again with mainland materials. So even though true Island Vehicles are rare now they’re all just as funky.

The Connections Caravan communities really changed hare society. They had always had culture and stories and art, but it was hard to enjoy any of that with frickin’ wolves and owls on their heels 24/7. While families with younger children or disabled members traveled together, it was just so much safer to stay in small distant groups if you stayed in a group at all. This meant very little non trade or procreation mingling. The relative safety of the caravan towns gave birth to a wave of new art and culture exploration since people now had time, space, and input from so many new friends with similar interests in the same place. It’s amazing what you can do when you aren’t constantly running on survival mode and even though they had had access to friendly rabbit spaces before, it just wasn’t the same. Soon entire droves of hares started moving together in very loose communities. Wagons or worms never really right next to each other but all heading in the same direction on their own paths and coming back together at the end of their journeys. Close enough to run to a neighbor if need be but never clumped up. As these droves solidified, they each developed distinct new customs and skills, and the connections between members became as strong as any warren.

These connections are especially apparent in an old practice called Path Merging. Originally only done to seal peace treaties after the rare violent cross-caravan spat but now a common practice, if a single leveret is born (a rarity) they are paired with a single leveret of a similar age from a neighboring ally caravan and raised together. The pair travels back and forth all of their young lives, first with their mothers and then alone, living in their home caravans for different parts of the year. A few of these pairs stay together forever and some only part ways when they start their own families but ideally they at least make it to twenty years before calling for a separating ritual for the whole deal to be Solid. Similar to a diplomatic betrothal but based more on creating lifelong partners of any relationship type over setting up a marriage, this fostering of an intense bond from being the only true constants in each other’s lives is a show of good will and connection between their people. In a way they come to embody the essence of their community and as single litters are seen as a sign of pure hare independence and the old ways of their lost island home, these children are very powerful symbols.

It also means surefire preferential trading and aid from what are pretty much blood-contract bound allies.

These leverets are supposed to be raised like any other, but may receive a little special treatment in times of hardship to prove one caravans’ dependability to the other. A pair being returned in bad condition or with tales of abuse can start or further irritate conflicts. A falling out between the bonded pair can also be disastrous but it happens. You usually have no idea if babies will just super hate each other once they learn what hate is! Or what life in general will throw at you! If everything else is fine but they’re just not compatible people then after a while the caravan elders from both sides will come together and amicably agree to separate them. Although if one deeply wrongs or injures the other there can be some…dire consequences for the offending party that can splash back on their community depending on the situation. Hares almost always avoid war, but they’re real big on justice.

Despite this intense ritual, hares are still hares. They travel together now but they’re still kind of solitary creatures. Caravans are still pretty spaced out affairs, relying on radios and slime mold compasses to keep in touch when someone needs to wander away from the group for a bit. Outside of the usual life threatening issues, they’re not really worried about wandering the untamed mainland alone.

It’s not really a big deal when you have somewhere to come back to.

#rabbits of downtrodden #long post #hares #walking worm #bugs

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ink-and-flame · 5 years

Text

Kinktober Day 6: Intensify

Kinktober Day 6 Prompts: Hair pulling || Nipple clamps || Genital sex Fandom: [None] Original Tags: Exophilia, Hair Pulling, Nipple Clamps, Rough Sex, Size Difference Pairing: Human(f)/Orc(m)

Living in a new place was never easy and neither was trying to build up a new social life. It wasn’t just about meeting new people, but finding people with shared interests that it was easy to connect with. Lia had not lived in the town long and had struggled to make any kind of connection. It was an interesting place, that was certain. It was why she chose here to move of all places. The people were so diverse, humans mingled with all the other races and lived in what seemed like harmony here. Yes racism was still a thing, but it seemed far more subdued. Most the people that lived here chose to live here and so had no reason to attack one another.

Her apartment building was set up to take many races, different styles and sizes of apartment were available based on need, race, and size. Smaller races like goblins could have apartments scaled down to their size if they wanted. Same for larger creatures living in buildings that supported their height. Lia’s building had all sorts living in it as the owners clearly took diversity seriously. She loved her apartment, it was a little bigger than she probably needed but it was perfect.

Lia had ended up selecting an apartment previously rented by orcs. Everything was just a bit too big, but she had dealt with situations like this before. The struggle was worth it due to the location. It was a nice corner apartment with big windows and a balcony. The owner offered to make changes to the structure for her, but Lia didn’t want to make the apartment unlivable for others. So she just got a few step stools. The other added benefit was all the extra space since most of her furniture was smaller. She did keep some of the larger orcish items such as the couch and comfy chairs.

Of course after a few months Lia felt lonely. She had made nice with a few neighbors and hung out at the coffee shop with a lovely fae girl. It just still felt like something was missing. Sitting around at home obviously wasn’t going to help, but Lia was frustrated so spending time on the internet helped. At least on line she could make connections, she had friends she could talk to, and if nothing else, vent about her loneliness.

It wasn’t just emotional loneliness, there was physical loneliness too. The most surprising thing about the move was how much Lia missed her friends with benefits. She used to complain about being a booty call, but after all these months with nothing. Which for Lia 6 months was a long dry spell, she was starting to go a little crazy. Her toy budget had increased and while it kept the edge off it also frustrated her because it always felt like something was missing.

Browsing local hang outs Lia decided to see if maybe there were any clubs around. Bars were an acceptable place to meet people if she was careful. Nothing wrong with a one night stand even if it wasn’t her usual cup of tea. To her surprise not only did she find a club that had potential, it was one that spoke to her interests. Finding a BDSM club within driving distance had been a shock. Normally she only found those in the larger cities, but it was pretty clear that is what this place was all about. They did require that people buy memberships, but there didn’t seem to be too many restrictions on who could be a member.

Feeling excited Lia contacted the customer service for the club asking about memberships and was surprised at how quickly she received a response. They had a trial membership option that allowed for people to pay for a day so they weren’t paying for something that ultimately didn’t work out for them. Lia agreed and filled out the attached form sending it back and was excited. She would have to pay when she got to the club and bring her ID, but they already had her information so it would just be to check and make sure she was who she said she was and that she was actually as old as she claimed.

When the weekend rolled around Lia was a bundle of nerves. She was excited but she had spent all week imagining and fantasizing about what the club would be like. Choosing what to wear had not been easy. She didn’t want to overdo it on her first day. Settling on a simple outfit, one of her more form fitting dresses and some heels, Lia smiled at herself in the mirror. She had pinned her hair up wanting to look a bit classy since she was hoping to attract attention.

Arriving at the club Lia was surprised at the size of it. The bouncer gestured her to where guests could sign in. She showed her ID and got her temporary membership card and went inside. The music wasn’t too loud, which was nice. This wasn’t a dance club, people wanted to have conversations. There were several booths around the room and curtained doors that lead to other rooms. The main room had a stage in the center where dancers performed, similar to a strip club but these girls were in costumes and all looked so interesting in their masks.

Finding an empty booth Lia sat down, ordered a drink, and just observed for a while. She watched as people went in and out through the various curtained off areas. There didn’t seem to be any restrictions on who was allowed wherewith one exception, the V.I.P. Lounge. Which made sense. Feeling adventurous, Lia finished her drink and headed off to see what was behind curtain number one. Eventually she wanted to see what was behind all the curtains, but it was as good of a place as any to start.

The first room was simple enough. It was set up like a lounge, instead of tables it was small circular beds around the room with curtains around them that could be left opened or kept closed. Couples were in various stages of undress and sexual activity around the room and Lia found it quite arousing. Moving to the next space this was clearly an area for public punishment. Submissives were tied up and displayed, some being spanked, others just bound and left to be viewed by those around them.

Towards the back there was a door with another bouncer in front of it. Curiosity getting the better of her Lia walked over to ease her curiosity. The bouncer didn’t try to stop her but did look at her curiously. She showed her day pass and he nodded with a smile, gesturing for her to go on in. This door lead to a hallway filled with doors. Each room had a sign over it either lit up green with the word VACANT, or red with the word OCCUPIED. It didn’t take Lia long to figure out that this was where people would go to do private and probably more intense scenes.

Peeking into some of the vacant rooms they were set up to invoke different scenes. Some just had equipment in it, sort of dungeon looking. While others were mocked up to look like specific locations. There was a hospital room, a classroom, an office setting, a few different bedrooms with some interesting furniture choices, and those were just the ones she could actually look in.

Turning around and leaving the hallway she smiled at the bouncer on the way out, he smiled back and nodded. Clearly this was common, new people being curious. It was probably why he allowed her back there without her actually participating in any kind of scene. From there she moved back to the main room sitting down at a different table and looking thoughtful. There was more to see, but right now she was horny and needed another drink.

Lia wasn’t alone long when an orc sat down at her table after asking if it was ok that he join her. He was handsome, tall, and quite muscular. He was in a nice suit, but there was something wild about him. His bluish black hair stood up up in a wild sort of mohawk that looked soft to the touch. His large ears were pierced and he had the greenest eyes Lia had ever seen. His tusks had rings around them and he had a few facial piercings.

He reached out a hand, a well manicured hand at that, introducing himself as Darnok. Lia blushed when she shook his hand, hers was so small compared to his. She was so small compared to him. She wasn’t tall for a human regardless, but next to this orc she felt down right miniscule. She knew his kind could get big, but he had to be over 7 feet tall. His voice was so deep she could feel it vibrate through her with every word he spoke which only affected her more and it was clear that he could tell. Her arousal was beyond obvious.

“I haven’t seen you here before, I would very much like to get to know you little one.” Darnok smiled gently. He had quite the charming smile, but he simply didn’t want to frighten her.

“My name is Adalia, Lia for short. I just moved here about 6 months ago. I didn’t even know this place was here, I found it online. So this is really my first time here. I just wanted to see what it was all about, see if I fit in, if I like it.” She took a sip of her drink.

“And?”

“I do, I think I want to get a membership here. Not sure what I will do with it at first, but I hope if I come here enough I could meet people and well, go from there.” Lia smiled at him and tried not to scoot closer.

“You’ve met me, if you are willing.. I can show you some of the ways you can enjoy yourself here?” Dar wasn’t being subtle but he wasn’t saying anything outright either.

Lia knew what he was offering, what he was asking. Honestly, he was sexy, intelligent, and seemed nice. He was also patient and wasn’t pushing her to answer. Something she appreciated, but despite not really doing the whole one night stand thing, her hormones were overriding her and made the decision for her. “I would love to.” She offered him her hand and allowed him to lead her away. Back towards that hallway of doors.

Darnok chose one of the bedrooms, it was more simply in design and it made sense to Lia since this was their first encounter. She was pretty sure that they were really only going to have sex and that kink wouldn’t be entering into it much. Though, he was attractive and she wondered if things went well, if he would want to meet up again. He seemed nice enough, gentlemanly, well put together, but it was really just his kind eyes that struck her the most. He didn’t set off her creeper vibe the way some men at clubs like these did. So why not give him a chance, give them a chance to see what could happen.

Stepping over to the bed Lia looked up at him. She was short, but this orc made her feel positively tiny. “Just so I understand, we are going to be having sex, yes?” She had to check, because if he was looking for a kink scene she felt they needed to negotiate.

“Yes, I apologize for not making my intentions more clear. While I would love to do a more intense scene with you, something about you just interests me, I am aware we just met. I thought it might be better if we started simple, see if we are even physically compatible. That being said, I can be an intense and demanding lover, and I do have my kinks that come out regardless of how simple I like to keep things. I need to know if you have any hard stops now, any lines that could be crossed that would ruin the experience.”

Dar had made it simple for Lia to understand and she appreciated his desire to just get to know her a bit. Even if they were skipping several usual steps. “Hard limits for me are anal, permanent damage, and excessive pain. Other things can be negotiated, but I feel like those are the only ones that might come up in this situation. What about you? I am assuming you are going to be in control, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have limits.”

“Fair of you to ask.” Dar had already slipped off his shoes and suit jacket, laying the jacket on the chair behind him. He was unbuttoning his shirt revealing his muscular and quite hairy chest. “I don’t do degradation usually, don’t call me a beast or a monster. No racial slurs, things like that. Also, I prefer if you didn’t struggle in any way that made it seem like you don’t want what is happening. This needs to be consensual and I want it to feel that way. A little struggling can be fun, but not until I know you, know your real body language. Other than that, we won't be getting into anything that would come close to my other lines.”

Lia nodded, watching as he revealed more and more of his body. He was the largest, and strongest male she had ever seen naked like this. He wasn’t built like a body builder, a little softer than that, but he still looked strong enough to pick up vehicles and throw them. Kicking off her shoes she unzipped her dress and moved it to a free chair, the bedroom was well set up and she was glad not to have to toss her clothes on the floor. “I don’t know if I could say anything truely horrible to someone while having sex, I dont think we have to worry about that.” Undoing her bra Lia blushed a bit.

“You are so lovely, I don’t suppose you will indulge me?” Dar asked.

Lia looked curious as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet bag. Inside was a pair of decorative nipple clamps, a lovely silver, with little bells on them. Holding them out to her, he gave her the opportunity to choose if she took them, and Lia did. Placing them on herself to show her willingness. They pinched a bit, but in a good way, and the bells made such a sweet little sound, the bells having a delicate chime to them, musical in a way. They made her nipples look larger and harder, she actually began to like the way it felt to have the extra weight there.

“Exquisit.” Dar breathed as he looked her over. “Would you let your hair down? Are you comfortable with a little hair pulling when things get rough?”

Lia had to think a bit before nodding. “Just, not too hard ok? I haven’t really done it so I don’t know how painful it is.” Reaching up she began unsecuring her hair, setting the pins and clips on the bedside table and letting her hair fall down her back in waves. Turning she moved to get on the bed and sat there looking at him, patting the place next to her.

“I promise, I will keep my strength in check as much as I can. Please let me know if anything becomes too much.” With that his pants and boxers were off leaving him nude before her.

Lia was shocked by the size of him, thick and uncut, but not even fully hard yet. She scooted back on the bed as he climbed up next to her. His hand grabbing her wrist to stop her as she tried to remove her thong.

“Let me, give me some time to warm you up, get you used to me. I can smell your fear, I promise I am not going to hurt you. I can be gentle to start.” Dar leaned in nuzzling at her neck, his form looming over hers as he pushed her back onto the bed. The nipple clamps chiming delicately as he positioned her.

Using his mouth and hands, Dar slowly worked Lia through her nerves. Showing her how soft he could be, showing his gentle side, letting her feel safe with his touch. He brought her pleasure through gentle teasing, and enjoyed each of her orgasms as they came upon her. The muscles of his body were tense as he held back his own desires so that he could ease her nerves and prepare her body to take him. When she was ready he smiled down at her as he loomed over her.

“You are so perfect in your pleasure Lia, I wish I had a whole weekend to play with you. There is so much more I want, but I can’t hold back my own needs any longer.” Leaning up to kneel between her legs, Dar grabbed a condom from the bedside table, as they were offered for free by the club. Sliding it on where Lia could see was just one more gesture to prove to her she could trust him. He always used protection with new partners, but if Lia enjoyed him as much as he was enjoying her, perhaps they could move to a different arrangement that no longer required one.

“Thank you, some people don’t want to use them.” Lia wanted to help and reach for the bottle of lube, helping to pour it over him and stroke him to lube up the condom. She could feel him throbbing in her hand and it was clear he was eager.

Dar smiled and waited for her to finish, though his jaw was clenched. The feel of her hand on him was so good, he almost didn’t want to stop, but he desperately wanted to be inside of her. Grabbing Lia by the waist he lifted her and flipped her over, placing pillows under her to help support her body. Holding her down he used one hand to guide his cock to her entrance, rubbing slowly to work her up and get her used to the feel of him against her. Soon he couldn’t resist any longer and he was slowly pushing into her tight heat. The sensation almost overwhelmed him and he felt himself tensing as he tried to control the rush of pleasure that threatened to push him over the edge far too quickly.

Lia squirmed beneath him and Dar thought he might lose his mind as her wiggling was driving him to distraction. It felt too good, far too good, and he was pushing in faster and harder than he had originally intended. The sounds of her moans and whimpers driving him on as he managed to get halfway in before having to pause. “Are you ok?” His voice was strained but she had made a noise that sounded like she wasn’t.

“Y….” Lia swallowed and tried again. “Yeah, just.. So intense. You’re so big Darnok.” Lia whimpered and squirmed as she felt her core stretched beyond what she felt were her limits. Yeah she had a few larger toys, but nothing like this. She had never taken anything like this and it was both terrifying and glorious. It burned but in a way that made her want more. “Don’t stop, please?” She pushed herself back against him to try and take more of him as she heard him groan above her his grip on her tightened.

Dar was losing control. The heat of her, how tight she felt around him, her eagerness. He had calmed down some until she begged him not to stop and tried to push more of him into her. It was enough to drive anyone mad. Growling deep in his chest Dar’s hips snapped forward pushing more of his cock into her as she cried out at the sudden stretch and invasion. Her body was taking him so much better than he had imagined and he didn’t want to stop.

“Can you take more?” His voice was tense and he lost himself for a moment and growled down at her. “By the gods I just want to rut you girl.” His thighs shook slightly with the effort of holding still. She was trusting him, and that meant more to him than he wanted to admit. Looming over her small frame Dar felt strangely protective of Lia, and didn’t want to ruin this experience or her opinion of him by fucking her like a savage.

“Please, I want it Dar. Please fuck me. I need it.. I need to know what it is like..” Lia was desperate for more. He had promised a level of roughness she was sure she had never known. This was her first time with an orc and she wanted to experience what it was like. She wanted him to enjoy it too, and a part of her, a darker more submissive part of her, just wanted to be thoroughly ruined by him.

It was her begging that broke some of his resolve, the sweet sound of her voice, the clear need in her tone. Dar couldn’t hold back any longer and he thrust forward into her hard, burying his cock the rest of the way until his heavy balls slapped up against her. Watching as her body surged forward from the impact, the jingle of the bells of the nipple clamps making his cock twitch inside of her. Feeling her surrounding him, Dar was lost.

Lia cried out as Dar began fucking her in earnest, his cock pushing deeper into her than anything had ever been. Her body was at its limit if not past it, and yet, having Dar balls deep inside of her only made Lia want more. She pushed back against him, moaning loudly and begging for him to go harder, begging him to fuck her, to use her. Something in her snapped as the orc looming above her became more and more feral in his fucking.

Soon Lia was lifted off the pillows, held up in the air as Dar pounded into her. The bells on the nipple clamps ringing constantly as his hand found a grip on her hair and yanked her back, holding her in place as he thrust up into her, his balls slapping lewdly against her wet cunt. The feel of his hand in her hair, the tugging, the power he had over her, the helplessness she felt only made Lia more wet and more needy for him.

She lost track of what she was even saying, begging for things that weren’t possible and made no sense. She was overwhelmed with pleasure and felt her orgasm building wild and out of her control. The tight coil of pleasure ramping up more and more, each time she thought she had reached that peak ready to crash over, it just kept ramping up, that burning pleasurable sensation growing more tense.

Dar began to fuck Lia with almost complete abandon, surprised that her body could handle so much and that she just wanted more. He could feel her tightening around him and knew she would cum soon. It was a miracle he had not released yet himself as he rutted up into her in exactly the way he had promised himself he wouldn’t. Then he felt it, that flutter in her core followed by a scream and she was cumming around him.

Grunting Dar hunched forward sinking his tusks into her shoulder as he thrust up hard into her spasming pussy, his own release spilling into her, blocked only by the condom he had remembered to put on. He could feel her shaking in his arms, her orgasm just as intense as his own as his balls throbbed and pulsed with each pump of his release.

It had felt like many minutes had gone by for both of them as their bodies slowly relaxed, orgasms subsiding. Dar became aware of himself first and pulled back slightly to survey the damage. He had broken her hard limit, his tusks had dug into her flesh and broken the skin. There would likely be a scar and she was already bleeding from it.

Carefully pulling out Dar moved to the cabinet in the room and grabbed the first aid kit, cleaning and bandaging the wound as Lia lay there. “I am deeply sorry, I lost control, that is no excuse. I understand if you want to press charges and never see me again.” Dar was surprised when Lia began laughing.

“You just gave me the best orgasm of my life, the most intense and fulfilling fucking I have ever had, and you think I am mad because you bit me?” Lia tried to sit up but couldn’t yet.

“But.. you said no permanent damage?” Dar was confused but helped her sit up, holding her gently as he massaged her body, knowing her muscles had to be sore.

“Promise me you won’t walk away. Promise this isn’t just a one time thing, and we can forgive the bite..” Lia knew she was pushing, reaching, asking for too much.

Dar smiled gently at the little human in his lap. She really was perfect. “Then perhaps you should mark me in return, and make this official.” He leaned in pressing his forehead to hers. “When you have the strength, of course.”

#exophilia #orc dom #orc x human #orc boyfriend #kinktober 2019

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knightowl725 · 4 years

Text

Small Steps

Fandom: Critical Role

For Fjorclay Week 2020′s Fake Relationship Prompt

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23779240

Fjord would like for it to be documented on his gravestone--

--one likely in the Clay family’s graveyard, the one he’d only heard mixed stories about where they could make cheeky jokes about him being a Stone and drink tea made from his decaying body--

--that Jester Lavorre was the cause of his death.

“We have to get in if we’re going to get information,” Jester whined.

They stood around the corner from the unexpectedly exclusive tavern, Jester’s third attempt at sneaking in failed. She plucked off the painfully obvious false mustache and frowned at them in a little pout.

“Maybe we can try a more...subtle method?” Caleb ventured.

Beau snorted. “Yeah, us. Subtle.”

“Why don’t I just sneak past the guard?” Nott asked.

“You can’t just sneak in if we need to get information,” Fjord pointed out. “We have to enter legitimately.”

“Well, the guard doesn’t take bribes,” Jester told them. “And none of my disguises or distractions worked.”

From the corner of Fjord’s vision, a familiar pink-and-green giant ambled up to the group.

“Where have you been, Caduceus?”

“I, uh, just went to speak to that nice gentleman at the door,” Caduceus said in his slow, smiling way. “Looks like this is a tavern reserved for specific folks.”

“What kind?” Caleb asked.

“The kind that court the same sex, it seems. Some kind of, uh, couples tavern.”

“Ooh, like a dirty tavern?” Jester grinned slyly.

Caduceus laughed. “Ah, no. No, it seems it’s just for socializing and the sort, but only for gay couples.”

“So a few of us can just pretend to be dating,” Nott suggested.

Fjord turned to Beau. “Shame Yasha isn’t with us tonight. I feel like you two’ve done something like this before.”

Beau, arms crossed, scoffed in amusement, but before she could say anything, Jester cried, “Beau can’t go!”

Silence fell over the group.

“Yeah, Jes, that’s what they were saying,” Beau told her.

A deep purple flush colored Jester’s cheeks. If the group had seen the dynamic between the two shifting over the past weeks, no one had said anything. And based on Jester’s reaction, it was still too soon to bring it up.

“Well, I’ve already talked to the guard,” Caduceus began.

“Which would make you perfect to return with your partner,” Caleb said. Caduceus pressed his lips together in a way that told them he was not planning on finishing his thought that way. “If you’ve already buddied up with him.”

“I suppose…”

“You should go with Fjord,” Beau suggested, earning a bright-eyed grin from Jester. “I mean, since Fjord is so good with people and all.”

“Caleb’s not a very good liar,” Jester said severely, drawing an incredulous look from anyone present enough to actually hear her.

“But Fjord and Caduceus are brothers!” Nott objected, drawing a firm and simultaneous, “No!” from the men in question.

Caleb nodded. “Then it’s settled. Fjord and Caduceus will go as a couple and find out what they can regarding the man we’re looking for.”

“Maybe he’s gay,” Beau offered.

“We can only hope,” Fjord muttered. Glancing over to see Caduceus looking at him with concern, he forced a tense smile and said, “Come along, then, Caduceus.”

“I’m sure you’re going to do just fine, Fjord,” the cleric assured him as they walked off.

“Have fun!” Caleb called from behind them, the final clue that he was absolutely aware of what he was doing.

While the Nein skirted respectfully around whatever was being built between Jester and Beau, they only barely contained their giggles and teasing about him and Cad. There wasn’t anything between them, though. Just a deep friendship built on mutual respect and admiration. And a shared deity. And a continuous warmth whenever they stood close, or met their eyes, or worked together or… Whatever.

They made their way back around the block to the tavern. The same guard stood at the door, a large goliath man who nodded in couples and the odd single person.

“Wonder how they get in,” Fjord mused.

“Regulars?” Caduceus offered. “Think he said something about that.”

“Right.” Fjord took a breath. “Let’s, let’s get going then. Get in, get what we need, get back to the others.”

Caduceus nodded, and they walked side-by-side up to the door.

“Ah, you’re back,” the guard noted. He looked at Fjord.

“My partner and I were hoping to come in for a little while,” Caduceus said with a smile.

“You didn’t mention him before,” the man said.

The firbolg slung an arm around Fjord’s shoulders, a little loosely due to the height difference. Fjord did his best to look completely casual about the contact. “Ah, well. You never know.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. Enjoy your evening.”

Fjord gave a courteous nod to the guard as he stepped aside.

The tavern was warm, a little dim in a relaxed way. There were your standard tables and bar and food and drink, as well as sunken in areas filled with pillows and low tables where couples lounged.

“Doesn’t really seem like the kind of place to be so exclusive,” Fjord murmured, Caduceus’s arm still around him. Gods, what was wrong with him? Between healing and battle and the close quarters of the dome, he should be used to this. And yet, were it not for the grace of the low light, he’d been a blatant deep green.

Caduceus withdrew his arm, scanning the room slowly. “Suppose that’s why they keep it so exclusive.”

“Huh.”

“What was this gentleman like, again?”

“Human. Beard.” Looking around, Fjord bit back a sigh. “Terribly unique. Name is Berth.”

“We’re going to have to mingle, then.”

“Right.”

There was a pause, and Caduceus leaned down, closer to his height, to ask, “Are you alright, Fjord?”

“Yes, of course.” Seeing the frown on his face, Fjord faltered. “I’m just...uncomfortable, I suppose. It’s not you, it’s just...the situation.”

“We could always leave, go about this another way.”

“No. We’re here already, let’s just--”

“Pardon me, gentlemen,” said a smooth voice. They turned to see an elven man, or perhaps half-elven, standing just at their side. He was dark-skinned, with long, curling hair and tight clothing. A bright smile greeted them.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

Fjord felt himself tense, but forced his expression into something more relaxed, a bit perplexed.

The man went on, “I know we’ve all been in your shoes - new place, new crowd, old discomforts. Why don’t you join me and my friends for a drink?”

“That sounds nice,” Caduceus said. “Fjord?”

Fjord smiled. “Yes, of course. And thank you…”

“They call me Wyth,” said the man. He turned and led them to one of the sunken areas. Amongst the pillows lounged five others, two pairs of women and a single man whom Wyth settled in beside. Each pair was in varying states of contact. Nothing scandalous, but certainly intimate.

Fjord turned so that they wouldn’t see him whisper to Caduceus, “When in Vasselheim.”

He let out a low chuckle that might have given them away, but seemed to draw no suspicion. Fjord sat first, taking the last open section within the ring of cushions. The one he found was propped up against the edge of the sunken floor, so he was still able to sit mostly upright.

Caduceus sat beside him, more relaxed and stretched out. His long legs reached the edge of the low table in the center, and he let one arm rest behind Fjord, just touching. Fjord, uncertain what behavior was fully expected, set a hand as casually as he could on Caduceus’s leg. That...seemed okay.

“These are my friends,” Wyth said, half on his partner’s lap. He rattled off names until it was their turn.

“My name is Fjord, and this is my partner, Caduceus.”

They hadn’t discussed fake names, but Caduceus wasn’t exactly versed enough in lying that he wanted to take the risk. Besides, they shouldn’t be doing anything too risky. What was the worst that could happen? They run into people later on that thought they were dating? The entire Mighty Nein already did.

A server came by, unloading drinks for everyone on the low table. Fjord took his to have something to hold.

“Always nice to see new faces around,” said one of the women, a halfling. “How’d you two meet?”

“We’re adventurers, of a sort,” Fjord explained. “The group I was part of, well, I was captured by an enemy. On their way to save myself and other members, they came across Caduceus.”

“It was time for me to leave home,” Caduceus said in his cryptic way.

“And he helped with our rescue. Our paths have...aligned ever since.”

“How daring,” Wyth said.

“Very romantic,” said another of the women.

Caduceus chuckled. “I like to think so.”

“Yes, I’m certain finding me in a dank cellar, covered in blood and dirt and piss was very appealing,” Fjord muttered, taking a long swig.

That earned him a laugh. “You forget I was raised in a graveyard.”

“You two are so weird,” Wyth said. Then he grinned. “I love it.”

As the others laughed and chatted about their own strange encounters, Caduceus gingerly picked up his own tankard and peered into it.

“Want me to get you some water?” Fjord asked. “It’ll, uh, give me a chance to take another look around.”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” Caduceus said, setting back down the drink.

Fjord rose and climbed from the sunken area, focused on maintaining some level of cool.

This was fine. This was fine. Those people seemed perfectly nice. They were buying it. Of course they were. If people who knew them thought they were seeing each other without them trying, then this would obviously work.

It had to be the setting. The romantic lighting and soft cushions and couples and nonsense. And the alcohol. Nevermind he’d had all of one drink. As in, one drink from his glass. It was having an affect, certainly.

Alright, so now even he wasn’t buying it. As he stood at the bar, waiting for the barkeep to get a free second to grab her attention, he allowed himself a moment of honesty.

There was something...there with Caduceus. He couldn’t say if it was returned. Clearly the other feelings were, the mutual respect, the kinship, all that. The foundation, if you will. But the structure being built atop it, well. It was hard to say if it was Fjord’s work alone.

And did he want anything more to happen? Liking someone didn’t mean something should be done about it. Look at Jester! There had definitely been something between them at one point, a seed with the possibility of growth. But then Caduceus had happened and Beau had continued to happen and it just...didn’t grow. He loved her, but not like that.

“Water, please,” Fjord asked when the barkeep glanced his way. She nodded, then continued work on the drink she was mixing.

“Hey.”

He glanced over his shoulder to see a broad human man, no beard.

“Couldn’t help but notice you’ve been standing alone here for awhile,” the man said. “Mind if I keep you company?”

The brief short-circuit that happened any time someone flirted with him shut down Fjord’s brain for a few seconds. The man mistook that for approval and stood a little closer.

Before Fjord could politely send the man away, he felt someone wrap their arm around his shoulder, tighter than before.

“Thank you for getting me a drink,” Caduceus said, close enough to his ear to send an unrelated shiver down his spine. The cleric looked down, down at the human was a smile. “Have you been keeping my partner company?”

His arm shifted, almost more around his neck now, though not uncomfortably so. Just… a clear signal.

“Sorry,” said the human. “Didn’t think he had anyone considering how long you left him here.”

“Water,” said the barkeep, and Fjord took the distraction.

“Here you go, Cad,” he said, handing off the glass. Caduceus took it with his free hand.

“Thank you.” To the human, Caduceus said, “I have enough faith in our relationship not to spend every moment with him. Until I sense he needs me to intervene. Shall we head back to the group?”

“Yes, let’s,” Fjord said quickly, awkwardly grabbing the hand over his shoulder and guiding Caduceus away from the bar.

“Our new friend Wyth happens to know our man,” Caduceus told him softly. “I think I got enough for us to leave, if you’re still uncomfortable.”

His arm still around him, his breath all too close to his ear, thinking about laying side-by-side again, Fjord felt his face heat up. “No, I, ah, would hate to waste this opportunity. We should stay a little longer, just in case we learn anything more.”

“They are such nice people…”

“Exactly!”

Caduceus looked at him for a moment, then he reached out with his free hand to take Fjord’s. His eyes went heavy-lidded as he left a single, slow kiss on Fjord’s palm. Then, he pulled back, freeing his other arm, and smiled. “It’s a lovely shade of green on you.”

Fjord took in a sharp breath, knowing the blushing was only getting worse. “Right. Back to the group, then.”

Still, he slid his hand into Cad’s before they rejoined the group.

Maybe it didn’t have to change overnight, what was growing between them. Maybe it didn’t have to be a structure built, but a garden nourished. It would take its time, in little ways, no matter the teasing or misconceptions.

Yeah, that might be nice.

#my writing #critical role #fjorclay #teahaw #fjorclay week 2020

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fanficimagery · 5 years

Text

Imagine a future Weasley travelling back in time. He refuses to give up who his parents are, but after an incident in Diagon Alley the secret comes out.

Gen Fic X Reader w/ a hint of Charlie X Reader

Every Weasley coming together for all day shenanigans at the Burrow became a tradition a couple months after the war had ended and Fred woke from his coma after having a wall fall on him. And while you weren't a Weasley, it didn't stop Molly from sending her children to drag you to her home. You had been a year above Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but you had been on friendly terms with all the Weasley's.

So for a couple of years, you find yourself spending two nights at the Burrow- the night before Weasley shenanigans and the night of. And though there were numerous rooms, Molly had a tough time pairing people up. Bill, Fleur, and their toddler shared Bill's old room. Percy and his wife took his old room, and Molly reluctantly let the twins and their girlfriends all bunk in one room. And since Molly let the twins bunk with their girlfriends, she had to let Ginny and Harry stay together while Ron and Hermione stayed in another room. That left you with Charlie in his old room and while Molly gushed her apologies, you simply waved her off.

Charlie Weasley only came down for holidays and for the newest tradition now dubbed Weasley All Day Shenanigans. He was rather rambunctious when around his family, but in your shared room he seemed to decompress and knew exactly how to approach you. You let him take the full bed while squeezing a single in between his bed and the wall. It was a tight fit, but your bed was a foot lower than his and you absolutely loved it because you could burrow in your bed whenever Molly threw open the door to wake you up.

But with your bed being a foot lower is what started making your visits to the Burrow a little nerve wracking, all because Charlie moved a lot in his sleep and somehow started managing to fall into your bed while miraculously not squishing you and settling you on his chest. The cuddling sessions eventually moved onto more rated R shenanigans, and it was hard to meet any of his siblings gazes whenever they asked how you had slept.

You and Charlie both made it clear your hook-ups were nothing serious, and actually became quite good friends much to everyone's surprise.

It's just as everyone is lounging around with full stomachs after lunch that it happens. The wind picks up out of the blue and as everyone starts throwing around sticking charms to keep everything from blowing away, a couple of yards away a figure starts to appear from out of thin air. From one moment to the next there's a rather tall red head with a lean build standing where nothing had been just moments before. The head of hair is a familiar shade of red and as he glances around at everyone, his eyes slowly widen.

"Bollocks," the stranger murmurs, but seeing as you're the closest you manage to hear him.

You glance at the other Weasley's, suppressing a grin at Fred and George who are counting their family members before glancing back at the stranger with frowns. No one has any idea who the newcomer is.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley immediately stand, followed by Bill, Charlie, and the twins. Bill takes a stance in front of Fleur and his daughter, and you huff when Charlie shields you.

"Explain yourself, young man," Mrs. Weasley says. "How did you get passed our wards?"

"Uhh.." the kid blinks, swallowing thickly. "Funny thing that," he then chuckles nervously. "I'm your grandson. One of many."

"A time-traveler?" Hermione wonders as Molly gasps, and every other Weasley perks up in interest. She looks his him up and down, and frowns. "I don't see a time-turner."

"I don't have one," the kid says. "A spell was cast. I was the guinea pig."

"G-Grandson?" Molly's lip tremble, immediately believing him. "Truly?"

The kid looks at Molly, shoulders dropping as he flashes her a genuine smile. "Yeah, Nana. I am."

Molly looks like she wants nothing more than to wrap the teenager up in her arms, but Arthur lays a hand on his wife's shoulder to keep her in place. "Who are your parents then?"

The kid's eyes flicker to the other gathered Weasley's. His mouth opens and then snaps shut, his head tilting as he lets his gaze wander. "Before I answer that, can I have a show of hands to see which of you are married?"

The twins snicker before Bill and Percy raise their hands. The kid's eyes subtly widen when no one else raises their hand and then he sighs. "Bloody hell. Mum and Dad aren't even married yet. How far back did the spell take me?" Everyone suddenly becomes more curious, glancing at each other and trying to suss out who spawned the time-traveling Weasley. "Given the circumstances, I rather not say who my parents are or what year I'm from. Should someone figure out my parentage, I don't want to put pressure on them."

"Fair enough," Arthur concedes. "Can we have your name then?"

"Sure." The kid hops to attention and then bows, tilting his head up to stare at his grandfather. "Josiah Weasley at your service."

Molly coos and the others are all mumbling to themselves about the newest addition, but you.. your heart beats faster and your throat closes. You quickly blink your eyes to rid them of the gathering tears and when Josiah glances at you he smiles sadly before quickly averting his gaze.

Things quickly return to being jovial as they realize Josiah is not a threat. He hugs Molly and Arthur, talking about how young and fit they look, and that they look just as good as they do in the future. The twins, Bill, and Charlie waste no time in calling him an arse kisser, but Josiah laughs all the remarks off with a shrug.

Later in the evening when you manage to catch Josiah all on his own, you sidle up to his side and without staring at him you ask, "Your parents don't happen to call you Joss for short, do they?"

Josiah chuckles quietly and nudges you with his shoulder. "Yeah, mum. You do." You inhale sharply and when you manage to look at him, he's smiling kindly at you. "My name gave me away, didn't it?"

"Yeah. It was my grandfather's name," you say, still a bit awestruck. "I always told my mom that if I ever had a child, then I was going to name him Josiah."

"Well.. you had him."

"And apparently he's a Weasley," you grumble. Josiah chuckles and you groan. "And I don't even have to ask which one. I have a pretty good idea who your father is."

"And this is the exact reason I didn't tell you what year I'm from. I don't want to put pressure on you or Dad to.. to, you know-"

"I know," you cut him off, grinning at his sudden blush. Not being able to resist, you reach up and pinch his cheek with a quiet laugh. "Merlin this is so weird. I mean, you're my son."

"Mum," he groans and lightly bats your hand away from his face. "Stop that."

Chuckling softly, you take a step to the side as you hear incoming voices. "Only because I don't want the others to get ideas," you tell him and he rolls his eyes. "Now tell me why you decided to be a guinea pig? Was it one of your barmy uncles? My galleons are on Fred or George. Or Fred and George. They're daft enough to try something like this."

"You always were a smart witch," Josiah muses. "But don't be too harsh on them. I volunteered after all."

"Mhm. Now go mingle with the family. We've no idea how long you're here for so make the most of it while you can."

As it turns out, the spell lasts far longer than anyone had anticipated. Josiah kept quiet on the specifics of such a spell much to Hermione's dismay, and now going on day five everyone but Josiah seem to be on the edge of their seats and wondering when the boy will disappear back to his time. And since they figured out the spell would return Josiah to a specific place no matter where he was currently at, no one could find it in their heart to refuse the newest Weasley when he wanted to go exploring and see everything as it were way before his time.

Everyone had went back to their respective homes and to work, so Molly and Arthur had no problem letting Josiah stay with them. But seeing as everyone was intrigued by the young time traveler, the Burrow was once more alive with noise as several of Molly's children would visit unannounced to spend time with Josiah.

Charlie had ending up coming home to the Burrow a couple days after a mishap at work, and while he could have easily rested at his own home in Romania no one dared say anything after they realized his reasoning for coming back to the Burrow was because of Josiah. The second eldest Weasley had found himself quite attached to the Weasley time traveler and everyone was placing bets on whether Charlie was Josiah's father or just his favorite uncle.

During the weekend once you realized Josiah was not yet disappearing, he managed to wrangle you, Charlie, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny for a trip to Diagon Alley. Lunch and drinks are had at the Leaky, everyone buys a bowl of ice cream from Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, and then it's a unanimous decision to go bother Fred and George in their shop.

You watch as the twins practically play tug-or-war with Josiah, showing him the best of what their shop has to offer. You roll your eyes as they let him pocket numerous products, and you're surprised no one's figured out the connection between you and Josiah with as much as you watch him. Either that or they think you have a crush on the time travelling Weasley which is both hilarious and gross.

The trip, however, is cut short when Ron knocks over some Peruvian Instant Darkness powder. The whole lot of you, minus Fred and George who have to stick around and clean up the mess, rush out the front of the shop in a fit of laughter.

The group is just managing to get their laughter under control when there's an explosion, followed by screams and shouts. Your eyes widen because it's been a long time since there's been any sort of conflict within the magical community, so it's no surprise that you lot freeze before running towards the commotion.

Diagon Alley is lit up with spells flying back and forth, and no one has any idea what caused the mass duel to begin with. Ron and Harry who are both aurors immediately jump into the fray while Hermione and Ginny cast shields to help the unsuspecting witch or wizard.

Charlie subconsciously herds you behind him, and with your wand in one hand you use the other to grab at Josiah's wrist and tug him behind you. Another fight breaks out somewhere behind you and you whirl around when another explosion sounds, this one much closer as it sends a spray of glass over you.

With Josiah not armed, panic seizes you when you see a purple spell being hurled right at him. And knowing that he's your son, all rational thought flees you so instead of casting a shield you shove him out of the way. The spell hits you in the center of your chest and all the breath rushes from your lungs. Charlie shouts and catches you as you collapse, and when Josiah sees you his expression transforms to one of horror.

"No. No, no, no," he chokes, scrambling on hands and knees. Charlie lowers you gently, his expression torn as he glances all around. You open your mouth to say something- anything, really- but only end up coughing blood. "Dad. Dad, you have to do something."

Your eyes widen when you see Josiah addressing Charlie, and it takes Charlie a moment to realize it's him that's being called dad. "W-What?"

"Mum's gonna die if you don't get her to Nana's. Go. Now!" Charlie gapes at you and you can barely meet his gaze as you try catching your breath. Grasping at Josiah's shirt, your son glances down at you with tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He tugs your wand from your loose grasp and sits back on his heels. "Dad's gonna take you to Nana's. She'll know how to heal you."

"J-Joss.."

"Shh. It's okay. Let dad take care of you," he says quickly while leaning down and kissing your forehead. "I'll go grab the aunts and get to the Burrow soon. I promise." Charlie's still a bit dumbstruck and it takes Josiah using your wand to cast a quick protego to shield you from a sudden onslaught of ricocheted spells. "Dad, go!"

One moment you're looking up your distraught son and the next Charlie's shoving his arms beneath your neck and the backs of your knees. "Come on, Y/N. Stay awake," he mutters. "You have a lot of explaining to do, sweetheart."

You're in so much pain that apparating doesn't seem to faze you and then Charlie's grunting as he rushes you through the familiar wards surrounding the Burrow.

"Mum! Mum, come quick." Charlie kicks open the kitchen door, setting you atop the kitchen table before sweeping everything off and laying you out.

"What happened?!" Molly bustles into the kitchen, wand raised. Charlie rips your shirt open and her wand is immediately moving over you the second she's within reach.

"Cutting hex, I think. It was heading for Josiah and Y/N pushed him out of the way."

You gurgle on blood, your nails scratching against the table's surface for something to grasp as Molly starts healing the cuts across your chest. Charlie grasps your right hand and you squeeze his hand in return.

"Go into the cabinets and grab a vial of blood replenisher and pain relief," Molly says. "Shh, dear. It's going to be okay," she assures you when you whimper.

Molly's done all she's can before instructing Charlie to help you drink the potions when you hear several pops of apparition thunder outside. Molly whirls on the stampede that all try to fit through her kitchen door at once, she only lowering her wand when Ginny yells out that it's them.

"Mum. Mum, are you okay?"

"Mum?!" Molly gasps.

Josiah's suddenly in your line of view, grabbing one of your hands between both of his and you weakly smile as he presses his forehead against yours in relief. "I knew Nana would save you."

"What is going on?" Molly then wonders.

"That's what we want to know," Ginny mutters. "Josiah went mad in the Alley. Kept saying his mum was injured and we needed to go, but we didn't think-"

"Y/N is Josiah's mother," Charlie says as both he and Josiah help you sit up, you happily taking the afghan Hermione had quickly summoned from the front room. Several pairs of eyes widen. "And I'm his father."

"Bloody hell," Ron mumbles.

"Out. Everyone out," Molly says. She shoos everyone but Charlie and Josiah from the room. And once everyone is out and you're grimacing as you hop off the table to sit in a chair, she whirls around on the three of you. "How long have you known?"

"Today," Charlie admits.

"Uhh," you utter, averting your gaze. "I, uh, I knew the moment Josiah gave us his name. It's a family name, you see, and I took an educated guess."

"But you and Charlie," Molly then says, glancing between the two of you. "Since when? You've never-"

"Mum," he groans, "can you not? We're both adults. Y/N and I's relationship is very casual. We never expected-"

"You are going to have a son, Charles," she admonishes. "That does not seem very casual to me."

"To be fair," Josiah chips in, "mum and dad are married before I'm even conceived. You're getting flustered for no reason, Nana."

"You stay out of this, young man, and go sit with your aunts and uncles in the front."

"Yes, ma'am."

Josiah is up and out of the kitchen so fast that both you and Charlie have to smother laughter. However, you lose the battle the second he scurries back into the kitchen to kiss Molly on the cheek before disappearing into a room full of laughter in the front. And that- that makes some of Molly's anger dissipate.

Taking a moment to gather herself, Molly finally deflates. "I apologize. I'm not even angry, I'm just- I'm a bit shocked." She meets your gaze, her age showing in her glistening eyes. "I haven't seen this much blood since the war and Charlie looked so panicked that I-"

"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley," you assure her, holding the afghan around your shoulders as you stand up and go in for a hug. "It's all a bit much, isn't it? Me bleeding and then finding out I'm tying down the one son you were always worried about."

"Oi!" Charlie barks though there's no real heat behind it.

Molly chuckles and then ends up a blubbering mess, she wrapping you in a hug and prematurely welcoming you into the family. You glance at Charlie, but he merely shrugs and watches from a distance with a small smile on his face.

Eventually the Weasley matriarch is calm and she's leaving you alone with her son. But before you and Charlie can even talk about all he's learned, Josiah is entering the kitchen alone. "So before I go, I thought I should tell you guys to not overthink it."

You frown. "Before you go?"

"It's part of the spell, I think," Josiah shrugs. "I just- I know it's about to take me. Why? I have no bloody idea, but I know I don't got much time."

"But I just found out," Charlie says. "Do you have to go?"

"Yeah, dad, I do." Josiah stares at Charlie before lunging in for a hug. Momentarily shocked, it takes Charlie a moment to return the embrace, but when he does he's squeezing Josiah as tightly as he can without injuring the boy. "Don't stress about getting together with mum," he then says. "It'll happen when it happens. I'm in no rush to be born."

Charlie chuckles. "I knew there was something about 'ya, kid. I could feel it."

"Now you know." Josiah pulls free from Charlie before turning to you, he then hugging you as gently as he can. "It's time. Love you, mum."

Your bottom lip trembles, but you manage to keep the tears from falling. "Love you too, Joss." A moment after he steps back and your arms fall to your sides, Josiah disappears with a smile. Your breath stutters and then Charlie's there pulling into an embrace of his own.

"Shh," he murmurs. "It's going to be okay."

"I know," you tell him. "I just- it's weird. That was our son."

"Yeah."

"Our son who I'm no doubt going to hex silly in the future when he's old enough."

Charlie chuckles softly. "He was just the guinea pig, sweetheart. Can't hex just him."

"Nope. I'm going to start with your two daft brothers."

"Well before you get hex happy, what say you and I go get cleaned up and talk about the hippogriff in the room."

You groan and snuggle further into Charlie's chest. "What's there to talk about? You like me, I like you. We pretty much knew that already."

"Yes, but we didn't know the extent of our feelings until our time travelling son appeared."

"Lets just take Josiah's advice and not stress," you mumble. "We'll get together when the time is right." You break off, yawning. "Now can you please take me to my bed? I'm really tired."

"Of course. Lets go. We'll explain everything to the family later."

#fanficimagery #hp gen fic x reader #charlie weasley x reader #charlie x reader #charlie weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #charlie weasley #molly weasley #ginny weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley

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ominouslyqueer · 4 years

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Grail had never been as proud as she was when the Council had named her captain of her own ship, making her the youngest captain in the history of the fleet with a mere ten moons under her belt. The pride had mingled with the shock in her core, but was quickly replaced with sharp joy. She didn't mind that it was a simple transport ship, utterly dwarfed by the warships next to it. It was hers, and she would finally be able to contribute to the war that had begun shortly after her emergence from the nesting hive.

No one could quite remember how the war had begun, though her people blamed the humans and the coarse words their species was known for finally causing the fragile peace treaty to snap. Humans had been at odds with countless species since their introduction to the intergalactic community, with the Hundrel people as one of the few exceptions, though that peace clearly didn't last, the thousands of dead speaking to that point.

As the captain of a tiny transport ship, Grail didn't waste time on forming opinions on who started what and who was worse in the casualties. The war had raged for this long, and it showed no signs of stopping. She had a job to do and she would do it.

Her crew had just finished loading the newest shipment human prisoners into the ship, and she was grateful that this lot seemed to be docile, their silence heavy but welcome as her hands navigated the controls. They would be taken to the next galaxy, where they would be kept until they were traded or executed depending on their crimes.

The engine humming warmly, she hands the controls off to her crew, retreating to her quarters to begin her record of the transport. As she passes the containment unit, a few of her eyes catch the gaze of an older human, his weathered face hidden under a dirty beard of matted grey hair. He grins with yellow teeth as he notices her stare, and she flinches, though her teachings remind her that many humans meant no harm by the action. She hurries away, ignoring the concerned glance of her first officer.

The humans had always been more bark than bite. This run would be no different.

---

Kidd's grin is sharp as the alien captain retreats, her many legs moving as quickly as she could without running. Smiling was handy in times like these, friendly to allies and a warning to foes since most other species in the universe hadn't gotten the hang of it. Not much else he could do to the bastards while he was stuck here.

He looks around the hull, taking in the haggard faces of the men and women around him. His crew were tough, but they had been hit with enough force that they couldn't run, and surrounded with enough enemy ships that fighting was a suicide mission. He didn't doubt that his people would die should he ask it, but there were better ways to die than being obliterated the moment they fired a single shot. No, they would live, and if he had his way they would fight another day.

His bones groan as he eases himself down the wall, joints stiff with disuse from the containment cells they had been before. His first mate rushes to help, ignoring his attempts to wave her off in favour of supporting his descent. Hela had always been a worrier, tough as she was. He nods in thanks, silently cursing his age that always seemed to catch him at the worst moments. Here at least he is level with the bottom of the windows, where a gap in the sheet metal gives him a view to the outside.

He had always loved the stars, his mam laughing at the irony of him being one of the few babes still born on Earth, though he jumped on the first ship he saw when he was old enough. He could remember staring up at the sky, trying to count every one he saw, a habit he had yet to break, though now his counting served a much different purpose.

Now he notes each star that passes by the hull, waiting until his count reaches over a hundred, enough to know they were out of range of the base they had left. They had reached no mans land, with no space station or planet close enough to be directly communicated with without at least a several minute delay.

He waits a for a beat, then another, before he starts to sing.

The first words are more air than sound, pushed through chapped lips into the hull, yet they pierce the silence almost deafeningly. His crew go tense, ready as always for a fight but Hela shakes her head, glancing at the guards that stand at the door. Still, it doesn't stop the grins that come to each face as familiar words ring out.

The king and his men

Stole the queen from her bed

And bound her to her bones

The seas be ours

And by the powers

Where we will, we'll roam

With each line his voice grows stronger, the words ringing off the metal walls. The guards shift, clearly put off by this sudden change from the silence before. Their unease worsens as Hela continues, her voice far lovelier than his but no less charged with the anger that fills their chests.

Yo, ho, all together

Hoist the colours high

Heave ho, thieves and beggars

Never shall we die

The chorus repeats, this time with more people joining in, and the man can't help but laugh as one guard rushes out, no doubt to let the alien captain know of their actions.

As the song swells with each new verse, he sits back to wait for what came next, his relaxed pose leaving no indication of the adrenaline starting to pump through his veins.

---

"I don't see why you felt the need to inform me the prisoners have begun singing, Grit. Prisoners do many strange things, singing is almost normal."

Grail pinched the bridge of her nose, a trait she seemed to share with the humans. Her log had been quick to finish, and she had planned to rest now that the difficult part of the voyage was over, only for her crew member to interrupt her first slumber in weeks. His fingers twist together as he averts his gaze, face flushing green but not backing down.

"Captain, it's not so much that they are singing, but what they're singing. I've never heard a song such as this one, yet each human in the hull knows the words by heart. The style doesn't fit any human music I've been exposed to either."

She sighs, but follows him out of her quarters. Her room had the thickest walls in the ship, and it is only once she is in the hallway to the main hull that she first hears the voices. They are indeed singing, the sound rough with untrained voices yet ringing with emotions she can't quite understand. Metallic clangs join the voices, in time with the words and making the song more ominous in turn.

Reaching the hull, she sees they're stomping in time, heavy boots loud against the floors of the ship. Still their voices ring louder, and she can't stop the shiver that runs through her as she is met with a blend of grins and glares from the group, her arrival doing nothing to change the swell of music greeting her.

Some men have died

And some are alive

And others sail on the sea

-With the keys to the cage

And the Devil to pay

We lay to Fiddler's Green

Once more the chorus strikes, now each human seeming to try to deafen them with the volume. One figure catches her eyes, the man from before who had grinned at her.

He sits at the edge of the group, almost lounging against the wall. She would have missed him completely were it not for the hunger in his gaze, as well as the way the group seemed to gravitate around him, both protecting and energized by his presence. He stares at her, and it is enough to push her back to the control room, muttering to Grit to ignore the obvious attempt to put them on edge (as she ignores the fact that it's working).

She scans the controls and screens in an attempt to distract herself from the raging swell behind her. Her attention is captured by a tiny blip on their security screen, barely visible but enough to send a frisson of fear down her spine. She curses softly as her fingers race across the keyboard, searching for the source of the blip.

"Captain?"

Her first mate, Ilso looks concerned, moreso when Grail lets out a soft screech of expletives, a bad habit picked up from some of the nastier human prisoners she had hauled. She turns, stifling the urge to run her hands through her hair.

"Our communication shields were breached, someone is listening to everything we're saying on this ship." Facing the screens again, she tries to push the offending force out of the system but it holds strong.

Ilso chuckles, the sound high and nervous.

"Well I don't know what they hope to hear over this racket. Though I suppose they might this tune..."

His words strike at them both, eyes widening as they turn towards the hull, where the group is somehow still getting louder. She gestures towards the room frantically.

"Get them to shut up, do whatever you have to, I'll try and shut it down here."

He nods and rushes out, gesturing to the guards to follow him into the room. She can't hear what he's yelling over the song but she ignores it for the moment, turning back to the monitors to try and rebuild their defenses. Her fingers can't seem to move fast enough, each wall falling to whatever is attacking them, her codes becoming sloppy and rushed as she desperately tries to keep them out.

Her blood freezes as the navigation system shows a ship appearing next to them, the whir of lightspeed slowing down enough to send her panic rushing through her. Another appears on the other side. The ships are small, but any relief over that is quickly dashed as more keep appearing. They're fully surrounded by the time she breaks out of her panic enough to bring up visuals.

The first thing she notices is how each ship seems almost shoddy in some way, repaired with scraps and peeling paint that seem at odds with the powerful guns they're equipped with. Each is different, the only similarity being the symbol each has painted somewhere, a grinning skull on a black background that rings faintly of a lesson on human history she had mostly forgotten, times of violence and wars on oceans more vast than any on Hundrel.

She's shaken from such memories as the final ship appears, a fleet leader as big as any Hundrel warship, clearly human but also bearing the skull of the group. A few figures hang out of the airlocks, clutching ropes as their skin glitters with the portable containment fields that her people were known for. The large hanger doors lining the sides of the fleet leader slowly open, and she realizes that her ship has been caught in a tractor beam, the fleet leader slowly pulling them in.

She tries the controls, but it's futile, and so she rushes to warn the others. The singing still hasn't stopped, and as she enters the hull she sees that Ilso has been overtaken by some of the humans, the other guards held off by the blade braced against Ilso's throat by the woman closest to the grinning man. Ilso's eyes are panicked as they meet hers, and she is caught in the haze of fear that had been buzzing at the edges of her mind since the start of the fiasco.

"Captain?" Grit hides his panic well, but she can still catch the edge to his voice. "What's happening?!"

"We're caught. Hostiles, don't know their identities other than possibly human. They've been listening since we left the base's range."

She has to shout over the humans, and her words only make them cheer louder. Now the man with the yellow teeth joins in, his voice somehow ringing through all the others.

The bell has been raised from its watery grave

Do you hear its sepulchral tone?

A call to all, pay heed to the squall

And turn your sail toward home!

They're nearly thrown by the sudden stop, her ship screeching against the floor of what must be the hangar. She can barely hear the rumble of the hangar doors closing, the song now seeming to echo louder indoors. Through the window of the control room, she catches a glimpse of the heavy metal doors crashing closed, the sight cementing the shivers she can no longer suppress.

Her eyes swing to the doors of her own ship as the squeal of tearing metal rings out, far too close for comfort. For a transport ship, the presence of prisoners meant they were reinforced specifically for cases of attempted prison breaks, though those were in regard to attacks in the vacuum of space.

Here, they stood no chance to the continuous assault, and with a wicked screech they crumple and fall away. The instant they do, she realizes that the sound of the group didn't increase because of their own voices, but because outside the ship there seemed to be hundreds more joining in, creating an unending wave of sound that rang through the cavernous room.

Yo, ho, haul together

Hoist the colours high

Heave ho, thieves and beggars

Never shall we die

The humans rush out of the ship, several stopping to grab her and her crew to haul them along as they finish the song with the beings outside, their cheers leaving the room ringing with noise even as they taper off. She can indeed see hundreds filling the rooms, swarming around ships and piles of supplies as they rush to greet the escaped prisoners.

It's mostly humans, but she's shocked to see members of all species from countless planets and factions intermingling, most dirty and thin but still smiling wide. She gasps as she catches sight of some Huldren people, seeming perfectly at ease around the humans they spoke with, exchanging jokes and stories with none of the issues the Council complained of.

She tries to take in as much as she can, but quickly she is passed off to some other humans, who smile widely as she and her crew are dragged out of the hanger. Fear sticks to her skin as they're dumped in cells that are completely dark when the doors close. Huddling closely to her crew, they wait for what will come, the remnants of the music still ringing in their ears.

---

"Kidd! You old bastard, I thought you were dead!"

Kidd turns at the familiar voice, leaning heavily on Hela as he presses a hand to the cut on his leg the alien had gotten before Hela had stepped in. He grins at the figure running towards him, finally relaxing at the sight of his old friend.

"Edward, you should know by now I'm fucking hard to kill."

The other man rolls his eyes, either at his words or the use of his first name, but doesn't hesitate to pull the man into a warm hug, clapping his back firmly before pulling away.

"You should just be glad we were listening for your message. Not terribly subtle, but then our folk rarely are." His gaze finds the wound on Will's leg, eyes turning dark as he takes in the sluggish bleeding. "I don't suppose you'll be wanting them that got you that cut to be dealt with?"

He shakes his head, leaning back on Hela as she wraps her arm around him.

"Nah, this was a desperate act of a desperate man, when they found out what we were up to. They were just doing their job the best they could. Same deal as always, some time in the hole then if they want they can join one of our crews or be dropped off at the nearest planet. They seem decent enough, unlike some people I could think of."

Edward nods, willing as always to listen to the older man. Kidd could remember when he first picked up the scrawny stowaway, teaching him how to not get killed as best he could, and Edward still took his advice more often than not, even as his crew grew beyond anything Kidd ever managed.

The three walk down the hall, Edward leading them to the med ward where a few of the gentler folk took care of any injuries, which kept their hands pretty full in this profession. Kidd looks around, admiring the size of the ship.

"So where'd you pick this beauty up? Nearly gave me a heart attack to be found in it til I heard the voices." Edward laughs, looking proud as he glances out of the window, where the rest of the ships can be seen.

"Stole her right from under the noses of the Admiral off the edge of the Milky Way. Close enough to home to make me uneasy but so worth the effort. Plus it's always fun to piss off the army, human or otherwise, makes life exciting."

"Can't argue with that, even if I'm not as spry as I used to be." There's objections from the other two at his words, but he waves them off as best he can. "Oh hush, it's no insult to have managed to live this long. I'm more insulted by the pitiful excuse of a beard you have."

Hela laughs at Edward's spluttering, hands coming up as though to protect the thin black fuzz covering his lower face.

"I only just started this, you son of a bitch, someday it'll be even longer than yours."

Kidd agrees with a vague noise, distracted by their arrival to the med bay, as he is immediately rushed by several of the crew tasked with first aid. His leg is wrapped tight and he's then ushered to a room in the guest quarters near Edward's rooms. Hela orders him to rest and he is left alone, finally able to fully relax for the first time in weeks.

He sits near the windows, looking out at the expanse of ships and space that seem to stretch endlessly. He can still hear the cheering of the crowds beneath him, the celebrations sure to last until the morrow, when he would be better fit to join in.

He settles in, hoping to plan for the day ahead, but his exhaustion hits hard after holding off for so long and he drifts into a restless sleep, mind filled with visions of violent seas that churn beneath him, and voices ringing in time to the crashing waves.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me

#my writing #story #based on a writing prompt #basically pirates in space #science fiction #??#I think #posted it on reddit originally #short story

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