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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Note

"I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met." memory loss angst? 👉👈🥺

anon... fam, this turned into an emotional rollercoaster and totally stole my braincell.

3.8k words. angst with a happy ending.

tw: memory loss, minor anxiety, repressed memories, idiots to lovers, whump, angst with a happy ending, angst with a fluffy ending

---

It’s been three hours, five minutes, and forty-two seconds since the frigid breeze whipped Geralt’s angry words at him, shattering his fragile, stupid heart to pieces. Every syllable rings through Jaskier’s head over and over, slamming into him from all directions and crippling him with a bone-deep pain far worse than anything he’s ever felt before. The ache ebbs and flows, lancing through him with every step. Not even Geralt’s first frustrated blow to his abdomen had been this terrible.

Geralt… That’s the problem, isn’t it? He hadn’t been smart enough to get out of the gorgeous Witcher’s long, silvery hair soon enough. He’d overstayed his welcome, fallen in love in the meantime, and is now very out of sorts (and also alone in unfamiliar territory). The bard laughs but it’s a hollow sound. Jaskier has reached the edge of hysteria, his intelligent blue eyes now vacant and unseeing. Even as he stumbles through the underbrush, all he can picture is the snarl on Geralt’s face as the Witcher yells at Destiny to take Jaskier off his hands.

Jaskier’s own hands are covered in sap and splinters from pushing tree branches away from his face as he traverses the darkening forest. His hair is full of debris and his clothes are torn and dirty; Geralt has all of his emergency supplies, still. Jaskier is pretty sure that his lute is still strapped over his shoulder but he realizes, with no small amount of surprise, that he doesn’t actually care.

He doesn’t have the capacity anymore.

He can’t care… caring hurts too much.

If only Destiny had taken him off Geralt’s hands. Maybe then it would be okay. Maybe then, if Geralt was well and truly free of him and his irritating presence, the Witcher could be happy. He and Yennefer will surely come back around, they always seem to, and Ciri will be joining them soon enough it seems.

There’s no need - no room - for a humble bard anymore.

Only five hours, thirty minutes, and twelve seconds after Geralt’s outburst at the top of the mountain, Jaskier’s delicate human body succumbs to the stress of the day.

He drops to the forest floor without a sound, grateful for the darkness.

---

Yennefer finds the bard in a heap a few miles away from the previous night’s elevated campsite. When she presses the back of her hand to his forehead she yanks it away almost immediately; he’s burning up, and his skin is clammy and sticky with sweat. The feathery bangs he flicks about and preens so much are stuck to his forehead and temples. He’s on the verge of shaking apart and Yennefer tosses her head imperiously, swearing.

“Damnit, Geralt. You and your incredibly foolish need to be alone all the time so you can brood and self-flagellate. Me, an ageless sorceress from one of the greatest magic schools on the Continent? I can handle a thorough tongue lashing. Fuck, I’m older than you and I’ve seen far worse but this… oh, you great lummox. You absolute bastard…” Yennefer mutters to herself as she assesses the bard’s deteriorating state of health, ranting to an invisible Geralt all the while. “You’re absolutely going to be hearing from me about this, Wolf.”

--- Three days, one hour, and fifteen minutes after Geralt dismissed him forever, Jaskier wakes up with a loud gasp and a violent shudder. He blinks slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light streaming in through a window. Whatever he’s lying on is comfortable and the sheets smell fresh and bright, like lilac and freesia. A hint of gooseberry lies beneath it all, delicate and sweet. He glances around the space and finds it to be relatively bare; a guest room, perhaps. Maybe he’s a servant at some noble house?

Jaskier only really knows that his name is Jaskier and that he plays music. He’s also rather talented with floral arrangements.

Shortly after he’s finished purveying his (borrowed?) chamber, the very image of grace, beauty, and terror enters the room. The woman, whose coppery skin and enchanting violet eyes practically glow in the midafternoon sun, smiles down at him in a way that toes the line between Motherly and Shark-like.

“How are you feeling, Jaskier?”

“I’m alright. And you?”

“Just fine. Geralt really did a number on us, huh?” she asks, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. He has the feeling that something isn’t right; she shouldn’t be looking at him so kindly.

Her expression changes from friendly to horrified to confused in an instant, as soon as Jaskier manages to ask: “Who’s Geralt? And, pardon me, but I feel as if something is rather amiss. Who are you, my Lady?”

Whoever the gorgeous and terrifying woman is, she grimaces briefly. Then, as if by magic, the comforting smile returns. “I’m Yennefer, of course. I saved your life a few years ago, remember?”

Jaskier wracks his brain but cannot call the occasion to mind. “Unfortunately no, I don’t remember your no doubt heroic deed. Although I suppose that means I’m in your debt, doesn’t it? Do I work for you? Is that why I’m here?”

The woman blinks a few times, slowly, and then nods. “You’re my gardener and personal musician.”

Jaskier brightens, happy to have found himself in a safe environment.

“But you’ve had a nasty illness and your mind is clearly fatigued. Rest another day or two and then we can see about getting you back into the fresh air.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Jaskier nods.

“Yen is fine.”

“Thank you, Yen. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” he grins.

---

Yennefer turns away to hide her pained expression. You’d probably still be with your beloved Witcher.

She makes her way to the kitchen to fix Jaskier something to eat. He must be hungry after spending three days in a deep, healing sleep. She hadn’t been expecting the amnesia, though; it was an unexpected but not unsurprising turn of events. Heartbreak had done stranger things than a little bit of fever-induced memory loss. When she’d delved briefly into his mind she hadn’t seen any sign of Geralt. His face was absent from the bard’s consciousness; she would have needed to dig to unearth those memories. Whatever the Witcher had done was grievous, especially if Jaskier’s mind compensated with something as dramatic as burying Geralt completely to save itself from further harm.

No matter, she decides, the bard can stay here as long as he likes. It’s the least I can do for all the upset Geralt and I have caused him. Where is that idiot Witcher, anyway?

The sorceress quickly clears her agenda and her mind before returning to her guest room with a large tray of food, a bottle of Toussainti red under her arm. “Jaskier, darling, let’s get your convalescence started in style!”

---

2 months later

---

Jaskier watches a strange man ride up the long path to Yennefer’s manor, the hilts of his twin swords glinting in the sun where they’re slung over his shoulder. He has long white hair and the most devastating jawline the bard/gardener (or ‘bardener’ as he says to irritate his darling employer) has ever laid eyes on. He’s clad all in black, from his plain linen shirt to his tight leather trousers; Jaskier thinks he’d also look rather lovely in dark blue or perhaps forest green.

In front of him, wrapped securely against his chest by one strong arm, sits a little girl with ashen hair and frightened eyes. Haunted eyes. Jaskier’s mind fills with ballads, some familiar and some oddly dreamlike, their lyrics half-obscured and hazy. Ciri, he thinks for no reason. Her name is Ciri. And she is a Princess.

The brunette scurries from the garden alongside the house to the kitchen, searching for the familiar cloud of Yennefer’s strong perfume. “My Lady?”

“Darling?” the sorceress replies, coming around the corner. She raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows and her lips quirk up into a smirk. “Did you sprint all the way from the west lawn?”

“There’s a- strange man- on the- drive!” he huffs. “White hair- horse!”

“Oh,” her eyes go wide with surprise. Then, in a split second, they narrow to slits. “Oh.”

“Do you, uhm, know him?” Jaskier asks, twiddling his fingers. “He’s rather handsome, Yen. Is he a former lover?”

“Unfortunately,” she growls. “I can’t believe it’s taken him two fucking months to get here. He’d better have a damned good excuse.”

By now Jaskier can breathe normally again and he straightens up, shaking his long, shaggy hair from his eyes. “He had a child with him. She looked scared, Yen.”

“Cirilla!”

Yennefer dashes for the front door and Jaskier follows instinctually. They’re always together and he can’t bear to let her confront this man alone. He’s spent every waking moment with Yen since he awoke that first day and she has grown to be his dearest friend; he’ll protect her even unto death. “Yenna, what’s wrong? Who is he!?”

“Geralt of Rivia,” she snarls. The name seems familiar; maybe from a ballad or story? Perhaps Yen has mentioned him before?

“What about Geralt of Rivia?” a low, rumbling bass asks from the front hallway. Jaskier and Yennefer arrive in the doorway together and the man, Geralt apparently, takes a shaky step back. He recoils a bit, as if he’s been slapped, and Yennefer’s smile grows cruel. His voice, still incredibly low but now with a slight tremor to it, stutters out; “Wha- Yen, what is he- Jaskier? I only came to ask for help with Ciri, I didn’t know- I didn’t-”

Geralt’s stammered speech tapers off into silence and Yennefer’s brow furrows a second time. When the sorceress sets eyes on the child, who cannot be more than twelve years old, her expression softens again. Jaskier watches the most imposing woman in the world kneel, taking one small, pale hand in both of her own. “My name is Yennever of Vengerberg, former Sorceress of Aretuza. I am honored to meet you, Princess Cirilla. Geralt has come seeking protection, no doubt, and it is easily granted. I will do everything I can to help you.”

“Thank you, Lady Yennefer. And, uhm… Ciri’s fine,” the girl replies. Her voice is high and reedy, shot through with anxiety. She’s so young, Jaskier frowns. And yet she seems to have weathered an incredible storm.

“Ciri,” the bard bows from the doorway, low and dramatic. He sweeps his arm out to the side and bends his knees as awkwardly as possible, “I am Jaskier, private troubadour and gardener extraordinaire, under the employ of the magnanimous and dangerous Lady Yennefer, here. It is my greatest honor to make your very mighty and very royal acquaintance.”

“You’re silly, Master Jaskier,” the child giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hands. Geralt’s eyes grow wide and dart between Jaskier and the girl. Yennefer makes meaningful eye contact before nodding toward the door. Jaskier looks down at Ciri again when she asks: “Do you grow lots of flowers in Lady Yennefer’s garden, or just herbs and things for magic?”

“I grow lots of things all over the property,” the brunette man steps forward and offers Ciri his hand, gesturing towards the front door with the other. “Would you like to come and take a look? I know all the scientific names, you can even quiz me if you like.”

“I know some,” she smiles shyly, accepting the offered hand. “May I go take a look at the gardens, Geralt?”

“Go ahead,” the Witcher nods dumbly. “Jaskier will take good care of you.”

“That I will. Now, let’s take a look at the flowers and let these silly adults have a chat,” Jaskier grins. He winks at Yennefer and disappears out the door, exiled Princess in tow.

The two lively companions have toured through all the medicinal herbs and are halfway through Yennefer’s large collection of rose variations when the two other members of the party approach. Geralt looks sheepish, his eyes downcast. Yennefer looks triumphant; she is radiant in her victory as always.

Geralt steps forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Jaskier, I’ve come to apologize for what happened when we parted.”

“Excuse me?” the bard chuckles, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, exactly.”

“When I yelled at you after the dragon hunt. It was only two months ago, Jaskier, surely you remember?”

Jaskier blushes, glancing anxiously between Geralt and his friend, whose violet eyes are stormy with emotion, “I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met."

Geralt gasps sharply and takes a step back, as he did in the entryway. Jaskier winces, seemingly on instinct, and shies away from the larger man. “You don’t remember me?”

“No…” Jaskier sighs. “I really don't. Should I?”

“You don’t… You don’t even remember Toss a Coin?”

“Oh, that ditty from town?” Jaskier perks up. “I know that song! It always gets stuck in my head.”

“You… You wrote that song,” Geralt’s face crumples. “About our first adventure together outside of Posada. With the elves and the sylvan...”

“I’ve never been to Posada,” Jaskier laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “They hate bards. They prefer troupes of traveling play-actors. Posada is far too serious for my tastes.”

Geralt seems to be in agony. His chest rises and falls unevenly, as if he’s on the verge of tears but unable to shed them. Can Witchers cry?

How does he know that Geralt is a Witcher? Is it the two swords, the scars, or the strange eyes? How does he know that those are common Witcher traits?

His stomach lurches and he turns away from the group in case he needs to be sick. The ground spins and shivers in little ripples around him, unstable and impermanent beneath his feet. Yennefer is calling his name from somewhere far away and a pair of warm, strong arms are looped around his waist. Still, he can’t seem to breathe. Or focus.

There’s something missing.

He starts to hum, trying to remember the words of that damned song.

The rest of the world fades in and out around him, finally disappearing altogether.

---

He’s gorgeous.

Jaskier shoves another roll into his pocket. His eyes are focused on the man in the corner. He has long, snow-white hair and his shoulders are hunched forward protectively, as if he can hold the world out by sitting by himself. He’s glaring the table into submission, one fist clenched around his tankard.

I want to write him a thousand ballads. I want to know what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning, before he brushes it out again. I want to know if he snores. I want… he stops himself.

He makes his way across the room with eyes only for the stranger. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

The man looks away and Jaskier notices that his irises are gold. “I’m here to drink alone.”

Gods, his fucking voice… Velvet and gravel all at once. Melitele, does Jaskier want. “Good, yeah. Good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance… except for you.”

The man, the Witcher, Jaskier realizes, rolls his eyes.

“Come on,” he wheedles, sitting down across from the gorgeous stranger. “You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less.”

The man’s face stays stoic, expressionless. “They don’t exist.”

He realizes shortly thereafter that this man is not just any Witcher but the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. He could try to disengage himself from such a daunting character; he could easily make some kind of excuse and disappear back to the troubadour’s path, heading towards civilization, but it’s already too late. He doesn’t want to leave Geralt’s side ever again; he wants to write all those ballads he was thinking about earlier, when he glanced across the room.

Jaskier has fallen head over heels in love. ---

Geralt cradles Jaskier against his chest and presses his nose deep into those chestnut brown waves. “Wake up, Jaskier. Come back to me, bard, it’s been too long.”

“Don’t you usually go all winter without seeing him?” Yennefer asks from the doorway.

“It’s hell,” he replies easily. There’s no point in hiding his feelings from her. “I miss him every minute of every day.”

“Verbose this evening,” she remarks, taking a seat by the fire. “He’s dreaming, you know. He’s remembering you.”

“He’d forgotten?”

“He’d repressed it all,” she shrugs. “When I found him that day, feverish and nearly dead on the side of that godsforsaken mountain, he was barely coherent enough to open his eyes. He just kept asking for you, Geralt. Over and over he called for you, reaching his arms up, weak as they were. Gods, it was pitiful to watch.”

Geralt swallows.

“I thought you were going to come back sooner. I was surprised when his memories didn’t resurface after two or three weeks. Short-term memory loss after a fever isn’t uncommon but repressing twenty years worth of feelings and experiences-” she whistles lowly “-it was impressive and tragic, all at once.”

“He forgot me?”

“Entirely.”

Geralt glances down, shame-faced. He adjusts Jaskier in his arms, holding him close and pillowing the bard’s head against his shoulder. “I deserve it, Yen.”

“He’s remembering now, though. He’ll probably be a little less than pleased to see you when he wakes up, but he knows who you are.”

“When will he wake?”

“Can’t say,” she shrugs again. “After I brought him back from the mountain it took three days for him to wake up. The first day was magically induced but after that it was just him… exhausted and heartbroken to the point of self-induced amnesia.”

“Fuck, Yen,” Geralt groaned, pressing his forehead into the soft warmth of Jaskier’s cheek. “How can I make it up to him?”

“Stay.”

“Hmm?”

“When he wakes up and he’s angry and upset, stay. Don’t stomp off or blow up or freak out,” she instructs. “If he asks you to leave, go, but otherwise… prove yourself, Geralt of Rivia. You wanted to be a knight once, didn’t you? Now’s your chance to play Prince Charming. Get down on your lovely knees and beg and apologize.”

“Hmm. How’s Ciri?”

“Fed, bathed, and put to bed. I’ll take care of her for as long as it takes you two morons to make nice again. Good luck, Geralt, I’m sure he’ll forgive you too easily for my tastes.”

She stands from her seat and leaves just as efficiently as she entered, carefully closing the door behind her. Geralt lays Jaskier back on the bed and takes a seat beside him on the mattress, kneeling just within touching distance, should Jaskier reach out for reassurance in his sleep. Geralt closes his eyes and slips easily into meditation.

The Witcher is pulled from his trance a few hours later when Jaskier makes a startled sound and tries to sit up. Geralt opens his eyes and splays one warm, broad hand against Jaskier’s chest, forcing him back against the goose down pillows. “Stay still, Jaskier. You’re feverish and weak.”

“I’m still dreaming,” the bard grumbles, reaching to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s adorable and Geralt grins widely, warmth spilling into his chest from some newly discovered fount of happiness. “You’re being too nice to me, Witcher.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier, for everything.”

“What’s everything, Geralt?”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away when I was angry and confused instead of communicating with you. I’m sorry for hurting you with my brash words and foolish actions; you have always deserved so much better and I’m so afraid that I can never give that to you. I take the wrong step at every turn, it seems, and yet you stay by my side. I didn’t want to risk hurting you the way I’ve already hurt Yen and Ciri, by tying us together against your will.”

“Darling Geralt,” the bard sighs. The Witcher scoots slightly closer and Jaskier lays a gentle hand atop his thigh. “It has always been my greatest pleasure to travel the Path with you and write of our adventures. I appreciate your concern for my agency and wellbeing, dear heart, but I am quite happy spending my entire human life in your presence.”

“Hmm,” the Witcher frowns. “You’re going to die someday.”

“And? So are you. So shall Yennefer, maybe.”

“Not likely,” Geralt jokes. Jaskier grins and the sight of it is so heartwarming that the Witcher wishes he could break down into tears. At least then Jaskier could see just how deeply his feelings ran. “I’m sorry, Jaskier, for blaming you for things that I brought upon myself. I love you dearly, and I hope that someday you can choose to travel with me again.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hope that you’ll-”

“No, the other bit.”

“I love you?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh. Yes, I-” Geralt clears his throat and looks Jaskier in the eyes, gold and blue locked together, “I love you very much, Jaskier.”

“Fuck.”

“May I kiss you, Jaskier?”

“Yes,” the bard breathes.

And then Geralt is lifting him up into his lap, one hand cradling Jaskier’s skull so so fucking carefully. Geralt’s other arm supports his waist, holding him steady. Their lips come together softly, carefully, and Jaskier’s soul spirals up to the ceiling with joy, his body abandoned. He is merely a vessel for the happiness that comes with kissing his Witcher. When they pull apart, both men are grinning like fools. “Oh, dear heart.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Never stop calling me that.”

“I swear I won’t, my love.”

From downstairs, Geralt hears Yennefer mutter, “Fucking finally.”

It takes twenty-two years, seven months, and one day, but Geralt and Jaskier manage to figure things out.

#bounceacoinoffyouranons #geraskier #amnesia #amensiac jaskier #memory loss #rare species fix it #the witcher netflix #the witcher ficlet #geraskier fluff #angst with a happy ending #fluff and angst #whump with a happy ending #jaskier whump #yennefer #yen and jaskier are bitchy theatre bffs #and you can't stop me #anon you really got me fucked up

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

Text

More of Luz is More to Love

Me and my buddy @l-egionaire write a lot of weird stuff together. The following is a fun scenerio that I just had to share with you

But just so you know, it gets LOOOOOOOOONG.

(l-egionaire) Here's an idea: Amity tries to train herself to not be all flustered and jelly legged from Luz showing her affection. It goes.....not great for her.

(Me) I picture her doing this with a Luz-shaped abomination

(l-egionaire) Go on.

Luz-ination: Grumbles and mumbles a compliment.

Amity: Oh, Luz. How nice of you to notice.

Luz-ination: Bubbles

Amity: You really do have a way with words.

(l-egionaire) Unfortunately, even the abomination Luz ends up fluttering her.

Luz-ination: Mumbles and gurgles.

Amity: That's, uh, wow. I, uh, didn't know you thought that way...

Luz-ination: Braah!

Amity: I-uh-wow-um.

(Me) It'd get worse if the Luz-ination actually fell in love with Amity.

(l-egionaire) And it doesn't dissipated. So it just follows her everywhere and tries to hug and kiss her

Luz: You're new abomination...Looks friendly...and also familiar. Amity: Yeah! How funny is that?!

(l-egionaire) Eventually Amity's forced to admit the truth.

Amity: So, um, I was sort of using this abomination that looks like you--Luz-ination--to...practice not getting flustered.

Luz: And how did that turn out?

Amity: Not great. Not only does she make me flustered anyway, but she also fell in love with me.

Luz: What?!

Amity: I know. I'm sorry-

Luz: No one makes a move on my girl!

Amity: What?

Luz-ination: *Gurgles a threat*

Luz: Oh, yeah? Bring it!

The two start to Brawl.

Amity:.......Huh.

Willow: You're enjoying this, aren't you?

Amity: Maybe a little bit. But is that so--

Willow: Yes...it's incredibly wrong.

(l-egionaire) Of course Luz emerges the Victor.

Amity: Sorry about the whole...making a copy of you thing.

Luz: Eh. It's the weirdest magical clone thing I've ever dealt with. But I'm glad she's gone.

Amity: Me too. I only need one Luz.

Luz: Amity, no offense, but I don't think you could handle if there were two of me

Amity: ...Yeah, you're right.

(l-egionaire) Related to that, one day, while playing against each other in a friendly grudgeby game with Willow on one side and Amity on the other, Willow pulls a trick.

Willow: Sorry in advance for this!

She makes a spell circle and creates a bunch of Luz illusion clones around Amity.

Willow: Little trick Gus taught me.

Amity immediately flushes.

Amity: This-this isn't going to work Willow.

Willow: Oh really?

She waves a hand and immediately all the Luz clones come up and start complimenting Amity.

Amity: I-this wont-

Luz #1: I love your eyes!

Luz #2: Your hair is soft to the touch.

Luz #3: I hope to marry you one day.

Luz #4: Can I kiss you?

Luz #5: Can I kiss you?

Luz #6: You're so adorable.

Luz #7: I'm lucky to have a girlfriend like you.

Amity trembles, overwhelmed by the barrage of Luz.

Willow: Just one more push.

She makes another spell circle and the Luz's closest to Amity all kiss her on the cheek.

(Me)And Amity faints because of it.

(l-egionaire)Yep.

(Me) Afterwards

Amity: TEACH ME HOW TO MAKE ILLUSIONS!

Ed and Em: ...Alright.

Em: Wait. Illusions of what? You need to be specific when making them you know.

Amity: ...A person

Em:.....Its Luz isn't it?

Amity: ....Yes.

(l-egionaire)You go on.

Em: And you don't think that making clones of your girlfriend is a little creepy.

Amity: She didn't mind the first one.

Em:

Amity: Don't ask.

Em: Why exactly do you need Luz Clones? You can barely handle the real one you have.

Amity: ...more of her makes me feel special...

Em:.......

Amity: You weren't me when Willow sent a barrage of Luz clones upon me! You don't know what it's like!

Em:...........

Amity: Are you going to teach me or not!?

Em:......I'm going to say no. I don't know if you should be using illusion magic for something that...

Amity: I'll tell you three embarrassing secrets from my diary

Em: Ten

Amity: Five

Em: Ten

Amity: SEVEN!

Em: ...Alright, I'll teach you.

(l-egionaire) So what does Amity do with this newfound knowledge.

(Me)Recreate what happened at the grudgby field, for one

(l-egionaire)A crowd of Luz's all complimenting her?

Amity: I'm in heaven.

(Me) I'd imagine that it actually does get her use to Luz's compliments and affection. One Luz is pretty tame to ten

(l-egionaireIt) would be violently embarrassing to her if Luz walked in on this though.

Luz:

Amity:

Luz #13: Hi, I'm Luz.

Luz #17: So am I.

Luz #25: And me.

Luz #4: What's your name?

Luz: ....Amity?

Amity: I can explain.

Luz: Okay

Luz: Could you also explain the outfits?

Amity looks around at her Luzs wearing cheerleaders' outfits while she's in her grudgby uniform.

Amity: ...I was trying to recreate something.

Luz:......?

Amity: ...I just wanted to stop being flustered around you, so I've surrounded myself with...you.

Luz #17: The wasn't the only reason.

Amity: Shh! Quiet #17.

Luz: A) what was the other reason? B)....You gave them numbers?

Amity: It was easy to keep track of them.

Luz #16: I'm the spunky one!

Luz: What was the other reason?

Amity: ....>Mumbles something<

Luz: What?

Amity: I said I like having more of you!

Luz:......Oh.

she blushes.

Luz: You, uh, you really like me, huh.

Luz #23: Obviously she does, dumb-dumb.

Amity: #23! Sorry, she's a straight shooter.

Luz #23: And her favorite.

Amity: That's not true. That is not true!

Luz smiles. She turns to the crowd of Luz's

Luz: Well girls....thanks for helping with her issue I guess. And for....giving her extra me time.

Luz #8: No problem #1!

Luz: ...I'm not a clone.

Luz #28: No, but she always said you were her #1 Luz

Luz smirks

Luz: Oh really?

Amity blushes and rubs the back of her head.

Amity: Thanks a lot #28

Luz: Ok, I have to ask, how can you tell the difference?

(l-egionaire) You go on.

Amity: They've grown their own personalities.

Luz #16: I'm the spunky one!

Amity: Who also only says one sentence.

Luz #16: I'm the spunky one!

Luz: Aww. She's like a big action figure.

Luz #16: I'm the spunky one!

Amity: She said thank you.

Luz: Still....to be your number #1 Luz even with all these other ones...

Amity: You'll always be number one to me

Luzs: Aw...

Luz #5: Gross!

Amity: Ignore her. She's the grumpy one.

Amity: So...you're not mad?

Luz: Of course not! I get why you did this. Besides, its kind of sweet you'd still love me even if I was a crowd. Though I am surprised you could handle this many of me.

Amity: Eh. It got easier over time...It got easier over time. Haha! I don't get flustered from you anymore!

Luz: Oh really?

Luz calls to the other Luz's and they all huddle and whisper to each other. Then they all form a circle around Amity and each Luz, including the real one, comes forward and kisses Amity.

Amity's face is completely red.

Luz: Still not so flustered?

Amity:

Luz: ...Amity?

Amity falls face forward.

Luz: Amity!

Luz #16: I'm the spunky one!

(And believe me when I say that this isn’t even the weirdest thing we’ve made.

#the owl house #luz noceda #amity blight #lumity #emira blight #willow park

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ofendlesswonder · 3 years

Note

Congratulations on the impending release! That's so exciting. Also so excited to see you're taking prompts - 27, if you're so inspired!

27. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

Cat thinks she’s dreaming, when she sees a cape flutter outside her balcony.

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’d dreamt of red and blue and a sunny smile. Probably wouldn’t even be the hundredth, if she counts her daydreams, the one allowance she’d made, for when the itch under her skin, the desire to reach out and touch had almost become too much to bear.

Had become too much to bear, in the end. Had sent her fleeing across the country to another coast entirely, separating herself from any temptations, from blue, blue eyes and the traitorous voice in the back of her head wondering would it really be so bad, if you told her?

Yes, she’d always answered. Yes, because I can’t ruin her, too.

Not like she had every other relationship she’s ever had. Couldn’t bear to see the light in her eyes dim, for her to become bitter and jaded, and look at Cat like she despised her.

That’s something she knew she’d never be able to handle, no matter how many times Kara had pressed close beside her on the couch, staying long after her work hours had ended. No matter how often she’d looked at Cat like she held the world in her hands, her gaze had lingering when Cat had dared to undo an extra button, knowing she was playing a dangerous game.

The cape flutters again, propelling Cat out of bed, feet sinking into the plush carpet of her bedroom. Her new home isn’t quite as nice as the penthouse she’d left behind in National City, but it’s a decent replacement, she thinks. Carter had taken some convincing, but she knows D.C. has grown on him.

“Aren’t you a little far from home?” She asks the superhero slouched over her balcony railing, pushing open the doors with the palm of her hand.

Kara doesn’t move, and Cat thinks something must be deeply wrong. Why else would she be here, after so long? Why else, after years of silence stretched thin, would she have come to her?

“What’s wrong?” She asks, a silence of a different kind pressing into her ears. This high, the city traffic is quiet, the low hum of the people milling on the sidewalks below snatched away by the wind.

Cat grabs her robe off the back of the chair by the door, steps into stupidly fuzzy slippers Carter had bought her last Christmas. The ones she will never, ever publicly admit to owning, but that she adores slipping on at the end of a long day, and joins Kara on the balcony.

She doesn’t move, remains still and silent, and Cat wonders if she’s finally gone mad. If something in her has cracked, and she’s conjured an image of Kara, a ghostly mirage that will disappear as soon as she’s within arms’ reach.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, when Cat steps close, in a voice suggesting the opposite is true. “Not really.”

“And yet here you are, on my balcony in the middle of the night, for...what? An interview? A catch up? How long has it been, Kara? Four years?”

She doesn’t react to her name, and Cat thinks that might be the most worrying thing of all. A secret she’d guarded so closely, so fiercely, terrified of Cat finding out the truth, and now she doesn’t care? Doesn’t acknowledge it, even?

No, this isn’t the Kara she knows.

But then, it’s been years since Cat last touched her life.

Years, for her to grow and change.

Years, where Cat didn’t know her at all, aside from brief glimpses of news footage, from the articles she’d read, written by Kara’s hand.

The woman standing before her may as well be a stranger.

One she has no idea how to help.

“You were always...like a port in a storm. A safe space to land, a voice of reason when I needed it. You were never afraid of telling me the truth, even if it was painful to hear, and you always knew exactly the right thing to say. And I think I need that, now, because I...I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

She doesn’t look at Cat when she talks, her jaw clenched tight, her fingers wrapped around the bar of Cat’s balcony railing, leaving indents in the metal.

It’s then Cat notices the blood. It’s caked under her nails, smeared across her knuckles, and Cat’s gaze darts over her body, searching for other signs of damage.

Maybe it’s not hers.

Maybe that’s why, when she turns to face Cat, her eyes are dark and haunted, so lost within herself Cat struggles to find a trace of the woman she once knew so well staring back at her.

“Feel what way?” Cat asks, and her voice is hoarse, because, different though she may be, it’s still Kara looking at her for the first time in years, and Cat had known it was naive, moving away to run from her ever-growing feelings, known it was unlikely to work, but it’s only now, four years down the line and feeling like not a single day has passed, that she realises just how naive.

Can Kara hear the uptick in her heartbeat, as their eyes meet? Has she heard it before? Does she have any idea, how a single glance from her can knock Cat breathless?

“Like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.” Her eyes close, and Cat lets her gaze settle on her face, how though she is physically unchanged—something about those Kryptonian genes, she suspects—she looks so much older.

Weary.

Defeated.

“I can’t...I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to. The world needs a hero, but that isn’t me.” She shakes her head so violently she lurches to the side, and Cat steadies her—futile though the gesture may be—with a hand on her elbow, her suit rough beneath her fingertips. “I’m not a leader. I’m not...I’m not cut out for this.”

Cat casts her mind back, tries to remember any mention of Supergirl in the news, recently, that might make her feel this way. Smear campaigns against superheroes are nothing new—Cat could almost understand it, because who was going to stop them if they decided this whole being good thing just wasn’t for them?

But not Kara. Never Kara—red Kryptonite aside.

“They deserve better than me.” She sags when she says it, falling into Cat so suddenly she barely manages to catch her, face pressed into the side of Cat’s neck, and her tears hot on her skin.

“You are the strongest person I know,” Cat says, cheek pressing against Kara’s head, a hand settling at the small of her back, nothing but certainty in her voice, in her gentle grip. “The strongest person I’ve ever met, in fact—and let me tell you, Kara, I have met a lot of people. None of them could hold a candle to you.”

She sobs harder, and Cat breaks, because what is it that’s brought this beautiful, selfless woman to her knees?

“There is no one better than you,” she continues, because she thinks these are words Kara desperately needs to hear. “But you’re right about one thing—they don’t deserve you. And no one is entitled to you. What you do, Kara, putting yourself on the line, day after day, forfeiting your rights to a normal life, risking losing it all every time you charge into battle—that’s incredible. But it’s not sustainable. You keep doing it, and sooner or later, something’s going to break.”

If she’s being honest with herself, Cat is surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. Just goes to show, then, how strong she really is.

“You’ve endured so much. So much pain, so much loss.” The likes of which Cat can’t possibly comprehend, the likes of which she will never even fully know. “It’s okay to have days where you can barely even drag yourself out of the bed in the morning. Hell, I feel like that at least once a month, and I don’t have to cope with anything like you do.” Cat doesn’t know what she’d do, if their situations were reversed. Doesn’t know if she’d be able to cope. “Kara, what...what happened?”

Something triggered this. Something to send Kara flying a thousand miles across the country, to seek out the embrace of a woman she hasn’t spoken to in years. The why, Cat thinks she understands, now. Certainly, there have been a dozen other conversations on a balcony just like this one, though the view had been a little different. And Kara had been different, too, buoyed with the feeling of something new and exciting, invincibility in its most naive form, drawing strength from Cat’s imparted wisdom, which she’d never been truly qualified to give.

She definitely doesn’t feel qualified to deal with this, with Kara breaking in her arms. Doesn’t know what to say to make her feel better, not without all of the pieces of the story.

“There was a fight,” she says, and she doesn’t lift her head, the words muffled against the silk of Cat’s robe. “Nothing special. No really. But he...he was strong, and he tossed a car at me, and I...I pushed it off. Didn’t look where, until...until I heard a scream.”

Kara shifts, leans away, like she thinks Cat is about to be repulsed by her, swipes at damp cheeks with a bloodied sleeve.

“I didn’t notice her.” Kara’s bottom lip wobbles, and Cat has never seen someone look so broken. “I didn’t know she was there, but she...it crushed her.” She clenches her jaw, clenches her fists, like she can change the story by sheer force of will alone. “She’s six years old, and she’ll never walk away.”

“Kara…”

“Don’t,” she says, so viciously Cat flinches. “If you’re about to tell me it’s not my fault, don’t. Because it is. I did that to her, not him.”

“You can’t save them all.”

“She wasn’t even in any danger though, was she?” Kara’s laugh is bitter, and not one Cat has ever heard come from her lips before. “That’s the irony of it. If I’d never been there, she’d have been fine.”

“But someone else might not have been.”

Kara scoffs, takes a step back, and for one horrifying moment, Cat thinks she’s going to launch over the balcony and flee, leave her standing out here with an ache in her heart.

“No one ever talks about the collateral damage,” she says, eyes focused on the horizon. “How many people’s lives have been ruined, because of me? How many buildings destroyed, how many people in hospital?”

“And how many people would be dead, if you’d never started using your powers, hm?” Cat has her counterattack ready, can’t let Kara keep going down this rabbit hole. “Thousands, I’d wager. Or the whole world, perhaps. You stopped Myriad, you stopped an alien invasion. And they’re just the ones I know about.” She steps closer, wraps her fingers around Kara’s wrist, squeezes hard so she feels it. “You will carry this in your heart for a long time, Kara, there’s no way around that. It will hurt, and it will ache, and it will make you not want to carry on, but it doesn’t erase all of the good you’ve done. All the lives you’ve touched, the people you’ve saved.”

“How can you look at me like that, knowing I’m a monster?”

“You are so many things, Kara, but monster isn’t one of them. You’ve made a mistake—a grave one—but it was an accident, and you give up because of it. What you do, is you put on the suit, and you grit your teeth, and you vow to do better next time. You carry on. You persevere.”

“How?” She asks, and her voice breaks over the word, over the plea, and Cat clenches her jaw so she doesn’t cry, because she knows that is the opposite of what Kara needs right now.

She came here because she needs someone to be strong for her, because she needs someone to tell her it’s going to be okay—and mean it.

“Only you can come up with the answer to that,” Cat says, and she wraps her fingers a little tighter around Kara’s wrist. “But I think a good start is, perhaps, a shower. Wash away the bad.” Wash away the blood, staining Kara’s skin. “Come inside.”

Kara digs in her heels. “I-I don’t...you don’t have to do that. I should go.”

“I don’t want you going anywhere like this.” Not on her own, not where there’s no one to keep an eye on her. “Please, Kara. Let me help you. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Why you came here?”

She nods, jerky and quick, and lets Cat pull her into her bedroom, all the fight seeping out of her.

“Wait here.” She leaves her hovering by the end of Cat’s bed, arms wrapped around her torso, and steps into her en-suite.

She turns on the shower, sets it to scalding, and waits until the room is full of steam, until the ends of her hair begins to curl.

When she returns to her bedroom and finds Kara stripped from her suit, she nearly has a heart attack.

“I didn’t want to wear it anymore,” she says, and she’s shivering but Cat doesn’t think it’s from the cold.

“I’ll find you something clean to wear.” Something not stained with dirt and regret. She digs out an old, worn Harvard T-shirt and some shorts, passes them over to Kara and politely averts her gaze as she does so before prodding her toward the bathroom. “Take as much time as you need.”

She folds the suit while she waits, puts it carefully on the chair by the balcony door along with her boots. When it starts buzzing, she jumps, worried she’s inadvertently pressed a button she shouldn’t have. Has she activated a GPS tracker? Self-destruct? Were a team of shady government agents on their way to her apartment to cart her off to a black site?

Thank God Carter is spending the night at his friends house. She has no idea how she’d explain any of this to him.

The buzzing doesn’t stop, so she ventures closer, finds a pocket and a phone with nearly thirty missed calls, and a dozen more texts.

Alex is a name she recognises, but Nia and Brainy are not. Another reminder things have changed, she thinks, setting the phone down on her vanity for when Kara re-emerges. Clearly, she hasn’t told anyone where she is.

“Thank you,” Kara says, when she opens the bathroom door, a cloud of steam enveloping her. On Cat, the shirt is baggy, but it clings to Kara, highlighting the muscle and strength hidden beneath her lithe frame, and Cat chastises herself for staring.

Not what she needs right now.

If Cat had ever had her doubts about Supergirl’s identity, if Kara had tried to argue when Cat had named her earlier, it would have soon come crashing down. Because now, standing in borrowed clothes, damp hair curling around her shoulders, hunched in on herself, the woman staring back at her was entirely Kara Danvers.

Cat can’t believe she’d ever doubted it.

“Kara, does anyone know you’re here?” She asks, makes sure her voice is gentle, and not condescending. The last thing she needs is her feeling attacked.

“Like they’d understand,” she says, voice soft, and that’s true, Cat thinks, because she finds it hard to understand herself. “I don’t want them to.”

“At least let someone know you’re safe? Your sister, perhaps? It’s either that, or toss your phone out of the window.” As if on cue, it begins to vibrate again. “She’s calling for the hundredth time.”

Kara sighs, but takes the call, resignation on her face as she lifts it to her ear. “Alex. I’m fine.”

A lie, Cat knows from one look at her face. She wonders if her sister can tell, too.

“I just needed some space,” Kara says then, and Cat wonders where her sister might think she is. “I’m somewhere safe.” She casts a glance toward Cat, whose heart thuds at the thought that Kara thinks of her as a safe space. Somewhere to land, when she feels like her whole world is falling apart.

Cat wonders when she’d earned the honor.

“I don’t know. Tomorrow, probably. I don’t want to fucking debrief, Alex.” It explodes out of her, so sudden it takes Cat by surprise, her back ramrod straight and her fingers holding the phone so tight it’s a wonder the plastic doesn’t crack. “You saw what happened. Don’t make me relive it.”

Cat crosses the room without thinking, pressing a hand to the small of Kara’s back. The effect is instantaneous, body relaxing beneath Cat’s fingertips, tension leaching out of her with every breath.

This close, Cat can hear Alex’s voice on the other end of the line, tight with worry. “Come home, Kara.”

“Not yet,” she says, her voice shaky. “I...I can’t yet.” She hangs up before Alex can argue, and Cat pretends not to notice her turn the phone off before tossing it onto the chair with her suit. She’d done what Cat asked—and she doesn’t think she wants the sister knowing her apartment is the place Kara chose to land.

Somehow, she doesn’t think that’ll go over well.

“You can stay here tonight, if you want.” Even if she felt about Kara the way she was supposed to—appropriately, for a woman double her age, and a former boss to boot—she wouldn’t have been able to turf her out when she looks so dejected. “You can stay as long as you want, even. If you want a place to hide away from the rest of the world, consider this your sanctuary.”

“Beside the Queen of all Media.”

“There’s a moniker I haven’t heard in a long time.”

“Do you have a new one? Or is it just Press Secretary, now?”

“Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, does it?” If this is what Kara needs, idle small talk in the middle of Cat’s bedroom at a stupid hour in the morning, well.

Cat has never been able to deny her.

“It suits you, though.”

“And reporter suits you, Pulitzer Prize winner.” The flush that stains Kara’s cheeks is expected, but it makes Cat chuckle all the same. “You’ve been doing good work. I knew you had it in you.”

“You always saw the best in me.”

“You say that like it’s difficult to.” Seeing the best in Kara is one of the easiest things Cat has ever done. She’d seen something special in her that first fateful meeting—she’d just no idea how special. How this meek, bespectacled woman with the hideous fashion sense would tip her life on its head. “You should get some rest,” she says, when Kara yawns. “You’ve had a...difficult day.” Something of an understatement. “You can stay in here.”

Kara shakes her head. “I’m not kicking you out of bed, Cat.”

“You’re not—I’m offering it to you.”

“I can take the guest room.”

“There is no guest room.” Cat’s smile is wry when Kara frowns. “Not like I get a lot of visitors. It was three bedrooms, but I turned the third into an office.”

“The couch, then.”

Cat stops her with a hand on her arm when she makes for the door. “Stay here, Kara. It’s fine.”

“Will you...will you stay with me, then?” She asks, in a voice so small Cat feels like her heart is being squeezed in a vice.

“I…” Is there a polite way to say no? To say I can’t think of a more terrible, masochistic idea than that without breaking the poor girl’s spirit?

“Please? I...I don’t want to be alone.” It’s the sheen of tears in her eyes that does it, the wobble of her lip, the desperation in her voice, and Cat tells herself that it’s not specifically her that Kara wants. It’s the comfort, it’s the presence of another warm body, to ward off the chill of loneliness.

And yet, it was her that Kara had sought out.

And that has to mean something, even if it’s not what she so desperately wants to be.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” she says, knowing the memory of Kara wrapped up in her sheets will linger long after they’ve been washed, but knowing, also, that it’s worth it, for the way her face lights up when Cat pulls back the covers and climbs inside.

She has to be up in four hours, she thinks, wincing when she glances at the clock.

Worth it, she thinks, as Kara slips in beside her. Worth it, when she turns to Cat in the dark, and presses into her side, face in the crook of her neck, and tears once again damp on her skin.

Cat holds her, and she doesn’t sleep a wink, even when Kara’s breathing deepens, hot against her skin, fingers twitching where they’re gripping at Cat’s robe, still wrapped around her shoulders.

Cat holds her, and thinks they might not talk about it tomorrow—Kara might, perhaps, wake up mortified in her former boss’ bed, the light of morning bringing with it a sense of clarity that maybe the decision to come here was wrong. Kara might, perhaps, flee without saying goodbye, and Cat may never see her again.

And Cat would accept that decision without question, because for her, this is enough.Stitching the broken parts of Kara back together, being here for her, offering her the comfort she so desperately needed, means more to her than anything else ever could.

#directrix-zelda #thank you 😊#once again...this was supposed to be short #i wrote this entire thing at work today no one tell my boss #supercat #supercat:fanfic

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p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

I’ll Handle This (9)

In Which Plagg cuts the Umbilical Cord

Howdy folks! Thanks for the patience! I like to pretend I’m regular with uploads, but we all know that’s not true. And for a little while, it’s going to be worse. I had a gallbladder attack this week, and I have to wait about a month to get it out. In the meantime, I get sick pretty easily from most foods. So I’ve kind of put writing on the backburner.

Oh, I’m also planning a wedding!

Thanks for understanding and not sending demands for updates!

FF.net | Ao3

—

Adrien was feeling pretty darn good, all things considered.

Ladybug, or Marinette rather, had been so adamant for so long that no one could know their identities. It was a mantra he stuck to, though he desperately wished to know her outside the mask.

With Nino in on the secret, it felt more liberating than he expected. All night, he told Nino stories of his terrible excuses and narrow misses of getting caught.

“I don’t know how I didn’t catch it sooner.” Nino had said, hindsight being 20/20 and all that.

And Adrien admitted that he felt dumb for not realizing Nino was Carapace sooner. So Nino’s guilt was lessened a bit by that.

While the boys talked, Plagg stayed rather neutral. He didn’t divulge any more of his plans or prepare them for what was to come.

Because he couldn’t. Plagg was preparing for several different outcomes, all hindered on many overlapping factors. He just had to hope for the best for now and not stress Adrien out.

The kid deserved to enjoy his first sleepover.

—

Being an ancient being, Plagg’s passive perception was relatively high. He noticed things and had an awareness that surpassed most other entities on the planet.

Though, he rarely acted on anything he noticed, since he could phase out of most danger. It mostly kept him from being seen by people who weren’t supposed to see him.

However, alarm bells were currently going off like crazy inside his—or Adrien’s—head.

Lila was hovering just a bit too closely for comfort.

Though she was usually the main attraction in a conversation, she wasn’t very good at spying. She hovered, just at the edge of the circle, throwing out plenty of ‘oh, don’t mind me’s, but keeping her eye trained on him. She even followed them when they went out for lunch. Far enough away that no one would notice, mind you, but there none the less.

Lila was not Gabriel’s muse. She was his stooge. His little puppet. His meat camera.

As long as Lila was around, Gabriel was aware of every action he took. Who knew what kind of bull shittery she’d pull if he did something remotely different.

But what exactly was she watching for? Just reporting his change in behavior?

Had Gabriel suspected too much?

It was high time Plagg put the next phase of his plan into action.

But first, he needed to throw Lila off the trail.

It was after class, and everyone was packing their stuff up and discussing how the weekend had gone.

This seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“Hey guys! I taught Lila how to play Magic at the last photoshoot! Anyone want to play with her?”

The words were like fresh blood in a tank of sharks. Lila was grabbed and sat down at a desk, as she tried to come up with an excuse to leave.

“Oh, I’d uhh...I’d love to play. But my mom has a doctor appointment after school and she wanted me home...”

“Oh Lila, it’s okay,” said Plagg. “Don’t feel bad about skipping our study session. This is your chance to really bond with the boys in our class!”

Lila just sent him a tight lipped smile.

“Okay, Kim, let Lila use your deck.”

“What? No! ‘Soul Sisters’ is perfectly crafted and only an expert can really unlock its true potential.”

Alix swiped the deck from his hand. “Yeah, you build a deck with all the tig-bitty angel wifus. It’s great. Take a break, horn dog.” She slammed the deck down in front of a traumatized Lila.

Max was her partner. “Don’t worry, we’ll go slow and I’ll explain everything as we go along.”

Plagg smiled to himself, watching as the boys, and even some girls, crowded around to watch.

He then caught Marinette’s eye and gestured out to the hall. There was no way Lila could stealthily maneuver her way over to him without drawing the attention of all their classmates.

In the hall, Plagg took Marinette’s hand and led her away, into a secluded corner of the upper floor. Hopefully, Lila wouldn’t spot them if she tried to do something rash.

“Is everything okay, Adrien?” Marinette asked, her face tinged pink.

“Not...not completely. Lila was following and eavesdropping on me all day.”

Marinette gasped, covering her mouth. “That’s sick!”

“Yes, I agree. I’m not quite sure what she was looking for, but I’m fairly certain she’s spying for my father.”

Marinette squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry, Adrien. If I knew how to help...”

“I should be the one apologizing.” He said, genuine sadness in his voice. He had hoped solving Adrien’s problems would have helped Marinette out, but he worried it would be the opposite.

“What do you have to apologize for?”

He took her hands, holding them delicately in his own. “I told you that I made a deal with her to get you back into school. But…”

She whispered. “Adrien...”

He touched her face, ever so gently, laying the charm on thick. “Marinette, I care about you so much, and if I could avoid this I would, but...”

“But what?”

“Lila’s made it clear that she’s taking this feud I’m having with my father personally. She’s going to take whatever chance she can get to go back on our agreement. She’s going to go after you again.” He shook his head, conjuring tears into his eyes. “I can’t bear to see you hurt by her!”

“Oh Adrien!” She gasped, before throwing her arms around him. “Please don’t cry. I can handle her, honest.”

“I have a plan in motion,” he clarified, squeezing her. “She won’t get away with her lies and harassment for much longer. I just need you to be strong.”

“Whatever you need, just let me know. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know. Thank you, Marinette. Now, I have to go before Lila escapes my trap.”

Her smile was genuine and full of gratitude. “I’ll see you tomorrow then! Bye!”

Eager to take what head way he could get, Plagg pressed a kiss to Marinette’s cheek before hurrying away.

He missed her squealing and dancing after he turned his back.

—

“I really dislike that sausage-haired cretin.” Plagg muttered as he walked home. “It’s one thing to lie to get attention, but for her to spy on us all day? Talk about creepy!”

“Thank you for warning Marinette,” Adrien said as he floated by his shoulder. “I agree that Lila is looking for any opportunity to go back to bullying her. I think with the warning, she’ll be able to come up with some way to protect herself.”

“Nothing against your lady’s ability to find solutions, since that is her job as Ladybug, but I don’t know what kind of back up plan she can have against a compulsive liar. Why is every adult in Paris so gullible?”

“I have a theory,” Adrien suggested. “They aren’t gullible. They just see a pretty young girl crying and they just go along with whatever she says to make it stop. They just assume she’s exaggerating or something.”

“Good observation,” Plagg commended. “I agree.”

“But I think we should put off worrying about Lila for a bit and focus on my father. He hasn’t seen you since Friday morning when you serenaded him. I can’t imagine he’s going to be happy to see you.”

“Adrien, we’ve been over this. I can handle a grown ass adult throwing a temper tantrum. There’s only two things he hasn’t tried yet, and they’re both pretty extreme. I don’t know if he has it in him. I called his bluff before, anyways.”

“What two things?”

“Having me arrested...or getting violent. I dared him to hit me and he swore he never would. I just can’t imagine he was telling the truth.”

“Are you trying to drive him to it?”

“I’m trying to drive him to a place of ‘I give up, what do you want’? Hopefully we can talk, and he’ll come to see you aren’t a child anymore. As much as I think your dear old dad is capable of being a butt head, I think he’s also capable of understanding. He is a successful businessman after all. Business doesn’t come without a little mercy.”

“That’s a...way to look at it...”

At that point, they reached the mansion, and Adrien returned to the pocket.

Plagg decided not to ring the doorbell, and instead climbed the wall.

He strolled very nonchalantly up to the front door, and entered, slamming the door shut behind him.

Then he waited three seconds.

“1...2...”

“Adrien!” Gabriel rushed out of his office. “I didn’t expect you home already.”

“Because Lila didn’t text you with my location?”

Gabriel just stared, slightly wide-eyed and pale.

Caught red handed.

“She is spying on me for you, right? This isn’t just her stalking me on her own. She’s not smart enough for that.”

“I—“

“So what? You don’t know how to communicate with me so you go to the only person in my class that I not only dislike, but has a record of compulsive lying? Seriously? You thought that was your best option?”

“You do not get to lecture me about my choices!” Gabriel barked.

But Plagg just shook his head. “You make no sense to me.”

“My decisions and actions don’t have to make sense to you. You are my child, and you will obey me! Do you understand?”

Plagg just gave him a patient smile. Arguing with him never went anywhere, because Gabriel always turned his ears off the second Adrien said something he didn’t want to hear.

Which was anything that wasn’t “yes sir.”

“I understand what you want. But I can’t give it to you. You haven’t listened to what I’ve said. You’re so caught up in injustice, that you haven’t seen how your yelling has affected me. I’m just pulling farther and farther away. Do you want to lose me for good? Is that what you want? Because that’s the road you’re heading down. I’m 15 now. Three years of this, and I could easily move away and never speak to you again after how badly you’ve treated me.”

“I do not treat you badly! Have you ever gone without food? Without a soft bed? Without clothes or showers? No! You have it better than most people in this city.”

“You’re right, I should be without want or need. But you’ve severely neglected my heart. Gabriel, I’m lonely, and sad. I’m disappointed every time you break a promise. I can go anywhere and have food and shelter and whatever, but only you can give me the love of my father.”

Gabriel was silent at this, staring at his son, his lips in a firm line.

“So I’m going to go. I’m staying with some friends for a while. Just to give you a taste of what it’s like without me. If you like it, then, when I’m 18, I’ll leave, and never come back.”

Gabriel looked to the ground, but found himself unable to say anything. Plagg ascended the stairs, and went into Adrien’s room.

“I don’t want to leave…” Adrien said, quietly. “I’d rather stay and…”

“And do nothing?”

Adrien looked away.

“Look,” said Plagg, directing his chin up. “Your father is a hard nut to crack. We just have to push harder and harder. Do you still trust me?”

“What choice do I have?”

“It’s going to be okay, kid.” He rubbed his thumb over his whiskers. “I promise.”

He packed up his duffel that he had taken for his sleepover, and came back down the stairs.

Gabriel was right where he left him. “So, you’re going? Just like that?”

“At this point, I think it’s for the best. Just for a little while. Give us both some perspective.”

“You’ll regret it,” he warned.

“Maybe. But what’s there to learn from if I don’t make mistakes?”

Gabriel didn’t stop him as he walked out the door.

After he left, Nathalie emerged from the office. “Your son is surprisingly mature for his age.”

“No, he’s stubborn. Just like his mother. I give him three days before he comes crawling back.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll make him come back.”

—

Chat Noir bounded over rooftops at sunset. He had a destination in mind, and getting spotted by Lila or one of Gabriel’s other goons would ruin it all.

After traveling in circles, he finally reached the Lahiffe house and stopped on the fire escape outside Nino’s room.

Nino looked up at the sound. “Oh dude!”

“Nino Lahiffe, the time has come.” Said Plagg in his ancient voice. “This is the Miraculous of the Dude.” He opened his hand to show a single Hersey’s kiss. “You will use it for the greater bro-kind, and let me crash here for the foreseeable future, as I have run away from home.”

“Dude...” Nino took it reverently. “I will fulfill my sacred oath...but you should probably come in through the front door, and we should kind of explain this to my mom, or she’s going to wonder how you got in the house.”

“True. Meet you downstairs in five!”

—

Marinette laid in her bed, eyes trained to the sky through the sky-light, hands clutching a pillow tightly to her chest.

She sighed.

The sound made Tikki roll her eyes. She knew Plagg was hamming it up, but did he have to be so…charming?!

“Tikki…” Marinette announced, after mooning for over an hour. “I think…I think I can tell him tomorrow.”

The words were music to her ears! Finally! “You can do it Marinette!”

Then a shadow passed Marinette’s face as the worst past through her mind. “But what if he hasn’t been earnest? What if the way he’s been acting has just been to get back at his father or Lila?”

Tikki almost groaned. “Marinette, Adrien loves you. He really really loves you! The way he pulled you aside today and warned you about what was going to happen with Lila? He didn’t do that for anyone but you. That was real care! The longer you beat around the bush, the more you’re putting off your own happiness. And you don’t want that, do you?”

Marinette sat up, resolve hardening. “Tomorrow then. I’ll tell him tomorrow, and get my happily ever after.”

#ml #miraculous ladybug #adrien and plagg #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #fanfiction #I'll handle this

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theriverpersonshadow · 3 years

Text

Lamia Drama 3

For anyone who hasn’t realized, we keep changing perspectives. Time to hear from Nikolai!!!

(I’m writing this instead of my book. Help.)

Lamia designs/species belong to @vex-bittys

< PREV | NEXT >

Nikolai narrowed his eyesockets at the two intruders: a stranger and Keith. Keith had – presumably – been broken of his tendency to eat eggs and the occasional youngling long ago, but Nikolai was taking no chances with the brood. Bitties and full sized lamias alike were chirping and hissing in the nursery, some waiting for siblings to hatch, and Nikolai would violently murder anyone who harmed them.

His mighty glare and splayed hood was enough to get the human to slowly back out of the room, door clicking shut. Keith however was either unphased or just really good at hiding it. Honestly no one, not even Hux, was sure which anymore.

Keith’s eyelights went to the squirming children in Nikolai’s grip and he chuckled, “You, uh, need an extra hand?”

“No,” Nikolai hissed despite very much needing one. One of the baby pygmies had managed to wrap around his neck, little hands trying to catch the lights inside his eyesockets. Nikolai – and most everyone in all honesty – would never tolerate this in most cases, but they were literally just hatched yesterday, they hardly knew better. Another pygmy was hiding under his shirt and trying to squirm into his ribcage while his hands were full with the remaining baby who was hell-bent on trying to investigate this New Thing. They were so curious, it was adorable, but sometimes it gave him a heart attack. Keith could probably be trusted, sure, but maybe he was wrong if he was bringing random strangers into the nursery.

“You sure?” Keith asked, a grin splitting his face and a hand coming up over his mouth as he clearly tried to stifle laughter.

“Yes.”

King lets out a clearly very dignified yelp as the Pygmy’s hand reaches its goal, shoving itself into his eyesocket. Instinct alone keeps him from dropping the baby in his hands, though he has to quickly resituate the squirming child to free up a hand so he can remove the philanges from his eyesocket. (He opts to ignore Keith’s bouts of laughter at his plight, unhelpful ass). He loudly hisses in warning – not that he’d ever hurt the kid, but he couldn’t very well let this be considered acceptable – and sternly says, “No.”

The Pygmy cries out in protest, hands flailing about in an attempt to get inside his skull again. Nikolai sighs and puts him in the Time Out Tank. Nothing cruel of course, it’s plenty big for a baby lamia, having a small tree to climb on, some sand, and a few plants, but the Pygmy starts yelling and pushes himself to the glass.

Nikolai rolls his eyes, “You need a nap.”

“Oh my god you’re such a mom,” Keith wheezed between laughter.

“Well someone has to be.” Technically they had handlers for this, volunteers and workers to help socialize the children, but they didn’t know how to do it right! No, clearly this was a job for a King. Alesha was too soft on them, Katlyn thought giving week old hatchlings a phone was considered acceptable, Josh had a bad habit of losing track of bitties (though Nikolai would reluctantly agree he was good with the full sized children), and Drew should really get another job because he can’t handle even a baby bitty baring fangs at him; he’d been here one week and everyone was already questioning his life choices.

Nikolai put the other two Pygmys back with the rest of their kind. It was a full sized playpen with a bunch of toys to stalk, wrap around, and chew on. Nikolai could watch them all day, but there were far more than just them after all, and he had a discussion to have…

“Keith. What exactly were you thinking?” Nikolai hissed. The words what the fuck were on the tip of his tongue, but they were in a room full of children.

“About what?” Keith said.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Don’t have to play dumb.”

Nikolai rolled his eyes, massaging the bones between his eyes. “What in the world would possess you to bring someone back here?” They would’ve told him if there was a new worker or volunteer coming in, right?

“I mean, hey, they have to get used to people, right? She’s a bit weird, but seems sweet,” Keith said, shrugging his shoulders and idly watching some Bitty Cornies fuss as they all tried to take a nap on the same heat rock, squirming about and pushing each other off with offended little hisses and chirps.

“And you’ve known her how long?” Nikolai said. He didn’t recognize her scent at all, but maybe it was an online friend? Still, that’s dangerous if they only just met for real.

“Uh…” Keith looked to the side, huffing. “She wants to play DnD with us dude. Figured I’d take her around and say hi. We’ll get to know her.”

Nikolai sighed, putting his hand on his face. “So you don’t know her.”

“Nah.”

“You could’ve asked me to step outside to meet her.” He cared for Keith, he did, but this was idiocy…

Maybe too much idiocy. Keith could be a bit odd sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. Or at least not stupid enough to bring a stranger into the nursery, not unless his master plan was to try to get her mauled. Oh sure, he was friendly and generally pretty relaxed (save for the random bouts of “zoomies”), but not unwary or naïve. So what in the world would get into him to just immediately accept some random person…

Oh.

Nikolai’s eyes widened as something clicked in his mind. “Is she yours then?” He was well aware of Chains’ soul bonds. He’d raised no small number of them, hugging them goodbye as they left with happy partners in a process that always felt too fast, but he rarely heard of any ill relations or had one returned, something he couldn’t say the same for with other breeds. Maybe he didn’t understand it fully, maybe he’d never have the instant connection and magical bond, but he was happy for them, really.

“I literally just met her,” Keith said in a blatant not-answer.

“… She is, isn’t she?” Nikolai said. He smiled softly, going over to hug Keith close, coils entangling and all forgiven. That said, his soul hurt at the idea of Keith leaving. Nikolai had only been a preteen himself when Keith first hatched, they’d practically grown up together. After all these years, it’d just seemed like Keith would be there permanently, holding DnD for himself and others until he got too old to do so. But asking him to stay was cruel, the very thought stirring up guilt. He should be happy for Keith, right? The old snake had finally found his person, this was great! They’d miss him terribly, but it wasn’t fair to force him to stay…

Keith sighed, relaxing into Nikolai, “Yeah.” He didn’t sound all too thrilled.

“… Is something wrong?”

“I dunno. Like, I guess I’ve found her or something, at least it feels like it, but it’s not like I want to leave.”

Nikolai’s soul jumped in his chest, but he kept his desire to grin giddily down. “You don’t have to stay, you know?”

“I mean, that’s her call, right? Doubt the working people would let me keep homing here if they knew. She hasn’t said anything yet though, so who knows. Maybe I’m defective.”

“You’re not defective!” Nikolai snapped, rubbing the back of Keith’s head. “If anything, she’s the problem then!” He would NOT allow this woman to make Keith feel bad about himself, intentionally or not.

Keith chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, guess you have a point there. I don’t think she’s bad though, but guess we’ll play it by ear? Or, uh, whatever we have. Still not sure how that works.”

“Magic.”

“Yeah, that.”

Nikolai chuckled, loosening up around Keith. “So… she’s playing DnD with us then?”

“Yeah. Or, well, we’ll have to work everything out still. She can’t play too late, has to get up early, and I figure maybe we can start a side-campaign with her? If everyone’s down for it.”

“I’ve been wanting to try some new characters anyways,” Nikolai said. A perfect compromise then. Keith and his person would get a chance to bond over something they apparently both enjoyed, Nikolai wasn’t about to take that away from him. “I should probably apologize to her on that note. I might’ve overreacted…”

“Nah, you couldn’t have known. I should’ve warned you that I was going to do something stupid,” Keith said with a grin, shrugging. “Whatcha thinking of playing?”

“I’m considering broadening my horizons some. Getting out there. Maybe a Rogue. Or a Barbarian.” Both were a far cry from the life clerics and paladins he personally preferred, but maybe it’d be fun to do something a little more… destructive.

Keith whistled, “Daaaaang, you really are looking to branch out. Proud of you Nick.”

Nikolai straightened up a little, flaring his hood just enough to show off. “Why thank you.”

“Now c’mon, let’s go say sorry and round up the rest. I sent Hux to look for Liam, that leaves Trousle.”

Because they all knew Oozy was in his hammock.

#Lamia Drama #Lamia bitties #Vex Bitties #King bitty #Chain bitty #Despite none of these being bitties #Except some background cornies #And Trousle who hasn't even shown up yet #Nikolai is that one mom friend #baby snake shenanigans #pygmy get your hand out of his eyesocket #sneks #bittybones #But bigger #fanfic #Idk i got possessed and wrote this #For some reason I decided to write a fanfic partly centering around a blatant self insert and tell it from every perspective #EXCEPT the self insert

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seyaryminamoto · 4 years

Text

Matching Heartbeats: Sokkla Saturdays 2020

Day 2: “As if that would happen“

On FF.net//On AO3

The discomfort had been bad enough long before it started to be accompanied by pain: Azula gritted her teeth, bearing with the unpleasant, involuntary shudders of her lower body while clinging tightly to the firm, calloused hand that held hers.

"It's… a bad one. Damn it…" Azula gasped, shutting her eyes tightly.

"Breathe, love. Just breathe through it, like you did with the last one… you're my hero, you know? Putting up with all this…"

"For the second time… if I may add?" Azula hissed, wincing at one more painful shudder before whatever had clenched up inside her body loosened up at last: the pain receded gradually, and she sighed as she sank into the pillows, breathing heavily while still gripping that same hand as hard as she had needed to.

So far, he hadn't complained about the pain a single time. It would be strange to Azula, for Sokka often complained about any form of pain anyone inflicted upon him… but watching her writhing as each contraction took hold of her body appeared to hurt him far more than a few paling fingers could.

"S-sorry…" she said, regardless, releasing his hand despite he didn't make any moves to suggest he needed her to let go.

"And why are you apologizing, exactly?" Sokka smiled, reaching up to stroke her disorderly hair gently. "What you're going through… I'm pretty sure what you're doing to my hand can't even be a fragment of what you're enduring."

"Heh… must be I've been weakened by the contractions, then," she mumbled. Sokka chuckled and shook his head. "Here I thought I was exerting all my strength in holding your hand, but it turns out it's not even a fragment of what I'm going through…?"

Sokka rolled his eyes, prompting Azula to chuckle. She had meant to tease him: it was more than a bit unnerving to see him so serious and tense, even if she knew the situation warranted it. Messing with him, however lightly as it might be, would ease her heart far more effectively at this stage than anything else she could think of.

Naturally, Sokka retaliated against her words by showing her his right hand: indeed, the area Azula had gripped the tightest was paler than the rest of his hand and arm, and she bit her lip somewhat guiltily as Sokka leaned closer to her, still holding up his hand between them.

"I'm seriously expecting my hand to fall off at this rate, Azula. And yes, it hurts like hell, and I'm willing to lose it if that's what I have to do for you. But, besides that? I'm damn sure what you're going through is a thousand times more painful than losing a hand would be. So yeah, I know you love playing around with my words, but you know exactly what I was trying to say, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Azula smiled, closing her eyes as she tried to relax – as much as someone with a nine-month-old baby bump could relax. "But I like teasing you far too much. Plus… I have no idea if my grip is really that strong right now, Sokka. When the contractions hit that hard, it's not easy to focus on anything else… so I figured, despite I knew what you meant, that maybe I am a little weaker anyway."

"Heh, you? Weak? As if that would ever happen," Sokka smiled, reaching up to stroke her hair. "You're my hero, you know. I say it all the time, but still… you've put up with every challenge life has thrown at you and you've come out on top every time…"

"Eh? Not quite sure of that," Azula grimaced. "Sometimes I didn't wind up in the best of shapes, as you well know…"

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure you're the only person who's stared Death in the face as many times as you have and told him: 'You know what? Try a little harder next time', so…"

Azula couldn't hold back a chortle before a spring of laughter burst from her lips. Sokka smiled, watching her laugh at first before joining her with a few soft laughs of his own. His hand, weakened as it was, reached for hers all the same. Her fingers, so desperate, urgent and violent before, now smoothly caressed the back of his hand, and Sokka wasn't sure whether she sought comfort in their touch, or if she meant to reassure him instead.

"That's a lie, and you know it," Azula finally said. Sokka huffed, eyeing her skeptically.

"No, it's not," he declared, proudly.

"If I'd truly stared Death in the face, no matter how many times I allegedly did, and said such words to it? I'd likely have been inspired by your example in doing so," Azula smiled. "So… the lie isn't really that I wouldn't do that to Death, it's that I'm hardly the only person who does that."

"Eh… fine, then. If you insist, but my point still stands: you're strong as hell, no matter what you say," Sokka said, smiling warmly as his free hand stroked her hair once more. Upon finding a few droplets of sweat on her forehead, Sokka reached quickly for a small towel they had kept on the bed's nightstand, for the very purpose of drying Azula's brow whenever she needed it.

He dipped the towel in the basin, half-filled with cool water. Where Azula normally recoiled from cold things, she sighed in bliss at the touch of that fabric against her heating forehead. Sokka smiled warmly at her, as Azula released a deep breath, nestling as comfortably as possible in the mattress. Her thumb brushed his hand, and as gentle and sweet as the touch of the towel might be, Azula's brow was furrowed once he pulled it away.

"Another one?" Sokka asked. Azula shook her head lightly.

"Just… I guess it's dumb to worry about this now, isn't it?" she mumbled. "We're at the final stretch of the race, after all. But I can't help but wonder if… if we're truly ready for this. We've managed so far, with just one child, but do you really think we can handle ourselves, our responsibilities, while also raising two kids? I mean, there's no choice but to do it, but…"

"But you're worried," Sokka said. Azula swallowed hard and nodded. "Well… it's only natural to worry, I'd think. I'm not sure anyone can feel wholly confident about their ability to raise a little tyke all the way from being a toddler to adulthood, you know? I'd be surprised if anyone was that sure of themselves…"

"I'm just afraid of… of making the same mistakes they did," Azula whispered. "My parents…"

"Oh, well, now that's not something you should worry about," Sokka said, with a heartfelt smile. "You've already proven you're a thousand times the parent either of them could hope to be…"

"With one kid? Yes. Can it be the same with two?" Azula mumbled. "I mean, I'll try my best, but… that's where a lot of families seem to fuck up. Mine did, for sure. I know yours didn't, but still…"

"You're definitely underestimating just how good a mother you are," Sokka answered. "I'm pretty sure you'll never mess up the way they did. But, if you really need it… I guess I'll try to reassure you by promising that, if I ever think you're taking after either of them, I'll stage a full-blown intervention."

"Ah? That sounds dangerous," Azula smiled. Sokka nodded pompously.

"I'll lock us up in our room, and after I work out all your frustrations in the best possible way…"

"Oh no, please don't say that. Now I'll start wanting to be a bad mother just so you can do that…"

Sokka snorted and laughed halfway through his explanations. Azula smirked at him and he shook his head, forcing himself to focus anew.

"And after that's done, we'll talk things through and we'll figure out what we're doing wrong so we can start doing it right once we leave the room. See? Easy-peasy," he said, grinning. Azula sighed and smiled warmly at him.

"I really don't think it'd be that easy, but sometimes you believe in me so wholeheartedly that I can't help but trust you completely. It's terrible," she said, prompting him to laugh anew.

"I think your instincts trust my instincts, and that's what makes this marriage work perfectly," he decided, leaning close to press a kiss to her brow. "We'll do right by our new kid, Azula. We won't let anything go wrong. The Royal Family is revitalized, changed, renewed as it is… all the bad blood, the nasty stuff that plagued you as a kid, is long gone now. You'll be okay, and our little ones will be too. I'm sure of it."

"I wonder if anyone in this whole world has ever had as much faith in someone as you do in me…" Azula smiled affectionately, cupping his cheek. "I hope I'll never give you reason to stop believing in me…"

"Heh. As if that could ever happen," Sokka said, again, and Azula chuckled, shaking her head.

"Is that how you'll answer everything I say now?" she asked. Sokka failed to bite back a grin. "How about if I say I'm afraid you might not find me appealing anymore after my body's many changes, now that I've gone through two pregnancies?"

"Ha! That one deserves it more than the previous things you've said: as if I could ever, EVER, find you any less appealing, Azula," Sokka hissed, kissing her lips quickly as she laughed.

"I suppose, if you'd kiss me when I look like this, it must be true…" she mused. "I must look like a wreck, lying here as I am…"

"You're even more beautiful today than ever before, no matter how many pregnancies you've been through, or how many years have gone by…"

"How much weight I've put on? Granted, it's also because I was pregnant, but…"

"Didn't I tell you enough times that that's no reason to love you any less?" Sokka smiled. Azula bit her lip but grinned too.

"Fine, then. I'll stop testing you. You've become too skilled at fielding my verbal attacks…"

"It was about time I did, wasn't it?" Sokka laughed, stroking her hair. "We've been together forever now. If I couldn't hold my own in our arguments you'd likely have grown bored of me by now."

"Eh. Probably," Azula acknowledged, smirking mischievously as Sokka chuckled and pressed his brow to hers.

"I love you more every day that goes by," he whispered. "And moments like these only make me love you even more than I already did before."

"I sure hope so…" Azula said, and the edge of her smile waned as it softened into a gentle grin. "Because, loving you any less? As if that could ever happen."

"Ah? Are we really going to play that game with each other now?" Sokka chuckled. Azula grinned and shrugged innocently. "Well, then…!"

He didn't have a chance to tease Azula with that phrase again, for the sound of the opening door of Azula's assigned room cut off Sokka's words. He glanced back, and his lighthearted mood shifted once his blue eyes met his sister's own.

"Okay… our half hour's up. Did you have more contractions?" Katara asked, glancing at Azula, who nodded almost shyly.

"There was one just a moment ago. It was… intense," Azula said, unwilling to acknowledge how painful it had been. Projecting strength was a wasted ordeal, she knew, especially when Katara was going to witness the birth of her second child in a matter of hours, or less than that, and no moment in a mother's life could be as vulnerable as that… but it wasn't easy to break old habits nonetheless.

"Then I guess this is probably it," Katara sighed, biting her lip as she glanced at her brother. "Sokka…?"

"Y-you sure I can't stay?" he asked, eyeing Katara desperately now. "I… I'll be good. I promise I won't cause trouble, I just want to help…"

"Oh, Sokka…" Katara sighed, stepping closer to her pouting brother, who slouched in his chair, right beside Azula, for he knew his sister's voice tone could only herald a negative answer to his request. "You've seen a lot of stuff, I'll give you that… but I don't think you, of all people, can watch your wife go through excruciating pain without losing your mind. So… no. You really can't stay."

"I could try…" Sokka whimpered, though Azula laughed beside him.

"It might be good if you leave. You really might be so disgusted by birthing you'll choose not to sleep with me ever again…"

"Okay, now that's even worse than the last one! As if that could ever happen, Azula!"

"Uh, I'm still here, remember? I absolutely don't need to hear you two talk about your sex life, thank you very much," Katara said, with a disgusted twitch of her eyebrow. Azula couldn't help but laugh at her sister-in-law's expression, and Sokka huffed while rolling his eyes at Katara.

"Right, because Azula's about to give birth to our second kid because a spirit somehow induced pregnancy miraculously in her!" Sokka said, smirking sarcastically.

"Eh, if anything the most fun part of pregnancy is the means through which you get knocked up, it's true…" Azula smiled, and Sokka snickered in her direction as Katara shuddered, making exaggerated gagging noises.

She made her way to the nearest window, feigning to puke through it while Sokka and Azula laughed at her dramatic acting. Still, as amusing as Katara's reaction was, they both knew she was only helping them stall, letting them have just another short moment together, if nothing else.

"Well… sounds like I can't convince her, or you, after all. But hey, I'll be standing right outside the door. I'll be so close it'll be as if I'm in here anyway," Sokka declared, pouting a little. Azula laughed and nodded, clasping his hand in hers again.

"Then you'll be within range to hear me scream like a dying ostrich horse once the worst of it begins. Sweet," she said, raising her eyebrows in his direction. Sokka snorted at the comparison she had drawn, shaking his head and kissing her brow.

"Want me to scream right back from the hallway? That way you sure won't feel lonely, not even for a second," he suggested. Despite her nervousness should have been ramping up, Azula couldn't help but laugh, clutching at Sokka with a hand, hoping to keep him close for as long as possible.

"I'm sure everyone will think we're mad… eh, I guess they already think that, actually. And they might be right, since this sounds like a brilliant idea to me. Please, do it," Azula grinned, as Sokka chuckled and pressed many kisses to her face.

"Perfect," he said, just in time for Katara to huff in disbelief.

"Don't you two think birthing is a delicate enough situation to add wild hollering across a door to the mix?" she asked. Sokka bit his lip, deferring to Azula… who offered a simple enough answer to Katara:

"Nah, I think it'll fit just right, if anything," she decided. Despite herself, Katara couldn't help but laugh as Sokka grinned warmly at his wife.

"Take as long as you need to. We'll be patient out there," he said, prodding her nose with his own.

"The next time we see each other… our family will be bigger by one member," Azula smiled, just as sweetly. A blissful laugh left his lips, and his eyes glistened beautifully. Azula couldn't help but wish their next child would have eyes just like his…

"That's right," he said, beaming before reaching to caress Azula's large baby bump. "We'll meet you very soon, buddy. Hold on tight… and please go easy on your mommy, alright? She's done her best to give birth to you safely, so don't give her a lot of trouble, 'kay?"

Azula's eyes were tearful as Sokka leaned close, pressing a kiss to her bump. He had done it often throughout the pregnancy, chatting excitedly to their baby, most often singing praises about Azula that she'd only be able to silence by kissing him fiercely and busying his mouth with something other than talking. He had looked forward to meeting their child for as long as he'd known she was expecting it… and she couldn't wait to see the look on his face, once he entered the room again, to find her holding their newborn baby.

Sokka smiled at her, still caressing her womb before bringing their lips together, offering her his courage, his strength, all the willpower and certainty she had feared she'd lack in such a momentous occasion. It would be hard, she knew, but her heart was set on seeing this through to the end. Birthing was difficult enough, she knew as much by experience… but the other side of it, the joy of holding her own child, could chase away the pain far faster than any medicine or waterbending healing could.

"I love you, Azula," he whispered, once he pulled away from their kiss. "I don't want to leave… but I'll be back as soon as my mean sister allows it. I promise."

"Make sure you get a snack… and go to the bathroom right after you leave now," Azula suggested, and Sokka raised an eyebrow, amused. "It'd suck if… if, by the time this is done, you were halfway through one of your famous potty breaks…"

"Uh, yeah, fair enough, I'll take one of those now," Sokka said, grimacing as Azula laughed. "Take it easy, as much as you can anyway, and breathe just as they told you to. Though, heh, you know how this works better than I do anyway, so I guess my advice is pointless…"

"You just want me to suffer as little as possible, I know," Azula smiled. "It's fine, Sokka. I love you too. By the time the baby's coming I might hate you a little, though, for putting me through this… but by the end I'll be grateful. I promise."

"I sure hope so," Sokka chuckled, kissing her lips once more. "Whatever would I do if my wife and the mother of my children hated me, huh?"

"Oh, please… like that could ever truly happen," Azula teased him. Sokka laughed, and tears blinked in both their eyes as he pressed one more kiss to her lips.

It seemed there could never be enough kisses, enough reassurances that he was here with her, that she would overcome this challenge, like she did… but as Katara guided him to the door – just as her other helpers arrived, too – Sokka's gaze held Azula's own. The truth was that no door, no walls, would ever come between them: their hearts were closely bonded, beating as one, flooding Azula's system with her well-known certainty that no matter the distance, no matter the struggles they faced, Sokka was always with her. She hadn't been alone for years now… and as those gentle blue eyes still gazed upon hers, just before the door closed behind him, Azula knew she never would be. Not as long as the best man she had ever known stood right outside her room, waiting eagerly to return to her side.

#sokkla saturdays #sokklasaturday #azula #sokka #sokkla #steambaby incomiiiiiiing #and it is for sure a cute one #;3;#supportive hubby Sokka makes my life brighter #Azula deserves all the love #and all the reassurances #and all the encouraging #makes my heart melt when she gets all those things *gross sobbing*#anyway here goes I'm actually pretty happy with this one so I hope you all enjoy it #(... also if anyone's really sly and clever you can probably tell that there's more to this chap than meets the eye...#... but I ain't gonna confirm or deny anything *innocent whistling and walks away*)

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starfirette · 4 years

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Every Which Way: Chapter Seven

The Wayward Souls

⇢a/n:aksfjghdlfjknv i’M SO SORRY. pls forgive me for this being late, and also for how potentially painful it is

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⇢ Din Djarren x Reader/The Mandalorian x Reader | impregnation kink (smut) | mild violence | angsty ending | word count: 9, 287more or less idk anymore

🏷 @woterezwhet @talesfromtheguild @poupoupoupoupou @multifandom-fiasco @fandomqueen74 @fifiyau105 @shayna-winchester @mserynlarsen

>>NEXT CHAPTER AVAILABLE NOW!<<

The gathering hall is filled with Mandalorians and their children, all eager to bid Din and his new bride goodbye. You felt dizzy as you thanked and hugged person after person. Din had given every child (who had formed a line) a warm hug. Your heart fluttered to see him hug younglings while still decked out in his armor. He had a fine way of holding them gently against the plates over his chest.

You watched from the sidelines; you didn’t mind that you weren’t being swarmed the way Din was. You liked to see this side of his life--the one side that could be his and his alone. How it truly warmed your heart to see Din give and receive such affections. You could see him tilting his head in to no doubt say his goodbyes to the younglings.

Wendi appeared at your side. She leaned up against the stone walls. “He’s always been a natural with them,” Wendi said in her melodic voice. Spinning a sheathed dagger between her fingers, she sent you a sideways glance, her helmet reflecting the light of the hall. “I’m surprised he hasn’t wrangled in a foundling by now. Even more surprised you’re not juggling babes by the dozens by now.”

You felt a furious blush loom across your cheeks. “What makes you say that?”

“Well,” she said in a purr, “you have been a rare sight aroudn these halls since your wedding. I can only assume that you’ve been ‘busy.’”

You graoaned. “This isn’t a conversation I want to have, with you of all people.”

“Aw, why not?” Wendi laughed. “You know lots of girls are jealous of you. Din is what we know to be a resident heartbreaker. I’m sure everyone is dying to know just how well endowed he is.”

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“You know what it means. The size, of course,” she says then.

“The size? Of what?”

“Oh sweet stars. Annie Aniri, I of course mean the size of his penis.”

“Ohhh,” you say as you realize. “I would say it’s normal sized. How big are they usually?”

Wendi let out a pained sound. She hesitated as she audibly tried to think of how she might word this. “It’s not often that they are decently large. In fact you could even say it’s hard to tell when it’s in. It’s what makes most marriages feel more like a punishment.”

You grimace. “I didn’t know that,” you groaned. “I think all I can really tell you without being too innapropriate is that he’s certainly on the larger side. I guess it really depends on the average size range.”

Wendi hummed as she thought. She held her fingers out, creating an invisible model that went about four inches wide. “Too big or too small?” she asked.

You winced. “Much too small,” you tell her. She went up a bit, but it still didn’t do Din justice. You finally adjusted her hands for her, and she let out a small gasp. “Annie, how are you still able to walk?” she cried out.

You stifle a laugh that wheezed way back in your chest. “You’re too embarrassing,” you told her when you could breathe. Wendi knocked her shoulder into your own. “I hope you two will have fun,” she says finally. “It’s not often we have a happy couple around here. Everyone is very happy for him. Despite all the trouble I give you two, I’m also happy for him. I don’t think there’s a better match for him in all the galaxy. You’re both terribly annoying, either way.”

“Much appreciated,” you tell her, meaning the words with all of your heart..

She held her hand out without really facing you. The dagger had become still in her open palm. “This is a going away present,” she says.”For some reason I have a feeling you’ll be getting into trouble out there.”

You could hear the vague amusement in her voice. You took the dagger and pocketed it after a brief examination. It’s dark silver with paracord wrapped tightly around the handle. “Thank you,” you say with a small incline of your head.

“Have fun in the world, Annie,” Wendi tells you. “But be wary of it. You never truly know what will happen.”

The Razor Crest lifted off the ground with a rumble you could feel under your feet. Leaning forward in your seat, you could see the figures of Gold and Paz preparing to depart back to the tunnels, waving the ship goodbye. Waving you goodbye. You waved back, half knowing they couldn't see you. They’d been kind enough to escort you and Din out of the city. Imagine the surprise in the trooper’s voices when they saw four Mandalorian’s leaving.

The sky cast around you like an endless sea; clouds wandered the sides of the ship as Din rose into higher altitude. The fog parted into the dark sky of what you knew had to be space.

You were completely enamoured with the sights that you hadn't realized time was ticking by. The stars weren't like you'd imagined. From the ground, the stars looked like close neighbors, but as you are among them you can see now that they are spread out farther than you would have ever thought possible.

When Din spoke, it snapped you out of your trance. His voice tethered you to your reality within the ship.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

"That I should have paid attention the first time I was in space," you say. "I guess I had other things on my mind."

"It's very beautiful," Din comments.

You made a small sound of agreement. It really is.

Din pressed a few buttons on his dashboard. The engine hummed in the back of your mind as Din slowly took his hands away from the steers.

"Are you sure you don't have the force?" You tease him.

He gives you a look and you know it is exasperation that is behind his helmet. "Auto pilot," he ammends you.

"Ah, I suppose I should have thought that first,” you chuckle.

"My thoughts exactly," Din snickered back. He unbuckled the straps of his pilot's chair, rising to his feet and pulling off his helmet. He runs a gloved hand through the unruly waves of his hair. "Would you like a tour, Mrs. Djarren?" he asks with a crooked grin quirking his soft lips.

You slowly removed your seatbelts. "I've been on the Crest before, you know," you tell him pointedly. He helps you navigate out of the narrow cockpit with his hands gently on your waist.

"Not as my bride," he pointed out. "The ship should be your home away from the covert. Our home."

His words rang in your ears. You are grateful for the dim lights that hid your eyes which falter under the embarrassment. It's amazing that you could still feel embarrassed with your husband, even after everything you two had been through.

Perhaps it's the utter lack of people that has you feeling this way. You'd never really been "alone" before. The first trip, towards Nevarro, you were alone with Din but in a much different way. You'd been a much different person!

Now, you're alone with your husband. The man that you've grown to love so dearly. The man that warmed your bed!

You suppose you're not sure what you should expect from this trip.

Din guided you first towards the engineering bay. It sat directly beneath the cockpit. On the walls were the electric panels, as Din called them. He briefly explained how inside the panels were switches, or "breakers", that controlled the flow of electricity and power to the smaller utilities of the ship, like the lights and the stovetop. In a strange jar to the left is the storage bay. There’s enough food and clothes there to last for at least a month.

The hallway straight ahead were the cells that Din used for storage. He had lots of weapons in there. You were stunned at just how many weapons a single bounty hunter needs. It seemed on par with the entire armory at the covert, but condensed into four of the six cells. You recognized one as the cell you'd taken refuge in. Lined with pistols and spears, you had hidden inside and stayed there, sweating as the ship turned in violent spins to evade the Aniri ships.

It seems like long ago; practically a distant memory. And yet it's been a matter of months, hardly even three.

You asked Din what occupied the final two cells. He pulled back the doors to reveal a strange machine. You couldn't guess it's purpose after a few tries (and laughs from Din). When you gave up, he explained that he wouldn't have it if he didn't need it.

"What is it?" You asked, now unsure if you wanted to know at all.

"A carbonite freezer. It can freeze and keep lifeforms in perfect hibernation."

You looked at Din with incredulity in your wide eyes. "Are there convicts on this ship?" You asked in a low whisper.

"Not currently," Din said. "My mother told me it's impolite to keep frozen criminals so close to a lover."

You couldn't really laugh as you stared at the strange contraption.

"So it freezes people?" You asked as you ran a palm over the smooth, dark surface of the metal.

"It does. I can use it to transport bounties without worrying they'll cause trouble." Din sounded too calm to be saying such things. But you guess it's something all bounty hunters have to worry about. You cringed away from the freezer as you imagined the process.

"Does it hurt?"

Din shook his head. "No. It could be dangerous, though. It takes calculation."

You sank into his arms, which folded around your back to keep you tucked against him. "Mmm, my amazing husband is dangerous and calculating,"you grinned.

Din tipped your chin up with his forefinger. "Would you want it any other way?"

He pressed a warm kiss against the corner of your mouth, just below the crevice of your dimples.

He turned you around, to look at the freezer once more. “I’ve heard,” he muttered as he nestled his chin onto your neck, “that those coming out of hibernation feel ill. Feverish, shaky, even blind.”

“I’d hate to be frozen,” you said as you imagined the process. An endless sleep only to be followed by days of severe sickness.

“You won’t be,” Din promises you. “Not unless you’re a prisoner.” His hands rested over your stomach She.

"Wendi told me marriage is a lot like being a prisoner," you point out.

“Then you’re my prisoner, and mine alone,” Din whispered into your ear. “Shall I lock you up in a cell? Freeze you? Or should I let you attempt to negotiate?”

“Do you often negotiate with prisoners?” You ask.

“Only the beautiful ones,” Din says. “And you’re much more than beautiful.”

“You’re a scoundrel,” you giggled as Din nipped your ear. With his arm around your shoulder, he pushed you along towards the kitchen. It’s small, but it’s enough, with a cooler and a stovetop. Past the kitchen are the living quarters.

The lumpy bunk that was once propped into the corner has been replaced with a wider mattress, one that is surely capable of fitting both of you.

“You’re a sneak,” you sigh as you push onto the mattress with your hands. It’s so lusciously soft that you’re looking forward to falling asleep.

Din leaned up against the door jamb. “I couldn’t force you to endure that old excuse for a bed. Is the ship up to Mrs. Djarren’s standards?”

You felt pinned to the wall by his smile. His damn smile. The warmth of his eyes that crinkled under his smile seeped into you like warm cacao and cinnamon on a cold day. You could feel his gaze rush through your blood as he took a step closer towards you.

“Would you like to wash up?” He asked, his words a suggestive murmur. You nodded more eagerly than you would have initially liked to, but it earned a laugh from your husband.

You helped him out of his beskar, the ship still rolling softly throughthe cosmos in autopilot. The beskar is discared oto the bed, followed by your clothes. His hand slid into yours, and while you giggled, he led you into the refresher.

You’d remembered bathing in here for the first time when Din had saved you all that time ago. You recall being ecstatic by the warm water.

Steam rose between the walls as Din pulled into his hold. You sighed under the feeling of the everlasting heat. The water and his body could keep you comfortable for an infinite age of time.

The crown of your hair knocked against Din’s chest as the warm water streamed down your neck.

Din’s open palms curved around your breasts, thumbs tweaking your nipples while his lips sucked bruises over your neck.

Words of affection floated between the stream of hot water and the steam. His hands slithered down to your hips. He held you tightly, making you whimper in sheer anticipation. Even under the streams of water, you could feel your thighs becoming slick with arousal and excitement.

“Turn around,” Din murmurs in your ear.

You slowly turned, his hands never leaving your body. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him until he forced you to do so. His finger tapped the underside of your chin. “Are you my prisoner?” He asks, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down.

His dark eyes are filled with focus.

His looks are intoxicating. The brown scruff coming in along his jaw is scratchy, but you find yourself fond of the feeling it leaves between your thighs.

"I could be," you gasp.

You pull him down by his hair, forcing him into a rough kiss that made your heart pound.

Parting your lips to let his tongue sweep over yours, you moaned his name. You earned a low growl in response. The growl resonated way back to your throat.

Din’s hands raked down your back. He held you tightly, like he feared you’d be torn away with him at any second. All of his strength poured into his hold onto you.

You lifted your leg to grip it around his thigh. “Din,” you rasped against his mouth. “Please. It hurts.”

Your cunt ached roundt its own emptiness. You’d become swollen and your heartbeat pounded all the way to your clit. Something within you screamed to be filled and ravaged by Din. The thought of his cock slipping its way inside of you practically did the job itself.

Din’s eyes hardened as he grabbed you by the waist. You are pushed into the shower wall, then lifted with remarkable ease. He fixed your legs around him.

“I need you,” you gasped. The weight of his eyes on your body had become unbearable.

“You want to take me alraedy?” Din said in your ear. His voice is hoarse and thick and low, striking a pleasurable chord deep in your stomach. “You want my cock now?”

You nodded, sinking your face into the crook of his neck.

Keeping you hoisted with one arm, Din slid a hand between your two torsos. He gripped his thick cock in his large hand.

Looking down, you watched with strained eyes as he rubbed the tip of his cock into your clit. A strangled gasp pushed out of your mouth as he whispered more intimate words to you.

“You’re going to be a good girl and take it all?” Din asked. His rough voice wavered as he guided his cock into your cunt. You cried loudly at the feeling. The velvety walls of your cunt eagerly accepted Din’s cock, hugging around him tightly to feel as much as you could.

“My seed,” he grunted, “will stay inside of you all night. Will you give me children?”

His strong thrust knocked your hips back against the walls of the shower. You sank your teeth into the flesh of his neck as he rocked into you unrelentlessly.

“Will you bear all of Clan Djarren with your pretty hips?” he snarled into your ear. “Will you take my cock without question?” Your brain felt like it would short circuit at any minute. You could hardly stammer out the “Yes” you so desperately wanted to scream. The idea of it all made it all the more unbearable. You could feel him reaching for the stars of climax deep inside of you, hips snapping into yours loudly under the water. You whimpered his name as his arms kept you upright. His strong, smooth biceps flexed widely as he grunted against your skin.

“Ah, fuck, my meshla,” he swore loudly. As if he wasn’t moving fast enough already, his hips quickened their pace, snapping against yours with the loud slaps of wet skin to echo around you in the steam.

You couldn’t even process a coherent thought as you felt lost in the pleasure you’d been plunged into.

“Taking me so fucking well,” Din hissed to you, nipping at the lobe of your ear. “You want it?”

“Yes,” you stammered. You clutched against him as tightly as you could, your thighs and torso shaking violently as you lost control of your senses. The spasming climax burst in your stomach like an explosion of fire. You jerked in his arms, but he pressed you flat against the cold tiled wall with his smooth, broad test.

“Din, I want it,” you sobbed.

He groaned so loudly you felt the reverberations in your chest. His hips rocked so hard you thought he was going to split you completely in half.

As quickly as it had started, he spilled his seed into you, making you shudder and spasm closer into your hug.

Din buried his face into your neck, his laugh muffled by your skin. You both panted for breath for a solid minute. His cock remained hard inside of you, but any movement made you flinch and clench around him.

Din licked the sweet drops of water up your jaw before whispering into your ear, “Can you take it again?”

Laying in the bed, tucked into Din’s chest, you asked him, “What is the bounty we’re going after?”

His hand that played with your hair paused for a brief second before resuming the little swirls. “A man that’s wanted for evading debt.”

You nodded. “I see. That means he owes another man money, right?”

“Correct,” Din said. “We’re going to a planet called Bespin. The manciple of Cloud City, Lando Calrissian, has reported this man to be roughly a million credits in debt. I’ve heard the bounty’s name come up before. He’s most likely in deep debt with multiple people.”

“Frightening,” you murmured.

You kissed over the heart of your husband. Laying your ear over it, you could count the beats without even thinking. The rhythm sank into you so that your own heart eventually beat in perfect synchronization with your husband’s.

“Did you mean what you said about children?” you asked suddenly.

The rumbling of Din’s ship is all you heard for some time.

“Yes,” Din replied softly. “Since we married, I have been consumed with the image of you with my child.”

You chuckled, though feeling bashful. “I’m honored.”

“Meshla,” Din breathed. His fingers combed through your hair in the darkness. “I am honored. Honored to be your husband. Honored to be the one you’ve chosen to bear warriors with.”

You nuzzled closer into his arms. “I love you very much,” you say quietly.

“And I love you more than you’ll ever, ever now,” Din replied. “For now, let’s sleep. We can devise to make children tomorrow.”

With that being said, you were lulled to sleep by the humming of the engine and the beating heart of your one and only husband.

After two days, you and Din reached Bespin. You learned that ‘Cloud City’ is a literal name. Tucked in the fluffy clouds is an actual city, which Din explained prospers through mining.

Din explained that he suspected the city is being used by the Empire to operate trading posts. Because the city is known for its peace, Din said, their governor would likely cooperate with Lord Vader to keep his people out of danger.

The ship rumbled as landed on its cleared pad.

For a long moment, Din sat behind his steers. You watched him carefully; you wonder what he is thinking.

“Din?” you finally say. “What are you thinking?”

Rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, Din cast you a glance. “I’m thinking you should stay on the ship and wear your armor. I can’t say for sure that the city is under Imperial authority. It’s only a hunch. But I can’t risk your safety.”

You sent him a soft smile. “My doting husband,” you sighed. You unbuckled your self from the copilot’s chair. “I’ll be changing into armor. Will you be alright?”

Din nodded. “I’m going to meet with a few officers. They’ll give me their puck and then we can go after the bounty.”

You took his hand in yours before you left the cockpit. You pressed a small kiss over his glove. “I’ll be here.”

It is a struggle to dress in your plates quickly. Din showed you how to do it many, many times, but you’d never been able to do it as fast as he could, especially on your own.

Your small arsenal of weapons fits snugly around your waist. Your flute, your blade, and your pistol have been your constant companions since you’d been gifted them from Gold. It felt strange to be without her. Strange, but exhilarating.

You knew you would eventually find your way back to the covert when Din decided to take a break from bounty hunting. You looked forward to the moment you could see your newfound friends and tell them all of your adventures.

You left the bedroom in you beskar, the rosegold sheen blinding you in any sort of light.

You found Din in the engine bay, fiddling with what you presumed to be his puck.

You are both in your armor and helmets now; with your visor down, you felt like a proper woman. It made you feel safe somehow, like you could truly protect yourself.

“Where is he?”

“Off the city,” Din said. His voice is rougher through the modulator, much like yours. “It won’t take long to find him. Before that, I have something for you.”

You tilted your head. “Oh? I am sorry to say I don’t have a gift for you.”

Din chuckled. “It’s more for myself than it is for you, actually,” he admitted. He fastened something small to the tunic behind the breast plate. “A tracker. If anything happens, I can find you.”

You repressed a sigh. You wished you could ease his fears. You hadn’t realized how he felt until he had mentioned it before. He didn’t like the thought of you mingling with Imperials.

“It’s going to be alright,” you promised him. “It’s just a normal bounty. Only you have a supporter with you.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh. “Wear it for me,” he said after catching his breath. “It will make me feel truly at ease.”

You couldn’t say no to that.

With the tracking beacon hidden behind your breast plate, you and your husband returned to the cockpit. Din let you hold the puck on the way off Cloud City. You hadn’t realized just how intense bounty hunting was until you fiddled with the puck’s features. You learned from Din that some pucks can be synced with the target’s genetic signature. This can allow any bounty hunter to track them throughout the galaxy.

When you’d noted just how intense that is, Din explained that is usually used for the higher rewards: murderers, serial thieves, other similar criminals. “Our guy,” he said, “isn’t that serious. He was just sighted a matter of hours ago. I doubt he’s ran off anywhere, especially if he has no money. I think we’ll find him just fine.”

You had started to hope that would be true.

The Crest took its landing ten minutes later, on a lower city thick with fog.

You had prepared to follow your husband, but he set his hands on your shoulders and warned you to stay put.

You sighed. “What if you need help? You may be able to track me, but I can’t track you. What if––?”

“Meshla,” Din sighed. “If I need help, I’ll call the ship’s comm. You can come find me then. Just stay put to guard the ship. I’ll need my loyal, supportive wife to stay here so I can bring the bounty back without any obstacles.”

It’s clear he knew what he was saying, as well what his words would mean to you.

You mimicked his sigh of annoyance. “I do not like that you’ve used my own supportive creed against me,” you told him sternly. “But I will stay. How long should you be gone before I get truly worried?”

Din thought about that for a moment. “At least,” he finally replied, “an hour. I give you full permission to come after me after two hours.”

You warned him you would come looking for him after two hour’s time. You would have liked to kiss him goodbye as he left the Crest, his hunting cape flying in the cool breeze as he did.

You proceeded to sit in the cockpit for your mandatory two hours. You tried to read a book you’d found in Din’s bedroom while you waited. You felt impatient, and you thus could not focus on the first paragraph, as your eyes continued to wander to the comm embedded in the steer’s dashboard.

It took almost the full two hours for Din’s voice to come through.

“I’m coming back. Be ready for us.”

You sighed loudly with relief. By Prince Melv’s kind, resting soul, you’d been very close to leaving the ship to go after your husband.

You waited at the ramp for him, your hand resting steady on your pistol sheathed at your thigh.

His voice finally called through the mist. You squinted, using the focus feature of your helmet to scan through the fog. Two figures were dragging through the thick clouds towards the ramp.

You ran after them, eager to help Din.

His bounty is being dragged in unconcious. As you hooked one of the limp arms around your shoulders, you debated asking him what he had done to the poor fellow.

You’d seen Din in action before; you wouldn’t ever want to be one of his bounties. You somehow feel he wouldn’t be as kind to them as he is to you.

You helped Din drag the bounty into the cockpit. The poor fellow’s body got slumped in a side chair. “Close the ramp,” Din asked you. “Leave your helmet on. If he wakes up, don’t even speak a word to him.”

You lifted a brow behind your visor. He didn’t look that vicious. “Is he so dangerous?” you asked in a low voice.

“No,” Din answered. “But I don’t trust him around my woman either way.”

You shook you head as you went to shut the ramp.

Rentering the cockpit with a glass of water from the kitchen, you found that Din had already tied the bounty up in the seat. “That was quick,” you noted as you offered it to him.

Din lifted the helmet up just enough to gulp the water down. He thanked you for it. Before you could leave to put the glass away, he grabbed your wrist. He rested his forehead against yours, the metal of either helmet clinking together like bells. “I am lucky to have such a supporter with me,” he murmured.

“Oh, Mando,” you sighed. You hadn’t used the nickname in a long time. It felt nice to say it now. “How romantic it is to hear you speak sweet things as we coddle one another in front of a criminal.”

Din howled out a loud laugh. “Just buckle yourself in. We’re returning to Cloud City.”

With the bounty still unconcious, the Razor Crest lifted up through the fog. You thought about many things on the ride back.

“Could I ask an unintelligent question?” you finally asked.

“Of course, though I seriously doubt it will be so bad,” Din assured you without looking away from his screen.

“Well, why is debt such a serious crime? I understand that it’s wrong, and of course why someone would want their money back. I’ve only thought that people should know the potential consequences.Wouldn’t that alone be enough to prevent such crimes?”

Din did not ridicule you for asking. In fact, he answered you perfectly. "Debt isn't often overlooked," Din says. "Many times, people are in debt due to high interest rates or deep end gambling."

"Why gamble if they know they can't pay what they'll owe?" You asked.

"It can be addicting for some people," Din explained. "They will give themselves the benefit of the doubt, thinking they have a good chance at winning a sum. Eventually, they owe more than they had originally hoped to win."

You cast a glance over your shoulder, looking to the bonded man in the spare seat. He hasn't come to, not yet, and you're half dreading the moment he does.

Din could take him easily enough; though you still feel unnerved to be in such a small space with a wanted criminal.

The rational voice in your mind knows nothing bad will happen. The hard part is done, at least.

The landing pad is cleared for Din's use over the Razor Crest's commlink. You watch the clouds out the window as Din descends through them, lowering the ship slowly onto the pad.

The ship rumbled as Din shut down the engines. You looked back at the bounty.

"Should I come with you?" You asked as Din unbuckled.

He stayed silent as he leaned forward, examining the surroundings of the Crest.

"It's not very crowded," he noticed. "I'd feel better if you stayed aboard the ship," he finally says. "Be careful."

"Shouldn't I be telling you that?" you asked him with a small smile. He seemed to hear the affection as he leaned over your seat. He pressed the forehead of his helmet against your own, resting like that for an easy moment.

"I'll be back soon," he assured you.

He approached the bounty calmly, bending down to use his hand to carefully slap the man awake.

The man awoke with a great start, jerking back into his bindings in a panic to get away from Din.

“Knock that off,” Din warned him. “Get on your feet. Meshla, stay here,” he called to you.

You nodded, not saying a word as you recalled Din’s earlier instruction. You listened to the bounty attempt to negotiate with him all the way out.

You followed behind them to close the ramp.

That had gone smoother than you’d really been expecting. It’s half a let down, half a relief. Part of you had been expecting somehting exciting. You pulled off your helmet as you settled in your chair in the cockpit. You used the inside of your wrist to dab away the sweat that had formed along your hairline.

Now, you could rest easy; you even looked forward to the next place Din would take you. Perhaps you’d actually be able to go exploring that time. Though you wouldn’t be surprised if Din would coax you into staying on the Razor Crest.

You settled into the copilot’s chair, shutting your eyes to rest them. It took some time for the commlink to ring with static.

You peered closely, expecting Din to ring in to tell you he’s on his way back.

What actually came through sent fear shooting through you.

“Get off the ship and run. You’ve got to find me, Y/n, but go now. Someone’s coming for you.”

You had almost misunderstood his words. You had almost thought them to be a joke.

They weren’t.

You grabbed your helmet and shoved it over her hair, not bothering to keep it neat.

You raced out of the cockpit on shakey legs. You darted into the weapons cell. You grabbed what you knew you’d be able to carry. Din had a large amban riffel that you could keep strapped on your back. You also grabbed his vambrace. You weren’t sure how it worked, but you figured it would be good for him to have.

You sprinted off the ship, unable to look back and give it one last goodbye.

You ran across the landing pad, keeping the riffel steadied in your arms.

You’re not fucking sure where to go, or what to do, but you know that Din’s hunch must have been right. That’s all you can assume. Imperialites must be swarming this place. But how could you know who from who?

As you darted through the large building, you saw many people who simply gave you puzzled glances.

Not many seemed threatening until you reached the intersection at the hallway. On one path is a swarm of officers with their weapons drawn and aimed at you.

You fired the amban. It had very little recoil,or at least from what you’re used to. You hadn’t expected a bolt of electricity to spear down one of the officers. You truthfully didn’t know what an amban riffel did. You just knew it had the basic workings of any other riffel. You’d expected plain old plasma. You darted around a wall, holding your breath as you fiddled with the dial that hid right beside the trigger. You spun it to the next setting, before you darted back out to the open, the riffel aimed outright.

You shot at an officer that promptly fell to the ground, his shoulder a cloud of ash that scattered to the floor.

Oh.

Alright.

You recalled everything you’ve learned today as you sprinted down the halls, pointing and shooting everyone who tried to shoot you first.

Gambling is an addiction.

Amban rifles have several settings.

Curiouser, and curiouser.

You weren’t sure where to go from then on. Din had told you to find him, but where could he be? You’re the only one with a tracker, and the opposite link is still on the ship. As far as you know, there’s not a way to hunt Din down besides using pure luck.

Your boots stomped down the hallways as you ran around. It became easy to seperate the enemies from the bystanders. The bystanders, for the most part, hid and ran away from you. The enemies just ran towards you. Little did they know, you have an amban rifle. You assume they don’t know what it can do, like you had just a matter of minutes ago. Unfortunate for them.

You cleared a hall, switching between the settings to do a better take down of officers with more durable suits.

You approached a large room. It looked a lot like an engine bay. Hissing tanks that let off steam stand everywhere. It’s like a maze of boilers and dials that you darted through.

“Mando!” you yelled. “Mando, where are you?!”

Your heart faltered as you realized Din might not be here; you’re not sure where else he could be.

You went through another series of corners and turns. Cast along the wall in front of you is a tall shadow, a very visible weapon in hand. You armed your riffel up, your finger sweeping just by the trigger as you bolted forward to catch the by surprise.

“Oh, Mando!” you cried when you found your husband turning, his own weapons drawn up like you. “What’s going on?!” you exclaimed as you are drawn into a tight hug.

“Thank the stars,” Din breathed in a heavy sigh of relief.

“No, no, no thanking anything yet,” you snapped. “What’s going on?”

You shoved the vambrace into his arms. As he fastened it onto his right arm, his voice, tight and taught, echoed around the metal floors and walls. “I think we’ve been setup,” he said. “I delievered the bounty to Calrissian, and he took me to a room where I was ambushed by someone else. There are many sorts of Mandalorians in the galaxy, but a small handful of them branched off to work with the Empire.”

You are quick to remember the lesson you’d been given by Gold:

And meanwhile, the cruel descendant of Tarr Vizsla began to attack the Creed more and more.

The Way has been deserted on Mandalore, but it has lived on through coverts, such as this. There are others like us. Others are waiting to seize our place as protectors as they hide on distant planets like lakebats.

“There are mandalorians here?” you asked in a trembling voice.

“I think so. I saw one. Listen, it’s going to be alright,” Din promised. “Do not ever take off your tracker. Don’t even mention it. If you have to, swallow it. If we get separated, you can’t come after me.”

Stirring with shock, you stammered, “That’s crazy. I’m not going to leave you.”

“You will if I tell you too,” Din demanded from you. “If it comes to that, then we’re going to have to split up.”

The words felt like a slap in the face. You couldn’t imagine splitting up. You couldn’t imagine how you would sruvive without him. You’re not as skilled as he is; by now, you’ve been getting along from sheer luck and an nasty build up of lifelong rage issues. You’re not a Mandalorian, not really, and you aren’t able to take down giant crowds like your husband.

In the distance, beyond the boilers, came gunfire. You and Din seized up by each other, trying to gauge where it had come from.

“I’m not looking to hurt anyone, today,” a voice echoed around. It had the familiar static of the modulators found in any Mandalorian helmet. That must be him. That must be the terrorist Mandalorian that Gold had mentioned so long ago.

Din caught you by the wrist and forced you to run alongside him.

“I hear you, little mice,” the voice called. His footsteps came from everywhere, but nowehere, all at once. Despite the clammoring of the Mandalorian’s boots, you couldn’t pinpoint which directino he’d been coming from.

Din dragged you into a small gap of a room, just off the main path of the boilers. You both huddled close together in the darkness. You tried to steady your breath out, so that it would not give you away.

Din pried his helmet off, to your surprise. You felt frantic as he tugged yours off as well.

Shut in the darkness, Din could only run his hands through your hair.

“Never stop fighting,” Din says into your ear. “Do you understand that? I will find you. You can never stop fighting.”

You managed to nod. “Alright,” you shuddered. “Never.”

Din’s hands grasped the sides of your face feverishly, tipping your head back so he could press a hard kiss to your mouth. You felt his lips tremble as you tried to grip onto his chest. You clawed against his chest plate.

Your mind turned over the possibilities of what might happen the moment you and your husband ducked out of the small hiding place.

The fighters that raged beyond the little walls are searching for you both, and searching quite loudly at that. They call out to one another while you beg the galaxy for more time in Din’s arms.

He held you in a tight hug for a moment longer, his breath shuddering as he hid his face in your neck. You wished to know what he was thinking; but you had an idea. He is likely thinking the same as you—that he must memorize all the finer details of your scent and skin, because there’s a good chance one of you will die.

You hope it’s you.

There isn’t any way you could live without Din; it’s too late for that.

Din places a kiss on your eyelids, his lips wiping your tears away. “I love you,” you rasped.

“I love you, too,” Din said. His hoarse voice didn’t sit well in your stomach. It felt painful to be unable to comfort the man who had always comforted you. You wouldn’t get the chance ever again. You know that in your heart as Din pulls his helmet back on.

He slapped his blaster in your hand, forcing you to curl your fingers around it tightly. “If you see a way out, take it,” he instructed. “I don’t care if that means leaving me.”

Your bottom lip quivered at the thought. You couldn’t do that, but you refused to tell him, knowing it would only pain him more. You forced yourself to nod in understanding.

Din steadied himself. His face became pinched with focus as he fit your helmet back over your face; he followed in suit.

You two waited in silence. You listened for the footsteps of the Mandalorian that lurked the maze like a ghost.

Your stomach wrenched painfully when you heard the strange clicking of boot buckles round the corner. You could tell that this was the end. He would find you both, and you couldn’t fathom what he would do.

The footsteps paused for the longest handful of seconds you’d ever felt. You felt the same fear you’d felt when you were caught by the court guardians during your attempted escape. Your heart seemed to clog up in your throat, leaving you unable to breathe as you waited in anxious anticipation.

Din held you tightly as the Mandalorian found you. He cackled behind his modulator. He loomed over you and your husband as he sheathed his pistol. “I found you.”

You and your husband became tied up on two unsavory chairs. The Mandalorian led you both at gunpoint to a new room at the other end of the building. He tied you both one by one, knowing neither of you would take the risk of running when he had stationed officers everywhere. You knew you couldn’t risk Din’s life that way.

That must be the very same thing Din thought about you.

Sitting feet away felt more like miles. You could strain your head back to look at your husband. The strange sight of Din being bound is one you’d never forget.

The Mandalorian that had caught you both stood tall as he paced back and forth. His armor is a dull, forest green, faded as though he’d seen many years of battle.

He had the telltale marks of a Mandalorian, even down to the jetpack strapped on his back Those were rare enough, even at the covert, reserved for the most elite of the warriors. You know deep down he can’t be a true Mandalorian––you couldn’t imagine Din greeting another Mandalorian with such malice.

As the green Mando paced back and forth, the odd buckles on his heavy boots clicked, like an ominous bell counting down to your demise.

“I suppose neither of you know what I want?” he finally asked.

Neither of the Djarrens answered this question. You knew better than to speak when Din hadn’t.

The green Mandalorian sighed in disbelief. “Imagine my surprise when not one, but two Mandalorians show up here. It must be my lucky day. I’ve been waiting for you both for such a long time. It’s been a while since I’ve been with my own kind. You both can imagine the feeling, right? We Mandos are quite misunderstood in the cruel world.”

“What do you want?” Din finally asked.

The Mandalorian paused, his helmet focused on Din’s chair. “You really can’t guess?” he asked. His voice is heavy through his modulator. “I’d like to know where the rest of us are.”

You didn’t know what the really meant. You assume Din could, for he remained silent. The Mandalorian sighed, sounding rather crestfallen. “I mean, of course, that I’d like the locations of the other coverts.”

Your heart fell like a stone into the pit of your stomach.

“And is that why we stay hidden?” You asked. “Because of the Jedi?”

Gold weighed stones of steel in her hands. They scrape over the edges of the newly bred sword, sparks flying as the edges build a razor tip.

“There are more threats than the Jedi,” she mutters, voice pitched darker than you’d ever heard. “War rages throughout the galaxy as we speak. Mandalorians have abandoned their dignity and fall in league with the Imperial scum.”

You shudder. Imperial scum. You know of such people. You’d unknowingly worked for many.

Clearing your scratchy throat, your blurt out, “Why? Why would the “pacifist” Mandalorians work for such horrible people?”

“Not all Mandalorians or black and white,” Gold explains. “This has happened in the past. The descendant of Tarr Vizsla had worked with an Imperial Sith Lord. He had intentionally waged territorism on his planet, even abandoning his child. It is more common that you might expect, Y/n.”

The Mandalorian held his hands out patiently. “Well? Wouldn't you rather tell me where your covert is than face what I could put you through?"

You kept your head down, staring at your thighs through the focus of your visor. You're breathing so hard that the Mandalorian no doubt hears you.

His boots clicked as he approached your chair. He knelt before you, tucking his hand under your chin to force your gaze upward.

Din jerked in his bindings; an unfamiliar sort of snarl tore from his mask. He spat threats to the Mandalorian who donned the forest green armor.

“Calm yourself,” the Mandalorian said coolly. “Your lover is in tender hands. Isn’t that right?” he asked you. Tears dripped down your face behind your helmet. You didn’t feel as scared as you did angry. Fury had bellowed in your belly, as it had Din’s when he saw the Mandalorian lay hands on you. You became filled with the urge to unleash as much pain on the Mandalorian as possible; it drove you mad to feel such a rage that you’d never felt before.

It felt similar to the anger that had driven you to kill the men on Nevarro. At least there you had a valid reason. Those men were Anirians, your greatest threat. But this man is a stranger––you fear that you are being driven to such anger too quickly, and for bad reason.

“I only want to know where the coverts are,” he assures you. His tone is almost believable; he sounds so troubled to be inflicting the mental torture onto you and your husband. You easily know that it’s a lie. It isn’t hard to fight that off. “Could you at least tell me your name?” he tried.

Your jaw ached from the everlasting flex it had been locked in.

“Tell me your name,” the Mandalorian urges, “or I’ll kill your lover.”

“Vidia,” you spit out. “Vidia Thorpe.”

You felt guilty for using your late best friend’s name this way, but it was the only possible thing you could say to avoid inflicting harm onto Din.

“Interesting,” the Mandalorian mulls. “I’ve never heard of Clan Thorpe. You must be a foundling.”

You couldn’t calculate what to say to that. Recalling every single rule and tradition you’d been taught, you did your very best to withstand the Mandalorian’s interrogation.

“Who took you in?”

“Shut up,” Din shouted.

“I asked you a question, Vidia,” the Mandalorian repeated. “Which clan rescued you? Can’t you see that I mean you no harm? We both have sworn the same creed, as you can clearly see. We share the same armor. I guess I’ve been a bit rude, however. My apologies. I am Boba Fett, the first and only heir of Jango. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“I will not tell you anything,” you said again, trying to sound firm. You know that your voice betrays you as it wavers out of your helmet.

The Mandalorian stared at you in silence for a long two or so minutes. Sweat dripped down your back, even in the folds of your wrist that have become chaffed by the bindings.

With a soft sigh, the Mandalorian sheathed his heavy pistol on his hip. He lifted off his helmet with no resolve or guilt. He dropped it to the metal floor, the helmet clattering loudly. You couldn’t begin to express your shock.

His dark skin and hair and eyes are too cold and unfamiliar for you to feel anything but nauseous. You swore that his eyes seeped into yours, seeing straight past your helmet and heart and into your insecurities.

“You still don’t trust me do you?” he asked after a second of silence. “I’m not sure what else I can do to encourage it...I do, though, think that you and I are the same.”

“I’m nothing like you,” you say in a tremble. “You’re a traitor to your own kind.”

His eyebrows quirked at your words. “My kind? Why not ‘our’ kind? Vidia, would you like to know what I think of you?” he asked. “I think,” he says slowly, “that you’re not a Mandalorian at all.”

“And you are?” you say through your clenched teeth. “You broke your creed.”

“And what is that creed?” the Mandalorian asked; his lips puckered as his words wrapped up in a coo. “I don’t think that you really know it because you’re not really a Mandalorian.”

He took a step closer to you, kicking his helmet away. “Let’s do us all the pleasure of seeing your face.”

You struggled against him as his hands gripped the undersides of the helmet. He tore it off, leaving your hair in disarray. The Mandalorian whistled a low tune. “You’re very beautiful, Vidia, but I always knew that you were a liar. Do yourself a favor. Tell me where the covert is.”

“Why do you want to know?” you gasped. You jerked your chin out of his hands. He frowned down at you. “Because they’re my people,” he says kindly. “Do you doubt it?”

“You broke the creed,” you seethed at him; you feel that you’re practically foaming at the mouth with anger. “You removed your helmet.”

“But not my armor,” he amends. “You should do your research before playing the role.”

His boots click as he paces towards Din’s chair. Your husband had been silent all this time.

“So are you a Mandalorian?” he asks your husband. “Or should I reveal your face, too?”

“No,” you exclaimed as he grabbed the edge of the helmet. Din jerked his head back, fighting the Mandalorian as best as he could.

The Mandalorian stepped back, hands raised defensively. “Forgive me,” he said, touching his chest. “I truly assumed. Well, this is an interesting match. I’ve heard of inter-marriages, but never of dressing an outsider in our garb. He must be trying to protect you. Am I right?” His thick brow lifted in questioning, his eyes flickering to you both for an answer. “I think,” he says slowly, “that I am right. I’m on a roll, right? Let me ask you both one more time. Before you answer me with your determination, allow me to explain the terms. Behind me you see a carbon freezer. I intend on using it today. It’s by far my favorite contraption. Usually, I’d freeze you both, one by one to encourage some talking. Unfortunately for all of us I only have enough material to freeze one of you. Meaning I’ll go home with one trophy, and one of you will be losing a spouse. If neither of you answer me, I’ll freeze Mr. Stoic and I’ll keep Vidia for my own use. She’ll make a fine gift to the Hutt clan. I’m sure she’d look gorgeous in one of those skimpy bikinis.”

“Like fuck you will,” Din roared. “You’re not touching her.”

The Mandalorian held his hand out again, trying to ease Din’s rage. “I won’t touch her if you tell me what I want to know. I’m only asking for some planets. What’s the worst I could do with that?”

Your heart thumped in your chest.

Din’s loyalty to the creed forbids him from betraying his people; your loyalty to Din forbids the same.

You can’t hold back the sob that shakes your body when you finally realize that you’ll be losing this fight. You’ll be left without Din, in the hands of the strange Mandalorian who has openly expressed his plans for you. You have to fight back. You promised Din that you would.

The Mandalorian sighed. He pulled out his dagger and approached the back of Din’s chair. “There’s still time to get talking, lovebirds,” he warns you both.

Din shook his chair, even in his bonds. He thrashed and bucked like a wild animal in a trap. “You’re a fucking disgrace,” Din bellowed. “You’re an insult to man and to your father. You’re not a Mandalorian. He would never be proud to call you his own.”

Boba Fett paused his sawing past the ropes. His handsome face contorted into a mask of anger; his eyes filled with more hatred than you’ve ever felt before. You never imagined someone could express such emotion.

Without a word, Boba tipped Din’s chair down. Your husband landed on his side with a groan, the clash of his beskar to the floor loud enough to hurt your ears.

You flinched when Boba walked towards you.

You hear his blade cut through your ropes with remarkable ease; the splitting of the threads sent icy fear through your veins.

“Disgrace?” Boba repeated. His teeth ground together loudly as he grabbed you roughly by the shoulders. Even through the arm bands you could feel his grip bruise your skin. “Insult? I can accept those,” he hissed. “I don’t think I can begin to tell you how hurt I am that you’d bring dear old dad into this.”

Manhandling is all you could describe as Boba Fett pushed you towards the freezer. Your eyes widened as you realized what he had intended.

“I figured that freezing her man would be enough to scare Vidia into sharing some information with me,” Boba laughed. “But I see, now, that you’re not willing to play nice.”

Boba roughly tossed you into the chamber of the freezer. You watched Din thrash violently on the floor, still bound in his ropes. His voice echoed around the room as he shouted. He shouted your name more than anything. You could only hear your own name in his voice, which has never been pitched with such despair. It frightened you.

The anger you’d felt before had disspeared. All you could think of now was the shade of Din’s eyes.

His lovely brown eyes, the exact shade of hot cacao. Your mind raced through all the images you’d collected over these months; his eyes, his messy hair in the morning, his damn smile.

Boba shut the chamber before you could begin to scream at yourself to fight back.

There wasn’t a way out of this.

You collapsed against the metal, a high scream ripping out of your throat. You screamed your husband’s name, hardly able to understand that he was pleading with your captor.

The chamber hissed loudly, the sound bursting your ear drums. You clutched onto the blank pendant that swung around your neck as you cried.

The pendant was meant to one day be stamped with Din’s signet. He had told you himself he was looking forward to the day your belly swelled with his child, so that he may officially have the symbol of Clan Djarren stamped into the back of his armor.

It would never happen.

You would never lay with him again, let alone bear his child.

You couldn’t register that pain as the icy freeze blasted over your face, leaving you frozen in time, forever.

>>stay tuned<<

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talnunes · 4 years

Text

Depths of the Game

“He’s my brother, Jenny. Take what you need and go, that’s all you need to do.”

There are a lot of things I was feeling at that moment. Anger. Misplaced anger that should have targeted my unrelenting naiveté and blissful ignorance that everyone around me tried time and time again to uproot --- but instead, my brother held that burden. He didn’t understand what laid outside of his tunnel vision; deeply seeded creeds placed trust in only what was orthodox. It wasn’t his fault, being brought up the way he was. Then again, I was reared by the same community. Fostered within the same traditions.

If I hadn’t done what I did, we would all still be one big happy family, woven into the life of a one-sided brotherhood with a bone to pick. Living amongst insurrectionists thinking in black or white.

Maybe my brother was right. Leaving will cause just as much pain as staying.

And maybe I would have been okay with that; in another life, I’d have grown into the body they carved, filled the shoes they had tailored.

“He’s a defector, Grant. All of the sacrifices we have made, the people we’ve killed and the people we’ve lost, has to be for a reason. You believe that, or else you wouldn’t be here.” If Grant wanted to say something, he gave no indication, but he knew as well as I did that she was right. We wouldn’t be here if he had any sort of doubt.“ If everyone just up and left like him, our whole lives would be spent in vain. We can’t just let this go.”

Grant stayed silent but I knew her words weren’t falling on deaf ears. He was listening.

“What are you saying, Jenny?”

I felt nauseous as I began to follow every diverging path that led me to this stalemate. A lie here and a lie there, a protest to spite every single person who expected me to follow them in darkness, a blindfold wrapped tightly around my head with a single hole poked into it. So small that I would become tunnel visioned, having no other option but to stumble close behind, or else I would lose myself to the night.

All this time, I have been racking up my karmic debt without dwelling on the score I would later find myself knee-deep in. I was so angry and afraid that I lashed out at the slightest provocation.

I don’t regret anything now that my bill has come due.

But I never wanted Grant to pay as well. He was just a pawn.

“What I am saying is we have to make an example, as convincing as possible without leaking any… ‘sensitive information’.” Jenny said, with venomous sympathy seeping through every syllable.

I felt his stomach churn, his heart stop, waiting for what inevitably came out of her mouth next. The tension was cutting deep, releasing that rotten tightness in your chest when the anticipation became too much to handle. When your brain runs its 10k, anxiously kicking up all the worst-case-scenarios it can come up with, and you think - stop being so pessimistic, it’ll never happen.

And every single one of them happens.

“ You’re a loose end, Grant. I don’t like loose ends.”

The sound of metal sliding on metal bore goosebumps across my body and sent a cold shiver down my spine. There was a shift in the air, a change in atmosphere, as my brother's fear became heat spilling from a radiator, digging itself into every inch of my body.

The steel snapped sliding back into place, producing a final click as I imagined the small little ball of metal alloy shift into place. Ready to extinguish the only spark left in my life. The only family I have left.

My buried screams, submerged underneath a thick layer of cloth wrapped tightly around my mouth, kept distracting the running time bomb in my head--- it’s all my fault, it's all my fault, it’s all my fault.

Even though a bag had been placed over my head, I still knew the positions of every piece on the board; Jenny lied straight ahead, one move away from taking my brother out of the picture. Grant stood across from her, a pawn in both of our plays, blind to the fact that we both used him to further our own agendas. To advance our other pieces.

And then there was me, the rook, trapped between the queen and a hard place.

Ironically, I was cut off from the game, because once again, when I screamed, they couldn’t hear.

But that didn’t stop me from screeching my throat raw, trying to keep distracted that pestering mind of mine, the time bomb inside my own head --- it’s all my fault, it's all my fault, it’s all my fault, it’s all my f-

“But I’d rather not lose the only tie I have left to mom.”

Grant let a sigh of relief escape his lips as Jenny assumably lowered the gun. My brother laughed nervously, probably scratching the back of his neck like he usually does when he's nervous. I did the same, but it was nothing more than a mumble. An echo from six feet under. Even though his bounty was cleared, I still had mine to pay off.

And it was all I had.

“I do, however, need to know you’ll keep your lips sealed. So consider this a test.” She was pacing now, circling my brother like prey. The gun in her hand clicked and clacked as she moved it from one hand to another, deciding on what to do next. Apparently, she decided.

The sound of her elbow joint cracking as she extended her hand registered in my head at the same time as the gun switching handlers gripped my heart like an iron fist.

No, that can’t be right. There were a million other possibilities. Maybe Jenny put the gun down, realizing that she can’t kill me. Maybe she was simply stretching, getting ready for what inevitably came next. Maybe...maybe she doesn’t even have a gun. Maybe every machination my brain has constructed is false. Yes, yes, that has to be right. She’s just here to reprimand us, nothing more. It’s not my fault, it’s-not-my-

“Fuck!”

The bag over my head flew off, scratching my neck and ears as it left my eyes at the mercy of the sunlight. My arms involuntarily flew upwards to shield them, but were stopped abruptly by a zip tie tied around my wrists.

“If you do as I say, I’ll let you live. It’s as simple as that Grant.” My eyes were starting to recover, but not enough to piece together what was in front of me. The scene was blurry, but I was able to make out a figure in front of me --- whether it was Jenny or Grant, I had no idea. Other than that, I couldn’t figure out where we were and if I had any chance of getting away. I had a feeling though that my sudden nausea was a clue.

“It-it’s not and you of all people you should know that, Jenny.” Grant’s voice cracked, a flaw exposed by the sudden loss of composure. Control was slipping from his grasp like time on a clock. And he didn’t have much of that left.

“And you of all people should understand why I’m doing this!” Patience. It was never one of Jenny’s virtues. Quite frankly, she doesn’t have many at all.

She was blessed with justice, if you asked her.

If you ask me, she's a self-righteous bitch with a god-complex.

It makes her good at her job.

“He’s my brother.” Grant mumbled.

“There's no other way.”

“There's always another way! Jenny we can still go back-”

“Stop with this shit.” She screamed.

“I can’t!”

Silence. With both of their voices stopped dead in their tracks, I could finally hear myself breath. I could hear my own heartbeat trying to escape my chest. I could hear...waves. Punching the side of a boat. Rising and falling, ready to catch me if I fall. When I fall.

She brought me to the middle of the ocean to die.

This was my burial ground.

No one would hear my screams. No one would see life leave my body except my brother and Jenny. No one would even know, except for the lies they would be fed.

And just like that, I would be forgotten.

“What are you doing Grant? I’m giving you a chance!” Jenny was breathing heavily, taken aback by his refusal to listen to orders. “I don’t want to kill you.”

Grant stayed silent.

My vision was clearing and I could just about make out who was in front of me --- who my executioner was. Jenny or Grant. Grant or Jenny. Jenny or Grant. Grant or Jenny.

“I don’t want to kill you.” She repeated, this time barely a whisper.

Even if I could see, it wouldn’t matter.

Both figures were now standing in front of me, one guiding the others hands upwards, holding on to their shoulder.

They stopped rising until they were pointing right at my head.

And finally I could see.

“It’s easy,” Jenny whispered into my brother's ear, “All you need to do is pull.”

Tears were streaming down his face, and it hurt knowing I did this to him. But I knew he wouldn’t pull the trigger. I was his brother. He came all this way to protect me, only to be the one to kill me? No. No matter how much shit I’ve pulled in my life, he still loved me. And now that the gun was in his hands, I can bypass my karma. I can live. All he needs to do is do the right things. I should trust him, shouldn’t I?

Our eyes met, blue on gray, to create a stormy sky. He was scared, nervous, torn, sympathetic. He was everything I knew he would be, but there was something else in there.

“Every second you waste, Grant, the more pain he is in.” Jenny coaxed my brother forward, each step bringing the reality that I suddenly didn’t know what my brother would do closer.

Before I knew it, I was staring down the barrel of a gun.

There were a lot of things I was feeling at this moment. Anger. Anger that I let myself believe I would get away with this without punishment.

Anger that I let my brother tell me I have to stay.

And anger that I ever had an ounce of sympathy for Grant.

Because he was going to be the one to put the bullet in my head.

Jenny backed off of my brother.

I shook my head violently, pleading with him, but I had no influence over him anymore. He was her pawn now, and she knows his virtue is loyalty.

I was alone.

“Sorry Koda, this game was only ever gonna end one way.”

I closed my eyes.

“And I never lose.”

#writing #creative writing #original story #science fiction #novel in progress #betrayal #emotions

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gdreamzseternal · 5 years

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I’d like to thank

@myradfemblog for finding an extremely old porn blog of mine. I forgot it existed and it actually makes me sick to see that I was role playing such sick disgusting trauma that I went through thinking it would help when it made me so much worse. Thank you for abusing me over something I repeatedly asked you to give me the link to because I wasn’t going to go through your slander about me to find it.

I want to also say thanks because you pointing that out and me seeing that made me cry both from being triggered and realizing how far I’ve come. That I am extremely kink critical now. When I used to be heavily into it. That I don’t whore myself out anymore because “sex work makes me strong”. God I used to genuinely believe that. Makes me sick. I was so so sick. I was still victimizing myself back then...

But now.. I am a survivor.

Everyone advocated for and ignored the dangers of extreme methods of “beat the child into submission”. (Looking at you old people) It’s so sad cause I still see it now. The way a person who I had a normal discussion with suddenly gets to violently abuse me and degrade me just because they didn’t like what I had to say. Sounds like abusive parents. Everything’s cool til it’s not.

My dad beat my ass cause at 9 years old because I looked him in the eyes and told him to stop drinking cause he was being mean. Telling the truth got me abused. Look at that what a surprise.

Humans communicate differently than other creatures on the planet. Does that mean the other creatures don’t communicate? No. That just means they do things different. They don’t need vaccines because they were meant to survive and live here. If humans didn’t have their science we would all be dead! We are in a race with the planet to see who can kill who first. Will we kill the planet (which kills us too idiots) or will the planet eradicate us via disease and natural disasters and heal itself and start over (we still dead). Or do we chill on our population and help the earth heal by bein more considerate of our surroundings. Yeah none of you like me because I say it how it is without thinking about how it will affect any of you. So that means you get to abuse me. I’m not hurting anyone by simply sharing my views. Yet I am being hurt for speaking my views. I’m not actively slitting the throats of disabled people. I’m not saying we have to round up the retards that already exist and just shoot them. They should just be left in their natural form. Yeah give artificial limbs out cause that’s science but giving a nasty fat fuck a wheel chair cause boohoo they can’t loose weight? Nah true waste of resources. I’m saying we use the science that is our only advantage to prevent that from ever happening again.

All I’m doing is talking on MY BLOG. & I get death threats and told I should be raped by my father all over again. Simply for sharing my feelings on what will 1000000% save the greater good. It doesn’t even have to be permanent. Imagine if every grown man had to get a vasectomy for the next 20 years til all the excited potential parents get throughly processed to see if they are psychologically, psychically, financially and home stable to have children. Then there is a massive database of all the adorable kids waiting to find homes and they get to meet and have a 30 day period where THE CHILD decides if they like their new potential parents. Every couple/person wanting to adopt can adopt up to 2 kids and the kids get a say too.

Humans are not special and I don’t care if you disagree with me. Yet for some reason we literally act like gods gift (complete pun intended) That think who fucking cares what we do to everything around us including ourselves because this is OUR EARTH. We can do what WE WANT. Blah blah blah. Then the WHITE MEN put control on EVERYONE. Then slowly we colored folk said fuck you and made our own lives cause who gives a flying fuck about someone’s skin color except for white people. Then the humans just started literally takin over. Who cares if a bunch of birds nests lived in this tree? I want my new condo that I spend 2-3 months a year in right fucking here so the homes of those birds don’t matter. Let’s massively hunt these animals into extinction for our pleasure. (Okay Hitlers)

We are selfish

I wasn’t raised like you. I wasn’t raised by anyone but my own fucking brain. I never had any positive influences but the voices in my head. We see the world for what it is and not the false reality im creating for myself. I won’t even say ‘most’ if you were raised right because even today in 2019 the system and adults hide the abuse and damage that is really happening. Clearly this whole system isn’t working.

I was raised that literally everything in the whole world was both good and bad. So I learned to be objective and unbiased. Your feelings are what get you killed. Ask any dead kid who didn’t speak up about their abusive parents. And any bleeding out gangbanger who got felt offended by a color and killed someone over it. Someone who felt the desire to get high cause they have no self control and killed some to get $$. But it wasn’t them because even though they felt the need to do the drugs it wasn’t their fault.

So why are we going to keep adding more and more children to the solution when we don’t even know what to do with the poor innocent souls that we have now? We just pretend it’s not that big a deal and keep adding feul (the kids) to the fire (the shitty system). CLEARLY you all know there’s a problem and nothing any of you are doing is working.

So when do we take extreme measures? When do we ACTUALLY make a change. We have nuclear bombs hell ANY bomb and those are okay “when absolutely necessary” but allowing people to have kids they can’t afford, can’t raise, got raped into them, got one night standed with, can’t handle. A BOMB AFFECTS HUMANS AND THE ENVIRONMENT NEGATIVELY. Humans getting neutered (since that’s what you call it for other creatures) will effect the world positively. The bombs are okay though? We can MASS destroy life but we can’t mass PREVENT it from having to be destroyed or emotionally ruined in the first place? Not forever just til we get our shit together.

The abominations and retards. That’s EXACTLY WHAT THEY ARE that’s why no one likes when you mention it. They are like the endless elephant in the room. I will die by the quote, “A few bad apples ruins the whole barrel”. We think that it’s perfectly okay to keep adding bad genes to our makeup while simultaneously praying we live forever. It’s so tiresomely contradicting.

If you can all make such a fucking effort for these retard abominations that you breed. Then you can STOP breeding COMPLETELY until you give the kids homes that need them. Those kids will be more likely to become doctors getting adopted out to good homes. Then if they get left to rot in a shitty system while they walk in a grocery store with their mean foster mom and see a happy young couple PREGNANT with their first child when they could have adopted him. If you choose to give birth instead of adopting then you might as well walk up to a kid in a foster/group home and tell them they are garbage and ain’t ever going anywhere.

I still haven’t had my question answered... why does ANY HUMAN ON THIS ENTIRE PLANET need to breed when there are already so many homeless children?

So what is it are we going to stop breeding and adopt all the kids out to good homes that have been more throughly evaluated than a simple background check and having enough beds and money?

Are we going to keep creating a whole brand new system for the retards when the perfectly able children who would flourish with good parents system is still completely fucked?

Giving whole TV shows to literal human abominations for entertainment. Or humans that are forced to overbreed or sickly do it “for religious reasons”. You get to see how much their disability/struggles makes their life so hard but they are so ~brave and strong~ because society would rather force conjoined twins to spend their lives together or die trying to separate because human euthanasia is wrong until a human kills another human???????

Where does that make sense.

We are going to keep worrying more about the dysfunctional, malfunctioned, rejects of our society before the regular ones? We are going to keep following fake gods we have no proof of so that we don’t have to accept the realities of human nature.

Are we going to not do anything and ignore all the clear issues and keep adding more kids?

The same can be said about the immigrant shit in America. We have so many problems we don’t need anymore people and this place is fucked why would you wanna come here anyway? (I digress on this)

Are we going to keep throwing children out like trash in hopes that someone else will raise the busted nut you let fester in your womb?

Like out of those which one of these which one is the best option? Because all but one are things we are already doing and it isn’t working.

So hate me for being unbiased. But as my therapist (yes I discuss this with BOTH my Ts to make sure I am not delusional) put it. I am not looking at it for the benefit of humans. I’m looking at the benefit of the earth as a whole. I don’t want humans to all die off. But if it’s what it has to take in order for this planet to survive then so be it. There are so many other species, creatures, life on this Planet.

To put it simply you’re all simpleminded.

There is no god because Humans seem to think they are god. & we can breed, have our technology, have our vaccines. But as long as we are still over breeding and not adequately using our resources....

The Human Rights we are fighting for will not matter if there is nothing for the humans to live on.

This Earth is our home and there are too many of us right now. Too many of us doing too many wrong things.

Focus on the Human Wrongs then there will be no need for Human Rights because they will realize they are all just another species on this glorious and beautiful earth.

I know none of you were take anything from this.

You all were taught one way or you think one way and that is it there can’t be any other way and anyone else who thinks differently than that is wrong but at the end of the day my ideas are what will save humanity your ideas are what will destroy it. Your safe space will be irrelevant if you have no where to put it.

A human’s need to add feeling and emotion to everything is our biggest flaw.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk Typing Podcast

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madrut16 · 5 years

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The Dungeon Part 1 - BB Chp. 13 Rewrite (Adrian x MC)

Author’s Note: Ahhh, it’s back! I know I’m skipping a lot of chapters but, I don’t think I can emotionally handle playing Chp 4 and 11 again. That’s why I’ve been putting off writing more of this. So, that’s why I’m resuming from here. Also, the end is what I’ve been the most eager to rewrite. I made a few major changes to this chapter that aren’t canon about Nicole. First, she’s not helping with the rescue because I thought it was weird and I don’t want that snake a part of it. Second, Isabel (my MC) is already highly suspicious of Nicole and part of the plan is to prove she’s a traitor (I don’t want to give too much away). I also made Isabel’s reactions more emotional because of Adrian being her LI.

The changes are also why I split this into two, it would be way too long if I didn’t! Hopefully, you all enjoy it though!

Summary: It seems like fate has been sealed after Adrian is sentenced to death, but Isabel isn’t ready to give up even with the odds impossibly against them. She works together with Kamilah and Lily to come up with a genius but dangerous plan to save him, one that could put her right in The Baron’s crosshairs.

Disclaimer: All of the characters and the dialogue not original belongs to Pixelberry Studios.

Rating: PG/PG-13

Word Count: 4113

Tags: @endlesshero1122, @kinda-iconic, @starshippromise, @flyawayboo, @kamybelen-blog

“He’ll meet the sun.”

Kamilah’s words echoed through Isabel’s mind as she sat next to the fireplace at the powerful vampire’s office where they came to regroup after the verdict. The first time she heard them, the emotions that she had been holding back as they dragged Adrian away had come to the surface all at once. Right there in the middle of Central Park she completely broke down sobbing and Lily had to almost carry her back to Ahmenet Financial.

She was still sitting where her friend had placed her on the leather couch, her tears now silently streaming down after the violent cacophony had seemed to go on forever. She stared at the flames and ash beginning to form on the wood and she swallowed another lump that had formed in her throat. That’s what Adrian would be in mere hours and here she was, completely unable to help him like she should be able to.

Isabel couldn’t deny that he wasn’t just her boss anymore or even a friend. Up until the ball, she managed to convince herself that it wasn’t anything more than a small crush. Even when she gave into temptation with that kiss almost a month ago during their midday excursion. But then, there were the sparks she felt during their dances and the intense dread and worry she felt during the whole trial and all of the little moments in between. And now that he could actually be gone...there was no going back. She cared for him, in a way she’d never felt before. That same feeling her cousin Delilah constantly described when talking about Liam.

In fact, she suspected it was more than that even, that she was starting to fall in love with him. Isabel knew that she wasn’t completely there, it took her forever to arrive at that. And there were so many secrets about him that she wanted to know until she was at that point. But, that process had definitely begun. Enough that she couldn’t think of living without him. She would do anything to save him if she could, even if it put her in danger.

Also, she could tell that she wasn’t alone in feeling this way. It was in his eyes constantly. She noticed it in her apartment when she was begging him to save Lily. Or maybe it even started in the museum, when he told her he just couldn’t let her go. That’s what scared her the most, the possibility that she was somehow responsible. He broke the rules for her. He had been so concerned for her safety and happiness throughout all of this. Yet, it hadn’t crossed her mind until now what danger he faced by having her so involved. Without her, this might not have happened at all.

Her daze from being lost in her head was broken by the sound of heavy footsteps on the hardwood.

“Hey,” Lily said gently, causing her to look up. “Figured you could use this.” The gamer gestured to the glass of water in her hand, a single ice cube inside to chill it.

Isabel simply nodded and took it as her friend sat down next to her, an equally tense expression on her face. “This is all my fault, Lil,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“How? You were the one who advocated for him the most! They were idiots for betraying him. Maybe he’s done things in the past, but now? I don’t think Adrian could hurt a fly unless he had to.”

“But I’m the who reason he’s in this mess in the first place! If I ha...hadn’t begged him to turn you then The Council wouldn’t have been so mad at him.” Isabel took a sip of the drink in her hand, failing to stop the waterworks once more. “Hell, I should’ve just gotten my memories erased like he was told to,” she spat angrily. “All I’ve been doing since then is causing more trouble.”

“Nonsense.”

Kamilah suddenly appeared and sat down in the armchair across from them. Seeing Isabel, her eyes softened into a more concerned expression. “I don’t want you to talk like that anymore. I know I had my doubts about you in the beginning, but now I know he made the right decision. He confided in me at the Ball about what he saw you and I’ve rarely seen him speak of someone so highly. And never a human, not even Nicole.”

“Really?”

The Vampire queen nodded. “I happen to agree with him. You’ve proved to be brave and extremely helpful among many other things. And Lily, I have to say you have learned rather quickly and I have grown quite fond of you two.”

Isabel saw a brief moment of light on her face as she looked at Lily.

Soon, her expression darkened once more. “None of this is your fault...or his really. Truth be told, this was bound to happen whether you were here or not. Most of them have wanted him gone for a while now. The Baron is relatively young and resents Adrian for making him follow the rules, Lester has been holding a grudge against him for decades. As for Vega...he’s been jealous almost since the beginning. He will do anything to have power and Adrian has been in the way of that.”

“What about Priya?”

“She’s indifferent either way. The only thing she cares about is herself. Not to mention she's easily manipulated. I think she still wants affection from Vega also, even though they've been done since the thirties."

A minute went by with silence before Lily perked up. "Wait, I wanna know more about this serum. Do you know anything?" she asked Isabel who nodded.

"I know a lot about it actually," she answered.

"Is what Vega said true then? Can it really…?"

"Yes, it's really supposed to make vampires human. The final product anyway, I have no idea if it works like it's supposed to. Adrian only showed me a prototype. Although with his success rate, I wouldn’t doubt that it does.”

"That definitely sounds like something Vega would make a fuss about. I had no idea until the trial," Kamilah told them.

Isabel felt a spike of anger and she slammed the glass down onto the side table. "That's what I can't figure out, he's not supposed to know about it! If Adrian didn't tell you, the person he trusts the most, he definitely didn't tell anyone else on The Council. Now I know why."

"So someone on the inside...leaked it to him?" Lily questioned following along.

"Yes, that's the only way Vega would have known. You both saw how surprised Adrian was at the trial!"

"Isabel, who is authorized to know about it?" Kamilah asked, almost demanding.

"Not many. Just me, the researchers in the lab working on it...and Nicole." The last name she answered with dread.

The others picked up on her suspicions. Lily exclaimed, "You think she betrayed him? That girl is attached to him like a leech."

"I think it's highly possible yeah. It's the only person that makes any sense. You would think she would've helped more at the trial. It was almost like she wanted him convicted."

Kamilah frowned. "Something about her just never sat right with me either. However, that is a lot of suspicion without evidence.”

"Adrian did express to me once that she really wants him to turn her.” She was met with wide eyes. “Don’t worry, he told me he would never do that, even if there wasn't a rule. She was too power hungry, irresponsible. And she was really agitated during the ordeal with Lily. At the time I just thought she was worried about Adrian but now...she was probably wanting it to be her," Isabel theorized.

"That's... convincing. However, we would need more than that to actually prove it enough for any action. It'll have to wait until...after dawn," the Vampress stated.

They all knew what she was referring to.

"So that's it? Just like that, Adrian's gonna die?" Isabel asked once she realized that no one had a plan to try and save him.

"I'm afraid so," Kamilah spat angrily, her hardened expression returning.

Even she had given up trying. Isabel figured out of everyone, she would be the last to leave it to fate.

"I feel like I've been punched in the gut…"

Lily agreed with her sentiment. "Me too. Like I can't catch my breath…"

While it hadn't been long, she had grown fond of him too.

Kamilah looked at them sadly before taking out a carafe and mixing some liqueur before handing them both a glass over ice. "Drink. It'll dull the pain."

Suddenly Isabel looked up at them, her eyes ablaze and pushed the glass aside. "Dull the pain? I want to do something about this! There must be some way--"

She was quickly interrupted. "Believe me, if there were I'd be doing it." The older vampire snapped. "Adrian is like a brother to me. I'd burn The Council to the ground for him…" she let out an impossible, defeated sigh. "But we've played our hand and lost. If we went to war, it'd be two clans against four. We'd be destroyed. Along with half of the city."

"But that trial was total bull! Adrian was set up!" Lily exclaimed.

It was clear that Kamilah thought so too. "Council justice is swift...and not always just."

Isabel shook her head, not believing what she was alluding to. "Can't we at least...appeal to the Council?"

She was met with a scoff. "And say what?"

"I don't know! Try to reach whatever shred of fairness and humanity they have left? They can't really all want Adrian dead?!"

Kamilah frowned once more. "After what they learned about the serum, I suspect they do."

No. They weren't just going to give up. Bolting from the couch Isabel paced frantically, tears welling in her eyes again. "There's got to be something! I mean Priya likes me. What if I offer to let her feed on me in return for a favor?"

"Yikes dot yikes," Lily exclaimed, begging her not to.

As for Kamilah, she let out a dry, bitter laugh. Bluntly, she told Isabel, "Priya would take the deal...then use you till you broke, and then force you to watch Adrian die with a smile on your face. Priya might be clueless when it comes to council meetings and put off an air of allure...but she's every bit of a monster as the Baron. Maybe even more."

Isabel gulped, instantly regretting what she'd suggested. She remembered Adrian's warning about her in the club that first night.

However, the lecture wasn't done. "I'm sorry Isabel, Lily. The reality is harsh, and I won't sugarcoat it." Kamilah’s next words were clipped as if to put an end to the discussion. "There is nothing we can do."

Isabel didn't know what came of her, but the idea of doing nothing became more and more unacceptable. Maybe it was her sadness turning into anger or her feelings about Adrian influencing her but, the one thing she wasn't used to is giving up. Even when the deck seemed impossibly stacked against her. So, she impulsively said what she had once before.

"No."

Both Kamilah and Lily looked at her in surprise.

"Excuse me?" The older vampire said. "Did you not hear what I said?"

Isabel wasn't swayed. They were going to fight until the very end. At least she was. "I did, and I still say no. How can you accept that?!" she said incredulously. "There's always something."

She paced around the room desperately trying to get her fast mind to work at lightning speed. Suddenly she stopped as a simple but dangerous idea came to her. It was a long shot, but it might be the only way.

"What?" Lily asked, knowing that look on her friend’s face.

"Couldn't we just...rescue him ourselves?" Isabel blurted out. "Can we at least try?"

A moment of silence hung in the air.

Finally, she watched as Lily's expression grew slightly more optimistic. "Yeah, I mean...we're pretty badass right? You especially?" she gestured towards Kamilah. "And you've got at least two dozen vampires in your Clan…"

Kamilah shook her head. "I wouldn't ask them to risk their lives. Not for another Clan's leader." Isabel could tell she liked the idea though, she could see it in her eyes. "Besides, even if we could do that without getting ourselves killed...none of us know exactly where Adrian is being held."

"Um, I do."

All of them turned around to see a woman Isabel had seen a few times when she'd gone to meetings here with Adrian. She was a vampire from Kamilah's Clan and head of security. She also worked for Adrian before becoming interested in finances and transferring over and was still fond of him. She couldn't remember her name though.

"Janet," Kamilah said in surprise. "How much have you heard?"

The redhead swallowed. "Most of it. I was--working late. Word is already spreading through the Clans about the trial. I can't believe they're going to execute him."

Isabel was the one who replied. "Not if we do something. You said you know where they are keeping him?"

"Yes...I know exactly where he is."

Kamilah quickly offered her a desk chair. "Come, sit down. Tell us what you know." She poured Janet a drink and slid it to her across the desk as they all took a seat.

"Thank you. I have a friend who works for Vega who's privy to that information. She was glad to tell me where he is. "

Lily sat up straight. "A mole! You've got a mole!"

Janet smirked. "I work in espionage, both here and when I was with Adrian. It's my job to get information. Luckily, that was her plan all along. She's been wanting to leave for a while and this was the perfect opportunity. She's willing to work with us to keep Vega off his trail as long as possible too."

"Again, I've underestimated you, Janet," Kamilah replied, a smile appearing for the first time in a while.

That's when Isabel knew that her crazy plan might work after all.

"I think love you," she exclaimed gratefully. "Now, where is he?"

Janet sighed. "In the Bloody Cellars."

Isabel felt a chill up her spine. That's where The Baron sent her until she was rescued by Jax on the way.

Suddenly, she jumped as Kamilah slammed her fist on the table, anger once again coursing through her. "I knew it. My worst fears have come true."

"It makes sense. It's the one place they thought he'd be safest from you."

"Well, they picked the wrong human to mess with, especially when someone I care about gets hurt,” Isabel fumed.

"Sorry, can we put that thing down, flip it and reverse it?" Lily asked, confused. "What is the Bloody Cellars? Because it sounds like a Halloween-themed wine bar."

Kamilah explained sternly, "It's The Baron's private prison beneath his club, where he locks up anyone who's crossed him. A disgusting cesspool of torture, murder, and brutality."

"So no Halloween-themed wine bar."

Her friend shook her head, mouthing "no" before swallowing back yet another wave of emotion. "To think...to think they've got Adrian in a place like that…"

She closed her eyes tightly, imagining the suffering he was most likely going through. It felt like a knife to the heart. She had to get him out of there, whatever it took.

She felt Kamilah's steely gaze and met it. They both felt that way. "It's beyond cruel. Even for The Council."

Janet agreed. "That's exactly why we need to bust him out. Quickly."

Isabel nodded. "I couldn't agree more."

She looked at the clock and saw that it was almost three thirty am. Sunrise was at 6:45, which meant that they had three hours to work with. They need to do this fast.

Kamilah cleared her throat, the determination back in full force. "Okay, now that we know where he is, we have to figure out how to get him out."

Isabel remembered that Adrian kept a blueprint of the entire club that he showed her when she went to deliver the notice a couple months earlier. Her almost photographic memory still gave her a vague idea of what they looked like. She also remembered where they were kept.

She relayed this information to the group. "We still should have time to grab them, if we act quickly. Plus, it can also give us an opportunity to see if Nicole is really the traitor I think she is."

"Vega already has security outside Raines corp, although...if you could get past them…"

"Kamilah?"

"He won't have much of the secured the inside, not until the killing is done. He'll want as many of his men to watch as possible."

Isabel smiled. "Easy. Priya isn't the only one who can do some manipulation. I already have an idea of how I want to do it. I’ll just pretend I'm just getting my things from the desk, which is true. I did leave a lot of things there thinking I could go back. And I'm a good actor too."

"Have I told you that I love you?" Lily exclaimed.

"Many times Lil." She continued her explanation. "Now, if Vega wants the serum for himself, he's going to go back for it. And if Nicole is in on it...she'll trap us in the office if we return there after Adrian is rescued. By then, I'll have gotten rid of it, so Vega can't have any. Then, we head to the club from there. That part won't be easy. I'll see if on my way out I can get Adrian's car. It'll be fast enough for us to lose them if they follow us at any point."

Even Janet and Kamilah looked impressed. "Nice work Isabel."

"Thanks. I also know enough about the layout that we can still think of the rest." Isabel said.

"Cool, so what's the plan now?" Lily asked.

"We need to find a way to sneak in and bust him out!"

"Hell yeah. I'm always ready for some Technical Espionage Action! Although I kind of meant, you know, a plan plan."

"Oh. Right."

Janet shifted in her chair, refilling her glass. "Even with the floor plans, infiltrating the Shrike is no easy task. And if my friend is telling the truth, The Baron's doubled the number of guards on duty."

Isabel began to think, picturing the blueprints in her mind until an inkling of an idea began to form, like a puzzle she had to solve. It was almost too simple but, that was what she hoped would make it work.

She looked up at them, her eyes shimmering. "Wait. I've got something. This may sound dumb but what if we just...walked through the front door."

"You're right," Kamilah admitted bluntly. "That was...idiotic."

"But, that's just it! That's exactly why I think it could work!" Now, Isabel had their full attention. "What if...we went in like we were trying to make a deal...and then sprung him."

She left everyone speechless. For a few seconds, everyone stared at her in surprise.

Finally, the CEO stammered, "I...stand corrected. It's actually an interesting idea...a good idea. But what could we possibly offer The Baron?"

She already had an answer, although she didn't like putting the person she had in mind at risk. But, she had to. "Another prisoner. One he can't refuse."

They all looked at her, slowly coming to the same conclusion she did.

Her and Lily whisper the name at the same time. "Jax."

"Are you sure? I doubt he would easily agree to this," her friend exclaimed.

Isabel sighed. "I hate putting him in danger too. But, he’s the one enemy that The Baron hasn't been able to put away. And...we should give Jax something in exchange: a home for the Clanless. He wants that more than anything. If...that's not too much to ask."

She looked over at Kamilah.

"If this is successful, and we win the fight with Vega afterward...I don't see why not. I certainly wouldn't object. The only reason I've been against it so far is because of Adrian making enemies with the Council. But, seeing as that has already happened...I'm done playing nice."

"Then I think we'll have a deal!"

The air was full of optimism as the rest of the plan was pieced together in meticulous detail.

Just when Isabel thought they had accounted for every obstacle, Lily posed one more question.

"What if The Baron won't even be convinced with Jax? What if he thinks even that's not enough to go against Vega?"

Kamilah scoffed. "Oh, I know he won't give us Adrian unless we get him ourselves. He'll just sit us there and wait for the sunrise. Jax breaking him out will be the ace up our sleeve.”

"But what if he doesn't even let him down there at all? Then we've done all of this for nothing!"

Isabel knew. She knew immediately what The Baron would accept without a doubt. Both Jax...and her.

"Then have Kamilah throw me in there also," she volunteered.

"No!" Lily pleaded. Kamilah also looked uneasy.

But she already made up her mind. She told herself that she would put herself in danger for Adrian and she meant it.

Turning to Kamilah, she explained, "You said you would do anything to save Adrian. So, if you throw me in there as if that's not part of the plan, he'll bite. Especially if you pretend that I'm expendable because I'm human. I'm the one person he wants to kill more than Jax.” She saw they were still hesitant. “Please, I want to be down there, I need to. I need to see him and make sure we get him out."

"If you are sure that you are okay with this, I will do that," Kamilah replied.

"Yes, I'm sure. We can't tell Jax about this part though, his reaction needs to be genuine. It'll sell better." She escaped the Baron's clutches with Jax once, she was confident they could do it again.

Lily frowned at her friend but didn't stop her. "I hope you know what you're doing Iz," she warned her, voice wavering with fear. "I don't wanna lose you, not after all you've done for me."

Isabel smiled. "I do Lily. Adrian's risked his life to save mine before. Now it's my turn."

Her best friend nodded. “Okay,” she mouthed.

After everything was confirmed, she called Jax. He was the one thing left she needed to secure the plan. He picked up after the second ring.

"Isabel? Is everything okay? How...how are you?" He inquired with concern.

Biting her lip, she put him on speaker before answering, her stomach in knots. “We’re rescuing Adrian!" She exclaimed.

"What?”

"Jax, we have a plan to bust him out that can work. But, we need a big favor from you in order to make it happen, one you’re not gonna like.”

There was silence. "This is going to be something dangerous...isn't it?"

Isabel sighed. "Yes, but it's the only way The Baron will let us down into the Bloody Cellars where they're keeping him."

She quickly explained the whole plan with help from the others.

"You really put all of this together."

"Oh, I...it was a team effort really."

Lily scoffed loudly. "Are you kidding, you were the one that refused to give up, even when the rest of us did! You also came up with the idea for rescuing him, and how to do it."

"Fine, I guess I contributed a lot, that’s not the point,” Isabel said hastily before returning to the task at hand. “Look, Jax, I know it's a lot to ask."

"You're right, it is. I don't know if I can risk leaving my people without a leader." He replied.

She knew he would say something like that but, she still had her end of the deal to disclose.

"Jax, that's exactly why you have to do this. Keeping Adrian alive is your best shot at giving them a real home, safety. He’s been fighting for you, but the Council wouldn't let him. If you help us by doing this, and we somehow win against Vega, we'll make sure the Clanless are protected.”

After a minute, he said, "You're serious? You can actually make that happen?"

It was Kamilah who answered him. "If we do the impossible and make it out of this alive? Adrian and I will personally see to it that you and the Clanless replace Vega on the Council since he won’t let us go both alive.”

"Then I'll do it. If Adrian really has been that sympathetic to us," Jax stated. "There are a lot of my people in that prison also."

"I promise he has," Isabel said.

They were actually about to do this. The adrenaline already began to run through her veins.

She heard him sigh after a long pause. "Alright then. Let's get Adrian out of there."

Note: I just edited this because I realized that this is Chapter 13 and not 12! Sorry!

#playchoices #choices stories you play #bloodbound #adrian x mc #adrian raines #bb rewrite

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nyalapeno · 5 years

Text

Salt in the Sea - chapter 1

To celebrate Ei-chan’s birthday! <3 He’s my eternal fave character so I wanted to write something for him.

So here it is - my Eijun-centric Miyusawa fic :) I’ve posted it on Ao3 as well - here it is. [Salt in the Sea]

I hope someone out there will smile reading it~

Chapter 1 ~ I don’t give a damn about my bad reputation~

She... she wasn't listening. At all. His protests went ignored. Gramps had slapped him, but that was still a reaction, if negative - she wasn't reacting, just saying whatever she wanted. Was she purposefully ignoring everything that didn’t fit in with her plans because she was even more bullheaded than an average Sawamura? Or was she deaf? Did she need hearing aids? Was she old enough to need hearing aids?

"Do you nee--" SLAP!

Thus interrupted, Eijun winced and rubbed his cheek to get rid of the stinging feeling. His Gramps couldn't read minds but having known him for fifteen years he could certainly make a fine impression of it. In this case the slap was a preemptive measure as he'd been about to indirectly make a comment about the recruiter's age, and age and calories were risky topics at times.

But it would've been fine! It wasn't like she was listening in the first place.

And now she was tapping on her phone while sharing a table with her hosts. Rude! His mom, instead of telling her off, was watching the proceedings with interest.

"I can reserve the tickets for tomorrow, will that be alright?"

"Certainly!" his mom agreed. "I'll inform Ei-chan's teachers. It's not every day an opportunity like this comes along so I'm sure they'll understand!"

"What," Eijun deadpanned as he listened to his immediate future being planned out without his say so.

"Don't you 'what' me!" Eitoku scolded him. "A recruiter from that Seidou comes here personally to invite you and this is how you react? You should be thanking her on your knees!" Eijun huffed. He already said exactly what he thought about schools like 'that Seidou', not that anyone’d paid him any mind. Wasn't he allowed to have an unpopular opinion?

The recruiter, with his family's full support and encouragement, reserved tickets for Eijun. The travel plan sounded complicated as he’d apparently have to change trains a few times. Tomorrow morning he was going to be visiting the place and there was nothing he could do about it. Well, in theory Eijun could ignore the summons and not go unless Takashima came back in person and dragged him to Tokyo by his hair - when he was younger he used to try such tactics. But they'd just gotten him slapped every time, and besides it was a waste of daylight. So yeah, in theory only. In practice he was stuck.

Honestly, half of the reason he was protesting so much was the woman's total dismissal of his objections. No one liked being seen as an opinionless doll to be dragged around the country willy-nilly. Maybe he was exaggerating but sitting here and being ignored was unpleasant. He'd even rather she yell at him or tell him he was an idiot for not wanting to go. And his family still wondered why he wasn't jumping on the Seidou bandwagon. Were all students treated like air, or was it reserved for prospective students like him? Great advertising. Exactly who did it attract? Masochists?

"...Blech!" Eijun made a face as his imagination ran away with him. His dad lightly smacked the back of his head. Probably decided it already took enough abuse today. Speaking of, the recruiter had been impressed with his slapping skills and in fact appeared to approve of him starting a brawl after the match. He was really beginning to wonder about this super fancy baseball school. Masochists and brawlers... was this real-life Deimon High? Did they maybe have Hiruma Youichi the second? If he went there and met a violent student a year his senior who was called Youichi he would scream, Sena style.

He already felt like screaming to be honest. What the hell was this situation?

The scout was already saying her goodbyes, apparently having finished up with the ticket thing. Everyone was bowing and spewing niceties with not a thought spared for basic human rights while Eijun folded his arms across his chest and scowled at everything, unaware that his attempt looked more like a pout. His verbal protests had been ignored so maybe a visual one...?

"Sawamura-kun," the recruiter said, turning to him. She paused, took in his Rebellious Teenager PoseTM, then smirked. What the-- "I've reserved tickets for you, your mother has the details. Make sure to not be late for the train."

"As if I would be!" Eijun snapped, his offense at the situation temporarily transforming into offense at the insinuation. He was never late! Unless it was on purpose.

"Very good," the lady smirked at him again. Eijun's mouth fell open and he stared, bamboozled. She pretended not to hear the stuff that didn’t fit with her plans but responded to stuff that did? How convenient! "Then I won't be imposing on you any longer. Sawamura-kun, I'll be waiting for you at the first interchange station so you don't get lost." with this parting shot she left, leaving Eijun spluttering as he was insulted for the nth time in one conversation.

"I won't get lost!!" he bellowed after her.

Slap!

"Shut up!" Eitoku shushed him. Like Eijun with scowling, he had his own unique version of shushing.

"Don't complain, Eijun," his dad scolded. "It was thoughtful of Takashima-san to offer, the metro system in Tokyo is confusing. If you really were to get lost you'd be in Big Trouble," he shuddered, as though remembering something unpleasant from his past. Eijun blinked.

"Is it really that bad?" he asked, curiosity overriding offense. He hadn't seen much of the metro during his time in Tokyo so he had no clue.

"Even natives have trouble navigating it," Eishi said gravely. "It's better now, with all the apps they made for passengers, but it's still too complicated for comfort. I'd feel better if you had a guide."

"And I'd feel better if I wasn't going at all," Eijun muttered crossly.

"You ungrateful grandson!" Eitoku shook a fist at him but didn't slap. Maybe his hand was tired? "People make the effort to organize transport for you and you don't have to pay and you still complain?"

"Aaargh, I'm not complaining about free transport! I just don't want to visit this school in the first place, like I keep saying from the beginning! But everyone turns deaf when I speak! What is wrong with this world? Nobody’s listening! Nobody understands me!" he dramatized. Eitoku side-eyed him.

"Well, if you can go on like this then clearly you're just fine," he commented.

"Everyone," Chieko called out before anything else could be said. "I think this calls for a family discussion so why don't we get back to the table? I'll make more tea."

"I'll help!" Eijun yelled then bolted into the kitchen before anyone could stop him or talk some more nonsense. His mom followed while Eishi and Eitoku sat down at the table. Eijun collected the necessities while Chieko put the kettle on. The water was soon ready because they used an electric kettle and not a tetsubin. They did own a tetsubin, but it was being used as a decorative flowerpot instead. Which was just fine with Eijun who didn’t want to boil water on the stove. Not that he boiled water by himself very often.

"Mom, can I have hot chocolate instead?" Eijun asked, hesitating over the fourth teacup. He wasn’t really in the mood for tea.

"Of course, Ei-chan. Just try not to spill milk everywhere again." The kettle clicked as Eijun pulled out his usual mug and the can of instant cocoa.

"Mom! That time it was a new carton, it couldn't be helped!" he defended and went to fetch the milk.

"It could if you poured more slowly."

"Urgh… fine," Eijun waited for his mom to pour the water, then added cocoa powder and milk, making sure to handle the carton carefully. Full cartons could be tricky. "Ha!" he beamed at his success when nothing was spilled. Happy, he stirred the contents of the mug energetically, which resulted in some of the liquid flying out and forming a chocolatey puddle on the counter. "..."

"It's all right, Ei-chan, just clean it up," his mom didn't even seem fazed anymore.

"Uh, yeah, cleaning up now! Sorry!" Eijun wiped up the counter. Somehow, Chieko managed to prepare the tea and snacks in the time it took him to prepare his own drink. Respect. Together, they carried everything to the table.

"All right, Ei-chan," Chieko asked once everyone was sitting down. "Out with it. Why are you so reluctant about giving Seidou a chance?"

Eijun glanced at all his family members one by one. Unlike when Takashima-san was still around this time they looked ready to listen to what he had to say, if a bit skeptical (Eitoku).

"Because..." he took a deep breath. "Because look at how that lady acted! She totally ignored my opinion and just did her own thing, and she's someone who takes care of kids at this fancy boarding school! What if everyone's treated like that all the time? That's really bad especially because they live there! And she told us how she always looks at matches to find and pick the best players for her school like players were flowers or something, and that's so impersonal! Is this a school or a bouquet? And it sounds like they're all about results and winning and I just don't like it at all! When playing baseball you should enjoy it, not feel like a soldier who'll get killed if he doesn't succeed! And I already promised everyone we'll all go to Miyoshi and recreate our team there so that we can have fun playing together as long as we can and I can't just go back on that because I got scouted somewhere! It's just all bad! And-- and--” he stuttered, hesitant to mention the last reason in front of his Dad and Gramps who’d likely laugh in his face... or slap it. “And the place is probably stuffy and sucky and full of snobs! " With this crowning argument Eijun broke off, huffing. Face having grown hot from his rant, he placed his hands on his cheeks to cool it.

"All I'm hearing is that you're assuming a lot of things about this school you've never seen before, because of what one woman told you," Eitoku commented. "You know what they say about assuming, right?"

"Gramps!" Eijun made a face at the lame comment.

"Hmph," Eitoku scoffed but didn't dwell on the subject.

"Why don't you just go there tomorrow and see if you're right or not?" Eishi suggested. "One visit doesn't equal to signing a pact. You can use that chance to see the place and decide what to do."

"So long as it's an informed decision and not one you made based only on prejudices, we'll all accept it," Chieko added.

"That's right."

"But..." they'd missed the most important part! "But I already said I'll go to Miyoshi with everyone!"

"And I suppose you think that if something comes up that will make you want to change that decision, your friends will get so offended they'll shun you forever?"

"Whu-- huh?" Eijun spluttered, thought process derailing like a faulty train. The depressing vision was unpleasant to consider and made his chest clench, but it was also unimaginable. He just couldn't see such a thing happening. His friends... they weren't like that!

"Is that how little you think of your friends and the bond you share?" Eitoku thundered, probably sensing weakness and decided to strike while the train was derailed. "Is your friendship something so flimsy and shallow it'll break because of distance?"

"No!" Eijun protested, because he didn't think so. "But we made a promise! That matters, okay?"

"Rather than a promise, I think you've been making plans together," Eishi corrected. "Unless you summoned spirits of warriors from ages past and took a blood oath under the moon?"

"We-- what?" Eijun gaped. Where did his dad even get that from? And people said Eijun was weird. "There was no blood oath, what the--"

"Then you were making plans. And plans can change sometimes, which is something I'm sure your friends understand."

"But WHY should I even change those plans?" It was so exasperating. That woman turning deaf to his protests was in its own realm of irritating but this was something else. This was his family telling him that they valued a stranger’s opinion over his. And sometimes the family had a point but it was still grating. The one going to whatever high school he ended up in would be Eijun, not his parents or his Gramps or that recruiter. Didn't he have the right to decide by himself? Whether it was Seidou or Miyoshi or something completely different...

Oh.

"Yes, Ei-chan," Chieko apparently noticed the dawning realization. "We just want you to consider all your options properly, not get fixated on one and reject all others due to lack of information and your defiant, irreverent, bull-headed personality." The adjectives were like anvils falling upon his head and Eijun's elbows slipped, face meeting the table.

"Urgh," he groaned into its shiny surface. He knew he could be bull-headed – hello, his zodiac sign was Taurus the bull – and had no qualms admitting it, but having it pointed out by someone else was a bit... And what was wrong with being irreverent? Japanese were too reverent, someone had to break the mold--

"Ei-chan."

"Yes!" he jumped up like a startled cat. "I understand! I'll... give Seidou a chance..." he trailed off, grimacing. Now that his family was discussing things with him properly his earlier ire had dulled, but he didn't like going behind his friends' backs like this. When he failed to show up to school tomorrow and they asked around and found out he was visiting some snobby school in Tokyo, what would they think?

"What's the problem this time?" Eitoku got to the heart of the matter.

"It just feels like I'm going behind my friends' backs, not telling them about this."

"Then tell them! It's the 21st century, don't you have phones and emails and those liana accounts you use? Why do I have to tell you this?" Eijun felt his jaw drop from sheer disbelief.

"L-- liana account? Wha-- Gramps, you have a LINE account! You talk to me on it! You send stickers! I know you know what it's called!"

"Don't you sass me, young man!"

"Now, now," Chieko mitigated the bickering duo, unable to hold back a smile.

"I'm the one who plays the fool in this house," Eijun grumbled.

"We know," three voices answered in unison, flustering him.

"All things aside," Chieko fixed Eijun with her ‘I’m onto you’ look. Had she figured out he’d omitted something earlier? Probably. His mom was smart like that. “I think you should consider challenging yourself more, and this is a great opportunity to do that."

"You're never challenged anywhere, are you?” Eishi picked up the line of thought. “Definitely not in baseball, because you're the one who's challenging your friends. And every child your age should test their mettle at some point or they'll never grow. Your mother is right, Seidou might just turn out to be good for you."

"Will it really? How am I supposed to know if it's for me?" Eijun was understandably skeptical.

"You can't know until you find out yourself. By going there if you have to," Eishi paused for a moment, thoughtful. "Did I ever tell you? At one point in my life I wanted to be a musician." Eijun blinked.

"No, you didn't!" He definitely would've remembered that.

"I thought it was what I wanted to do in life, so I set off for Tokyo," Eishi smiled ruefully. "It took me three months to find out that it actually wasn't for me, and then I came back home--"

"Crying to me how 'Tokyo was so scary!'" Eitoku mocked him. They started a minor brawl which was broken up by Chieko before it could escalate. Eijun watched it all and grinned. A random visitor might think Eitoku was in charge of everything going by his personality, but Eijun knew who really wore the pants around here.

"My point," Eishi continued once he settled down, "is that it's fine to decide on something and then realize it was a wrong decision. Making such mistakes is a part of growing up. If you decide to go to Seidou and it won't work out for you, you can always transfer to Miyoshi, or just go back and help out with the farm. No one will blame you for it or laugh at you."

Okay, Eijun took back every complaint he made about his family today. They were the best.

"Speak for yourself, I'd definitely laugh at him," said Eitoku right after Eijun thought that, making him facefault.

"This is supposed to be encouragement?! I take back what I just took back! Ha! See? I'm not that stubborn if I can change my mind twice in under a minute!" he announced triumphantly, causing confused blinking as the others couldn't read his mind and thus had no idea what he was talking about.

"...Back to the subject," Eishi attempted to move on from the weird exchange. "Now that you've been offered an opportunity to attend a school like Seidou I think you should take it, if only to try it out. Even if you're not convinced, being scouted by a school of such renown has to be at least a little flattering, right?" He gave Eijun a questioning glance. Eijun flushed and turned away, grumbling to himself. It was, but hell if he was going to admit that. The pleasure and happiness that bubbled up in his chest when he realized that someone thought he had potential as a pitcher just didn't fit with the rest of his emotions, so he'd made sure to push it to the back of his mind. The feeling was still there but he could ignore it... until his dad's comment right now.

"Right," Eishi nodded after getting a good look at Eijun's reaction. "Whatever you may think now I can assure you, this feeling won't go away. If you don't take the chance it may die down for a while, but then it'll come back when you least expect it and you'll end up wondering what could've been. But by then it'll probably already be too late."

Too late. Eijun flinched as he realized his dad was speaking of regrets. His least favorite flavor was bitter and regrets basically personified it. If he chose to not even see the school, would he end up regretting it? Forever wondering what the place was like and if he could’ve fit in there if he'd given it a chance? He… had no idea. He’d been so stuck on going to Miyoshi with his friends that he hadn’t considered anything else. Now the possibility his dad evoked made him feel vaguely ill, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. Remembering his hot chocolate he sipped at it to get rid of the bad taste in his mouth. The sweetness on his tongue washed away the bitter taste the thoughts left and the liquid settled warmly in his stomach, warming him up from the inside and slowly loosening the knot of nerves.

Now that he was trying to be less bull-headed about the issue (what, he could admit his faults if only to himself), he realized he was curious to see what the snobby school looked like. The recruiter’s stories didn’t count as she was expected to show her school in the best light, and besides he hadn’t been too impressed with what he’d heard. So he should probably go there and form his own opinion. Like his dad said, the visit had no strings attached so there should be no problem. Well, as long as no one expected him to pretend to be impressed if he wasn’t.

A slurping sound cut through his thoughts. Eijun blinked, coming back to himself as he realized he’d finished his drink and was now trying to drink from an empty mug. Snorting, he set it down.

"Right," he shook his head to clear it. "I want to talk to my friends about this first, but tomorrow I'll keep an open mind."

"That's the spirit!" Eitoku said, nodding grandly in approval as though this was a state meeting.

"That’s settled then. Crackers, anyone?" Chieko offered, moving the bowl to the middle of the table. One third of its contents was mysteriously missing. Caught off guard, the men (and boy) stared at the different types of crackers like they've never seen any before. Chieko rolled her eyes.

"Alright, more for me."

"You're gonna eat the whole bowl?" Eitoku wondered. "That's probably a lot of--" SLAP!

"Go ahead, dear," Eishi sweated nervously, hand still covering his father's mouth after the strategic slap. As previously stated, age and calories were risky topics.

"Are there any spicy ones?" Ignoring the byplay Eijun peered into the bowl.

"The triangles," Chieko pushed it towards him.

"Yay!" Eijun grabbed a triangle and happily stuffed it in his mouth. He loved spicy food... Wait a second. "Eeeh? These aren't spicy at all!"

"Not for you, maybe," Chieko corrected him. Out of curiosity Eishi tried a supposedly spicy cracker and frowned in thought.

"It is spicy."

"What? No it isn't!"

"Sorry Ei-chan, you're outvoted."

"Let me try," Eitoku also grabbed a cracker. "Hah? It's not that spicy, what’re you talking about?"

"Ha! Two for two! It's a tie now!" Eijun waved his hands in a mini victory dance.

"Your opinion shouldn't count in the first place, Eijun; you once put a whole habanero pepper in curry."

"Hey! I ate it later, didn't I?"

"Because no one else would touch it. Not even dad."

"Excuse you, I'm perfectly capable of eating real man's food! ...But that time he overdid it."

"I don't want to hear that from someone who later made jalapeno ramen!” Eijun protested. “Which I also had to eat, by the way!"

"Of course you had to eat it, no normal person would eat such a thing." What a hypocrite!

"Then why even make it in the first place?" Eijun yelled in exasperation.

"Now, now," Chieko soothed them. "Ei-chan, it's getting late. If you want to talk to your friends you should do it soon. There's no way to tell how long you'll take, and you should also make sure to pack something for the road. It's three hours from here to Tokyo, even if you take the shinkansen."

"Right! I'll just make a group chat, I guess," Eijun thought out loud. Eitoku rolled his eyes but didn't comment.

“But first please help with the dishes,” Chieko said with a pleasant smile. Somehow Eijun didn't think this was about the dishes - well, not only. But it couldn't hurt to have an additional talk with his mom.

He went.

Then he had to go back for the mugs.

#fic:sitsea #sawamura eijun #sawamura eitoku #miyusawa

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