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starshipsofstarlord · 9 months

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JJ’s Sugar Mama Pays His Bail

Summary -> JJ’s sugar mama Y/N pays his bail, but he isn’t as grateful as she expected him to be. And so she makes him sorry (1.6k)

Warnings -> 18+ minors dni pleeeaassseeee, smut, oral sex (f receiving), angst, arrest, handcuff kink

jj maybank works other outer banks works masterlist

He was sat in the yellow tinted room, alone with his own wandering thoughts; he had done everything for his friends, and the one time he was selfish, this was where he ended up - in the slammer, just like his dad.He shouldn’t have spent that money, that much was obvious, that could have covered his backside to him being a free man, without a split lip and a debt hanging over his shoulders, but there was nothing that he could do to change his actions now.

This was his punishment, being all alone, and as much as he didn’t want it, he deserved it deep down, or so he thought.

If only he could ride away into the sunset with his bike beneath him, and drift away from the Maybank curse, then he most definitely would. The officers weren’t surprised to have him coiled up in their custody, they’d all boasted that they knew it was a matter of time, he was the most volatile pogue they had ever wanted to capture, and their wishes of taking him away in the back of their siren wailing car had eventually become true.

Nobody would resolve this consort of issues he had dug himself down into, even if they wanted to they were powerless to the bribed force that resides in the Cut. His friends could never afford to free him from the shackles that were this cell… though he had some faith in them when he heard the heavy foot falls of a man with a scrambled moustache whom was dressed in the unmistakable uniform.

JJ spoke no word to him, however the officer did to him, he made a statement, one he was not overly joyous about. “Your bails been paid Maybank, clearly someone has too much money on their hands to let you rot out in here for whatever reason.” The pogue wanted to bite back at his offender but he remained quiet as the barred door was unlocked, and like a lost child he mindlessly followed the cop, wishing he could defend John B, or Pope, or Kiara; whichever one paid for his freedom.

But none of them were in the cramped lobby, or waiting outside, however there was a familiar and sleek car without a scratch this glinted before his eyes, making it simple as to whom his saviour was. She was leant up against the vehicle, sunglasses shielding her eyes as she ignored the curious eyes of passers-by that dared to glance at her.

“Y/N.” He called out her name, slipping past the officers that suspiciously watched as he retreated to the woman that was awaiting on his behalf. “Why are you here? Did you..”

“You know I got you out of there JJ.” She sighed, finally slipping her black mirrored glasses from her face and folding them into her hands. “You don’t need to ask that, as soon as I heard I knew I had to get you released as quickly as possible. A place like that doesn’t deserve for you to be in there, you’re far too good.”

The blonde gulped as he took a step towards her so that their conversation could be on a more private level. “I’m not Y/N/N, I deserved to be in there.” And he believed it, far too much. “You shouldn’t have wasted your money, especially on me. In fact I think you should stop pitying me so much, I’m probably going to keep getting locked up and if you keep bailing me out then you’re going to be as broke as I am.”

He was trying to push her away, distance himself so that he could prove himself for once and for all. When he and his friends finally got that gold, he could make something of himself, and then, and only then, he might deserve her…

“Hey! I don’t pity you, I care about you, there’s a very distinct difference. I believe in you, JJ Maybank, and I wish you would too. Because you’re going to do great things, and I hope to always be one of the people witnessing them. And I don’t care about the money, it means nothing.”

JJ couldn’t help but release a pent up scoff. “Money might mean nothing to you Y/N, but you haven’t had to survive your whole life without it. Can you just take me to my shabby little home so that you can go back to your chic lifestyle and forget about me?" He was being surprisingly brash, he'd never spoken to Y/N that way. He'd always been grateful for the things that she had done for him, but this instance wasn't upon the ladder of his appreciation.

"I could never forget about you J, so will you shut up and get in the car, you're coming with a ride with me. And if you don't like that, it won't be the officers of the law putting you in handcuffs." Y/N saw his mouth about to open, and so she ensured it closed before he could get a sound out. "Don't be a damn brat and do as I say. Now."

She was strict, but she had to be. The line for confessing her feelings to her sugar baby had almost been crossed, and she had to enforce herself not to almost make that mistake again. But with truth, she'd rather survive without the luxuries that made her life what it was than without JJ. For she was just his human credit card, that came running in his times of need, nothing more and nothing less.

He would never be able to feel anything romantic for her, she was his opposite, and sometimes they didn't understand each other, however the tone of voice she had struck him with seemed to work, as he clambered into the passenger side of her vehicle and awaited for her to join him under its roof. "Seatbelt." She instructed him as she watched the pogue out of the corner of her eye, turning the ignition so that she could speed away from the place that he had been locked up.

He was all too familiar with the route of her home, and so he made his way into it, up to the bedroom that was tidy from the freshly made bed and cleaned carpet. "Considering how you spoke to me earlier, I might just put the cuffs on you anyways." They glittered sinfully beneath the light, blinding JJ with his shimmering desires. He willingly, and apologetically held out his hands, prepared to feel the metal scuff the skin around his wrists.

JJ despised being seen as vulnerable, but when he was in such a state he felt safe when Y/N was there, she looked after him, made him feel as though there was nobody that could hurt him. “I’m sorry.” He needed her to forgive him, he hated himself for ever speaking for her in the manner that he had, she was the last person in the world that deserved his attitude. With a loud click the handcuffs were secured onto him, and he realised, he was indeed guilty. He was terrible for speaking to Y/N like that, he was emitting his ravenous emotions, all because of his mistakes, one of which he found greater than the others.

It was never supposed to happen but he had started falling for her, but he didn’t want to drown in regret. If he were to express his feelings this charade that they played would no doubt come to an end, and so he could not allow that to happen. He couldn’t lose her, he had lost enough people in his life. His tongue swiped out from his mouth to collect the anxious sweat on his top lip, as he ogled up at the dominant beauty above him. She was perfect, and he was simply just a pogue. “You should be.” Y/N pressed, her brow arching in a sly rise of optimism. “But you’re going to make it up to me.” She dragged him onto the bed, her hand tangled in the roots of his blond hair, finding pleasure in his pained yet aroused whimpers.

“I will.” He nodded exasperatedly, desperate for her forgiveness, wishing he could claw at her back for comfort and a sense of solace. But she silenced her when she raised her hips over his face, her skirt riding up high on her thighs, and her lace covered mound suffocating any further sounds that wished to part from his lips. His moans were muffled as he instantly got to work, mouthing at the fabric that separated him from what he wished to be his last meal, he was so turned on, it wasn’t fair. This was his punishment and a gift all at once.

Y/N’s eyelashes fluttered as she lazily smirked to herself, a light moan falling from her lips as she rode his face. She wanted to get lost in him, or in this case, on top of him. He was all that she wanted, and this was the only way in which she could have him, and so she would settle for that at this time. She slipped her panties to the side, allowing him to taste the real thing without any obstacles blocking the path of his hungry tongue, because she wanted to feel good too.

And this was the only way. Because maybe JJ was right, her lifestyle was far different to his, she wasn’t a pogue like him, and she had money. But what she wanted with JJ was priceless, she would give it all up if she could do it all over again with him. She bit her lip, relishing in the feeling that her sexual loved was giving her rather than the painful thoughts that invaded her mind.

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank angst

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fandomnerd9602 · 6 months

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Submission

Nun!Wanda x Male Reader

For @lifespectator and @aloneodi

To say that you and your bride were enjoying the magnificent freedom that a marriage afforded would be an understatement, perhaps the biggest.

You and Wanda worked in the same convent and fell hard for one another. So much that you and her were singing praises when Father Wong informed you that you could still work at the church and be allowed to pursue a relationship together.

Wong's only rule was that you and Wanda not make out or worse in the house of worship.

You thank the Lord that you and Wanda were sent on little errands outside of the convent and into the nearby town. It allowed for many opportunities to steal kisses and make out with one another in the pale moonlight.

You proposed to Wanda and she gladly accepted. Well more like tackled you to the ground in the garden and kissed you with the kind of passion that Adam and Eve probably had for one another on their wedding night.

Wong was more than happy to officiate your ceremony and allowed the two of you to move into a little cottage not far from convent.

You and Wanda would never say it aloud but you were both glad to be living in a place besides your church, because some of the things you and her have been up to lately would be downright sinful.

Many Sundays where you found each other stealing little glances as you went about your job taking care of the children in Sunday school. The way Wanda would tease you with just a wave of her fingers, how you'd find yourself wishing what she would do you with those bewitching fingers.

Of course you found your own little ways to tempt and tease your wife back. Little looks or even the way you'd show how good a parent you could be, it all drove her over the edge. It made her want to drag you back to your cottage and take her already.

And so that brings you to right now. Wanda had been the one doing all the teasing all day. Even her wordplay was getting very tempting as she was making dinner with you.

"Do you want breasts or thighs, detka?" she asks with a little smirk.

"I-um...thighs?" you tried to articulate.

Wanda couldn't help but smile. She knew exactly what buttons to push on you. The same buttons she was pushing after supper too.

You were working on a report for Wong when Wanda glided into your little study room, a little mischievous smirk on her lips.

"I found the best book in the Scriptures for us to read together" she says.

"Which one?"

She sat on your lap, her shorts rising up ever so slightly, exposing that silk like texture of her legs. How soft it felt over you. "Song of Songs. I can't help but think of how that relates to us."

"That's a book of a married couples...wedding night" you could feel the heat rising all over you.

"Oh how her breasts are like two fawns...her neck is like an ivory tower" Wanda reads a quote from it aloud. One of her hands glides over her own neck and then over one of her clothed breast. "Don't you think, detka?"

"Remind me to talk with Wong tomorrow" you manage to say

"Hmm? why?"

"Because I'm going to need confession after what i'm going to do to you" you whisper back as you pick her up, her legs wrap around your waist as you kiss her fiercely and carry her away quickly to your bedroom.

Wanda giggles the whole way there. "Detka" she moans in your ear.

Wanda (L/N) former nun, your loving bride, the future mother of your kids, and the biggest temptation you have in your life.

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #nun #nun x reader #nun wanda #wanda variant #scarlet witch

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orangelemonsstuff · 11 months

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Rose Android

Automation!Au Riddle x Scavenger!Reader

Summary: You found a disembodied head of an Android and put him back together again only to get a strict, rule follower, android to help you around

Tags: Angst & Fluff

this au is credits to @jackplushie

Is this how it's going to end?

he did well didn't he? so why did his mother threw him away?

he performed tasks perfectly, he did what she asked, he installed essential modules through his system to become knowledgeable, he became a perfect android for her so why..?

he only wished for her to have a freedom to go outside. that's all what he wished for.

"This one kept acting up on its own whether i order it or not, yes i did modify it to have it's own intelligence yet, it somehow remained lacking in... well perfection."

just to go outside to sightsee, is not perfection

What exactly should he do to reach her eyes? to show her he is perfect in everyway, he's the perfect android she created.

he didn't ask for anything big or extravagant, he just asked to see how the world is really outside.

"take it, sell it, do whatever you want with it. I have no more use for it anymore. although i do like how he look his face plate might be useful- ah nevermind leave his head alone in that big scrap dump site i just have another copy anyway and i feel that it's much better."

ah he remembers it, how painful it was when they ripped and torn his limbs apart, how of his torso was ripped apart from his head. his wired nerves still can feel it till this time and his creator, his mother. just watched how he get violated

but how could he even call her a mother when she wasn't even one?

maybe calling her 'mother' that one time is the reason why she threw him away, he had just learned what that word is he didn't mean to call her that at all

maybe that was his flaw.

since an assistant bot like him can be cheap and affordable his system stored in his head is technically useless to those scavengers but of course they didn't give his body any peace.

but his main system left in his head is still active, he couldn't even make out the muddy clouded sky with the warnings and notice prompt up to his eyes. still aware of the pain

the outside world is terrible. he shouldn't have asked to be here at all. so he could be with her still.

but-

was he really that useless and hated, his moth- creator had to call those scavengers to separate his parts that way?

maybe she found joy in his suffering after all

he doesn't know anymore. his mother completely abandoned him, thrown away in this dump, unloved.

his eyelids twitched, he felt something he had never felt ever. what was that called again? he couldn't remember without his code that installed his knowledge of everything. but it was something fiery and annoying, something he wishes to completely eliminate and get rid of.

"..ou see that?" someone is near

his left ear is the only thing that can hear his other is much more and completely damaged to the point of no use

but with the use of it he can hear the scattering, clanging of metal rubbish, as the steps get closer and closer. it seem like they weren't alone and talking to someone still he can't figure out what is since the steps are lone.

he can feel them, a human.

he couldn't see them at all, he could make out figure but they're not clear not as clear as the pop ups infront of his eyes

"...ain capacitor in his neck is still attached" system nerves that still works behind his skin felt rubber gloved hands carress him, and immediately flip it over rather gently

"can you speak?" he didn't answer, he can't. not that he would either he swore that he'll only follow the orders of his creator

the person continued to examine him flipping it over and over again while humming in a satisfied way

"hmm... i don't think i can sell this one" for some reason he felt satisfied that an imbecile of a scavenger can't get a use of his remaining parts at all

"--hy are.. you.."

"-have an idea" the voice recognition in his left is starting to give up as well yet he swore he could hear another voice together with the scavenger.

those were the words he lastly heard before he completely shut down, his whole system is giving up on him too, seconds remained on the last pop ups before he completely dies out. this is it

this is how it'll end after all

oh well, at least no one can said he didn't wish for his mother's praise and love at all

the only wish this android had.

to be loved and free.

Scanning... Complete!

Audio: Working.True

Vision: Working.True

Arms: Access.True/Left.accessible.incompatible/Right.accesible

Legs: Access.True/Left.accessible/Right.accesible.incompatible

Information Code: None, Consider Installing.

Android is: Stable to perform tasks

Overall Stability: Moderate. Please Change Parts to Compatibility.

he opened his eyes.

the mechanic buzz of his insides worked once again, his eyes weren't as sharp as before but he could see clear and properly, his ears were all working and he could feel his arms and legs once again.

what- how-

he's supposed to be alrwady gone weren't he? how did he get his body back? wasn't he a disembodied head earlier? he was supposed to fade into darkness or die as they should say!

he sight blurred few times before focusing, on the person sitting behind the screen of his charging station, sleeping peacefully

"Oi! he's alive, HEY! wake up" a grey android cat jumped into the persons stomach knocking them awake, coughing.

this person is...human.

when did his eyes had a scanner? or maybe it was intuition that had that conclusion. no, his eyes definitely upgraded to have a scanner. it showed him their vital points, their blood type, and other medical terms a doctor should see when checking up a person. did his new eyes came from a nurse bot? oh dear.

"Grim... that hurts... you should really remember you're not an actual cat" you held your stomach, recoiling in pain before looking up at him. your eyes brightened at the sight of his consciousness

"See! he's awake!" 'Grim' jumped down on your lap as you propered yourself up to stand and walk over to him

you removed the glass top capsule to remove him, discharging him off the port. with incompatibility of his right leg he fell right into their arms, yet you catch him perfectly fine. he didn't know if he was heavy or light that you weren't t falling when coming contact at him.

"Are you alright?" you asked sitting him down in a nearby office chair. he didn't answer

"hmm... I'm pretty sure your voice capacitor is still intact, how come you can't speak at all?" He still didn't answer. during his time on his creator's residence he wasn't allowed to make contact with the other doctors and scientists since he is only his creator's assistant even if he desire to talk to the others, she would shy him away from them. scolding him he should focus on his own studies.

"do you think his voice is still working?" Grim asked, paw up his chin

"it's still attached of course it is still working, HE just wouldn't speak" that's right, it'd be a rule breachment if he did talk to you. his creator would be mad at him if he does.

his creator?

his mother.

that doesn't feel right. he couldn't remember why he feels this strong edge on him, he's definitely not with her right now but he doesn't feel the desire to come back to her either.

"how bout turning it off n' on again? might work" The cat suggest as it climbed off the office chair near him

"i had reset him earlier already so no complications would impact his system but he still looks off doesn't he?" You said crouching down to meet his eyes but he yet to look down even more to avoid it

"yeah he's really different from the bodiless head before, good thing you managed to put him together with spare parts" Grim observed him sitting slouched down as you tilt your head in wonder, for some reason he looked like he doesn't have that much energy considering how he is positioned but his battery remained full

he also pondered and wondered something too

what exactly have you done to him? where did you find these body parts? you even managed to reset him without his actual body. HOW EXACTLY DID YOU MAKE HIM WORK AGAIN?

"yeah but still i think one his legs are incompatible, maybe i should shut down him again and remove both to che-"

".....the right one." he interjected, interrupting you before you get the idea of doing some procedures on his body without notice, it would be very unnerving to have both of his legs gone again

"It spoke./He spoke!!" Grim and You said in synchrony as you lift his head up with both of your hands

it's warm, you're warm like how a human should be.

you snickered as you prop him up properly again "try not put your head down too low from now on, your head or eyeballs might fall off" What.

the cap of the glass capsule he was in earlier was conveniently placed infront of him, it was so reflective he could see himself sitting so... poised

it was his turn to examine himself next

his face is stil the same as before, his eyes are the same color as what he has before the scavengers took it. he noticed a ribbon tightly attached to his collar, as if to stuck his head to the torso. he's wearing something similar to what a person would wear in a baroque tea party. the outfit is assorted in white, black, yellow and red accessories like the cape covering his back, the white rose corsage dripping in red, the sash draped on his waist and lastly, the golden crown on top of his head. he's dressed like a display doll rather than a assistant bot.

you notice how he tapped around his body trying to figure out what's up with the clothing you gave him

"do you like it? It was Grim that suggested i dress you that way, he said it fits your face" He don't know? he doesn't have a an opinion about it, what kind of android would be?

"Did you just played dress up with my body-- err head?" he asked frowning at you two with his eyebrows striking together.

"we didn't just dress you for fun though, well there might be a little fun in the process BUT THE POINT IS-"

"The point is, these garments serves purpose on holding you together so your body won't disassemble" You said as you look directly at his black grey eyes, those eyes really fit him.

you stood up from your position and went to your work table. picking up a staff that fabulously carved and designed.

"from now on you would be frail and delicate as a rose, that's why... here!" you hand him the staff hesitantly, hoping it'd be lightweight enough for him to carry

"you'll need it to get up and down the stairs or support your body if you have the feel to explore." you say, watching him examine the staff carefully

"but you still need to be careful until i found proper parts for your body, limit your movements okay?" you noticed how he looked a tad bit sad, he looks like a sad hedgehog

"Don't worry, I'm not forbidding you to go free on your own now, do whatever you want just as long you'd be careful so you won't fall-" you stopped talking when his gloves hand gripped the fabric of your shirt

"why exactly did you fix me? assuming this is your workplace and you are actually a mechanic, i didn't even have a body left anymore yet you still... " his mechanical voice startled you

"well, you're still working aren't you? it'd be such a waste now if a good android like you get discarded to no return" you held his gloved hand lifting it up to your face

"Do you have a name i can call you? hopefully i didn't reset your memory that much that you forgot it" you chuckled as your rub your fingers on his knuckles

it took him a few minutes to search his memory on what his creator used to call him before mumbling "....Riddle." and looking away from you

"Riddle right? then let me properly introduce myself.... and that gremlin over there is Grim" you snicker at the offended look of your android cat with your comment

"I, scavenger of the Ramshackle Lab, welcome you back to the world Riddle." your smile alone had made promises to him. taking your hand would mean he'll trust you like how he is to his creator

how could he not trust the one who fixed him?

you learned the hard way that Riddle had his own artificial intelligence even if he didn't got a code, when you found out he actually came from the Rosehearts Pharmaceuticals Enterprise AND the personal assistant bot to Mrs. Rosehearts herself you were to shocked you started to shriek, he scolded at you for being too loud at the information, although the restart you did at him did affect his memories and he can't seem to remember how exactly did he end up in a dumpsite where you don't usually explore it didn't affect his intelligence at all.

it was proven whenever he helps you at your workshop when you fix up Ace and Deuce or him alone, recommending tips on how to properly mend thr androids you keep

For some reason he is happy when you gave that house rulebook to him which he forcefully made the other androids to follow most of the times when you're around or not. you recommended him that he should tone down his strictness since it interferes with your work sometimes.

he did follow it and to your relief, cut the androids skme slack but of course the strictness was now directed at you. he's little bit of a worrywart, making sure you follow your schedule properly you definitely once assumed he'd cut your head off if you don't. you didn't mind, it's just his instinct to be a an assistant after all

other than that you were also happy he finally got along with the other especially at the HRTSLBYL Androids you assigned him to watch over. he's been really helpful

so why did Mrs.Rosehearts throw him out again? even worser he literally didn't have a body when you found him, yes of course the Rosehearts Enterprise is a huge deal, they have a lot of money to buy new androids to help them, but Riddle is likely stuck with her most of the times and some of his memories are from when he was helping her with work.

why exactly did Mrs. Rosehearts threw him away? let him be scavenged even.

is it because of his awareness?

a lot of androids you took in had their own mind of some sort, they have their own personalities and such but it never really bothered you since you finally had human like company surrounds you and not just soulless robots that follows around but is it really because of that awareness they get discarded for?

you look at him arguing with the two HRTSLBYL androids on the garden from the distance, his heels and staff sink to the ground in his fury targeted at Ace and Deuce.

maybe it's because they act more human than actual humans does.

"Why you little- The rules said-"

"I'm so happy you three are getting along" you walk over to them, chuckling at their antics

Riddle sighed, Ace and Deuce on the other hand brightens up and ran over to you complaining about Riddle being strict again

"They wouldn't even try cutting the hedge of the bushes, im trying to lecture them to do their jobs as androids." he scold, you laughed

"Cut us some slack Riddle, it's not like those bushes are going to be a tree and plus our battery drains out faster isn't that right?" Ace slinged his over your shoulder and ultimately clung to you wih a smug face that mafe Riddle fume even more

"Get your hands off them and do your job already OR ELSE IT'LL BE OFF WITH YOUR HEAD WITH THESE SHEARS" he turned red as the other two squeaked and ran off inside the house.

"What did i say about being to tight on those two? i know they are your favorite to drill on but still..."

"Hmph, it is only you that tolerates those twos behavior. my suggestion would be disciplining them to be proper androids to protect you or even help around" and now he's lecturing you, its this way how he acts is the reason why Ace and Deuce do more effort on avoiding him rather than following him

"It's alright Riddle, trust me. there's more things they can do other than gardening and helping around here." you try to convince him

"i don't get why you are in their defense, they don't follow rules at all." he contradict

"Rules are meant to be broken after all"

"no, they aren't. they are made to be followed"

"Come on now, Rules are ridiculous. i bet there's even a rule on that rulebook about one should not lay down on this very grassfield because it's forbidden"

"actually-" Riddle stops when he you suddenly plopped down on the ground laying face up the sky like a deadman

"HEY!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?" he panicked as he crouched down immediately at your levek trying to check you vitals inside his scanning eyes, his panic reside when you brightly laughed

"so there is one huh? i wonder who wrote that Rulebook" you grinned

"huh?"

"Actually, Sam from the store sold me it. it doesn't belong to this house in the first place"

"HUH!?" His shocked face is funny. he's really ridiculous

"Come on Riddle, lay down. it feels nice" you say breathing in the fresh air of your garden you could hardly smell in the streets of a nearby android dumpsite

"O-okay..." he laid down besides you, carefully. he lets his staff roll on his side not far from his reach, you must've been working hard that you dozed off almost immediately after laying down and inviting him. he in the other hand rolled over to your side to watch you sleep the world away, completely ignorant of his presence.

but it's you

the one who didn't give up on him and worked on hours trying to find compatible parts for him, the one to let him be free to leave whenever he want, free to make his own choices, free to decided what path he'll take.

your personality, your appearance, your condition that he ever worries about on. that's what makes you his favorite human

a human that he likes the most

you made him feel emotions a normal Android wouldn't feel, you were the one he'll promise to protect forever.

the human he loves the most.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst scenarios #twst fanfic #twst x reader #twst grim #twst riddle rosehearts #twst riddle x reader #twst riddle #twst riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #automation au

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steppin-on-the-last-train · 9 months

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A House in Nebraska

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natalia Romanova was not sculpted for love. But out in the middle of nowhere, safe in the place where time stops, she thinks she knows why the world is obsessed with capturing it.

Based on the song by Ethel Cain.

Warnings: Red Room.

A/N: Pretty sure I haven’t written in like a year and a half. Don’t be surprised if this post disappears in the next twelve hours. BUT... i would much rather this be the start of the revival of this blog. Stay cool.

Natalia shivered and pressed herself closer into your warm embrace. In this place, in your arms was the only place she felt safe. There she breathed easier. The beat of your strong heart against her back always made her eyes grow heavy.

The winter had been long this year, too long. An extra few weeks of dark days and nights accompanied by breath stealing wind had almost frozen the Red Room in time, and had made trips outside unthinkable. The instructors even kept the younger girls inside in lieu of elemental training; a luxury Natalia herself was not afforded. But time moved as time seemed to do and as soon as the last late snow had begun to melt away you’d shaken her awake and dragged her out here.

She let herself fall onto her back when you got up. Wind gusts pushed through the hole in the wall and blew loose strands of hair against the back of her neck. She wished you’d come back to block it out.

“We need to go back,” you said. She couldn’t see well, dawn hadn’t yet broken, but she knew you were putting your shirt back on.

“Five more minutes,” she protested. She didn’t want to face what horrors would confront her for the day, and the day after that. She wanted to stay here. To rot away in the place she’d begrudgingly learned to dream. “The sun won’t be up for another couple of hours at least.”

“Yeah. And we have an hour’s walk back to the Red Room. Unless you want to start the day off with a shoeless run we have to leave now.” The floorboards creaked in protest as you slid back down onto the floor next to Natalia. You ran a hand through her hair and she swore she could touch the sun. She kissed your cheek, then your chin and your neck before you abruptly pulled away and threw her shirt at her. “Get up.” Your tone had taken on a sharp edge.

Her feet ached from a particularly grueling rehearsal as she trudged down the stairs, skipping the ones with missing or rotting planks. You stood in the doorway staring up at the night sky. A half moon struggled to bring light to the black horizon. The small farmhouse was nothing but a hulking shadow behind her. She still hadn’t seen it without the midnight blanketing its entirety. Old fencing guarded it on two sides and a plot of land lay abandoned on the westside. Grass had never managed to regrow there, when she walked over it she could feel the crumbles of dirt underfoot. Beyond you and the house and the dried land was a yawning expanse of field. The void called to her sometimes, begging her to run into it until she was no more. To set foot where no man had gone before. Freedom. True freedom is what it promised.

Instead she tore her gaze away from the false promise and nestled into your side. She intertwined her fingers with yours and held tight to what was real.

“We can’t come out here anymore,” you said.

“What do you mean? Did something happen?” Natalia’s mind raced. Had the two of you been found out? This would mark the third spring you’ve made your way out to this little house that felt more like home than the Red Room ever had. The things she would do to protect it.

“No. No nothing like that.” Your voice was quiet as if the day was ending instead of beginning. “But it will. If we keep doing this, I mean. I’ve been thinking real hard about it all winter and–” You went silent then. “You know we have graduation soon and things will change. This,” you gestured in a sweeping motion back toward the farmhouse and toward Natalia. “This is a weakness that won’t be tolerated. It’ll kill us both if we don’t stop.” You started to walk in the direction of the Red Room.

“I’d rather die than live the rest of my life for them,” she said, catching up with you.

“Don’t say that Natalia.”

“Well it’s true.” She remembered a time when she’d been the one begging to go back for fear of getting caught. You’d said that even if you were killed right there that she would die yours. That thought had comforted her everytime death whispered in her ear since. Where had that girl gone?

“Why now? I know it’s not because you’re scared of the ceremony,” she said, calling your bluff. You ignored her, apparently determined to get back quickly. “Oh, come on. Don’t do this. You can’t just leave me out here and not tell me the reason why.” She shoved you against your chest, halting you but failing to stagger you backward.

“Just drop it.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. You don’t get to give me this place, give me you, and then take it all back because you decide to. You don’t think I understand exactly what you’re going through? Things have gotten harder every single day of our lives but that didn’t stop you from sneaking out here. Then you decided to make this place ours. Ours,” she stressed. “So you tell me what the hell is going on. How can you turn your back on me?”

“Because I am scared!” She was taken aback by the outburst. “Everytime they hit you or look at you the wrong way I want to crush their skulls in. I would burn this entire country down if you asked me to and I don’t know why. It’s against everything I should be and I’m terrified. I shouldn’t even be allowed to see you, much less have you under me all night.” You shouldered past her and doubled your pace. “That’s why we have to forget this place ever existed.”

“Maybe having feelings isn’t such a bad thing,” she said.

“It is if you want to survive. The new girls they bring in. The ones they can’t wean off from crying.” Natalia felt the weight of a five year old body in her arms. Damn you. And you weren’t done. “Remember when you got back from that mission in Ohio?” Oh she remembered. “When you wouldn’t stop lashing out at the guards?” She shuddered at the thought, even if she didn’t consciously remember much. Reassimilation after three years in America had been rough to say the least. The only clear event from ages twelve to fifteen (more or less) was from the first time you brought her out here. Your hands on her face had woken her up after years of sleeping upright.

“Enough. I get it. You’re giving up.” It was her turn to stalk away. “Go ahead. See if I care.”

“I’m not giving up. Tell me you understand,” you said. “I’d rather lose this place than lose you.”

But you were the one who didn’t understand. Out here all alone with no one but the stars to bear witness was the only place Natalia felt like half a person. The farmhouse, haunted and filthy as it was, had never been just a place to her. It was where she was able to cling to what humanity she had left. Inside the Red Room the Widow took over and guided her actions with silken webbing. Every night it became harder and harder to untangle herself. She was beginning to question if there was a difference between her and the monster anymore.

The rest of the walk back was silent save for the crickets chirping their night calls in the grassy sea. Natalia thought about her first trip out to the farmhouse. You’d woken her up the very first night you’d been moved into a two-person room instead of being housed in the dorm with thirty beds crammed into neat rows. She let herself be led outside without protest even as she was convinced you’d brought her away with orders to execute her. She had no place in the world.

Then the house loomed over her and you sat her on a mattress on the second floor that seemed more like an attic and showed her the stars.

“One day I’m leaving here and going to America,” you had proclaimed.

“No,” she murmured. It was the first word she’d spoken in a very long while. She hadn’t truly been listening but she knew America was no place to go. The West was the enemy.

“She speaks,” you said, looking over at her moon-bathed profile. You tried nudging her with your shoulder but she slid farther away in response. “You want to know how I found this place?” When she didn’t deny the question you continued on. “Well, it’s actually not a very good story, I’m sorry. But, maybe it could be.” She could still feel your eyes on her. Oddly enough she didn’t mind. It was refreshing in a way. To be watched without being scrutinized.

“Well I had to go to the pit to burn some trash and other things,” you said, picking fuzz out of a small hole in the mattress. “And I got my directions mixed up on the way back. I found this place and sat up here for a few days. I thought maybe everything from before was a bad dream and there was no Red Room at all. That maybe I really lived here and some nice people would come back and take me to a real town.” She had thought you were a fool. “But no one came,” you said softly. “I was cold and lonely and hungry. There’s nothing out here, you know. So I went back just cause there was nowhere else to go. But I still come here sometimes, only for the night though. I like the loneliness in small parts.”

Rain had begun to pelt the already beaten roof. Natalia hadn’t noticed the clouds. Water seeped through the rotten wood, landing on the two kids grasping for shelter. A cold raindrop landed on her cheek and she jumped. Beside her, you layed across the mattress and watched the rain through a hole in the wall. It came in a steady drizzle. Pit, pat, pit at a spot near her foot. A sleepy symphony outside with no drumming thunder or cracking lightning.

After some time, she spoke again. She had missed the intimacy of just sitting alone with another person without outside expectations. She always had to be mindful of herself. Where she looked, the position of her hands, the bend in her knees, her breathing. She brought her knees to her chest and asked. “You said you wanted to see America. Do you want to go to New York?”

You startled slightly before lifting your head and looking lazily over at her. She supposed you had fallen asleep. “What?” You asked.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said. All she seemed capable of doing was messing things up.

“I wasn’t even sleeping,” you protested even though you clearly had been. “I just missed what you said.”

“When you get to America, where will you go? New York City is the most populated city there.”

You smiled and a broken part of Natalia fixed itself. No one had smiled around her since Ohio. Only Dreykov smiled. Except when he showed his teeth her stomach would twist itself into knots and bile would burn her throat. That didn’t count, she decided.

“Not New York. It’s too busy there. I will go further west.”

Natalia raised an eyebrow. “California is awfully crowded too, you know.”

“No, not that far, smartass.” You flicked water off your hand in her direction. “Like in the middle. Like, hmm.” You thought for a moment. “Just, in the middle. Someplace where I can live like it is here.” You gestured about the attic and its half missing roof. “Except it’s not so cold and everything isn’t dead. I’ll have a dog and a horse and some cows.”

“Somewhere in the middle?”

“Yeah.”

“Nebraska is pretty close to the middle.”

“Nebraska,” you said, ennunciating the syllables slowly. “Sounds made up.”

“Well, it’s not.” She had studied all fifty American states in her class. Natasha could identify them all on a blank map. She knew the capitals too. Too bad Natalia could not recall even a quarter of them now.

“Alright. Nebraska it is then. Although,” you trailed off. “I don’t want to go alone. It’d be better if there were two of us. You and me. We could both go. We should.”

“I don’t want to wreck your fantasy.” A voice nagged at the back of her mind. She had no place in the world. She had no business running off. The Red Room had given her so much. The thought of turning her back on it made her heart pound against her ribcage.

“You wouldn’t. I’m offering. You’re not so bad. I always thought you were kind of weird. You just show up one day and you don’t talk. You sit away from the rest of us and you’re perfect at everything you do.” Natalia opened her mouth to defend herself but you were quicker. “But I like your hair. And you haven’t killed me yet so everything’s alright. I know at least half of them back there would have tried the moment we got out of sight from the big house. So you can come with me. In fact, I won’t go without you.”

Natalia didn’t ask if you had a plan or tell you off for being ludicrous. She found herself content with the world you had made for yourself and shared with her. That night she had closed her eyes and dreamt of a small house in rural America. Where Dreykov couldn’t touch her and Madame B couldn’t chastise her. She’d wake up and watch the sunrise and forget that she had ever been a killer.

Now, three years later she still saw that picture when she closed her eyes. It was faded and the edges were blood tinged but it was enough. The two of you were now only a half mile from the Red Room, pulled back each night by some invisible rope around your necks.

Suddenly, a flash of light caught Natalia’s attention. A sweeping pinprick off in the distance. A second and a third joined it until there was a line of searching light waving in her direction. You, a dozen paces ahead of her, ducked down and flattened yourself in the tall grass. She followed, not a second behind you and began crawling up toward where you had stopped.

“No. It can’t be,” you whispered. Disbelief stained the words.

“What are we going to do?” Natalia asked. She wracked her mind for ideas. There was nothing out here. No dense wood or deep valley to duck into and hide. No village to seek refuge. They’d never looked before. They couldn’t. The night had been an invisibility cloak the pair of you had hidden under for so long. You’d forgotten that no armor was impenetrable forever.

“When they get closer I’ll run and bait them back northeast,” you said, jerking your head back over your right shoulder. “If you stay down and circle around the westside of the building you can get back in without them noticing.”

“No. I won’t leave you. We can face them. We can fight and then–” For once Natalia didn’t know what came next. “I won’t let you go.”

“Natalia, look at me,” you hissed. She did, paying more attention to the way your lips moved than the words you spoke. “This isn’t up for discussion.” The way your hair fell around your face when it was down. “It doesn’t make sense for both of us to be caught out here.” The moonlight reflected in your eyes. “And you’re— I’m the reason you’re here. I brought you into this and I made you break the rules. I knew the risk and kept taking it anyway.” Your breath fanning across her face. “Now I have to pay the price. I’m sorry.”

Natalia looked back at the pin pricked horizon and the silhouettes now about three hundred yards off. A half dozen people and something else. Smaller shadows moving quicker and closer to the ground than their handlers. One stopped, lifted its head, and howled. Sweat lined her palms then and she became more acutely aware of every rise and fall of her chest. They’d brought the dogs out. And one had caught your scents.

“Oh god,” you said, grabbing Natalia’s hand. “Come on!”

You yanked her up from the ground and took off sprinting straight away from the hound. She stole a glance back but realized she had lost the dog to the shadows of the barren countryside. With a sharp pinch of dread she realized you were rabbits without a burrow. Running only because adrenaline told you to.

At some point you had let go of her and she pumped her arms as fast as she could. Her heavy breaths mixed with yours as you ran side by side. She swept the expanse for something, anything that wasn’t desolate yellow grass or winking starlight that taunted from above. I see you. It seemed to say. And I know how this ends.

A rustling sound was close on her heels. She looked back again and saw it, a hulking beast born from night not fifty yards away. They’d made the girls go down to the kennels once and watch the dogs at feeding time. The handlers threw down whole animal parts. Natalia could never forget the smell of recently slaughtered pig. A leg, a bucket of intestines, an entire lamb head were thrown carelessly down where the dogs paced. There were ten of them, giant monsters with sleek black fur and lolling tongues. A fight had broken out between two of them and chunks of fur went flying as they snarled and tore at each other’s throats. She’d never been told what exactly they were kept around for. Now she knew.

Natalia prayed as it got closer and closer. For what besides something impossible she didn’t know. The hellhound seemed to gain multiple yards on her with each stride. She could hear its claws tearing up the earth behind her, its gnashing teeth desperate for the taste of blood. Five, four, three, two. She counted but she didn’t get to one. A strong hand found her lower back. She flinched as it shoved her forward, propelling her an extra few steps.

A ferocious growl that tore through the air as a torpedo cuts through water. A scream like none she had ever heard before. She dug her heels, skidding in the brittle dirt as she whipped around.

There you were on the ground struggling against the black wolf that had finally caught up to its prey. “Get off!” You yelled, smacking the thing with your left hand, hoping to jab an eye or a soft spot on its throat. Natalia cringed as she heard flesh tearing and the squelch of fluid between teeth.

Crack. She knew the sound of a bone snapping well. It was disgusting and wrong but quickly drowned out by waves of growls and agonized screams. The dog threw its head from side to side in pursuit of destroying its prize to the fullest. Splatters of gore flew into the night air like tiny bugs taking flight.

Natalia ran forward to tackle the hound, trying to ignore the awful finality of meat being torn from bone. She and the creature went tumbling away from you. Natalia wrestled with all her strength to maneuver herself on top with the dog belly-up and vulnerable beneath her, but it was stronger. She rolled onto her back in the cold grass, spit and bloody bits flecking her face. Sharp teeth bared and eyes glowing the color of flame hearts loomed over her. She stared back into death’s blazing hand. I will not die a coward, she thought.

Just as the beast snarled for her throat a sharp whistle flew through the air. High and strong it sang the song of purgatory. At once the dog leapt off of her and padded away, following the whistle. For a moment she watched it go, devoured by the night from which it came.

“Natalia.” You groaned. She scrambled to get up and kneel in the dirt by your side.

She checked you over, fearing the worst. Your right forearm was mangled, blood gushing from it and staining her hands. Other than that you seemed to be alright, if she ignored how pale you’d become. “Come on. Get up,” she said, grabbing you under your armpits and hauling you to your feet. What was left of your arm swung limply and smacked against her shirt, painting it a shade darker.

“No, no,” you protested. You cradled the strings of sinew and branches of bone hanging from your elbow as best you could. She wasn’t one to let the sight of blood deter her but looking at you made her stomach turn. “Natalia.” Your gaze burned into her. “You need to get out of here.” Your breath pushed through in ragged little puffs. “There’s still time.”

She grabbed at your good wrist. She’d drag you to the end of the earth if she had to. Shouts rang out, searchlights mounted on automatic rifles lighting the sides of your faces. Natalia was scared in the way she hadn’t been since she’d been hauled back to the Red Room nearly seven years ago. That night she had lost Yelena. Her kid sister’s tiny hand pulled from her own desperate grasp. She squeezed your hand a little harder and you held on because it was all you could do. She memorized your face. In the next life, maybe. When you caught her staring, the tight grimace you wore evaporated into a painful grin.

The yelling was loud now, mere tens of yards away but Natalia refused to give them her attention. They commanded she get to her knees and put her hands behind her head. But didn’t they know it was doomsday? Didn’t they know Natalia Romanova would die with her chest high?

Sweaty and shaky you began to sway in your place next to her. She draped your arm around her shoulder, feeling somewhat comforted being blanketed by your body. She looked up at you even if you could no longer meet her eyes. The guards were on top of the two of you now, lights bright enough to blind and overlapping shouts all clamoring for attention. The sound crashed and broke against Natalia’s crumbling fortress in one big wave. She could not separate the individual commands.

Prick. A tiny dart found its home in her neck. She turned away from the light and buried her face in your shirt. Breathe in. A modest house in the American state of Nebraska. Breathe out. You on top of her in your own bed. Breathe in. Warm sunlight peeking through window slats and bathing her golden. She let herself fall into you.

—

Natalia woke, startled. She felt she had been dreaming of something important, but heavy sleep clouded the memory in fog. Cautious dawn light dribbled in through the windows. They’d be coming for wake up call soon. She looked over at you, still fast asleep in the bed up against the opposite wall. Your arm was handcuffed and chained to the bedpost as usual. Nausea pooled in Natalia’s stomach. She shut her eyes and tried to remember her dream but found it had winked away for the time being.

Soon enough the door opened and a guard walked in to grant her freedom. She rubbed her sore wrist and began to change into a fresh set of clothes. “Good morning,” she said. It was a small habit the two of you started years ago. Conversation beyond a greeting was too dangerous. Anything less than machine-like obedience during the daytime earned some creative punishment. So this little exchange had to be enough.

When there was no response she looked up at you. She blinked and her stomach plummeted like it had turned to stone. The girl tying her hair up across the room from her was not you. She stared back at Natalia like she had an extra limb and ignored the previous exchange.

In a dizzying rush she realized her dream had not been a dream at all. It had not even been a nightmare. Her fingers hitched as she was tying a shoe. Panicked, she tugged at the knot she’d created and started again. Ghostly shrieks and a growl that hungered for death rang in her ears. Her shirt stank with the mirage of hot blood.

She looked around the room, searching. It was empty and quiet now, the door left ajar. She knew if she didn’t hurry she’d be late.

Through the old hallway that smelled more like blood and bleach than whatever wood it had originally been. Down the stairs that poured out into the foyer. Taking her place at the end, she swept the line of girls waiting at the front door to be dismissed for the morning run. You weren’t there. Fifteen Widows where there were usually sixteen. No matter how many times she counted, the number did not budge.

“Romanova.” Natalia looked back at the nasally voice of Ivan Petrovich. The man in charge of strength and conditioning grinned. Yellowed teeth heralded a rotten surprise. He laid a bony hand on her shoulder. “Welcome back,” he said.

Natalia wanted to scream. How long had it been since that night? What had they done to you? Instead she kept her mask of neutrality firmly in place and dipped her head in reverence.

He hummed in that inspective way of his and clapped his hands. “Fiften minutes. Two miles, then report to the dining hall.” Natalia turned away from him and tried to ignore the way her stomach ate at itself. “Oh, and I almost forgot. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, a member has been removed from your class.” Her heart stuttered against her ribs. “Due to unusual circumstances she has been terminated from the program. There will be a tournament among the 18-B class the day following the next as well as a test among 18-A for you. I trust none of you will slip this time.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Now go.”

Natalia tried to grab at the pieces of her shattered soul. The line of girls streamed outside, fanning out two by two. A perfect unit, each individual capable of single-handedly crippling an entire government. Except at the tail end where one piece had been defective and was removed. In a few days time a replacement would appear, but for now the girl with crimson hair ran alone.

Silently but for the sound of her lungs pumping the morning air, Natalia Romanova stopped fighting.

The Widow cheered as it was finally allowed to complete its web.

An abandoned farmhouse in northern Russia, approximately halfway between Igarka and Vilyuysk waited for wayward visitors that would never return. A ghost was all that remained, guarding its home. If one were to happen upon the house and pick their way up the dusty, dilapidated stairs they’d find an attic. Cobwebs and a holey mattress were all that seemed to stick around. And, if they hadn’t become disinterested or thoroughly disturbed, on the wall, just above the floor they might notice a crude little carving. Jagged as they were, a pair of initials had been stamped there, meaningless but to the artists themselves. Neither had believed in love. Both believed in the other infinitely more than they believed in themselves.

The wind blew. The grass stirred. And time would come to steal this memory like water dissolved stone.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader

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storiesbyjes2g · 17 days

Text

3.102 Negotiations

I thought about the whole money tree argument all night, and while I understood Sophia's concerns, it still didn't sit well with me. Dub's words from his note echoed in my head. "Financial freedom to pursue your dreams," he said. I knew she preferred to live a simple life, but didn't she have bigger dreams than just being married to me and raising our children? I heard the TV on, so I got up to address the topic again. My goal wasn't to change her mind—though I hoped she would—but to present my case coherently. I was blinded by the simoleons I didn't even have yet and failed to put a counteroffer on the table. If she could hear my thoughts, maybe she could see it in a different light.

"Good morning," I said.

"Have you ever seen this show? It's so fun!"

"Uhh...no. Can we talk?"

"Of course," she said, turning off the TV. "What's on your mind so early?"

"I want to revisit the money tree situation."

"Okay. Sure."

"You presented your reasons for limiting its use, but I don't think I did a good job explaining why I think we shouldn't, and I'd like you to hear what I think."

"Okay," she said slowly. "So, what's up?"

"You said it would be an insult to return the gift, but I think it would be an insult to ignore Dub's wishes."

Her eyebrow went up a little bit, but she was still tracking with me, so I went on.

"I understand your hesitation, but we don't have to let the money change anything about us. We can be ourselves, but with peace of mind and more opportunities. I think maybe your childhood is influencing how you're seeing this, but so is mine. I'm gonna tell you a different part of my story so you can see where I'm coming from."

"Sure."

"Okay..."

I took a deep breath and hoped my story would work some magic.

"You've been around my parents enough to know my mom is the one with the money."

"Yeah. That's obvious."

"Right. She spoiled us...she still does, heh. But we weren't spoiled brats. We had everything we needed, and a few things we wanted, but we didn't live extravagantly. We went to public school, wore regular clothes, and lived in a middle class neighborhood. For a long time, my mom had an office job. And even now, she still works her candle business. We weren't rich by any means. We were comfortable. I know this because when we went to my dad's house, it was not comfortable. He came home tired every day and didn't have the energy to spend time with us. He never took us anywhere, and there was nothing to do at his house-"

"But that's not what-"

"Wait. Let me finish. I haven't made my point yet."

"Okay. Sorry."

"My grandparents bought my mom a little house and gave her a chunk of money when she moved out so she could have peace of mind and time to explore the world and figure out what she wanted to do without the pressure of bills and working a job she hated."

Sophia nodded and smiled, giving me hope that my story already inspired her to change her mind.

"When we moved out, she did the same thing for us…except for the house, of course. It wasn't a ton of money, but I could have gotten a cheap apartment if I wanted to."

"Or a tiny house," she said, gesturing vaguely.

"Ha! Yeah, I could have afforded this. She's still taking care of us. I keep telling her she doesn't need to keep doing things for us, but all she says is when I have a child, I'll understand."

Sophia nodded.

"Yeah...I remember hearing her say that in Tartosa."

"Yeah... I may not have a child yet, but I do want to give it every opportunity I had and then some. I don't want it to worry and feel how we felt at my dad's house."

"I get that. I don't want that either."

"And what you said about your parents. They were older when they adopted you because it took forever to save the money. If we want to send off our children with a little something, we have to start saving now. We can't wait until a week before they're gone to start harvesting the tree. Maybe we don't take from it every day. Maybe just once or twice a week, or whenever we think about it. But just leaving the tree alone until we need it? That's not gonna give our children the kind of future I want them to have. I want to continue what my grandparents started. I don't think we should waste this opportunity."

She sat there, nodding and staring at me like she didn't realize I was done. But then she turned away, stared at the floor, and sighed.

"Wow... Your family history is filled with so much love and support."

I grabbed her hands, hoping to seal the deal and provide a little comfort.

"Yes. And you're part of that family now. I just want to continue the cycle. That's all. I don't want to start wearing labels and buy a big house in Del Sol. I just want to spend time with my family without consequence."

"I can't argue with that. I'm still not letting you give up on yoga, though."

I laughed. "I didn't expect you would."

"And to be clear," I continued, "I'm not gonna give up. I just don't want to be in a position where I'm still hustling and missing everything going on at home. You'll be here, so I know everything will be fine, but I want to be here too. I want our children to have all the benefits of living in a two-parent house."

"That's beautiful, Luca. I see the whole picture now. I've just decided I'm definitely not to going back to work."

I beamed at her.

"Really?? That's awesome! I love that for you."

"So, what do you think you'll do?"

"I don't know yet. I don't want to give up on teaching just yet, but I'll probably spend more time on SimTube. I have time to figure it out, though. Speaking of the hustle...I gotta go. I love you, Sophia. I love our life, and I can't wait to see how it turns out."

"I love you more!"

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar

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honestlyboringperson · 22 days

Text

Name: Jane D. Goodman

Age: 14

Wish: “I want to be noticed for once! Let me replace Jane!”

Power: Assimilation (Can absorb the magic thrown at her)

Weapon: Brooch

Likes: Gyoza Dumplings, Books

Dislikes: Mirrors

Element: Dark

Magia: Full Force Refraction

Teammate(s): None

Witch: Prologue

A cheery and enthusiastic girl, able to light the room up with a simple smile. She always wears a smile on her face and has a large following of friends and is very popular in her school.

BACKSTORY

A gloomy and down trodden student. She spent all her days alone and desired the company of friends. She would look at the most popular girl in school; Jane with envy. She seemingly did nothing, but managed to attract the attention of people around her.

When this student was approached by Kyubey, she impulsively wished to be Jane. And the next day, she woke up as Jane. It was like she never existed in the first place. No tears were shed upon her disappearance.

Over time however, she began to truly realize what she did. She also erased the existence of the true Jane.

In regret of her actions, she began to act like a perfect version of Jane. She made sure all her connections were strong, and made sure she always feigned happiness. She could feel her heart slowly decaying from the amount of stress put upon it as she tries to resolve everything she comes across.

She began to envy her past self, able to act as she pleases. She envied the freedom the other students had to be themselves. But she couldn’t afford to slip up. She murdered the true Jane, and this is her punishment. When she finally reached her limit and wasn’t able to defeat witches, she became a witch.

Witch Description

PROLOGUE

The bookmobile witch. Her nature is envy. Travelling within an old bookmobile, this witch gorges herself on jealously and spite. She is well aware of the grand forms other witches possess and is painfully aware of her plain and simple existence. She targets people who she believes is radiant, and seeks to devour them whole and assimilate them into her body in the futile effort to become as grand as a whale.

EPILOGUE

The familiars of the bookmobile witch. Their duty is to be friends together. Paper dolls that link together to create rings of best friends. They sing and dance happily much to the witch’s annoyance. They don’t seem to notice the witch, and generally disregard her existence.

Doppel Description

“I guess this is my punishment…”

The doppel of green-eyed envy. It takes the form of a bookmobile. This doppel is a direct manifestation of the master’s deep envy. It despises the attention everyone else gets and will mercilessly devour anything it views as stealing attention from it. The master on the other hand loathes this doppel, viewing it as something so uniquely hers, it’s disgusting. It’s well aware of it’s much more pitiful appearance and will try to devour other doppels to take on their attention via morphing into a shoddy copy of it.

#madoka magica #magia record #pmmm #puella magi madoka magica #puella magi chronicles #madoka magica witch #pmmm witches #pmmm witch #magia record doppel #puella magia madoka magica #madoka magica oc #mahou shojo madoka magica #mahou shoujo madoka magica #madoka magika #puella magi magia record #magia record oc #pmmm magia record

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monstersdownthepath · 4 months

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Herald of Milani: Courage Heart

CR 15

Chaotic Good Medium Outsider

Adventure Path: Reign of Winter: The Shackled Hut, pg. 84-85

The baby of the bunch among the Heralds, Courage Heart here also has the dubious honor of serving the youngest of the gods we've seen thus far, with Milani becoming a full-powered deity only a century ago with the death of Aroden, for whom she formerly served as a saint. Courage Heart is even younger, being only a few decades old, having perished as a mortal in the upheavals of Galt, only to have her soul rescued by Milani and transformed into a being of divine freedom. She is so young that she still has immediate mortal family, as in brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, parents... but she refuses to ever see them if she can help it, and has cast aside her past name in favor of her divine title so that no connections can be made between her and her family. Not out of shame, or pride, or hatred, but because Galt isn't a very nice place to live, and if anyone ever found out who her mortal family is, that's a weak point that could be exploited.

She still remembers being mortal and will sometimes return in the guise of one to avoid suspicion from fiendish onlookers, taking on the shape and abilities of a Ranger of 4th or higher level, staying only long enough to fulfill whatever mission she saw fit to accomplish before departing, never revealing her divine form or purpose until she's safely back in Elysium. She never stays long enough to form attachments and purposely hardens herself against any attempts to know her, not wishing to put any allies (or potential friends) through the grief of watching a beloved companion vanish without a trace. One must imagine it a terribly lonely existence, but at least she has the benefit of friends she's made in Elysium waiting for her between missions.

Despite her appearance preceding Inner Sea Gods by a full year, Courage Heart really benefits from the two-page spread she's afforded in the book. Compared to the rest of the Heralds who have their stats, art, and lore crammed onto single pages with no room to breathe or stretch, CH has a fully realized lore block, beautiful art, and a statblock that puts an enormous number of other Heralds to shame despite being younger and, thus, much less experienced than any of them. There's a few Heralds who punch above their weight class, and CH is one of them. Let's see just what that looks like...

Almost immediately, one's eyes are drawn to CH's weapon of choice: A +3 Anarchic Morningstar, a weapon a full +1 tougher than any other Herald's. Her attacks are both highly accurate (+29 to the first hit, +14 on the last) and powerful, dealing 1d8+11 damage (+2d6 vs Lawful targets) up to four times a round, or 2d8+11 once via Vital Strike if she can't make a Full-Attack... though if you stay out of her melee range, she may instead decide to swap to her even more intimidating ranged option.

Oh yes, from a distance, her silly little rose may not seem all that impressive as a weapon, but anyone who knows anything about Milani knows just how dangerous a rose can be in the hands of her believers (that link to her article above? scroll down a bit until you read what she does to Wall of Thorns). Indeed, CH's Bloody Rose is not just a token she can hand out, but a shockingly potent weapon: A +1 Anarchic Dart, meaning it deals 1d4+9 damage on a hit (+2d6 vs Lawful) and it can hit up to four times a round, as CH can conjure as many as she wishes as a free action. While seemingly less damaging and less accurate than her melee morningstar at first, she has two to back it up: Point-Blank Shot and Rapid Shot, the first adding +1 to attack and damage rolls vs nearby creatures, and the latter giving her an extra attack if she Full-Attacks with her dart... And ALL of her weapon attacks benefit from her Favored Enemy ability, to which she has +8 vs Lawful Outsiders, +6 vs Evil Outsiders, +4 vs Undead, and +2 vs Humans giving her even more damage than she first appears to have when opposing tyrants and fiends.

Her dart isn't her only ranged option, just the only one that can critically strike: she's also got both Chaos Hammer and Holy Smite at-will to deal a burst of damage to multiple Lawful or Evil targets... but her true power lays not in what she can do on her own, but what she adds to an ongoing rebellion. As servant to the goddess of uprisings, Courage Heart gives hope to the hopeless and bolsters them with the strength to fight back against their oppressors; allied soldiers will feel the most benefit from CH's presence, but even peasants and commoners will feel new strength welling up inside them.

CH's Rebellious Aura quite literally gives hope to the hopeless, granting every ally within 60ft a +4 to saves versus fear effects and a permanent, undispellable Good Hope effect, granting a +2 to every d20 roll and weapon damage roll they make until they're no longer in the aura. In addition, her spell-like abilities benefit others far more than they benefit her, as she can grant Darkvision out despite having it herself, Magic Vestments and Magic Weapon when she already has fully magical equipment, and Protection From Arrows when she's already got the Deflect Arrow feat. All of the mentioned spell-likes can be cast 3/day, and they're not nearly all she can do to aid an ongoing cause; if she can help it, no one will die in her care. She does have Cure Moderate Wounds 3/day, but that pales in comparison to her Martyr's Blood, granting her the power to lower her own Fast Healing 10 by 1 to grant Fast Healing 1 to an ally for an hour, meaning the target regains 600 HP over the course of that hour, one round at a time. There's no limit to how many times she can grant someone her blood, just that she's restricted to only marking 10 targets at a time (lowering her own healing to 0/round for an hour), basically allowing her allies infinite out-of-combat healing. If you can't kill someone under her protection, they'll be back on their feet at full health an hour later.

But a true uprising isn't built on defenses alone, her fellow freedom fighters must be ready to take up arms when needed. Not everyone in her makeshift militia will have proper weapons, but whatever they grab off the ground will serve as a fine weapon thanks to her 3/day Peasant Armaments, a spell unique to Milani followers which allows anyone nearby using an improvised weapon to A) do so without penalty, and B) treat them as their closest equivalent simple weapon. The spell amusingly states that even a butterknife or broken chair leg can be treated as a dagger and a club (respective) while under the effects of this spell, letting a group of peasants fight back against trained soldiers with planks torn from the ground, tree branches, silverware, and furniture. With Magic Vestments and Magic Weapon being handed out, even people in scavenged armor can have a better chance at surviving long enough to escape a tyrant's grasp. Anyone who cannot or will not fight can be shrouded by her 1/day Mass Invisibility to sneak around what cannot be fought.

Also, when I say 'handed out' in regards to her magic, I mean it literally. CH can't be everywhere at once, but she can freely use Imbue With Power to grant anyone she touches the ability to cast one of her 3/day spells, expending one of her uses but allowing the target to cast it themselves at a later time. She can hand out quite the lengthy list: Cure Moderate Wounds, Magic Weapon, Peasant Armaments, Protection From Arrows, Shield Other, and Status! With the power to divide the workload between herself and her allies, it leaves her hands free to go on the offense while other people 'holding' her magic for her can get it to the ones in need, removing any potential for her enemies to try and split her focus. About the only one she might want to keep for herself is Shield Other, as it allows her to take damage meant for a chosen champion, with that damage crashing into her long list of defenses: DR 10/Lawful, and 20 Resistance to Acid, Cold, Electricity, and Fire. With Fast Healing 10 ticking her up each round, she's an excellent Shield Other battery, and even beyond all this she STILL has more tricks!

She can use Tactician to grant all allies within 30ft of her the use of her Outflank, Lookout, and Swap Places feats for 11 rounds, giving them additional DPS, initiative, and maneuverability in a single action. All the while, her allies are benefiting from her long list of buffs, both active and passive. Were it not for the shackles of divine law requiring her to operate in secrecy, there's little doubt in my mind that Courage Heart would actually whip Galt into proper shape in a matter of weeks, if not days... were it not for some factors assuring that her homeland remains in its tumultuous state. But who's to say those factors wouldn't allow CH to shed her disguise and fight at full power? Perhaps, over the course of a specific module, the players see fit to call the Herald of Freedom back to her homeland to finally free it from the parasites that have been ruining it...?

You can read more about her here.

#Holy Heralds Month #Monster Spotlight #CR 11 to 15 #Pathfinder #dungeons and dragons

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writingpei · 1 year

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wicked games (l.m.) - chapter three

previous chapter series masterlist next chapter

pairing: lee minho x reader genre: academic rivals to lovers wc: 4.5k words

hit you harder

y/n never had many things that she could proudly call her own, but it amazingly didn't bother her as much as it would if it was anyone else.

her bedroom was a hole of white and hollow spaces that any girl her age would be delighted to cram with posters, magazines, records, and picture frames. she, however, was not like the other girls her age, and she had far more important things to worry about that did not consist of the superficial bother of not leaving marks of her existence in the walls that contained her.

her mother had a bone to pick with it. every time she entered her daughter's room (the occasions which were rare, but nevertheless existed), her face contorted into an expression as if she were expecting something completely different inside the room, a sharp yet silent disappointment. the silence wouldn’t last that long, because the phrase "your room is a reflection of your mind" always found a way to slip past her lips in a reprimanding whisper.

y/n never let that get under her skin, because she knew it was the exact opposite of her reality.

she was always, always on edge. her thoughts were so fast she couldn’t shake the feeling they one day would spill out of her head and make a gruesome mess all around her. no matter what the day, time, or place; whether it was lying in her bed in the dead of the night, her eyes begging her mind to let them have a little rest for the next day, or the load of the school hallways that caused her eyes to hurt and ears to screech. always on the edge.

her backpack being her mother's, from her college days, was something that wasn't big enough of a struggle to compete with the laborious physics worksheet that the teacher had given her in the first two weeks of class. not being able to afford the school lunch was child’s play when standing next to the complexity of the subject that had been taught in advanced calculus class that she hadn't mastered yet. the fact that her uniform was second-hand, given to her by one of her mother's fellow nurses whose daughter went to haneul before her didn't rank high among the report she had to turn in the next day.

those who cared so much about that kind of thing weren't ready for real life, never delving beyond shallow, and y/n hated shallow people. it wasn’t hard to stand in the grand field of things she hated, but this was one that stood out the most among her loathing list. she couldn’t help but be disgusted by the expression of surprise and confusion people got when they found out that she lived in a stupidly tiny house with only her mother, where they shared the same and only bathroom in the place and didn’t have things that were considered conventional for everyone else, which she never had the opportunity to experience owning. "you don’t have a microwave? but… how do you heat things up quickly? how do you make popcorn?", and all this made her want to die.

always on edge.

even though she wouldn’t admit, now and then, she wished her mother’s saying had a grain of truth. during the thin hours of lack of sleep where she was forced to coexist with her never-ending thoughts, she imagined a life where her mind was a blank slate and even the smallest of things stood out so intensely in her devoid consciousness that she came to appreciate the little things around her. the wonderful comfort at the idea of a path she had nothing to worry about, being a person exempt from the absurdity of the world around her.

however, the freedom of her thoughts was the very indication of these absurdities, and desires and wishes of hope were a very comfortable illusion. she had not believed in things like that since she was little.

discovering that things could only change through her hands and effort was both a blessing and the beginning of her abyss. y/n was well aware that beggars couldn’t be choosers, however, she always knew best to make the most of this philosophy. she was never afraid of hard work and was always aware of what she needed to do in order to achieve everything she wanted. it certainly contributed to her incessant need to win at everything.

lee minho’s existence didn’t help that need at all.

he was like a disease, a parasite that crawled up her skin, putrefied her complexion. he brought her down from her highs, pulling her down harshly until her feet touched the ground of this planet once again, a constant reminder of earthly movement and the degrading reminder that he was always orbiting around her, a ghost that crept into the blind spots of her eyes, ready to pull the rug out from under her.

as long as lee minho remained, she knew that she always needed to be ready to put up with a fight.

the weird thing about this whole state of affairs is that she couldn't single out why minho was the way he was with her. even though she had known him for years upon years (pure psychological torture resulting from his constant presence in her life), she didn't have enough repertoire about what minho's life was like outside of the school environment to make a list. despite this, she would put her hand to the fire on a single proposition about lee minho's person, and that was that he was loaded. filthy rich. old money.

given that fact, she could not understand what his business was in entering a competition for a free scholarship at a school that he could pay for his entire tuition with the money he probably had inside his raven leather wallet right this second.

thus, when she walked out of her room that morning ready for her walk to school and found her mother sleeping on the couch still in her work clothes, an effervescent feeling took over her insides.

she must have arrived in the middle of the night and couldn't fight the fatigue enough to reach her bedroom, stopping in the living room and completely collapsing on the brown sofa.

y/n’s hand twitched at her side. always on edge.

no one couldn't escape the shy yet intense cold weather of those days, so she had to retrace her steps and look for a blanket to cover her before leaving.

"minus b plus the square root of the delta, all divided by 2 times a…" she whispered as she walked, loud footsteps against the stone floor of the sidewalk. the uniform skirt did nothing against the cold wind that hit her skin, and she had to resort to straining her head remembering the mathematical formula to take her mind out of the shivers that attacked her skin.

avoiding minho wasn't such an easy task when she shared a considerable amount of classes with him.

she still tried her best not to see him around outside of these exceptions, but it didn't matter. it seemed that with the competition for the scholarship he had become more irritatingly persistent than he already was, if that was even possible.

when chemistry class arrived after recess, she found herself once again sitting alone at her high bench, stationary already sprawled on the long table full of lab material. perhaps she intimidated the other students, not that she cared tremendously about how others viewed her, true interpretation of her character or not.

the room was already silent and the teacher was writing the instructions for the experiment that the class would be performing today on the board, being evaluated for the first time that year in their skills inside the laboratory. the lull was interrupted, however, when the door to the room was flung open with exasperation and a panting demon appeared, looking as if he had run a long way to arrive, even if he was late anyway.

after a brief scold and advice about being on time for his class in the future, mister yang opted to spare him the lecture, simply resorting to saying "you can come in, minho. we are scheduled to do the experiment that is written on the board. oh, look at that! miss park doesn't have a partner, sit and do it together with her".

despite being baffled at his ability to get away with murder simply due to his good student facade, she grimaced at what was to come.

“uhm…” she saw the glint in minho's eyes as he started to formulate a way to object to the order. she realized she was not the only one unhappy.

“it's already decided, come on. we don't have all day after all!” mister yang caught the animosity in the boy's stare but didn't have any of it, ending any chance of argumentation that could save both from the displeasure of spending an hour having to interact with each other.

he swiveled his head towards her and made a disgusted face, which only served to darken her mood. swallowing her dissatisfaction, she starts looking for her chemistry book in her bag, counting to ten repeatedly, doing her best not to lose her temper right at the beginning of the torture that lasted an entire hour.

her calming counting is interrupted by a loud sigh from him after he managed to trudge over to where she was sitting with perceptible slowness. it was only when he came closer and sat down beside her that she noticed that the buttons on his shirt were in the wrong order as if they were done in a hurry. she wasted no time in pointing out his mistake with the tip of her finger and a sickened look on her face, opting not to spare him the effort of speaking out loud to him.

“oh, oops…” a mischievous smile is drawn onto his face, and she started noticing other clues in his complexity that lead him directly to the crime he must have committed during recess: his lips are swollen, his tie is badly done, and his hair, which he always strived to make as perfect as possible, is messed up.

cringing in disgust at the conclusion she's reached, she couldn't hold back the words flying out of her mouth and blurted out "you're repulsive" in a quiet chide.

the smile remained planted on his lips, motionless.

"the abandoned janitor's closet has its perks" she felt nauseous at the confession that rolled so effortlessly down his tongue. "so what do we need to do?"

letting the repulsion from their conversation roll down her shoulders, she pointed at the board at the front of the class like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "do you pay attention to anything other than yourself? he just said the instruction was on the board"

and just like that, minho's mood was ruined and his smile was wiped from his face. "i can't believe i'm paired with you", the weight of the realization finally entering his mind.

"oh, and i'm practically climbing up the walls with excitement"

"ugh, i wish i could have been paired up with yongbok. yongieeee..." he called out to the boy who was currently on the opposite side of the room working alongside a boy with broad shoulders and a manly face. y/n knew him as chris, he was a transfer student whom she gave a tour of the entire school when he arrived for his first day, due to her recognizable knowledge of english.

rolling her eyes, she rised from her seat. "i'll get the zinc solution and metallic zinc. you set up the equipment we are going to need.”

“hey, who do you think you are to order me around?” he retorts, a frown evident on his face as he leans his head lazily in his arms that are draped on top of the counter.

“if you don’t shut up i will glue your tongue to the roof of your mouth again” this seems to make him stop, but it didn't scare him one bit. he just clicked his tongue in annoyance and straightened his back, starting to prepare the bunsen burner for them to use.

"bitch..." he whispered as soon as she turned her back to him.

"what the hell did you just say?" she asks, heat filling up her ribs, and she is facing him once again.

minho looked up at her as if she was a lunatic and his fake innocence crawled up his face, settling in his shiny doe eyes. the act doesn't last long, because his filthy mouth is opening once again "i called you a bitch".

she looks at him in complete disbelief, crossing her arms tightly against her chest in order to prevent her hands from circling his neck and strangling him to death in the middle of the busy classroom.

"what a gentleman, minho" she resorts to saying, his name tasting bitter on her throat as she made sure he knew of it just from her tone while spewing the word. "is that type of language that scores you janitor's closet rendezvous?"

his doe eyes quickly dissolve into something naughty.

"some of them like it more than you would think" bile rose up her throat as she watched him smiling as if he was proud of himself. "and don't flatter yourself, you don't deserve a gentleman, your manners are worse than a sailor's"

she doesn't hesitate giving her back to him and heading over to the storage room, where mister yang left all the material the students would need to complete the experiment.

truthfully, is not uncommon for her to daydream about her possible past life; could it be that she was such a despicable human being that god didn't send her straight to hell when she died but made her live it in real time, in this life? she was sure that if she concentrated her stare hard enough, she could see the horns sticking out of minho's head. perhaps, this really was her hell.

she took a moment longer than necessary in the small room to try and calm herself down. she needed to be the bigger guy so that minho would look fucking stupid trying to get on her nerves while she just ignored his presence.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...

don't flatter yourself

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...

you don't deserve a gentleman

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...

your manners are worse than a sailor's

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6-

some of them like it more than you would think

"calm down" she whispered to herself feeling her fist tightening around the glass pots in her hands.

when she's back at the table, she did her best not to take minho's bait, allowing him to talk to himself until he finally got bored of not being answered and stopped, with the experiment proceeding in complete silence. if they finished quickly, she could leave sooner. mister yang is usually okay with letting his students take their leave when they finish the assignment, as long as the experiment is perfect in his own concepts.

when they were finished, mister yang stopped by their workbench to take a look at their work. his eyes shone due to finding a group among so many others that managed to do the experiment correctly as he expected.

“park, lee, as always, an excellent work. just what i’d expect from both of you.” he exclaimed.

"actually, sir" y/n's contentment shuddered the moment minho opened his mouth. her eyes threw daggers at him, not understanding what the hell he was doing. "don't you think there's something wrong? i don't know, it looks like it's... badly done. her hands were shaking a lot while mixing it, i don't know what came to her"

her hands truly were shaking during the making of the experiment, and that was because they were the only part of her form she couldn't control against the anger she felt while listening to him by her side, trying to find an inadequacy in anything she did, in every move of her body.

he was trying to embarrass her, and because he didn't manage to do it by himself, he resorted to finding backup.

mister yang frowns, bending down to take a closer look at the experiment to confirm or deny the boy's suspicions.

"i don't see anything wrong here, minho. what do you think is wrong?"

"i'm just saying that, as you know, we're the top students, so we have an insatiable hunger for knowledge.” he draws out the ‘a’ in ‘insatiable’, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands. “so, don't hesitate to deduct points from us for any little mistake, as we're always looking to improve and learn more. and i mean, any mistake really." minho blinked his eyes at the man in front of them dreamily and received a silent yet strong kick from y/n under the table. was he really trying to get the two of them to have points deducted? on purpose?

he was a fucking idiot. she was going to kill him.

mister yang's eyebrows arch, and he bends down once more to assess the experiment thoroughly. y/n's hands curl into fists, begging for nothing to be out of place and for her grade to be perfect like it always was in that class. the silence was excruciating and seemed to go on for hours and hours, but apparently, the situation didn't seem to faze minho one bit, given the discreet playful smile still on his face (even though her kick undeniably hurt).

"no, everything is the way it should be, really." a breeze of fresh air washes over her, relief rushing down her spine. "you two are free to go"

"ugh, at least that much" he cheers, eyes traveling to his wristwatch, seeing that there were still 10 minutes left before class actually ended.

minho stands up, gathering his things at lightning speed, ready to flee the classroom. that is until y/n held up the sleeve of her blazer imposingly with fire in her eyes.

"you honestly aren't afraid of dying, are you lee minho? because i swear to god, i have no dark desire to spend the rest of my days in a jail cell, but you make that change more each day"

"it's not my fault that you react so easily to anything i do" he smiled foolishly, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. "if it wasn't so much fun messing with your, i swear, pinky swear i wouldn't do it"

"you are an absolute jerk, unfit for the common society" red clouded her vision, her breathing becoming harder and harder by the second.

"and you" he suddenly placed his hands on her shoulders, making her shudder from the sudden contact. he then turned her towards the worktable they had previously been using to do the experiment. "didn't turn off the bunsen burner" he said, close to her ear.

it was true, the mixture had been sitting over the fire all this time and now it was bubbling dangerously. she quickly freed herself from the grip he had on her shoulders and turned off the fire, praying that mister yang hadn't noticed her slip-up. luckily, he was busy explaining the difference between a liter and a milliliter to a student, and the sight almost made her laugh out loud to the detriment of her earlier despair. chemistry could really be traumatizing.

when she realized it, minho had already fled the scene, and now it was her turn. putting her materials in her bag, she tried not to linger in the room much longer, fearing the bell would sound and the corridors would be clogged with fervent students and she hated the rush.

strangely, standing in the empty hallway, there was a tall boy with long, almost white hair leaning against the wall next to the room she had jkust left. trying to ignore him, she circled around him, following her path until "are you park y/n?" reached her ears.

even more confused, she spun on her heels to turn once more towards the boy.

"uhm, who wants to know?" she questions, skeptical eyes narrowing. people didn't usually seek conversation with her. those who knew her and were already aware of her strong personality had more than justifiable motives, and those who never came across her never had any reasoning or interest.

"i'm hwang hyunjin, a friend of mine told me about you" he says but that was about all he had to spare her. she arched her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue with his monologue that explained why the interaction was even happening, and when he didn't, she simply started striding back the path she was initially taking.

"no, wait!" he exclaims and she hears his light footsteps until his figure appears in front of her, blocking the track. "i really need your help. do you have a moment to listen to me?"

"how would i help you? i don't even know who you are"she crosses her arms against her chest, stance brutal, eyes not afraid to lock against his even though he was way taller than her.

"i'll explain everything" he scratched the back of his neck and looked at the floor, apparently trying to organize his thoughts.

only now she stopped to effectively absorb hyunjin's appearance. he was wearing a headband that kept his hair from falling over his eyes, his body wrapped in a sporty white tank top with a basketball on fire print down the middle, and running shorts. it looked like he'd come straight out of the gym just to have this conversation with her.

"i play on the high school basketball team, and i'm really good, i even got a college scholarship offer just for that."

"okay… congratulations?” she said slowly, finding the interaction painfully awkward. that was a rather questionable way to talk to someone for the first time, even she knew it. “and what do i have to do with it?"

"it's about this scholarship. apparently, i need to get good grades to score it, and that's a big problem in itself" he said, sounding defeated.

"were you skipping school just now to hang out on the basketball court?" she looked at him up and down once more, suspicion growing.

“this is rather stereotypical of you to assume” he crossed his arms just like she did, sounding offended. they soon fell back to his sides and his voice dropped so drastically she could barely hear the "but yeah, i was" that came out of his mouth right after.

"i don’t enjoy sounding repetitive at all," she sighed deeply, throwing her weight from one foot to another, the conversation already tiring her. "but i can't help but ask again: what does all this have to do with me in the first place?"

"jisung, this friend of mine, said that you were the smartest person in this entire school and that your grades were higher than mine and his combined. that's why i came here to ask you, no... to beg you" it all happened extraordinarily fast.

in a matter of seconds, hyunjin was kneeling on the ground with his hands clasped together in prayer. y/n almost jumped back in fright at the boy's sudden motion. "please tutor me. i need that acceptance more than anything, i'll do whatever you want, and i'll even pay you, but i need you to help me. i will never get into college if it isn’t this way."

the terror begins when the bell rings deafening down the immense corridor and the classroom doors begin to open. y/n was never one to be visibly embarrassed, she thought it was an obvious sign of vulnerability that she didn't allow herself to deal with.

what happens is that, at that moment, people started to invade the halls, and the little show that hyunjin was putting on was now public, in the midst of dozens of teenagers thirsty for gossip and false rumors to bring any kind of emotion into their monotonous lives.

"hyunjin, hyunjin, get off the ground..." she whispered loudly, trying her hardest to pull him back to his feet by his shoulder as she looked around in exasperation, seeing that people were already taking notice of the scene. they were in the middle of the hallway, to make the situation even more unbelievable.

"do you agree to help me?" she honestly intended to do anything but at the moment; he wasn't getting up no matter how much force she used and the state of the occurrence was getting more and more severe.

"get up!" she begged and he just grabbed her hand that was on his shoulder in between his.

"please, y/n, i'll get up as soon as you accept it. my mom is going to murder me! you are really going to leave me to have a horrible future, one where my talent will be wasted and i won't even have food to feed myself. for fuck’s sake, i might even end up living under the bridge-"

"yes, yes! i'll help you with whatever you want! i promise, now get up!" she exclaimed, giving in.

hyunjin rose to his feet just as quickly as he had knelt down in the first place. a smile of pure happiness bloomed on his face, creating a stoic contrast to the terrified expression on y/n's one.

she could only hear the whispers at her back. from mouth to mouth, the story of hyunjin sprawled at her feet would get more and more dramatic, and she couldn't fathom what the final yet fake version of what was going on would be considered the ultimate truth.

"i'm really glad you accepted" he was still holding her hand, she noticed it when he began to shake it vigorously. "it was great doing business with you. now tell me, when do we start sessions?"

still dizzy from everything that happened in such a short span of time, she didn't even realize when the word slipped past her lips "we can start tomorrow after lunch, in the library" in a bizarrely lifeless voice for her.

“that sounds perfect!” he celebrates. “see you there, then!”

and then he disappeared into the sea of students who shamelessly stared at the very strange event they just had the pleasure of witnessing. park y/n and hwang hyunjin knowing of each other's existence? interacting with each other? him at her feet in the middle of school on a tuesday morning?

she wanted to vomit.

despite all this, y/n only had a single thought tattooed on her mind that repeated itself like a mantra: she had never met a normal man during her 18 years of life, let alone a decent one.

stay tuned for chapter 4! ☆

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mandosaur · 11 months

Text

Loth Rat (Thrawn / Reader / Kallus)

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Pairing: Thrawn / Reader / Kallus

Summary: “Your life has changed again. The floor has fallen from under you. You are a traitor. An imperial collaborator in a planet recently freed from imperial control. The very people you were allied against now hold your life in their hands. The people of Lothal may call you a Loth cat, but you’d sooner call yourself a Loth rat.”

After having spent the last few years as a political prisoner, you are finally given a choice as to what will happen to you now that Lothal is freed.

Warnings: Dead dove; do not eat. Implied / referenced SA, Implied / referenced domestic violence, implied / referenced torture, implied / referenced imprisonment. There is nothing explicit in this work or graphic, it has all happened in the past, but be mindful.

Word Count: 7,277 Words

Estimated Reading Time: 26:28

Part one of the Loth Rat, Loth Cat, Loth Wolf series.

“Please let me in,” the plea leaves Hera’s lips quietly as she stands on your doorstep, “I need to speak to you.”

A huff leaves your lips despite yourself and you have an urge to slam the door on her face. Seeing her nose break would certainly make things better. Being able to give her just a shred of the pain she caused you would go a long way to healing the terrible injuries she and the others have inflicted on you.

However, you decide not to risk it. Hera is a rebellion general and the rebellion has won. Lothal has changed hands and the fate of you and your child are at stake. You can’t afford to anger those who wield the power.

“What are you doing here? Have you come to arrest me?” You cross your arms protectively in front of yourself and offer her your best glare. The way she looks away breaking eye contact is some solace. A small reassurance that you have some power still when the last two years have made you feel so weak.

Hera crosses inside your home and looks around. Her steps are hesitant and her eyes scan the area from place to place. You can see her cataloguing everything mentally. Running a tally of what she sees and archiving it all to memory.

You are sure a part of her is resentful at the splendor of your home. Your house is the biggest on Lothal. A wedding gift from your husband. Art from around the entire galaxy adorns the walls and a large imperial banner hangs at the entrance. It’s a far cry from the tiny little apartment you had in Alderaan when Hera met you for the first time.

“I didn’t come here to arrest you,” Hera softly calls your name, “I would never. You aren’t one of them.”

Them. An imperial.

You grit your teeth at the way she looks at you. There is pity in her eyes and a deep sinking regret. She feels bad for you. You have-had the world at your feet, yet she’s the one who feels pity.

A quiet rage forms and you scoff.

“But I am, General Syndulla,” you wave to the splendor and riches around you, “I switched sides. Don’t you remember?”

You wish you could see yourself from her eyes. Idly, you wonder what she sees when she compares who you were back then to who you are now.

When you first met Hera 4 years ago, you were a young girl from Alderaan. Your parents were friends with the Organas and you had been raised a noble. The life of nobility was stifling and your only escape came from art. Eventually Hera’s travels led her to your home planet and the two of you had struck a friendship. When she had offered to take you with her, you had agreed and joined her crew.

Eventually, when Hera had allied herself with the rebellion, you had too. Alderaan had never been too involved with the rebels openly and held some freedom in the empire-as much freedom as a tyrannical government could offer anyway, so the cause wasn’t something you had been dying to join when you signed up for her crew. Yet the suffering of the galaxy was something you wanted to change. You joined the rebellion anyway because it was the right thing to do.

You had joined her and the Ghost crew and had been a rebel. You weren’t a fighter like Zeb or Sabine, a Jedi like Kanan, or a pilot like Hera, but you had experience with politics and could negotiate. When the crew bartered for supplies or needed to make a deal, you were there to step in.

You had been a rebel back then. Had believed in the cause once upon a time. When a young Ezra Bridger had joined the crew a month or two before you were captured, it was you who had made him feel like he could make a difference. The young, compassionate girl from back then would not recognize you now.

You had changed a lot in 2 years. You were now dressed in imperial finery. The dress you wore was especially commissioned and was in a striking shade of red. The jewels at your neck were from imperial conquests and denoted your status. Everything about you was imperial.

You were no longer that little rebel from Alderaan. That girl had died during the several rounds of torture you had endured after the people you had once called friends had gotten you captured. In her place now stood an imperial collaborator, a mother, and a wife.

You wonder if Hera recognizes you now. If she could remember the girl you had once been. What did she see before her now? A friend? A regret? A traitor?

Her eyes lower to the ground and she says your name again. This time, her voice is soft.

“You aren’t one of them. I know you. I know what happened-“

“Shut up,” you hiss out. Her words have struck a deep ache in you. You don’t want her to try and apologize. Not now. Not ever.

You spin away from her and rub at your neck. Somewhere beneath all the jewels in your necklace is a thin ring of charred flesh from where the metal bars had held you steady as the empire tortured you. The one request you had always made to your husband when he bought you a gift was that he please buy you something that would cover up the memory. You always told yourself that if you couldn’t see the scar, it was like everything never happened. Yet now it burns and aches beneath the glittering gems. An ugly thing in the gilded life you have now.

Hera’s words are infuriating. They strike a spot that has never truly healed. A betrayal and an abandonment that runs so deep that you could faint if you spend too long dwelling on.

Your finger points at her face, “Don’t tell me you know what happened. No one knows.”

It’s the truth.

Everyone on Lothal has heard the story of what happened to you. You’re the conquest of the Admiral. The rebel captured and turned into the spoils of war. You’re a story mothers tell their daughters as a warning. There are even rumors of parents scarring their children to keep their beauty from leading them to your fate. You wish your mother had done that to you too. Maybe then you would have avoided this happening.

“I am-“

Hera cuts herself off. No doubt she is remembering all the terrible rumors she’s heard. Lothal has plenty.

“We tried to rescue you. I tried. I broke protocol to try and get you back, but it was impossible. They had you secured in a facility. By the time we had finally made a plan to move in, you had been moved because-“

You squeeze your eyes shut. Her words are painful reminders of those first few months in captivity.

You had been captured about 2 years ago. What should have been a routine supply drop had turned disastrous. You, Sabine, and Ezra had been left unable to flee as soldiers surrounded you. There had been no other option but for you to sacrifice yourself for them.

They were just kids. You had a few years on them. You thought you could endure a few rounds of torture and that your crew would eventually return for you and save you. You had been wrong.

What had followed for months was severe. Governor Pryce had overseen your torture herself. She had used every tool at her disposal to get you to crack. While she had succeeded in breaking you, she had failed in obtaining information. You had nothing to offer her in terms of plans or rebel troop information. In the end, she had labeled you a lost cause and suggested you be executed. Your death, she claimed, could be a deterrent to any other rebel faction on Lothal.

But you hadn’t died. Someone else had advocated in your behalf. Someone had decided you were worth sparing.

Another shiver runs down your spine.

At your silence, Hera continues.

“I know what he did,” her hand is gentle when she touches your shoulder, “We all know.”

You flinch away from her touch and bite your cheek. It is a nervous habit. The skin there is already raw from your time spent in the bunker awaiting news as to what was happening on the planet. It bleeds freely when you bite down again.

Hera thinks she knows what you went through, but she has no idea. No one does. After Pryce had been done with you, you had been broken. A month of repeated torture had left you destroyed. When she had told you about your execution, a part of you had been so relieved. Death would mean everything stopped and you could rest.

But then someone else had stepped in.

When you had been in Alderaan, you had studied arts and culture. Your parents had wanted you to be a good noble lady. They had spent money to have you learn everything they could about painting, music, dancing, and politics.

Those aspects of yourself had captured someone’s attention.

When you had been brought before the empire to be executed, Grand Admiral Thrawn himself had interceded. He had suggested that your background would prove useful in his studies of Lothal and Ryloth. Ever the art enthusiast, he had asked for you to be gifted to him.

Gifted.

Like you were a prize to be won or a thing to be given away.

He had gotten his way, of course. Pryce had handed you over to him. From then on, your true captivity had started.

Under Thrawn, you were made an imperial collaborator. He kept you at his side when he traveled and sought your council when he needed information. Broken and vulnerable as you were from the torture and imprisonment, his offer seemed like a small relief.

He didn’t lock you up in a tiny cell or beat you bloody. He didn’t starve you or drug you with a truth serum. Instead, he treated you like one of his crew. You weren’t trustworthy, had a guard nearby to keep you from fleeing, but he was civil. Polite. It was a change from Pryce and the other imperials.

You used your education to help him. Your background aided him in understanding the planet he was in. Over time, the two of you had grown rather close.

Having lost your crew and been left alone for so long in a tiny cell, his attention was a lifeline. He offered you the opportunity to feel like you had a purpose again-

Even if it came at a price.

Bile gathers in your throat but you push it down. A cruel laugh snakes its way past your lips. You shove her hand aside and perch yourself on the sofa. Your movements are refined, graceful, just the way he liked them.

“And what did he do to me? Hm?”

You want her to say it. Want to hear it from her mouth. You don’t think you can be the one to do it. If you say it, the words will get lodged in your throat.

Hera winces.

“I am so sorry,” she whispers. It’s all she can offer after a long silence. You look away.

Thrawn’s salvation came at a price. The Chiss soldier wasn’t altruistic. He sought the value of every person he met and didn’t like to waste his time. It wasn’t pity or selflessness that had made him speak on your behalf back then.

No. Not at all.

You had always been told you were beautiful. Your mother and father had often remarked that you could put a Twi’lek to shame with your beauty. It was something that had once made you blush and preen. Yet that feature had become a cage.

You supposed it made sense. Thrawn was an alien. He was not respected in imperial spaces. The empire freely took his successes but looked its nose down at him. For every compliment he received over his strategy, there were two more slurs thrown his way behind his back.

It made sense that a man like him would look for a status symbol. He would need something to show off. A way to elevate himself and attain more respect.

And who better than the beautiful noble turned rebel from Alderaan? A human girl he could use for his advancement. His marriage to a human would legitimize his status among human soldiers. It would make him seem like he truly belonged.

You were the perfect candidate. You were educated in the arts which so fascinated him and were versed in politics which puzzled him. You were also high born and could have made a good match for himself back on Csilla had you been a member of the Ascendancy. Plus, you were young and beautiful. A little doll he could dress in finery and show off to when needed.

You ticked every box and fit all his needs. When he had saved you all those years ago, his help had come at a price.

And you had paid it.

Maker, you had paid it.

Recently freed, you had given up on the Rebellion. Your friends had left you for dead in the empire’s clutches, so what loyalty did you owe them? You had shed away your guilt and joined Thrawn willingly.

At first he had frightened you. Those glowing red eyes found their way into your nightmares. You dreaded the day he decided you were useless and discarded you. You did everything you could to help his efforts with the empire.

Eventually you had liked it. Some time with him had been a relief. He was not violent or cruel. He didn’t laugh like Pryce when you were hurt or taunt you about what had happened to you.

No, he was amicable. You quickly learned that he would be polite if you were respectful. That he would treat you right if you obeyed and that he saw you as an equal when you worked together.

When a soldier had insulted you under his breath, Thrawn had defended you. When you had cut yourself on a relic and hissed in pain, he had gently taken your hand to examine the wound. When you had woken up screaming from a nightmare of a droid shocking you over and over again, he had stayed up speaking with you gently over a cup of tea.

His treatment compared to the empire’s had soothed the trauma of your earlier captivity. Eventually, you had willingly accepted your place at his side. You knew you were his prisoner, that he would kill you if you tried to escape, but you didn’t mind it. As long as you were obedient, he was kind and respectful. So you became obedient.

And when the time came that he began to pursue you, you offered yourself willingly. When he invited you to his personal quarters one night with a pretext for tea, you went with him knowing what he truly had in mind. It was the price you had to pay for his kindness.

Your hands shake in your lap and you press them against your legs. Hera notices, of course. Her voice turns gentle, soothing.

“I know what he did. It wasn’t your fault,” she whispers, “None of it.”

“No,” you agree slowly, “It was yours.”

It was her fault. Had she rescued you then, she could have spared you everything.

You take a little delight in her flinch and the guilt that clouds her features. It’s a small comfort against all of the pain she put you through.

With time, you had given yourself completely to Thrawn. Eventually, the rumors had spread that you were his conquest. He always displayed the relics he stole from the empire’s colonization on his walls. You were just another one of the treasures he could boast about.

He married you and kept you locked in a manor. You were the pretty little human who boosted his status. Lothal called you the little Loth Cat caught in the jaws of a Loth wolf.

It wasn’t so bad. Being married to him had its perks. You had riches, status, and respect. His men were loyal to him. They saw you as an extension of his will and respected you. Under his name, you were no longer a rebel traitor. Now, you were an imperial bride.

And eventually you fell for him too. He was kinder than the others and respectful. He valued your input and praised your art. He treated you well and never struck you if you didn’t disobey.

You came to love him, or that’s what you told yourself. And while he wasn’t very expressive emotionally, you thought he loved you too.

You twirl the wedding band around your finger as you think.

“I was happy, you know, before you came. Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” You close your eyes wishing she’d disappear.

If she were gone, maybe Thrawn would return. You aren’t too sure what happened to him, but you know he’s gone. The men he left stationed with you evacuated during Order 13 and Rukh left you and your son behind. That would have never happened if Thrawn were here to stop them.

The citizens of Lothal have also been celebrating for days now. Their shouts and cheers are pinpricks against your heart. You aren’t sure the specifics, but you’re sure your husband is gone.

“That’s not what Kallus said,” Hera sits at your side, “He said you looked like a ghost.”

Kallus.

The name invokes some small emotion in you. You haven’t thought of him in a while. Not since your husband had told you he was a traitor.

Alexsandr Kallus had been a friend to you. During your time with Thrawn, he had been one of the few imperial soldiers that had spoken to you with some respect. At first, you suspected it was merely because your presence was unavoidable with how close Thrawn demanded you stay with him. However, eventually, you thought you truly found a friend.

You weren’t quite sure what had happened to Alex after he had returned with a broken leg, but he had treated you better since. He made it a point to ask you about how you were doing or how you were feeling. If he saw a mark on you from when you had displeased Thrawn and he had given you a bruise, he would bring you ice or something to help.

He was kind. A true friend. It had hurt when he had left. You didn’t blame him for betraying the empire. You just wished he hadn’t left you alone.

“And what did Alex say?” You keep your voice steady but you are genuinely curious. If Hera notices how gently you say his nickname, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead she stares down at her hands.

“He’s worried. The entire time we were working to free Lothal, he kept bringing you up. He made Mon Mothma promise you would receive immunity if we could free the planet. He said you needed our help the most.”

You taste blood from how tightly you are biting your cheek.

“He feels guilty,” Hera admits, “The night we picked him up on that escape pod, he practically wanted to take a ship to Lothal to rescue you. We all did. There was just no way we could get through the blockade.”

You hum quietly and look towards the stairs where Theon is sleeping.

“I wouldn’t have left if you had,” you calmly state, “I had Theon.”

Theon.

Mitth’eo’nuruodo.

Your first born son. A little Chiss-human hybrid with pale blue skin and your facial features. His pupils are your eye color while the sclera the same glowing red as his father.

He is perhaps the greatest gift you have ever received. Amidst the loneliness and torment of your time with the empire, your son is the one joy you have. You would have never have left him if Alex had arrived for you that day. Thrawn would have never have let you escape with him either.

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see Hera touch her own womb. You aren’t quite sure what to make of that.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, “For everything that happened to you.”

You want to tell her off for her apology, mock her guilt, and throw everything back in her face because her inaction is what doomed you to this, but you don’t. Instead, you rub at your arms in anxiety. You’re too tired to be angry.

“If you’re here, then Lothal is lost. Has the empire evacuated? Has Thrawn left?”

It pains you to ask that. You aren’t sure you are prepared for the answer. More than that, you aren’t sure which one you want.

You think you love Thrawn. You’ve been an obedient wife all this time and you share a son. He treats you well if you behave. Isn’t that what love is? Isn’t that all you can hope for as someone captured by the empire?

Hera nods once.

Your world shatters.

You close your eyes.

You knew he was gone. Thrawn would have returned for you and Theon right away if he hadn’t disappeared, but it still hurts. He’s been a constant in your life these past few years and now he’s gone. There’s an ache somewhere in your chest that pulses with grief.

“He and Ezra were on board a ship when it jumped into hyperspace. The windows were broken and Purrgil were leading it away. I don’t think the airlock was intact. I doubt anyone on board survived.”

She clenches her jaw. Ezra’s loss weighs on her. For the first time, you see how exhausted she is. There are dark circles under her eyes, her skin is a shade paler than normal, and her clothes are disheveled. She is grieving. Grieving Ezra and Kanan and the rebel fleet that died in a failed assault.

You feel the same way. The loss of Thrawn is painful. If he hadn’t taught you to maintain your composure and exhibit elegance, you think you’d scream and wail. Anything to release the emotions that swirl within you now.

Your chest feels heavy and you twirl the wedding ring around your finger. It is now the only memory you have of him besides Theon. You aren’t sure whether you want to keep it close or throw it away.

You let your head sag against the sofa instead. Staring up at the ceiling, you mull on your options.

If Lothal is gone, what remains? The empire has fled the planet. Perhaps they’ll return to reclaim it eventually, but does it matter? Their victory means nothing now that Thrawn is gone. Your one bargaining chip was your marriage. Married to a high ranking soldier, you and Theon could have been protected. Now, the empire has no incentive to keep you alive. Why waste the money sheltering you if there’s no one around to hold them accountable?

What then is left? You’re a traitor to the rebellion. A rebel turned imperial wife. You don’t think Lothal will welcome you with open arms. And Theon? Theon has the mark of Thrawn. One glance at his little body will give away that he’s a hybrid. On the entire planet, there’s only one alien with his particular species. It won’t be hard for the people of Lothal to guess his parentage. He wouldn’t be safe.

Plus, in your current condition, you don’t have a lot of options either.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

You hate how frightened you sound. You don’t like being afraid. Fear is paralyzing. Thrawn never liked you showing weakness.

Hera takes your hand. The touch is foreign but familiar. You haven’t been touched by someone who wasn’t capable of hurting you in years.

Your mind goes to all those years ago when she had offered you her hand in Alderaan. You had eagerly taken it then excited for the prospect of joining her crew. Now you aren’t sure if you would still make that choice. If you could go back in time to that moment knowing what you know now, maybe you wouldn’t have accepted her proposition.

“You have immunity. Mon Mothma agreed with Kallus. You are a victim. They don’t want to see you punished. Bail Organa also remembers you. You were friends with his daughter. He argued on your behalf. I did too. You have options,” she squeezes your hand in reassurance, “Organa has offered you asylum in Alderaan. Alderaan is an imperial ally and you were a noble there. It’s not unusual for them to offer you shelter as an imperial wife. You and your son would be safe. You could go back to Princess Leia and live there.”

Leia. You haven’t heard that name in a while. You aren’t sure you’d like her to see you now. Your old friend was a firebrand never giving up and never surrendering. If she could see you now, you’re not sure she’d forgive you for giving in.

“You could also stay in Lothal. The people of Lothal know you aren’t to blame. They feel terrible for what you endured. Your story convinced a lot of people to join the rebellion and fight against the empire. You and your son would be safe here,” Hera continues after a brief pause.

You remain quiet.

“Sabine offered Mandalore. Her family can offer you asylum. Your surrender saved her life. She can find you a safe place in Mandalore away from the civil war. Bo-Katan Kryse herself would grant you shelter if Sabine asked,” Hera suggests.

You dismiss the notion immediately. The last thing you want is to go to another planet torn by war. Theon deserves to grow somewhere safe.

Finally, Hera finishes.

“Kallus offered to take you with him. He and Zeb are going to Lira San. It’s the home planet of Lasats. What’s left of their species has returned home and is prospering there. It’s safe and away from the empire. Kallus can take you there to help you with Theon. He said you’re a friend.”

Lira San. You think you’ve heard of it briefly in your studies in Alderaan. Wasn’t it supposed to be a myth? The notion that it was found is intriguing, and Alex would keep you safe.

But you can’t go. Not in your condition. You pull your hand free from Hera and close your eyes.

“I can’t.”

It’s a quiet admission that confuses her. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t realize how your world is slowly falling apart. How you’ve been a ghost flickering through life these past 2 years and how nothing really makes sense.

You’ve forgotten who you used to be. You aren’t sure who you are now. You don’t even know if you can be someone again. You’ve forgotten how to be human.

Your life has changed again. The floor has fallen from under you. You are a traitor. An imperial collaborator in a planet recently freed from imperial control. The very people you were allied against now hold your life in their hands. The people of Lothal may call you a Loth cat, but you’d sooner call yourself a Loth rat.

And your family? Little Theon is all you have left. You need to protect him. His father isn’t here to protect you both anymore. That means you are on your own now for the first time in 2 years.

You feel trapped. You aren’t sure you can stomach any of this anymore. Abruptly, you spring to your feet. Your hands are shaking.

“Please leave,” you beg, “Let me think.”

You don’t wait for an answer. Even as she calls your name in concern, you ignore her and climb up the stairs towards Theon’s room.

He’s all you have left.

———————————————

To your surprise, it isn’t Hera who sits in the living room when you emerge back downstairs hours later. Hera has long since left agreeing to give you space. In her place is now the one person you’ve missed more than your husband.

Alexsandr Kallus stands up to greet you. A look of immense relief spreads through his face when you appear. He meets you half way and throws his arms around you.

You bury yourself in his embrace. He looks different now. His hair is different and there’s less conflict within him. He looks at peace for the first time in months. You like it. Freedom suits him.

He breathes out your name quietly in your hair. You close your eyes as tears threaten to escape. It’s tempting to suppress them, but you decide to let go anyway. Thrawn hated you expressing emotion, but you don’t think Alex would mind.

He doesn’t seem to. He lets you cry and you think you feel him tremble too. You swear you hear his own stuttered breaths as he holds you tightly.

Alex was a constant in your life. The only one who treated you kindly without expecting anything in return. He often defended you from everyone else and was there for you when you felt you would break.

Even now it seems he is holding you up. You aren’t sure how long you stay in his embrace, but eventually you find the strength to withdraw. His fingers gently wipe the tears still left on your face. You note that his own eyes are red.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, “I should have done more. I should have stopped it. Stopped him.”

You shake your head.

You can still remember the day the rumors began that Thrawn was keeping you as a conquest. You were sure you had seen Alex flinch the day after you had emerged from Thrawn’s chambers covered in bruises and bites. You reckoned he felt guilty that he hadn’t done more to stop it.

But you don’t want him to feel guilty, and you tell him as much.

The two of you sit by the window where the moons of Lothal are shining brightly. The moons have always made you smile. They remind you of Alex. Isn’t that what his code phrase had been? ”By the light of Lothal’s moons.”

It’s fitting for Alex. He always seemed to be a light in the darkness for you. The only friend you had who never mistreated you in your time on Lothal.

“Hera said you don’t know what to do,” Alex murmurs briefly. He’s holding your hand above the table the way he always did when you needed comfort. It’s a touch you missed.

You sigh quietly to yourself. Your head feels a mess and the road ahead seems so confusing. That’s another thing you’d miss about Thrawn. Thrawn gave orders and expected you to follow. You were obedient and that was easier than being free. You aren’t quite sure now what to do. The ability to decide for yourself is a dizzying feeling you haven’t experienced in a long, long time.

You shake your head quietly.

You wonder briefly what the others think of you. Do they pity you and see you as broken? They’d be partly right. Do they hate you and see you as a traitor? They’d also be partly right. Or do they see you with frustration? Someone freed who should know what to do the moment the chains fall away yet can’t seem to enjoy the feeling of the leash releasing. You reckon those people would also be partly right.

Any other prisoner of war would have ran the moment the cell door clanged open. You haven’t. You don’t think you remember how to be anything other than a prisoner. Somewhere along the way, you’ve lost yourself. The empire took a lot of things from you, yet perhaps that loss was the greatest of all.

You wish you could verbalize it. Put it into words in a way that would make sense to Hera and Mon Mothma and Bail Organa. A way for them to realize why it is that you stand at the precipice of freedom but can’t quite seem to let go. Maybe words could help them understand you-

But you don’t think you need to with Alex.

He’s always known just what you mean with a glance. You’ve always suspected it was because he was like you. Once loyal to the empire when his heart lied with the rebellion. Thrawn said he had the heart of a rebel and he was right. He had meant it as an insult then, but you think it was perhaps the greatest compliment he could have given Alex. His rebel heart is a steady, strong pulse. You envy it.

“What do you want to do?” Alex asks.

That’s a question you haven’t heard in years. It takes your breath away momentarily.

The empire hadn’t asked it when you were captured. Thrawn hadn’t asked it when he claimed you. Hera hadn’t even asked it when she presented you your options. No one had asked it in a very long time.

You take your time puzzling the answer. It’s an important choice that will set the course of your life. It merits plenty of thinking and strategy. It’s a long time before you speak.

“I want to get away.”

It’s such a simple answer when you finally verbalize it. You’re almost embarrassed it took you so long to realize.

You hate this manor. It’s a cold empty shell with nothing but the beauty of its relics to make it seem important. It feels so cold and uninhabitable. You’ve hated it since the moment Thrawn brought you here. Every inch of it is a memory of what you’ve endured. If you had a match and some fuel, you think you’d love to set it ablaze and watch it all burn.

Alex doesn’t hesitate.

“Then let’s go. Anywhere.”

He means to go with you, you realize. It’s a relief to hear him say it. You’ll have him at your side wherever you choose. You don’t think you deserve him.

It’s so tempting to take his hand and run away, but then the rest of your worries rear their heads. You remember the condition you find yourself in and feel some panic. It crawls along your skin and chokes you worse than the damned collar Pryce tied you to in that cell ever did.

“I can’t.”

You close your eyes to avoid seeing Alex’s disappointed face. He hesitates.

“Why?” He asks it so gently that you break.

You take his hand and move it to your womb. His touch is soft. It takes him moments to register what you are saying.

You found out a few days after Thrawn had left to go see the emperor. It wasn’t planned. The prospect of it now is terrifying.

Whatever child you will have, you are not sure you are ready to raise it on your own. Maker, your children will be hybrids of a species you don’t understand. You know nothing about how to raise them. Thrawn named Theon. He gave him a Chiss name and had plans for his upbringing to preserve his culture. You have no clue how to name another child. You don’t speak Thrawn’s language. You are ill prepared to go at it alone. The fear of it all keeps you rooted to your spot unable to seek freedom.

“It’s going to be okay,” Alex reassures, “You’ll be okay.”

He keeps his hand over yours gently. His touch is what keeps you from spiraling further. You close your eyes.

“I don’t even know what to name it,” you breathe out, “Thrawn picked out the names.”

Thrawn picked out everything. He chose what you wore and what you ate. He managed everything down to the last detail. You don’t know if you’re still capable of all those things. Freedom feels like a noose.

Alex doesn’t give up. He’s always been the one to talk you down from the edge. You’ve always wondered how it is that he knows exactly what to do to calm you down.

“Well what do you want?”

There is that question again. You ponder on it.

You want to get away from Lothal. Perhaps one day you’ll return and work on its efforts to readjust after empire rule, but that won’t be today. You want to go see Lira San and experience the mythical planet for yourself. You want to stay with Alex as one of the few people in the world you can genuinely trust. You also want Theon and your future child to live free and safe. You want all those things and more.

“I want to keep them,” you murmur. He nods. “Then name them yourself. You don’t need him to do it for you. What name do you like?”

You ponder on that again.

You like Mikhal for a boy. It was your father’s name. He went by Miki sometimes. You think you could name them that. You also like Vanness for a girl. Your mother and father passed already honoring them seems like a fitting tribute. You could also use Alex as a gender neutral name. It’s a name with a lot of significance to you too although you’re too embarrassed to tell Alex that.

Thrawn would hate the names. They’re too core and not Chiss. He’d never let you use them, but he isn’t here now to stop you. The control he has on you is gone. For the first time in a long time, you’re finally allowed to decide on something for yourself.

So you tell him the names minus the last one. Explain their significance. He squeezes your hand and says he likes them too. It’s a relief to find someone who actually views you as an equal. You’ve been so used to being beneath someone that you forgot you were also a living being. You think you’ll like coming back to life after years of existing as a specter.

Finally Alex stands.

“You get to pick what happens now,” he looks serious, “Hera won’t force you into anything. I will support whatever you choose.”

You think of Theon and the child you’ll have now. They need a safe place to grow. That isn’t Lothal or Mandalore. Lothal is under threat of empire invasion to reclaim what was lost and Mandalore is under civil war. It’s not safe.

You think of Alderaan. Your parents are both gone, so there’s not much tying you down to it. You’ll also think it’ll hurt too much to live there with the memories of a girl you used to be who no longer exists. The little noble who left Alderaan to see the world never imagined the world could be so cruel. She forgot the most important lesson of all. She forgot that they hurt little girls everywhere-on every planet. Perhaps if she had remembered, she wouldn’t have ended up in someone’s cage. So you cross that name off your list with a feeling of loss, mourning the naive child that died so you could take her place.

That leaves one option. Lira San. Alex wants to go there. He’s told you about the guilt of what he did to the Lasats. If there truly is a world where the species is still thriving, he needs to see it for himself to assuage his guilt. You also want to see it too. It’ll be a fascinating study of culture and art. Despite everything that happened, Thrawn wasn’t able to rob you of that interest. That was the one thing he couldn’t take from you. It’ll also be a safe place for your children. The empire can’t reach it and the people are prospering.

There’s only one true option. It feels dizzying to be able to decide, but you think you can learn to like the feeling. It makes you feel alive.

So you stand with Alex and look out the window. You’ll miss the moons of Lothal. It’s perhaps the only thing you’ll miss on this planet.

“Lira San. It’s safer. Let’s go there,” you offer.

There isn’t an indication that you’ve made the right choice, you know. There seldom is in life. A lot of decisions aren’t followed by the sound of a buzzer or the sound of a bell, but you think you made the right one anyway. If for nothing else, it’s the right one for you. The first choice in a long time that you’ve been able to make for yourself. No one can rob you of that freedom now.

Alex smiles at you. It’s an innocent smile with no pain, malice, or manipulation behind it. You hope one day you can relearn to smile like that again.

“Then let’s go.”

The two of you pack quietly. You leave behind everything that has an imperial stamp or symbol. The suitcase isn’t very full by the time you close it, but that’s alright. You’d rather have few belongings than anything that reminds you of the empire.

Theon is with his nanny droid when you take him. Alex is the one to pick him up and it’s a surprise how easily Theon takes to him. Thrawn never held him, so he’s not used to a man picking him. Yet he leans into Alex like he can sense he’s someone safe to be around.

The nanny droid stares silently as you leave. Alex tells you the rebellion will check it to remove the tracker and the personality chip the empire no doubt implanted. That means that you’ll have to take Theon without it and wait some time to replace the droid. You don’t mind not having a nanny droid. You never really liked the old thing anyway. Thrawn had been the one to pick it out.

Finally the three of you abscond into the night. The manor door clangs shut behind you and you freeze. You half expect Rukh to fall out of the shadows and capture you, or perhaps some type of alarm to sound out. When nothing happens, you learn to breathe again.

It was all fear, you realize. All this time you were kept prisoner by the fear that had been planted in you by someone else. You make a vow then and there to never feel that way again.

The future is an uncertain haze. You should be nervous as Alex leads you to the speeder outside. It should be terrifying to face a world of possibilities where the path hasn’t been marked for you by someone else.

But it isn’t.

A strange feeling is slowly growing amidst the panic and pain. That little emotion marks the end of your captivity. It’s a tiny little bud now, but you think it could grow into something great some day.

It takes you a moment to place what that emotion is, but when you do, you feel a small sense of relief. That feeling is proof you haven’t been completely destroyed by what happened to you. That there’s still some humanity left in the empty shell you thought you had been reduced to.

Hope.

It’s hope, you realize, a powerful thing. It’s so strong that you understand now why the rebellion fought so hard to preserve it. That tiny little feeling is enough to restart your life again.

For the first time in a very long time, you finally feel hopeful, and that is enough to make you keep going.

#thrawn x reader #alexsandr kallus x reader #kallus x reader #grand admiral thrawn #alexsandr kallus #the cute gif is my attempt to make up for the contents

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